‘Yeah?’ I replied, deliberately casual. ‘I know you’ve got uranium mines, but what about them?’
‘I’ve had overtures,’ he said darkly. ‘People wanting to buy the stuff. People your government doesn’t approve of.’
‘Such as?’
‘You can guess. That crazy fellow in Libya, for one. Another madman in Baghdad. Both have made serious offers.’
‘I bet. But you aren’t playing ball?’
‘Of course not. How could I? If we moved an inch in that direction, we’d be hit by international sanctions. The UK, US — everybody would clamp down on us.’
‘But I thought the uranium mines were in the north.’ I pointed over my shoulder.
‘That’s right.’
‘So what’s the worry?’
‘The Afundis. They’re the worry. And in particular, Muende. Why don’t you use your special skills to go and, say, take him out?’
‘Who’s Muende?’
‘Gus Muende, the Afundi leader. He should damn well know better. But he’s another lunatic. He’s a friend of Gadaffi. I ask you! Worse than him, even. Last year he went to Tripoli and got practically a royal welcome.’
Bakunda was working himself up, talking louder and louder. He downed the rest of his rum in one swallow and waved the empty cup around.
‘Treacherous bastard!’ he cried.
‘What’s the matter with him?’
‘You tell me! His mother was a Scottish voluntary worker in Kamanga in the sixties. She abandoned him when he was only five, and I helped him. I got him into the military academy at Mulongwe, then I got him sent to America. I got him his place at West Point. I got him his military education. Without me, he’d be nothing. This is his way of saying thank you.’
Whinger circled round to Bakunda’s elbow and skilfully refilled his cup. The President took a big swig, and shouted, ‘Get him! Make the sun shine through him! That’s what you chaps need to do. That’s what you’re here for.’
‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘Our brief is to train Alpha Commando, not to go assassinating people.’
‘That’s what HMG say. But what they’d like is for you to put Muende underground. Their fear is the same as mine: that he’ll take over the whole of Kamanga. If that happens, God help us. God help you. Gadaffi and Saddam Hussein will get all the uranium they ask for. What about that, hey? How’s that for a scenario?’
It was hardly for me to tell the President to take it easy, but that was what I felt like doing. The veins in his neck were bulging; beads of sweat were standing out on his forehead, even though the night air was cool. A change of subject seemed in order.
‘These guys we’re training,’ I said, gesturing round about. ‘I gather they’re Kaswiris. Different from the Afundis, obviously.’
‘Different! By George! Different language, different customs, different everything. We hate the Afundis’ guts.’
‘We — you — you’re a Kaswiri?’
‘Of course. What else?’ He drew himself upright on his ammunition box and thrust out his chest. ‘We Kaswiris know how to behave.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, Mr President, but discipline isn’t the force’s strongest point yet.’
‘Are you criticising Alpha Commando?’
‘Not at all.’ I held up a hand in token appeasement. ‘Just pointing out the need for good control. You saw how high some of them were firing — all that tracer into the stratosphere.’
‘Okay, okay,’ he went. Then he leaned his grizzled head closer to me, and said confidentially, ‘As you know, some of these chaps are not long down from the trees. So of course they need training. That’s why you’re here!’
‘What about Bididis?’ I asked. ‘Where do they come in?’
‘Bididis?’ He seemed surprised. ‘They’re okay. They don’t cause trouble. Why?’
‘There’s one at least in the commando, and he seems a useful fellow.’
‘Well, that’s a turn-up.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we have jokes about the Bididis. Like you and the Irish. They’re the thick men of Africa — not a brain in their heads.’
‘How about this Muende?’
‘Muende!’ The President gave a snort. ‘He’s the Afundi of Afundis, the worst. The fundamental orifice of the Afundis. Ha ha!’
‘What age is he?’
‘Thirty? Thirty-two? I don’t know. What does it matter?’ He turned and scowled at me, his jokiness veering towards irritation. ‘Why don’t you do me a favour: get down there and put some bullets through him?’
It wasn’t the moment for a serious argument about the extent of our commitment. Bakunda was too far gone for that. So I just said casually, ‘Well, of course we’ll do anything we can to help.’
‘Good man!’ Bakunda leant over to slap me on the shoulder, missed because his arm was so short, and nearly swung himself off his perch. ‘In the morning, we’ll settle details. But in any case you’ll go as far as Gutu.’
It was more a statement than a question.
‘The mine there,’ I said, stalling. ‘Is it that important to you?’
‘Of course! Gutu means diamonds. Muende’s smuggling the diamonds out over the border, into South Africa, Namibia, everywhere. He’s getting so much revenue that his strength is increasing all the time. He’s buying all the weapons he wants. Look here! Only yesterday we heard that he’s brought in foreign mercenaries to fight for him.’
‘Mercenaries?’ said Whinger, sharply. ‘Where from?’
‘How do I know?’ Bakunda waved his cup about, slopping rum. ‘Somebody said America.’
‘Americans!’ I went. ‘Jesus. If we don’t watch out, we’ll find ourselves fighting former SEALs.’
‘Seals?’ barked Bakunda. ‘What are they? Fish, are they not? How can you be fighting fish?’
‘US special forces — sea, army and land. Like the SAS. When American guys finish their service, they often take mercenary jobs.’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Bakunda. ‘I was only trying to be funny.’
The conversation was interrupted by the sound of an engine: the truck coming back in.
‘Excuse me a minute,’ I said. ‘I’ll just check everyone’s okay.’
I got up and moved off quickly, afraid that Bakunda would try to come with me. Luckily the troops were debussing some distance off, out of earshot, and I picked out the tall, bulky figure of Pavarotti. As soon as he’d squared things away with Joss, I drew him aside.
‘Everything all right?’
‘One silvery down.’
‘I thought so. What happened?’
‘This guy opened up on the search party as it went forward. Apparently he’d been feuding with one of the lads in it — tried to take him out as he ran towards the targets.’
‘But he missed.’
‘Yeah. His mates didn’t miss him, though. One of them snatched his AK47 off him, and another whacked him with a panga. One swing, head off, clunk.’
‘Christ! What did the rest of them do?’
‘Nothing. They left him where he dropped. I told them to bring the body in, but Manny, the group commander, just said, “Food for hyenas. Let’s go.”’
‘These people!’ I said. ‘Like I was saying the other night: Kaswiris, Afundis — one lot are as bad as the other.’
‘Yeah,’ went Pav. ‘They need watching. It wouldn’t take much to make some of them turn on us. They got really pissed off with us for forcing them to lie out all day.’
‘Nobody threatened you?’ I said.
‘No, but they came pretty close. I just think everyone ought to be aware they’re pretty volatile. Maybe we’d better slack off a bit.’