Ben nodded. 'Break a leg, Halima.'
And with that, the girl strode out into full view, marched towards Suliman's office and knocked firmly on the door.
Ben held his breath as he watched her jog a few metres back so as to put some distance between herself and the mine manager when he opened up. If the situation hadn't been so serious, the look on Suliman's face when he saw Halima would almost have been funny. Clearly he had never expected to see her again; clearly he thought that by now she was nothing more than a rotting or half-eaten corpse in the rainforest. He stared at her in astonishment for a few moments, allowing Halima time to turn and run, before calling out at his guards in Kikongo. Ben watched in satisfaction as his guards ran past the place where he was concealed, followed by Suliman as they chased Halima into the cover of the trees, barking instructions at her.
He just hoped Halima was fast enough to get away. She had done a great job of getting both Suliman and his guards out of his way, and now it was up to him to do his part.
The coast now clear, Ben made his move. He sprinted towards Suliman's office, and slipped inside. His eyes flickered over to the satellite phone, and he was tempted to make another attempt at calling; but that was going to have to wait. He didn't know how long he had, and it was imperative that he found the key to Suliman's battered Land Rover. Ben desperately started searching, upturning papers and opening drawers – it had to be here somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn't find it. Suddenly he smiled. He ran outside, opened the driver's door, and nodded in mute satisfaction.
The keys were still there, in the ignition.
Ben climbed in, took a deep breath, and started the engine.
He had never driven a car before. I've flown a microlight over the burning skies of Adelaide, though, he told himself. How hard can it be? He knew the principle – he just had to put it into practice.
The gearbox choked in protest as he tried to pump the vehicle into first gear. He pressed gingerly down on the accelerator, then lifted the clutch. It jumped forward, shaking Ben's body violently, then stalled.
Ben turned the key and tried again. This time he managed to get the Land Rover to move a few metres before it shuddered to a halt. He banged on the steering wheel in frustration. 'Come on!' he shouted, half to himself, half to the vehicle. Then, realizing that getting angry was not going to achieve anything, he took a deep breath to steady himself and tried again.
This time he managed to bring the clutch up slowly and without stalling. He started moving, and steered his way towards the road that led into the village, ignoring the screams of the engine that told him he was driving too fast for the low gear he was in. Ben didn't want to risk trying to change gear and stalling again – besides, he was fearful of going too quickly and having the vehicle veer out of control – so he stayed like this all the way into the village, concentrating furiously on steering the Land Rover around the huge potholes that littered his way as he bumped and jolted away from the mine.
He drew strange looks from the villagers as he headed through the central square. They knew it was Suliman's Land Rover – it was almost the only vehicle in the village, after all – and the sight of this young white boy driving it inexpertly through the streets, beeping his horn in panicked, staccato bursts whenever anybody got his way, was the most exciting thing many of them had seen for months. That Suliman would get to hear of it was inevitable, but Ben couldn't worry about that now. He had work to do.
Eventually the village and the villagers melted away as Ben approached the western outskirts of the city. In the distance, he could see the pile of rubber tyres where they had hidden the axe.
But there was no sign of Halima.
They were close behind her. Too close. As Halima ran through the trees, she could hear their voices and the crashing sound as they pounded after her. They were full-grown men with guns; she was a teenage girl. It was only a matter of time before she felt their strong hands on her – or their bullets in her shoulder blade. Her instinct was to hide, but if she did that, Ben would have to leave on his own, and she knew he needed her help. Besides, she didn't have time to find a good hiding place, and she couldn't be sure that they wouldn't find her. No, hiding wasn't an option. She had to go through with it. She had to succeed. And so, as she ran, she prayed to the ancestors that they would not catch her before she reached the rendezvous point.
Suddenly she tripped and fell crashing to the ground. She gasped in pain as she felt a sharpness rip through her twisted ankle. Lying there for a couple of seconds, stunned, she thought she might not be able to move. Something had torn badly at the bottom of her leg, and she knew that if she put pressure on it, it would be excruciating. Already she felt dizzy with the pain.
But the alternative was not an option. Suliman's men were closing in. They had already tried to kill her twice, and Halima had no intention of giving them a third chance. She pushed herself up with difficulty and tentatively put pressure on the damaged foot.
It was bad. Very bad. But she had to go on.
Limping desperately, she tried to run. It was difficult to move quickly – and agonizing – but she screwed up her face and tried to forget about the pain. Gradually she increased speed, but her limp stopped her from moving as fast as before. Her face was wet with sweat, and her mouth was dry.
'La voilà! ' she heard one of the men shouting behind her. 'There she is!'
'Shoot her down!' another called.
Tears of pain were streaming down her cheeks now, and every step sent a tortuous flash up her wounded leg. But she didn't let up. She couldn't let up.
The road was not far now, she thought.
She hoped…
A million different possibilities flitted through Ben's brain. She had been caught; imprisoned; shot. Maybe now Suliman was forcing her, on pain of death, to tell him what she and Ben had been up to. It didn't bear thinking about.
He was by the tyres now, so he put his foot on the brake. The truck came to an abrupt and jolting stop, and Ben quickly climbed down and started scrabbling around in the undergrowth for the axe. It was there, but where was Halima?
Suddenly she burst through a nearby copse of trees. 'Hurry, Ben,' she shouted, her voice hoarse and weak but still urgent. 'They are behind me, they are close!'
Ben squinted his eyes. It looked like she was limping – certainly she wasn't running as quickly as he knew she could. He started moving towards her to help her, but she just screamed at him. 'No! The axe!'
He nodded briefly, spun round and yanked the axe up from the ground, then hurled it into the back of the Land Rover. By now, Halima was a few metres away, limping terribly, and he could see four armed men emerging from the trees behind her. 'Get in!' he yelled.
They both jumped up into the vehicle – Halima with the greatest difficulty. 'What happened?' Ben asked.
'It does not matter,' Halima told him through gritted teeth. 'I'll tell you later. Just move.' She clutched her leg as Ben turned his attention back to the Land Rover.
'Please don't stall,' he whispered to himself as he turned the key. The engine spluttered into life and he quickly knocked it into gear.
Crash! Halima screamed as her window shattered on the impact from a bullet, the glass showering into her arm. Ben felt a shard splinter into his forearm, but he couldn't waste time tending to it. The men were nearly upon them. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and slowly raised the clutch. The Land Rover started to move.
Behind him he heard the sound of gunshot. He was going to have to increase the speed. The engine was emitting a high-pitched whine as the revs grew too high, and it refused to go any faster. 'Here goes,' Ben muttered. He slammed down the clutch and slipped into second gear, then brought his left foot up again. Success. He moved up into third gear, then fourth, and they zoomed down the road, leaving the sound of gunshots behind them and trying not to think about the dangers of landmines on the road. Abele had said they had done most of their killing, and he hoped he was right. He didn't want his first time behind the wheel to be his last.