It didn't take them long. A heavy-handled axe was lying on the floor, its blade covered by an old rag. It was Halima who found it, and she tried to pick it up, with difficulty. It was a very weighty thing, and even Ben didn't feel like he could carry it for too long. If only Abele were here, he thought to himself.
But Abele wasn't there, so they were going to have to make do by themselves. 'I can't carry this all the way up to the mine,' he told Halima. 'It'll just get in the way. We're going to have to hide it somewhere and pick it up later.'
They left the hut, Ben dragging the axe behind him, and headed for the road leading west.
Once they were on the outskirts of the village, Ben started looking around for a suitable hiding place. Finding somewhere to secrete the axe wasn't a problem – there were plenty of low bushes that would have concealed it – but ensuring that he could locate it again was more tricky. In the end, they found a small pile of burned-out tyres in front of a patch of scrubland, and they hid the axe there. 'When we get separated,' Ben told Halima, 'we'll meet back here, OK?'
And then they sprinted back through the village, towards the mine.
The rainfall had done a little to ease the humidity, but nothing to reduce the terrible heat of the day. As he ran, Ben felt his wet clothes steaming and becoming hot from the sunshine, the water boiling against his skin. He did his best to put the scorching sensation from his mind and tried to focus on the task ahead. It was a foolhardy venture, but it was the only thing they could think of.
Rather than take the main road up to the mine, Halima led them a more roundabout way that would keep them out of sight. It took them past the clearing where Ben had witnessed the dance to the ancestors a few nights previously, and through an area of forest that he would have found intimidating if he had not spent so much time in the jungle. They approached the mine from the south-east, and moved stealthily once they were away from the protection of the trees to avoid being seen by the occasional guard who was milling around with the standard AK-47. Before long, Suliman's office, with his old Land Rover still parked outside, was in sight.
The two friends caught their breath. 'Are you sure you're happy to do this?' Ben asked Halima, though the steely look of determination in her eyes told him he needn't have worried.
'Be at the meeting place as quickly as you can,' she told him, before flashing him a quick smile of encouragement. 'What is it you say?' She searched for the words. 'Break a leg?'
Ben nodded. 'Break a leg, Halima.'
And with that, the girl strode out into full view, marched towards Suliman's office and knocked firmly on the door.
Ben held his breath as he watched her jog a few metres back so as to put some distance between herself and the mine manager when he opened up. If the situation hadn't been so serious, the look on Suliman's face when he saw Halima would almost have been funny. Clearly he had never expected to see her again; clearly he thought that by now she was nothing more than a rotting or half-eaten corpse in the rainforest. He stared at her in astonishment for a few moments, allowing Halima time to turn and run, before calling out at his guards in Kikongo. Ben watched in satisfaction as his guards ran past the place where he was concealed, followed by Suliman as they chased Halima into the cover of the trees, barking instructions at her.
He just hoped Halima was fast enough to get away. She had done a great job of getting both Suliman and his guards out of his way, and now it was up to him to do his part.
The coast now clear, Ben made his move. He sprinted towards Suliman's office, and slipped inside. His eyes flickered over to the satellite phone, and he was tempted to make another attempt at calling; but that was going to have to wait. He didn't know how long he had, and it was imperative that he found the key to Suliman's battered Land Rover. Ben desperately started searching, upturning papers and opening drawers – it had to be here somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn't find it. Suddenly he smiled. He ran outside, opened the driver's door, and nodded in mute satisfaction.
The keys were still there, in the ignition.
Ben climbed in, took a deep breath, and started the engine.
He had never driven a car before. I've flown a microlight over the burning skies of Adelaide, though, he told himself. How hard can it be? He knew the principle – he just had to put it into practice.
The gearbox choked in protest as he tried to pump the vehicle into first gear. He pressed gingerly down on the accelerator, then lifted the clutch. It jumped forward, shaking Ben's body violently, then stalled.
Ben turned the key and tried again. This time he managed to get the Land Rover to move a few metres before it shuddered to a halt. He banged on the steering wheel in frustration. 'Come on!' he shouted, half to himself, half to the vehicle. Then, realizing that getting angry was not going to achieve anything, he took a deep breath to steady himself and tried again.
This time he managed to bring the clutch up slowly and without stalling. He started moving, and steered his way towards the road that led into the village, ignoring the screams of the engine that told him he was driving too fast for the low gear he was in. Ben didn't want to risk trying to change gear and stalling again – besides, he was fearful of going too quickly and having the vehicle veer out of control – so he stayed like this all the way into the village, concentrating furiously on steering the Land Rover around the huge potholes that littered his way as he bumped and jolted away from the mine.
He drew strange looks from the villagers as he headed through the central square. They knew it was Suliman's Land Rover – it was almost the only vehicle in the village, after all – and the sight of this young white boy driving it inexpertly through the streets, beeping his horn in panicked, staccato bursts whenever anybody got his way, was the most exciting thing many of them had seen for months. That Suliman would get to hear of it was inevitable, but Ben couldn't worry about that now. He had work to do.
Eventually the village and the villagers melted away as Ben approached the western outskirts of the city. In the distance, he could see the pile of rubber tyres where they had hidden the axe.
But there was no sign of Halima.
They were close behind her. Too close. As Halima ran through the trees, she could hear their voices and the crashing sound as they pounded after her. They were full-grown men with guns; she was a teenage girl. It was only a matter of time before she felt their strong hands on her – or their bullets in her shoulder blade. Her instinct was to hide, but if she did that, Ben would have to leave on his own, and she knew he needed her help. Besides, she didn't have time to find a good hiding place, and she couldn't be sure that they wouldn't find her. No, hiding wasn't an option. She had to go through with it. She had to succeed. And so, as she ran, she prayed to the ancestors that they would not catch her before she reached the rendezvous point.
Suddenly she tripped and fell crashing to the ground. She gasped in pain as she felt a sharpness rip through her twisted ankle. Lying there for a couple of seconds, stunned, she thought she might not be able to move. Something had torn badly at the bottom of her leg, and she knew that if she put pressure on it, it would be excruciating. Already she felt dizzy with the pain.
But the alternative was not an option. Suliman's men were closing in. They had already tried to kill her twice, and Halima had no intention of giving them a third chance. She pushed herself up with difficulty and tentatively put pressure on the damaged foot.