‘So what’s your brief?’
‘Good question. They hired us to help fight the war against the north, but in the past couple of days that campaign’s pretty much taken a back seat. There’s a new agenda now.’
‘Which is?’
‘The thing’s going nuclear.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Somebody’s stumbled on a cache of warheads near a place called Ichembo, out west. I don’t know who found them, or how, because the site’s outside the war zone.’
‘Warheads?’ I asked
‘Nuclear heads for tactical weapons. Muende’s desperate to get his hands on them. He’s pissed off with the slow progress of his campaign. But now he reckons with medium-range nuclear capability he could knock out the north in a couple of weeks. A few missiles into Mulongwe, and all will be dandy. The north will be on its knees.’
‘Jesus!’ I went. ‘I bet they’re shitting bricks up there, then.’
‘They don’t even know about the stuff, yet. Nobody knows about it except us — that is, Muende’s force.’
‘How many heads are there?’
‘Supposed to be about fifty.’
‘What size?’
‘I dunno — like so, maybe.’ Sam held his hands about four feet apart to indicate their length. ‘I guess they’re like hundred-millimetre shells.’
‘Has Muende got the means to deliver them?’
‘Oh, sure. He has plenty Russian rockets. That’s how the warheads got here. Left behind by the Russians when they pulled out in a hurry. Then forgotten. Or, put it another way, deliberately not remembered. Apparently they’re in an underground silo, but they’re deteriorating — going unstable.’
‘If that arsehole Muende does get his hands on them,’ I began. ‘When he’s been drinking, he’s not rational any more. He might turn round and start on South Africa.’
‘That’s right. And the South Africans on the team know that. From what I’ve heard, they’re cooking up some plan of their own. Muende thinks they’re going to help him recover the warheads. They are, but once they’ve got them, they’re planning to hijack them for their own purposes.’
‘What do they want them for?’
‘You tell me. Maybe they’re working covertly for their government. Maybe they’ve got some private agenda. But this whole thing’s getting to be too big a fuckin’ mess. That’s why I’m wanting out. Ordinary fighting’s one thing. Nuclear is something else.’
‘Don’t blame you,’ I said. ‘What’s the timing of the operation?’
‘Immediate. The Afundis are going for the war-heads tomorrow. Correction, today. They’re gonna start right out this morning. The great commander’s going to direct the operation in person. It’ll be some circus, I tell you.’
‘Where is this place?’ I asked.
‘Ichembo? Not that far west of here. North-west, I should say. Maybe a hundred miles. But the main force has got to come up from the south, and then they’ve got to cross the river.’
‘So when do they reckon to get there?’
‘Evening, I guess. Why, you gonna join the party?’
‘Some chance!’
‘Sam,’ said Genesis. ‘How did you get involved with this shower, anyway?’
‘Answered one of Interaction’s ads. Simple as that. Came out of the military and found civilian life a bit tedious. I guess I was looking for some excitement. But I tell you something: if I’d known what a shithole Kamanga was, I’d never have gotten involved.’
‘The same goes for us,’ I said. ‘Except that we didn’t have the choice, we just got sent.’
The conversation drifted on. I was in a peculiar state. Lying flat on my back, looking up at the stars, I felt exhaustion pressing in on me like a heavy atmosphere from outside. I had that thick, cloudy feeling in my head that I’d been blaming on the Lariam. But at the same time apprehension was needling me internally and keeping me awake. I had to discipline myself not to go on asking Sam the time; after two enquiries, it was still only just after 0500, and there was at least half an hour to kill. My biggest worry was the rest of our guys were about to fall into the same trap as we had. Unless we got back to stop them, they’d set off in search of us soon after first light, and drive head-first into the shit at the convent.
In spite of everything, I must have dozed off. Suddenly, Gen was shaking my shoulder and saying, ‘Watch yourself, Geordie. Something’s starting up.’
He and Sam were already on their feet, looking back at the camp, where torches were flashing and people were running about.
‘Sounds like they’ve broken in to the cell and found the body,’ said Sam. ‘We better get set.’
Above the camp, in the east, the sky had started to lighten, but the moon had set, and around us the land still looked black as coal.
‘Can’t we get off right away?’ Gen asked.
‘Not yet,’ I said, looking at the sky. ‘Have to hang on for a bit.’
‘We’ve got a few minutes,’ said Sam, calmly. ‘They’ll run around the huts like blue-assed flies, looking for you. There’s nothing to draw anybody in this direction. When they find you’re missing, most likely they’ll head for the transportation section. They’ll think you’re trying to steal a vehicle.’
‘You’d better be right.’
The longer we held on, the more I managed to convince myself that the aircraft’s engine wasn’t going to start. Given the Kamangans’ abysmal standards of maintenance, the chances of it firing up and running properly seemed infinitesimally small.
Now, more than ever, precise timing was going to be critical. If we took off prematurely, in the dark, we could be committing suicide. If we let the light get too strong, and then couldn’t start the engine, we’d almost certainly be spotted and picked off by trigger-happy guards.
Dawn seemed desperately retarded. Daylight strengthened with impossible slowness, the greyness hardly able to infiltrate the black. The sky was clear — not a cloud anywhere — so I knew the apparent slowdown was psychological, but that did nothing to speed things up or ease my nerves.
Back in the camp, the commotion kept increasing. Vehicles had started to scud about. Horns were blowing, torches and headlights flashing, orders being shouted, doors slammed.
‘Let’s flit,’ said Sam. ‘Let’s do it.’
Looking at him, I could just make out his features for the first time: dark hair, thick eyebrows, broad, humorous face.
‘Okay,’ I agreed. ‘This is good enough.’
I’d hardly spoken when a pair of headlights swung out of the camp and came straight for us. They were five or six hundred metres off, but moving fast. Clearly, their objective was the hangar.
‘That’s it!’ I shouted. ‘Get in, Gen. Sam, on the starter!’
I jumped into the left-hand seat, squeezed the ball to pump fuel through the carbs, and called, ‘Pull!’
Sam pulled. Nothing. Again. Still nothing. At the third attempt the engine fired, backfired and cut. I stole a glance over my shoulder. The headlights were bouncing around, speeding towards us. I pumped again, and shouted, ‘Keep pulling!’ Once more the engine fired up and cut. In the silence I heard two sharp cracks snap out behind me. Screwing my head round, I saw the headlights boring in on us.
‘Pull, Sam!’ I bellowed. ‘For fuck’s sake, pull!’ My adrenalin was well up. My hands were shaking on the controls. As the engine fired again I whipped up the accelerator arm and sent the revs sky-high. ‘Okay! I yelled through the sudden scream. ‘Get in!’
More rounds were cracking past us. Sam, in front of me on the left, let go of the handle and ran round the front of the aircraft to jump in on top of Genesis. But as he came level with the open doorway, he gave a sudden yell, slumped forward and went down. From the way he buckled, backwards then forwards, I knew he’d got a round through the chest.