‘She knows we’re Brits, then. Maybe that’s what turned her off. Make certain nobody says anything operational in her hearing. Nothing about where we are or what we’re doing. Okay?’
‘Sure.’
‘How’s her ankle?’
‘Definitely sprained.’
‘At least she can’t do a runner, then.’
‘Oh, no. The injury’s genuine enough. She can only hobble. She must have caught it under the seats in the aircraft and wrenched it when the thing came down.’
‘More important, how’s old Whinge?’
‘He’s got a fever. That’s only to be expected. I cleaned up his burns again as best I could, but there’s always the risk a bit of shit has got in. I just hope the antibiotics’ll keep him under control.’
I made a detour to see my old mate, but found that he’d dozed off on his cot, so I left him alone, lying on his back under a mozzie net with bandages all up his right leg and arm and a pad of gauze strapped over his right temple. Suddenly I realised that I’d never seen him out of action before, and the sight gave me a jolt. If the plane had blown up a few seconds earlier, I’d have lost him.
The woman was sitting propped up in the back of our seven-tonner, sipping at a mug of tea, with Genesis in attendance. Her eyes had a vacant look, and didn’t seem to be focusing properly. I noticed her pupils were an odd colour, part grey, part yellow. The right eye was looking out level, the left one upwards. Now and then she muttered a word that sounded like German, but nothing I could understand, even though my own German’s quite fluent.
‘I’m Geordie,’ I went. ‘What’s your name?’
No answer.
I tried it in German, but again got no reaction. Then, ‘Wo kommen sie her?’
Still nothing.
‘Das Flugzeug — wo kam es her?’
Nothing. But hadn’t there been a flicker in her eyes when I mentioned the aircraft? I glanced across at Genesis and got a faint nod, showing he’d seen it too.
‘What about something to eat? Essen?’
Either she wasn’t hungry, or she was playing dumb.
She — or somebody — had taken off her boots and socks. Her left ankle was swollen and black with bruises.
‘How are you for food, Gen?’
‘I’ve eaten, thanks.’
‘Okay to stay with her a bit longer, then?’
‘Fine.’
‘I’ll be back.’
As always, he was being saintly, and putting in more time with the patient than anyone else. But I didn’t feel guilty as I went back to the others, who were sorting stores under a vehicle cam net. Maybe he was fancying the woman, too. Maybe he enjoyed being with her. As for me, I had a gut feeling that something about her didn’t add up.
Pav and I sat under the net and ate some cold rations, discussing what to do about Whinger. Then Phil came over and started stirring up a debate about the woman.
‘I mean, what are we going to do with her?’ he demanded. ‘We don’t need this shit. If the rebels get hold of her, you know what they’ll do to her. We can’t have her round our fucking necks for the next two weeks.’
‘Relax,’ I told him. ‘We’ll shunt her somehow. And the first chance will probably be tomorrow.’
Our understanding was that when or if Alpha Commando recovered control of the mine, a transport plane or planes would come down from Mulongwe bringing engineers to take over the running of the plant, and troops to form a new garrison. Alpha would then be free to continue its marauding progress southwards.
‘Don’t worry,’ I added. ‘When that aircraft comes in from the capital, she’s going to be the first passenger on the return flight.’
Phil said nothing, but shot me one of his looks. I could see he really didn’t want the responsibility of looking after her, in case she came to a bad end. I knew his instincts tended to be pretty accurate, and when he said that this Krautish blonde was sure to foul up our plans, I didn’t argue. I agreed with him that the sooner we got rid of her, the better.
A bigger worry, that afternoon, was Whinger. In spite of all the care Mart had taken cleaning his burns and covering them with Flammazine, an infection had set in up his arm, which was swollen and angry-looking, and his temperature climbed to 103. He didn’t want any food, and it was an obvious effort for him to talk.
‘Keep drinking, anyway,’ I told him, ‘and don’t worry about the attack. It’s going to be a cinch — and you’re going out on the resupply tomorrow.’
As I came to the cookhouse area for supper, Mabonzo the beanpole tracker approached me shyly holding two little screws of paper in his right hand. We already knew he was the Kamangans’ answer to Mart — an amateur quack who specialised in natural remedies — and now he was offering medicine for our patients.
‘This one good for head,’ he said, handing over the larger packet. ‘Good for lady. And this one for fever.’
‘Thanks.’ I took them carefully and cupped them in my palm. ‘I appreciate your help. How much do they need to take?’
‘All.’ He made a tipping-up gesture with his hand, showing the potions should be downed in one.
‘Okay. We’ll give them a go.’
Cautious investigation showed that each twist of coarse paper contained a small amount of powder. The dose for fever was white, the one for the head, grey. I thought of how the witch doctor’s potion had blazed up that bilious green when I threw it on the fire.
‘Bin them, for Christ’s sake,’ said Pavarotti, once we were out of Jason’s hearing. ‘You know what the head powder’s made of?’
‘What?’
‘It’s the bark of some tree, taken from down by the root, ground up and burnt together with dried dog-shit.’
‘How d’you know?’
‘Joss told me.’
‘Delicious! Talk about kill or cure.’
‘Give her some,’ said Phil savagely. ‘It might grow hair on her chest!’
‘We’ll see how she comes on,’ I told him. ‘I’ll give Mart the stuff to keep for the time being, anyway.’
EIGHT
We were on the river bank at 0400, ninety minutes before first light. The stars were still bright in the sky, and the air was cool. Knowing how hot we were going to get, I’d stripped off my fleece jacket, but for the time being I was shuddering.
From the odd, quick remark that Phil let out on our way down the path, I could tell he was well hepped up. So was I. The argument about getting involved had lasted well into the night, but now it was too late. We’d taken the decision, and here we were, following the assault force down. Although I was apprehensive, I wasn’t really scared. It wasn’t as if Phil and I were going into battle; our role, I kept telling myself, was to stay at the back, out of trouble, and advise Joss if things started to go wrong. We’d done as Pav suggested, and lent him one of the covert radios. Keeping in touch should pose no problem.
The assault force of thirty-two men moved quietly through the dark, yet silence was hardly needed, because round that side of the hill we were well away from the mine, and in any case the hippos were putting on a staccato pre-dawn chorus. With their booming and barking they sounded like a flotilla of ships lost in fog. Without being able to see them, it was hard to tell what kept setting them off. One minute they were quiet, then suddenly they were honking all out.
Our first setback came at the water’s edge. We found the end of the pontoon wire easily enough, but there was no rope to pull the boat across to our side. We knew the huts on the far bank were inhabited, because we’d seen cooking fires there the evening before. We couldn’t shout for a lift, in case the guys over there raised the alarm. The only solution was for some of the Alpha guys to swim the river, take out the guards, and bring the ferry back across.