'That was quite a show, Mr Graham,' Ngune said. 'Don't worry, though, we'll catch your companions before very long. They can't travel very fast under those conditions.'
'You speak good English for a barbarian,' Graham retorted, eyeing Ngune contemptuously."
Ngune smiled. 'Drop the gun, please.'
Graham tossed it onto the ground. He heard the footsteps behind him and was still turning when the butt of an AK-47 crashed against the back of his head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
'We can't leave Mike back there,' Sabrina snapped.
'We'll have to, at least for the moment,' Tambese replied through gritted teeth as he struggled to get a better grip on Mobuto.
Sabrina felt gutted. What would happen to Graham? She refused to even think about it. But she knew Tambese was right. There was nothing they could do for him, not without getting caught themselves. They had only managed to get out with seconds to spare before the rebels had descended on the manhole like a plague of rats. She knew she had shot three of them from inside the sewer. One had fallen through the opening and landed in the water. She also knew it would only be a matter of time before a team would be sent after them.
'There's a cover about five hundred yards from here. We can get out there.'
'That's crazy,' Sabrina shot back. 'The rebels will have found the holdall by now. And that means they'll have the blueprint. They're sure to have men waiting at all the manholes by now.'
'Trust me, Sabrina.'
She didn't pursue the matter. It could wait. She had to concentrate fully on keeping them alive until they reached safety, wherever that may be. After all, she was the only one who was armed. Then she heard it- footsteps. It couldn't have been an echo of their own footsteps. They were both wearing rubber-soled shoes. These were boots. And there were more than one pair.
She peered into the gloom behind them, not that she could see much further than a few yards in front of her. The lights, which were mounted on the opposite wall at intervals of forty yards, were weak and several of them had fused and never been replaced. If her friends could see her now. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips and helped to calm the sudden burst of anxiety that had swept over her. Had Tambese heard the footsteps as well? If he had, he wasn't saying anything.
Then she saw a movement in the shadows thirty yards behind them. She was about to fire then she eased her finger off the trigger. Conserve your ammo, girl, she said to herself. She was down to her last clip and she didn't know how many bullets were left in it. She flicked the fire selector from automatic to single fire. Another silhouette flitted across the shadows. Again she held back.
But why hadn't they opened fire? Unless they had instructions to bring them back alive? Possibly. The thought was still lingering when a figure appeared momentarily in a shaft of light behind her. She fired. There was an anguished cry followed a moment later by a loud splash.
'What was that?' Tambese called out over his shoulder.
'That was one of the rebels,' Sabrina replied.
'Why didn't you say we were being followed?'
'I thought you'd have heard the footsteps.'
'No, I didn't hear anything,' Tambese replied guiltily.
'Don't worry about it, you just keep moving. How far's this manhole now?'
'A hundred yards or so,' Tambese replied.
'Thank God for that,' she muttered.
A bullet cracked against the roof of the sewer above them. Sabrina cursed under her breath. If only she had the torch. Then she saw another movement and she fired again. But there wasn't any anguished cry this time. This time she cursed herself for firing blindly. The footsteps suddenly grew louder. Bullets began chipping against the walls around them, but they were still only warning shots. Even so, Sabrina found herself doubled over as she moved backwards, her eyes continually darting behind her to make sure she didn't get too close to the edge of the path. Then they came into view. She counted at least seven of them, and they were closing in fast, their AK~4ys held in front of them.
'How far to the manhole?' she shouted.
'Thirty yards," Tambese called back.
To hell with it, she thought, and flicked the Uzi back onto automatic fire. She fired a burst at the approaching men. Two fell and a third tripped over one of them and tumbled headlong into the water. Still they came. They had to be a suicide squad. There were probably another eight men behind them waiting to take over from their fallen colleagues. And all because Ngune wanted them alive. They would continue coming until she ran out of bullets. That had to be their strategy otherwise the three of them would be dead by now. How many bullets left? She fired again. Another man stumbled and fell.
'We're almost there,' Tambese shouted to her.
She fired again. Another fell. Two left. She pulled the trigger. Click. The magazine was empty. And they were closing in fast. Were there others behind them? She couldn't see any. She was confident she could disarm them when they came into range. She discarded the Uzi and stood her ground, her hands held up protectively in front of her. A sudden burst of gunfire behind her scythed over her head, cutting them down when they were less than fifteen yards away from her. She dropped to the ground and looked round in horror at how close the bullets had passed over her head. Tambese stood on the ladder leading up to the manhole, an Uzi in his hand.
'Are you OK?' he asked.
'Just. Where did you get that from?' she asked incredulously, gesturing to the Uzi.
'Come up, I'll show you.'
She pulled the woollen hat from her head and followed him up the ladder. A hand was held out towards her but after a sharp word from Tambese it was quickly withdrawn. She climbed out of the manhole and looked around her slowly, her eyes narrowed in uncertainty. The man standing next to Tambese was dressed in army fatigues and wore the rank of captain. An army jeep was parked at the side of the road behind them. Another eight soldiers stood beside the giant Challenger tank which was guarding the end of the street. The hatch was open and she could see the tank commander, his arms resting on the turret, goggles pulled up onto his forehead. He was smoking a cigarette.
'What's going on?' she finally asked, looking round at Tambese. 'And where's Remy Mobuto?'
'I've had him taken to hospital. These are some of my men. The others have been deployed throughout the city. Kondese is no longer in the hands of the rebels. It's all gone according to plan — '
'What plan?' she demanded. 'Why weren't we told about it?'
'It was top security. Jamel and I were the only two who knew about it. We couldn't afford to take any chances, not with so much at stake. There's a lot of sympathy for Ngune within the army. That's why I had to handpick these men personally for the operation. And they were only given their orders before I left the house.' Tambese held up his hand before she could speak. 'I know, I owe you an explanation. Later. First we've got to get Mike out of Branco.'
'How?'
'You'll see.' Tambese smiled at her bewildered expression. 'It'll be quite a show, that I can promise you.'
When Graham came round he found himself lying on a carpeted floor. He rubbed the back of his head gingerly then, after struggling to sit up, he looked slowly around him. It was an office. Then he saw the portrait of Alphonse Mobuto on the wall. Beside it was a framed photograph of Mobuto and Ngune shaking hands at some formal function. Both men were wearing tuxedos. There was also a picture of Ngune on the desk. It wasn't difficult to work out where he was. Then he noticed the armed guard standing by the door. The AK-47 was pointing straight at him. Graham continued to massage his neck until he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened and Ngune entered, still dressed in the grey tracksuit. He nodded to the guard who had snapped to attention then told him to stand easy and keep the AK-47 on Graham.