‘Christ knows.’ Phil scratched his head. ‘She claims it’s on the river. Therefore she reckons we can’t be far from it. She says it’s a hospital, run by Roman Catholic nuns.’
‘A hospital? I thought such things didn’t exist around here.’
‘This is the only one, apparently. Part convent, part Krankenhaus.’
‘So what?’
‘She wants us to take her there,’ said Phil. ‘She reckons the nuns’ll sort out her ankle.’
‘I don’t believe it. What does she think they’ve got? Fucking X-ray machines that work without electricity? Wait till they hear her. That’ll finish her chances. What’s wrong with Mulongwe, for Christ’s sake?’
‘Dunno,’ said Phil. ‘She just won’t hear of it.’
‘This place, Msisi. Is it on the map?’
‘Not this one.’ Phil picked up the bum map and scanned it. ‘Not if it’s on the river.’
‘How does she know about this convent, anyway?’
‘Her party was going to land there on their way across, just to make sure the nuns were okay.’
‘In that case it must be to the west, somewhere downstream. Try the good map.’
While Phil dug it out, I was turning the idea over in my mind: a quick run down to Msisi would be one way to get Braun off our hands. If the nuns had an airstrip, they could get her flown out from there. Also, maybe they could give Whinger better treatment than we could. Certainly the environment of even a primitive hospital would be less dangerous to someone with major skin loss than the shitty conditions in which we were living. The nuns might have better drugs, too.
But then Phil came back, saying, ‘Nothing. I’ve followed the river all the way down.’
‘Is it supposed to be a village, or what?’
‘No, just a group of buildings on some sort of bluff.’
‘No wonder it isn’t marked, then. Wait a minute, though. I tell you who’ll know: the old Belgian. We’ll go back down and ask him.’
‘Fair enough.’ Phil folded the map away. ‘She’s obsessed about the plane, too. Keeps asking questions.’
‘Like?’
‘It ken fly again, yes?’ He imitated the German intonation perfectly. ‘I told her, “Can it hell?”’
‘She already knew it got burnt out. I told her that myself.’
‘She can’t seem to accept that. She was on about her passport and stuff. “Vot heff zey finded?” I told her you’d found bugger all. She started asking me about Whinger. Did he get into the plane? How did he get burnt? Then it was, “Ve can go back zere, yes?” “No way,” I said. “We’d never find the spot.”’
‘It’s as if she wanted to recover something,’ I said.
‘I suggested that. But she said no, she just wanted to see the place where her companions died.’
‘Stick to that line, Phil. Tell her the place is impossible to find. And don’t take it so hard. I know she’s a pain in the arse, but think of it from her point of view. She’s well in the shit, by any reckoning. Friends dead, plane kaput. Stuck in the middle of Africa. You can’t blame her for panicking a bit.’
We were heading down to the river crossing again when a volley of shots rattled out from below.
Phil’s eyes lit up. ‘Maybe it’s a counter-attack.’
‘More like someone taking it out on the hippos,’ said Pav.
He, Phil and I were on our way to check things at the mine. Because we’d stood down the OP on the cliff, we had no eyes on the compound, and I wanted to know how Joss and his guys were getting on with the machinery. We also needed to quiz Boisset about the convent.
When we reached the bank, we were pulled up short. The pontoon was on the far side, and the Alpha guys who’d taken charge of it were lounging around, having a brew; but when we called to them to come across for us, they just gave us the fingers.
‘Bastards!’ I muttered. ‘What are they playing at?’ Then I yelled, full force, ‘Get that boat over here, in double time!’
At least that made one of them stand up. He started to yell back, and at first we couldn’t understand him. Then we made out, ‘Major Mvula say, no one across.’
‘What the fuck’s going on?’ said Phil, angrily.
‘Turds!’ growled Pav. ‘I’ll wade it. I’ll go over and fucking sort them out.’
‘Nobody’s wading,’ I told him. ‘You didn’t see what happened this morning. The crocs are horrendous. Watch this, though. I’ll soon put the frighteners on them.’
Moving slowly, I unslung my 203 and ostentatiously raised it to my shoulder.
‘Come across now!’ I bellowed. ‘Or I shoot.’
The fellow who’d got up stood looking. The rest didn’t bother to shift. I switched to automatic, aimed a yard to the right of the boat, and put two short bursts into the sandy bank, just at the waterline. The noise and the explosion of spray had the rest of them on their feet, sharpish. They considered doing a runner; we could tell that from the way they looked round behind themselves. But they saw that if they tried to get away, they’d be in our field of fire for at least fifty metres, and they weren’t going to risk it. Seconds later two of them jumped into the ferry, settled at the little club-oars and began hauling themselves over.
‘Listen, Geordie,’ said Pav, urgently. ‘I don’t know what these cunts are up to, but there’s something funny going on. Crossing could be bad news.’
‘You mean, we could get stuck on the wrong side?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Fuck it,’ I said. ‘I’m not taking this kind of shite from Joss. We’re going over.’ Then, as the ferry was approaching, I added quietly, ‘Don’t take it out on these guys. It’s not their fault. They’re only doing what they’ve been told.’
The oarsmen looked scared to hell. Their eyes were rolling all round their heads, anywhere but at me. Plainly they were expecting me to top them at any minute for insubordination, and feed their bodies to the crocs.
‘Take it easy,’ I said quietly as we set off. ‘Let’s just cross.’ I waited till we were halfway over before asking, ‘When did Major Mvula give that order? What time?’
‘Now.’
‘Right now?’
‘Half hour.’
‘Okay.’
On the far side we set off for the hillocks which had been our firing position in the morning — that was the direct approach to the compound — and we headed for the back of the mounds exactly as we had before first light. Until our setback at the ferry, it hadn’t occurred to me that we’d to have creep up on the mine like this for our second visit, but now I thought we’d take a shufti at what was going on before we walked right in.
Just as well. If we’d come into sight at that moment, things could have turned ugly.
‘Fuck me!’ exclaimed Pav under his breath. ‘A kangaroo court.’
Out in the open compound, between the wrecked mesh gates and the main building, a huddle of twelve or so Kamangans were sitting on the ground in a horseshoe. Halfway round the ring, and just outside it, with his back to us, Joss was poised on a metal chair perched atop a packing case, as if on a throne. Opposite the ends of the horseshoe, like the pillar in the middle of a peepsight, a white prisoner was standing bound with rope to an upright wooden stake. Beside him stood another man wielding a heavy stick, and on the ground close by lay a body.
The prisoner was already far gone. His head was lolling forward, chin on chest, and blood was dripping down his chest. As we eased into view Joss screamed some question at him, and when he didn’t answer, the attendant belted him in the ear with his club, rocking his head violently sideways.
‘Jesus!’ breathed Phil. ‘Isn’t that the guy we brought in?’
‘It is.’ I took a deep breath. ‘What do we do?’
My instinct was to take out the whole of the kangaroo court. With three 203s, we could have done it. Joss as well. But I knew we couldn’t start topping the guys we were supposed to be working for.