As they neared the other end of the pathway, Ben allowed himself a quick glance over his shoulder. There appeared to be no one behind them, although it was difficult to be sure in the darkness, and he felt the tension that had been spurring him on dissipate a little. He turned his head back round to the front and then, along with Halima, came to a sudden, abrupt halt.
Because there, standing in front of them, his arms crossed and his face unreadable, was Suliman.
The two friends stood, wide-eyed and out of breath, in front of him. He looked first at Halima, and then at Ben. 'It is very late for you to be out, Ben,' he rasped.
Ben said nothing as he held his head high, doing his best to exude a confidence he did not feel.
'I think it is time for you to return to your compound,' Suliman insisted. Then he turned his attention to Halima, saying something abruptly to her in Kikongo, and gesturing that she should come with him. Halima shook her head and took a step backwards. Suliman made as if to approach her, but he was blocked by Ben, who had moved between him and his new friend.
'I'll take her home,' he said.
Suliman's gaze remained level as he considered his response. Finally he smiled – an unpleasant smile – and stepped out of his way. 'I think that would be a very good idea,' he replied, before barking something again at Halima. She lowered her eyes to the ground; as she did so, Ben took her hand and led her away.
They wanted to run, but something forced them both to walk briskly and in silence, feeling Suliman's eyes burn into their backs as they went. It was not until minutes later when they found themselves in Halima's street that Ben allowed himself to look back.
There was nobody in sight.
'Are you OK?' he asked.
Halima nodded.
'What did he say to you? Before we left, I mean.'
'He said,' Halima replied slowly, 'that he would deal with me in the morning.'
Ben felt his lips tighten. 'You can come and stay with us if you want.'
Halima shook her head. 'No. I don't believe he will disturb me tonight.' She looked back over her shoulder. 'That man has never liked me. They made him mine manager only recently, after the previous one died. Before that he was nobody. No one can understand why they put him in charge.' She made a brave attempt to smile. 'I can lock my door from the inside,' she assured him. 'I'll see you tomorrow, Ben Tracey.'
She turned to open the door. 'Wait!' Ben interrupted her. What she had just said about Suliman had crystallized a question in his mind.
Halima threw him a quizzical glance.
'There's something I don't understand. If the mine is cursed, why don't all the mine-workers die?'
The girl raised one eyebrow. As she did so, she unbuttoned the top of the colourful blouse she was wearing and pulled out a necklace. She held it up to Ben. It bore two tokens: the one that Fatima had sent, and another – smaller but with the same design. 'I am not the only one who has asked for protection,' she whispered. And with that, she opened the door and slipped inside.
Ben waited until he heard the click of the lock before walking quickly and nervously back to his own bed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ben's head spun for what seemed like hours, and he lay there turning the events of the evening over in his mind and listening to his father's heavy breathing; but sometime before morning, sleep overcame him.
He was awakened by a bump. Bleary-eyed, he pushed himself up from his mattress to see his dad collapsed on the floor. Ben jumped out of bed and bent down to help him up. Russell looked terrible. His face was drawn and had the yellow pallor of candle wax; his skin was moist with sweat. Ben put a hand to his forehead and felt that it was burning hot. He hooked his father's arms over his shoulders, then hoisted him up with all his strength and sat him back on the bed. Russell collapsed once more, heavily and without control, onto his mattress. He lay there for a few moments, his breath still rasping; this time Ben could also hear his chest rattling weakly.
His eyes were closed, but occasionally they would flicker open with difficulty and stare at the ceiling; then they would shut again. Ben had no idea whether his father was aware of his presence or not. 'Dad!' he said in an urgent whisper, not entirely sure why he was keeping his voice down. 'Dad! Wake up!'
Russell's eyes opened again, and he turned his balding head to look at his son. He smiled weakly. 'My head…' he murmured, before dissolving into a fit of hoarse coughing that seemed to jerk his entire body. As Ben watched his father struggling, an uncomfortable feeling crept over him. He had deteriorated impossibly fast overnight, and he didn't have to be a doctor to realize how likely it was that the ominous red cross might soon be being painted on the front door of their temporary home. He thought back to the previous night, to Halima's description of her parents' illness. The symptoms seemed identical, and his father had been down the mine only yesterday. 'Dad!' he whispered again. 'Dad, you've got to listen to me. I've got to tell you something.'
Russell's eyes flickered open and he looked blankly at Ben, who couldn't really tell if he was in a position to take in what he had to say. 'I'm ill,' the older man whispered. 'Malaria… I need medicine…'
'It's not malaria,' Ben told his father urgently.
Russell breathed out heavily. 'Ben,' he said wearily. 'This isn't the time. You've got to stop-'
'No, Dad,' Ben interrupted. 'I know what you're going to say, but you have to listen to me. Even the villagers don't believe it's malaria, and they should know – they've seen enough people dying of it.'
'Ben.' Despite the weakness of his voice Ben could hear his father trying to adopt that patient but slightly condescending tone he used when he was trying to explain something to his son. 'There are many different strains of malaria. Suliman told us…'
'I know what Suliman told us, Dad, but he's wrong. Think about it – we've only been in Africa for two days. What's the incubation period for malaria?'
Russell closed his eyes. 'A week to a month,' he said finally.
'Exactly. And anyway, you've been taking Larium for two weeks.'
Russell started to cough again, and Ben found himself wincing at the dreadful sound he made. He grabbed his hand and held it tightly, waiting for it to subside. Finally it did so, but it took a few more moments for Russell to summon up the energy to speak again. 'OK, Ben. Tell me what you think.'
Ben took a deep breath and started to speak. As he did so, Russell appeared to be trying to regulate his breathing, keeping it as measured as his weakened state would allow him. It clearly took a lot of effort: more sweat started dripping down his face, and his body started to tremble. 'Last night, while you were asleep, I went to the other side of the village with a girl I met. There was a ceremony of some sort, with a witch doctor and the village elders. They believe that the village is cursed because the miners have disturbed some ancient burial site, and that's why everyone's dying.'
'That's ridiculous, Ben.'
'I know, Dad.' In the depths of night and the strange surroundings, Ben had found himself half believing what Halima had told him; now, in the reassuring light of day, he knew that the sensible reaction of his scientist father was correct. 'But it's still true that it's the mine-workers who fell ill first, and that their families fell ill next. On our way back, we ran into Suliman. He was angry – angry with Halima, I think. Worried that she might have told me something.' He squeezed his dad's hand a little harder. 'And look at you now, Dad,' he said, his voice a little softer. 'You were only down there yesterday. We need to get you to a doctor.'