Eventually the door opened and someone emerged. He was tall and lanky with a pronounced Adam's apple and a shaved head. Abele looked up at him in distaste. 'Suliman,' he spat with difficulty.
Suliman gave a nasty sneer and spoke to Abele in Kikongo. 'So that's where you've got to after last night's heroics. It looks to me like you'd have been better off where you were.'
But Abele wasn't really listening to him. The image of Ben and Halima rushing into Suliman's office flitted once more through the confused jumble of his mind. He didn't know what they were doing, but he was sure it would go badly for them if Suliman discovered the two youngsters in his office. He had to stall him. Give them time. If it was the last thing he did.
'Get out of the way,' Suliman was saying.
Abele just stared at him, unable even to shake his head. He didn't move.
'I told you to get out of my way,' Suliman insisted, his voice threatening.
Abele stayed right where he was. He didn't know what Suliman would do, but he just kept his mind focused on one objective: to make sure Ben and Halima had enough time.
The rain continued to fall on the two men.
When it became clear to Suliman that Abele would not budge, he nodded firmly to himself, then disappeared back into the car, returning a few seconds later with his assault rifle. Grim-faced, he pointed it at the kneeling Abele. 'Get out of the way,' he ordered for the third time.
Abele slowly raised his eyes, looked into Suliman's face, and shook his head.
Instantly, Suliman whacked Abele on the side of his face with the rifle. It was a vicious blow, and it caused Abele to topple heavily onto his side, a deep gash across his face. The rain washed the blood onto the ground below him, and Abele's eyes flickered closed. Then he heard Suliman's voice. 'I could kill you now if I wanted,' he boasted. 'Nobody would know, and nobody would care. But I choose not to, because you're going to die anyway, and it will be far more horrible than the easy way out of a bullet in your skull. That's what has happened to your friends, by the way – the girl and the young English boy.'
The rain pounded on the side of Abele's face, stinging his cut.
Suddenly he felt his ankles being grabbed and he was dragged unceremoniously to the side of the road and into a ditch. The wet dust scraped along his face, yet he still couldn't find the energy to open his eyes, let alone fight back. All he could do was hope he had stalled Suliman for long enough.
Suliman himself looked down at the prostrate figure with distaste. He spat at him, then kicked him hard in the stomach before turning back, sodden and scowling, to his truck, leaving Abele in the ditch to die.
The noise of the rain against the corrugated-iron roof of Suliman's office was almost deafening.
The moment they were inside, Ben looked around for the satellite phone. He found it soon enough, on a table in the corner. It sat in a hard, black flight case with a separate, bulky battery on the floor and a wire leading up the wall and through the roof – to the antenna, Ben assumed. The rest of the table was a mess of wires and plugs, and Ben realized he had absolutely no idea how the thing worked. 'Keep watch out of the window,' he told Halima. 'Let me know if anyone comes.' Then he turned his attention back to the phone.
The handset was large and bulky, with a small LCD screen at the top. It was attached to the main body of the apparatus with a curling black wire, but there was no response from the buttons when Ben pushed them. He directed his attention to the battery and saw a red switch. He flicked it and the LCD screen burst into life.
The number. With a sinking feeling, Ben realized he had put it in his back pocket, and since then he had not only been swimming but had also been totally soaked in the rains. Gingerly he felt for the card his dad had given him. It was still wet, so he pulled it out as gently as he could for fear of ripping it. Ben could hardly bear to look at the thing, so sure was he that it would be unreadable. He breathed out explosively when he realized that the phone number of his dad's office in Macclesfield was still legible. Sam Garner was the name of the guy Dad had told him to call, and when he spoke to him, he knew he would have to sound convincing. Very convincing.
'There is a car coming up the road,' Halima told him, her voice tense. 'Hurry up.'
Ben nodded efficiently, then dialled the number. He strained his ears to listen to the ringing tone; it wasn't easy above the pounding of the rain on the rooftop, and even when the tone arrived, it was weak and crackly, occasionally cutting out. Ben listened, silently praying for his call to be answered.
Ring-ring.
Ring-ring.
It seemed interminable.
Ring-ring.
Ring-ring.
'Pick up, pick up, pick up,' Ben whispered to himself.
Ring-ring.
'Sam Garner.'
The man's voice sounded distant and distracted.
Ben's mind went blank – how was he going to explain to this guy what was happening so many thousands of miles away? How could he make it clear how desperate the situation was? 'Mr Garner,' he said briskly, 'this is Ben Tracey. Russell Tracey's son.'
There was a pause. 'Hello, Ben.' Garner sounded confused. 'Is everything OK? I thought Russell said you were going with him to Africa.'
'I was. I mean, I am. That's where I'm calling from. You have to listen to me.'
Silence.
'Mr Garner, are you there? Can you hear me?'
'You broke up for a minute there, Ben. It's not a good line. You sound worried – what's the matter?'
And then the words came tumbling out of his mouth. 'Dad's ill. I think he might die.'
'Ben,' Halima said urgently. 'There is somebody getting out of the Land Rover. I think it is Suliman. And there is someone on the road in front of him. I cannot see what they are doing – the rain is too bad.'
But Ben was talking over her to Garner. 'We're in a tiny village called Udok in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and half the village is dying too. Dad thinks it's a virus – like Ebola, only worse, more contagious. The reservoir is down the mine he's been investigating. He thinks that if anyone gets in or out of the village, it could spread quickly. You have to get in touch with the authorities, make them seal the village. You have to let them know how important it is. Dad said you were the only person he knew who would understand. He told me to tell you it's a Code Red scenario.'
By the time he had finished his piece, Ben's voice was cracking with exhaustion and emotion. He waited for a reply from Garner, but there was none.
'Mr Garner? Mr Garner? '
Ben felt a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach as his ear was filled with a continuous high-pitched tone. The line had gone down. He cursed the weather under his breath.
'He is getting back into the car,' Halima said. 'We have to go.'
'No,' Ben said, even as he dialled the number again. 'I got cut off. I don't think my message got through. I'm going to have to try again.'
'Hurry up, Ben. He will be here any minute.'
Stony-faced, Ben kept the handset to his ear. All he could hear was the continuous tone. He tried again. Same thing.
'It's the weather,' he said almost to himself. 'Must be.'
Who else could he call? Who else would take him seriously? His mum, of course. He felt his fingers instinctively dialling her number, but again he heard nothing but the incessant, high-pitched tone.