She sat down slowly on the wicker chair by the door. Her emotions had ranged from anger to guilt in the space of a few seconds. And it wasn't the first time it had happened either. She knew she was vulnerable to this quiet, softly spoken side of him that rarely showed itself. But he was the one who had given her an ultimatum in Beirut to work with, or without, him to find Bernard, irrespective of the danger to Jamel Mobuto. How was she to know he'd had a change of heart? She wasn't a mind-reader. So why the hell was she feeling guilty?
'I know we should tell Sergei what's happening, but what could he do? Never mind the NYPD; that was just a smokescreen I put up in there. What about the CIA men working with C.W.? They're Bailey's men. And if he is behind this whole operaton, which I'm certain he is, he'd be the first to know if Bernard was compromised. How could Sergei have a description of Bernard circulated amongst the security staff at the Trade Fair without Bailey's men finding out? He couldn't, could he? That's why we have to stop Bernard ourselves. It has to be done in complete secrecy so that by the time we get there it'll be too late for Bernard to pull out. He'll be trapped. Then we can take him and bust this whole case wide open.'
She gave him a resigned nod. 'How are we going to get back to New York in time?'
'Tambese's arranged for one of the presidential planes to be put on standby for us in Habane. The Cessna's already been refuelled. All we're waiting for now is a pilot. Tambese would have flown us to Habane himself but he's still got a lot of loose ends to tie up down here. He said we should reach New York with a couple of hours to spare.'
'And if we don't make it?'
'Then we'll have to radio through to Sergei and explain the situation to him. He could still prevent Mobuto from attending the Trade Fair but then Bernard would almost certainly get away. But it shouldn't come to that. We do have time on our side.'
'God, I hope so,' she replied, rubbing her hands over her face. 'If something does happen to Mobuto, C.W. will be breaking in two new partners. We'll be out so fast our feet won't touch the ground.'
'Nothing's going to happen to Mobuto,' Graham replied.
The door opened and Tambese looked out. 'Sorry to disturb you, but I thought you'd like to know that the pilot's on his way. He should be here in about ten minutes.'
'Great,' Graham said then looked around him slowly. Til be sad to leave this place. It seems so tranquil.'
Tambese stepped out onto the porch. 'It is, believe me. I've been coming down here with my wife for the last ten years. It's the perfect tonic when you want to get away from the hustle and bustle of Habane.'
'I didn't know you were married,' Sabrina said.
'Twelve years now. Matthew Okoye's my brother-in-law. That's why we come down here so often. We've always been close. After all, there weren't many of us who could stand up to Alphonse Mobuto and get away with it. Jamel, Remy and Matthew were his staunchest critics, Joseph Moredi and I to a lesser degree because we didn't have the same clout that they did. That's what brought us all together in the first place: our revulsion at Alphonse Mobuto and his puppets like Ngune and his deputy, Thomas Massenga. We were determined to bring peace to Zimbala in our lifetime.'
'And you have,' Graham said.
'I certainly hope so,' Tambese replied thoughtfully.
'Any news of Massenga?' Graham asked.
'Nothing yet. There's a reward out for his capture. It shouldn't be long before he's apprehended.'
'You still haven't told me what happened after you got caught in Branco,' Sabrina said to Graham.
Graham recounted the events up to the time Ngune was executed in the street.
'Have you found the officer who shot him?' she asked, looking at Tambese.
Tm not looking for him,' Tambese replied. 'I know who it was but I'm not taking any further action. These things happen in the heat of the moment.'
'So you're condoning murder?' she shot back. 'That's lowering yourself to Ngune's level.'
'I'd have to sink a lot lower to reach Ngune's level.' Tambese moved to the railing and looked down at the outline of the body underneath the tarpaulin. He turned back to her. 'Ngune's dead; the coup d'etat failed. For the first time in forty-five years there's peace in Zimbala. The officer concerned only did what twelve million other Zimbalans would have done in the same situation. The country would be up in arms if I persecuted him for that. Don't get me wrong. I'm not condoning what happened, but at the same time I'm not prepared to jeopardize this new-found peace just to see that Ngune's death is avenged. This is Africa, Sabrina, not America. It's a continent in turmoil. Coup d'etats are a regular occurrence. One corrupt government replaces another. And it's always the people who suffer. If it's not the adults being massacred because they happen to belong to a different tribe to the one in power, or to the one seeking power, then it's the children dying of malnutrition because their parents can't cultivate barren fields. The African has come to accept death as part of his everyday life. We put different values on life to, say, the Americans or the Europeans. In Europe and
America, you'd say life is for living. In Africa, we say life is for surviving. And if the death of a butcher like Ngune means the chances of survival are increased, then the people will welcome it. I know it sounds cynical, but that's become the way of life in Africa.'
I guess values are different,' she replied, glancing across at the tarpaulin. 'But I take your point anyway.'
'You still haven't told how you masterminded the attack on Kondese,' Graham said. 'How did your troops manage to neutralize all those patrols without any gunfire?'
'There was gunfire, but it was minimal. We didn't hear it because we were down in the sewer at the time. All the government troops were armed with silenced weapons. They used a pincer movement to close in on the city and all had orders to shoot to kill. The radio frequencies were jammed just before the troops moved in and opened again when they had recaptured the city. That way the troops in Branco couldn't be contacted and warned of the attack. Had they known Ngune may have fled. That was our main worry. Ngune was their mastermind and with him on the loose the threat of another coup d'etat could never have been ruled out. We had to get him, dead or alive.'
'And the garrison?' Sabrina asked.
'Ngune had a radar scanner installed at Branco but not one at the garrison. That was his mistake. He reasoned that any air attack would have to be launched from Habane and his spies would tell him as soon as the jets were scrambled, then they could counter the attack with the jets they had in Chad. But what he couldn't know was that Jamel had come to an agreement with the Niger government while he was in New York. They agreed to let us use two of their jets on the condition that we put our own markings on them before they left Niger. They didn't want to be seen to be involved if we failed to stop Ngune from seizing power. They've always had close links with Zimbala and they wanted to keep it that way, irrespective of who came to power. Again we jammed the radio frequencies just before the jets were scrambled and the garrison was levelled to the ground within a matter of minutes. We had a division on standby to go in afterwards and capture any surviving rebels. Then, when the garrison was destroyed, we opened the radio frequencies again.'
'How many rebels survived?' Sabrina asked.
'Seventeen out of a squad of nearly four hundred. They'll be put on trial when they've recovered from their injuries.' Tambese looked at Sabrina. 'They'll be given a fair trial, that I assure you. And if found guilty, they'll be locked up for the rest of their lives. And I mean that quite literally. We're determined to stamp out the past. The dictatorship is dead. It must never be allowed to return.'