“I tell you my friend, do not drink that jungle brew, it’ll make you blind. I swear to God.” He laughed loudly.
“At least that was my excuse last time Uko dragged me to one of Kinshasa’s more expensive brothels.”
The boy didn’t know what to do, whether to interrupt the boss man or creep back out the room.
“Sah, please sah,” he said quietly. Arm still raised above his head in a mock salute. Clement didn’t hear. The boy stepped closer, tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Clement spun round drunkenly, eyes rolling in his head, reached for his pistol and nearly fell off his chair. The boy jumped back nervously, his friend cowered against the door. Clement staggered to his feet, one hand resting on the edge of the table.
The barrel of the gun was unsteady, Clement’s aim shifting indecisively between one boy and the other. “I swear there are two of you. I must be more drunk than I thought!” More booming laughter followed as he slipped the weapon back into his holster.
“Now tell me soldier, what did you see in the skies?” He asked, placing a heavy hand on the shoulder of the nearest boy.
“I don’t know sah. Against the clouds. A flicker of something. We both saw.” Clements eyes narrowed.
“A flicker. Moving across the sky or downwards?” The other boy stepped forwards, realising they weren’t about to be beaten.
“Downwards. But only for a second.” Clement nodded. Despite the amount of alcohol he had drunk he was still thinking clearly. “Take two other boys, two of the younger ones. Do not wear army clothes. Do not take guns or knives. Just some sticks. I want you to run to where you saw the shapes in the sky. Can you do that? For tonight you are not soldiers. Remember that. You are children hunting bush meat by night, setting traps. To bring your mama a nice meal in the morning. Do you understand?”
The two boys nodded solemnly. “Good, now if you find anything, broken branches, any trace of people who should not be in our lands, you are to run straight back and let me know. Is that clear?”
He waved the two boys away, swirling the contents of his glass thoughtfully. A flicker against the skies, hardly a reason to panic, but combined with the sound of the engine…He drained the glass. Always best to go with your instinct, he thought, setting it down noisily on the table.
47
“So what’s your plan?” Jack asked, “now you’re a responsible family man an’ all”, he said, gesturing at the girl standing behind Monsieur Blanc. “And there’s going to be a shit storm of apocalyptic proportions.”
Monsieur Blanc took out his silk handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead. “I doubt any shit storm, as you call it, will take place tonight. If someone has been dropped into the jungle they’ll need a day to set up, get in position, carry out their reconnaissance. And seeing as a helicopter is picking me and Gustav up tomorrow night from Clement’s runway, I am confident we should be able to get away.” He folded the handkerchief into a neat square and put it back into his pocket. “Frankly a helicopter is the safest way to fly in and out of this area. Landing anything bigger than a twin engine Cessna on that airstrip is asking an awful lot from your pilot.” He looked at the girl. “We will return you to your village won’t we? You can point it out from the sky.” The girl nodded, a ghost of a smile flashing briefly over her lips. Monsieur Blanc turned back to Jack. “I’ll tell Clement I found her wandering the corridors up here and would like to keep her with me.”
“You think he’ll buy that?” Jack asked. Monsieur Blanc shrugged, “he is a man, he will assume another man has the same base reasons as he would for making such a request. In any case women are nothing more than objects to him, once he’s finished with them he throws them to the wolves,” he walked towards the window, “lets the boy soldiers do what they want to them, brutalise and rape them, leave them for dead.” He made a strange tutting sound, shook his head.
Jack leant back on the makeshift operating table, gingerly touching the row of neat stitches with his fingertips. It occurred to him that Monsieur Blanc, although ruthless in his business dealings, and quite content to work with despicable men, had some kind of moral code, something that set him apart from a man like Nbotou. A strange contradiction.
“You did a good job of sewing me up, a lot neater than they managed at MI6. Now I don’t wish to impose, but is there perchance room in your helicopter for me?” He asked, somehow managing to pull his face into what he hoped was a winning grin. Monsieur Blanc turned to him and shook his head.
“Regretfully no,” he said flatly. “But I have no interest in killing where it is not necessary, so I do not intend to take your life.”
“Very considerate of you,” Jack replied.
“Shut up.” He said in a heartbeat. “You can either take your chances tonight and attempt to escape — the guard on this room shouldn’t be too much trouble and by this time of night most of the boys outside are either high or blind drunk. Or both. And if that doesn’t appeal, you can go with Gustav into the jungle tomorrow. He’ll take one of the jeeps, tell Nbotou he is driving you away from his lands to shoot and bury you.”
“And that’s the better option?” Jack asked, incredulously.
“He will not shoot you. I will give him strict instructions. He is usually very obedient.” Monsieur Blanc said, a hint of a smile on his lips as he turned to leave the room. “I know the urge to escape is strong, but I think in this case the second option really is better. Try and get some rest tonight. I will see to it that you’re brought some food tomorrow.” Jack nodded and lay back down on the bed.
“You know what would be really useful?” He asked as Monsieur Blanc was about to leave the room. “A map and a compass.”
48
Ed Garner switched on the GPS. His men had grouped in standard lookout formation. Four men on the perimeter, the rest at the centre. Equipment checks carried out, Ed was calling up the coordinates for their two targets: the runway and Clement’s camp.
The on-screen map showed their position, ten miles from the runway and 12 miles from the house. On any other terrain it would take no more than ninety minutes to get to each location, a brisk jog, full kit on the back. Not so fast you used up your energy reserves. The jungle was different. All the men on this mission had jungle experience and all of them knew progress could be considerably slower through the thick undergrowth. If there weren’t established tracks from animals or people they’d have to machete their way through and it would take three times as long.
“We’re splitting into two groups, five men in each.” Ed said, casting a glance at his men. Team one will head to the airstrip.” He read the coordinates out. “Everyone got that? Gavin, I want you to head that team,” Gavin McCallister nodded. The surly Scot who’d proved so effective at demolishing Marcon Pharmaceuticals was looking forward to setting off a nice little firework display at the airstrip.
“Remember, I don’t want any damage to the runway itself. Surrounding buildings fine, blow them sky high, but the tarmac needs to stay intact.” Gav nodded. “Once the explosives and charges are in place, radio me and I’ll forward you our GPS position. The rest of us will be keeping the Camp under surveillance. We have the usual kit. Long range mics to hear what’s going on, thermal imaging cameras to get an idea of which rooms are used. Most likely we’ll be in the treetops, unless there’s some real cover on the ground. It’ll be daybreak by the time you have the charges set up, so you need to be fucking careful on your way back to us. I’ve no idea what time the camp rises but there’s sure to be some lookouts. If you’re spotted shoot to kill. Silencers on please.”