Nina gazed disconsolately at the floor. Eddie gestured for Fortune to take his place at the tiller, then joined her. ‘Don’t listen to her,’ he said quietly, putting a hand on hers. ‘She’s just angry, she’s talking crap.’
‘She’s saying what she really thinks,’ countered his wife.
‘If you were like what she said, I wouldn’t have married you. I mean, you can get a bit obsessive about stuff, but that’s not the same as—’
‘Stuff like Zhakana, right?’ She wiped tears from her cheeks. ‘Lydia’s right about that part. I pushed to come here; I used my influence to get the network to fund the expedition. And I was so pleased about my… my cleverness at finding the map room that I thought finding the City of the Damned would be just as easy — and the whole documentary would show off how smart I was to the world. Well, guess what?’ She let out a long, miserable breath. ‘Nobody likes a smart-ass. And because of me, David and Howie and the rest are dead. Oh, God.’ Nina put her hands over her face. ‘It’s happened again, hasn’t it? People have died because I went chasing after another archaeological find — they’ve died because I put stones and statues ahead of their lives!’
‘They’re dead because of that fucking arsehole Brice,’ Eddie insisted. ‘Him and Mukobo. They’re the bad guys, they did all the killing.’
‘Not all of it.’ She finally looked up at him. ‘I… I still can’t believe what you did to Mukobo, Eddie. You just — you shot him!’
‘Yeah, and I shot a load of his goons an’ all. We’d all be dead if I hadn’t. How many people have I had to take down to protect you before now?’
‘That’s not what I meant. You know it’s not what I meant. None of the other people you killed were bound prisoners.’
His voice developed an angry edge. ‘None of ’em had threatened to rape and kill my daughter either. After killing me — and you as well. The world’s better off without that piece of shit in it, and I don’t know how you can deny it.’
‘I’m not trying to deny it. What I’m saying is… Jesus, Eddie.’ A pause before she spoke again, even more quietly. ‘You murdered him.’
‘Not how I see it,’ he replied firmly. ‘Far as I’m concerned, he was a threat — not just to my family, but to loads more innocent people. By killing him, I’ve saved their lives, as well as ours.’
‘That wasn’t your choice to make, though.’
‘Then whose was it?’ he snapped. ‘The UN’s? America’s? I know it wasn’t Britain’s, because my own fucking country was backing him!’ He shook his head. ‘God. Fucking spooks…’
Nina glanced at the equipment. The laptop holding Brice’s confession was beside Lydia’s, but they had no way to know if the recording was retrievable; the machine was too damaged even to power up. ‘Maybe we’ll be able to get the proof off the laptop when we get out of here,’ she said, glad of the chance to move away from a deeply uncomfortable subject on which they would never find agreement.
‘Maybe. But we’ll probably have more than just Brice trying to stop us.’
‘MI6?’
‘Maybe the whole government. British politicians’ll do anything to cover their own arses — and their mates’ arses an’ all. They’ve protected fucking paedophiles who’re part of the old boys’ network. And there’ve been plenty of convenient “suicides” and “accidents” taking out people who could’ve caused ’em trouble. Remember when I was talking to Brice, about the Increment and the Removal Men?’
‘Yeah?’
‘There’s been rumours for years that some special forces team was ordered to assassinate Princess Diana ’cause she was protesting against the arms business and wanted to marry a Muslim. Didn’t believe them, sounded like a load of conspiracy bullshit — nobody I ever knew in the SAS would have followed that order, not against Diana — but after what Brice said about GB63 crashing that 747…’ He shook his head. ‘If they wanted to be absolutely sure of shutting us up, that’d be who they’d send.’
‘So people with the exact same training as you, but younger, and more of them, and with the backing of the British government? Great.’ Nina gloomily regarded the river ahead. ‘So what happens now?’
He considered the situation. ‘Brice’s probably fucked off with the Shamir already. He’ll have got MI6 to extract him.’
‘And take him back to England?’
‘Probably. But he’s still got contacts here. I doubt he’d rely on the militia, especially now Mukobo’s dead, but he hired all those mercs we saw at Butembo airport. He might send someone to intercept us before we can leave the Congo.’
‘To get the laptop?’
He nodded. ‘That video’s like a time bomb. He’ll do anything to stop it from going off.’
Paris turned in alarm. ‘What about a bomb?’ His question drew the attention of the others.
Eddie and Nina exchanged resigned looks, then the Yorkshireman raised his voice. ‘Okay. There’s something we need to tell you all…’
The revelation of Brice’s true agenda predictably did not lift anyone’s spirits. ‘Fantastic,’ said Lydia plaintively. ‘So now the British government as well as everyone else in this bloody country wants us dead?’
‘It’s us two they want the most,’ said Eddie. ‘We’re the ones Brice actually told what he was really up to.’
‘But he’ll assume the rest of you either saw the drone recording, or we told you about it,’ Nina added.
‘Which… you just did,’ noted Rivero sardonically.
‘I doubt he’d accept a plea of ignorance. He won’t take the chance that you know nothing about it. He can’t.’
‘I imagine he will not be satisfied if we give him the recording,’ said Fortune.
Eddie shook his head. ‘He’ll want us all dead, whether or not he gets it. We can link him to Mukobo.’
Lydia put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, God. What are we going to do?’
‘We’re nearly at Nakola,’ announced Paris. Ahead, garbage was strewn along the riverbank.
Eddie joined him at the bow. Buildings came into view through the trees. He surveyed the shoreline, wary of an ambush, but saw nobody. ‘If Brice sent anyone, they’ll probably be coming from Butembo. They might not have arrived yet.’
‘But that means they’ll run into us on our way there,’ said Rivero.
‘I know a back road,’ Fortune told him. ‘It will take much longer to get to Butembo, but there is another way out of here.’
‘Brice’ll still be looking for us, though,’ said Nina. ‘Sooner or later, his people’ll find us. What do we do then?’
Eddie had no immediate reply. He instead turned his attention to the village. A couple of locals came to the waterfront to watch their approach.
Fortune called to them in French, a brief exchange following. ‘They say no strangers have arrived recently,’ he reported.
‘Good,’ said the Yorkshireman. ‘Brice hasn’t got anyone here yet — so we might have a chance of leaving by the back road before they turn up. We’ll need to get everyone into the buses, quick.’
The prow bumped on to land, Lydia immediately disembarking. Paris collected a line and hopped off to moor the boat, but Eddie took it from him. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said.
‘Hey, just because I’m hurt doesn’t mean I’m useless,’ Paris protested. ‘I’ve only got one hand, but it’s a good one!’
Nina climbed out after the two men. While Paris had on the surface handled his mutilation with a mix of stoicism and dark humour, during the night she heard him struggling to contain sobs as he hunched up, cradling his missing hand. ‘We know — but you are hurt. You need a chance to recover, and if you push yourself too hard, that won’t happen. Please, let us help you.’