But he was only trying to buy time. He went down on his knees, with his hands together up in front of him, like he was praying in church.
‘Look!’ he cried, in a high, beseeching voice. ‘You’ve got it! You’re going to be rich for the rest of your life. You don’t ever need to work again.’
I was too fired up to feel embarrassed at this grovelling. I just felt hatred, mixed with contempt. All I spat at him was, ‘So?’
‘Who gave you the diamond? I did! You don’t need to shoot me. It won’t get you anywhere.’
The guy was screaming pitifully. Still I just glared at him. Then, I said, ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to shoot you.’
He didn’t know what I meant. How could he? He couldn’t see what I could see. Jason was silently creeping up on him from behind. But until the last second even I didn’t realise what my trusty henchman was planning.
Suddenly, I saw that in his right hand he was holding aloft his fearsome machete. From a metre behind Muende, he sprang. The blade flashed through dappled sunlight and buried itself — thunk! — in the right-hand side of its victim’s neck. The blow was so violent that it almost severed the head. Blood spurted from the jugular, fountaining on to the ground at my feet. With half a groan the self-styled President of Free Kamanga toppled sideways to the ground. Before his limbs had stopped twitching, Jason swung in a backhanded second strike from the other side and cut through the rest of the neck. The next thing I knew, the head came rolling towards my feet with the eyes still opening and shutting.
I stood rooted, too shocked to speak. Jason was exactly the opposite. He went stomping off round the ebony glade, throwing back his head, letting off triumphant yells, leaping in the air, whirling his machete in fancy passes above his head. His wildness scared me shitless. What if he decided he wanted the diamond for himself?
The headless body kept quivering. I walked away from it and sat down heavily on a fallen log with my back to the scene of the massacre. The first thing I needed was a drink. My hands were shaking as I unscrewed the cap of the water-bottle. I took two big gulps, then steeled myself to save the rest.
It was several minutes before I’d chilled out enough to look at the diamond again, and when I got it in the palm of my hand I began to shake again, from wonder at the sheer size and brilliance of the stone. It didn’t take an expert to see that this was one in a million, worth millions. I stared into its glittering depths half mesmerised. Here in my hand I held a secure future, not only for myself and Tim, but for all the survivors of the team. I thought of the night we’d sat round the fire with Rhino Bakunda, joking about what we’d do if we won the lottery. Well, now Pav would be able to hire Concorde and go screwing in the South Seas, Chalky could buy his yacht, Danny his arms business.
Or would any of that happen? Immediately, I began to think of problems. Number one: in the SAS you’re supposed to hand in any booty that comes your way. Often, with minor gains, the lads ignore the rules, but what would I do with something of such value? Number two: the diamond would have to be cut before it was worth anything. How would I find a cutter or a dealer who could be relied on to keep quiet? Would I get landed with an asset I couldn’t cash in?
Suddenly, a gust of wind got up. I heard it coming, a stir in the ebony grove. Leaves began to flutter, branches swung, and a cool blast of air came swirling past me from behind. In that stifling noonday heat any drop in temperature should have been welcome. But to me it was sinister and full of menace, because I instantly associated it with the night that Phil, Mart and I had stood in front of the witch doctor, when the child had died.
The breeze died away as quickly as it had come. All round me the leaves settled. Except for the go-away bird, which was still calling, stillness returned to the trees. I glanced across to see what Jason was doing. He’d gone down on his knees at the foot of a tree, and appeared to be praying, giving thanks.
I looked back at the great rock. Why had that wind come at the very moment I held it in my hand? Was it a natural phenomenon, caused by the hot air rising somewhere else, and the shape of the grove we were in? A couple of months before I’d have said it was. I’d have believed the timing of it was pure coincidence. Now I wasn’t so sure. What I did know for certain was that I wanted nothing more to do with the diamond. No matter how many millions it might be worth, I knew it would only bring me bad luck. I didn’t even want to look at it any more. Hurriedly, I fumbled it back into the blue bag and drew the neck strings together.
Jason was back on his feet and walking towards me with a big grin on his face. Skirting the bodies, I went to meet him. As we met he put up his right hand, palm forward, and I smacked mine against it — high fives, like footballers celebrating a goal.
‘Fucking great!’ I went. ‘You got ’em.’
‘Yassir! They don’t make no more trouble.’
‘Not for us,’ I said. ‘Not for anyone.’
Flies were already clustering on the fresh blood. Africa would deal with the bodies in short order.
‘Jason,’ I said, holding out the blue bag, ‘you’d better have this.’
He took it in his long, elegant fingers and held it in both hands.
‘Open it,’ I told him. ‘Have a look.’
Once again the diamond blazed in a shaft of sunlight, bright as a halogen lamp, so bright that I had to look away. Jason gave a whistle, and stared in astonishment.
‘Ever seen one like that?’ I asked.
He shook his head.
‘Take it, anyway.’
‘No, sah. It is for you, not me.’ He held the damned thing out towards me.
‘I don’t want it.’ I waved it away. ‘I want you to have it. But be careful. Don’t mention it to anyone. If somebody knows you’ve got it, they’ll kill you for it. Take it to Mulongwe and sell it there, quickly. You’ll be a rich man for the rest of your life — big house, car, television, everything.’
For what seemed a long time, he held it steadily in his fingers, gazing at it. Then he looked up at me, said, ‘Zikomo, sah,’ very gracefully, and slipped it back into the bag.
As he stowed it in a belt-pouch I sensed immediate relief, as if a burden had been lifted from me. At the same time I felt entirely disorientated. I had to think hard to remember where the hell we were, and even harder to dream up some way of getting back to civilisation.
‘So,’ I began. ‘The first thing is to head for the pinkie and mend that puncture. D’you know where it is?’
‘Yassir.’ He made one of his expansive gestures, flinging out a hand and pointing back up the hill. I’d been on the point of digging in my bergen for the GPS, but by then I trusted Jason’s sense of direction implicitly, and was happy to walk on the line he gave.
I never went near the body of the German woman, or even took a close look at it. Like the diamond, she was already part of my past. We just pulled on our Bergens and left the ebony glade to the go-away bird who lived there.
Two hours later we were back at the pinkie. Jason helped mend the punctures in both tyres, and as we worked he explained how, if I skirted the hills to the west, I would pick up another dirt road running northwards. With the wheels back in place, I emptied the last jerrican of diesel into the tank, and by 1500 I was ready to move.
Until the last moment, I assumed Jason was coming with me. He’d given no indication of having any other plan. But when I said, ‘Right, all aboard,’ he replied, ‘I go this way,’ and gestured to the east.
I was taken aback. For one thing, he was an extremely valuable escort. For another, I didn’t like the thought of him alone, on foot, in that hostile environment. But when I asked, ‘Are you sure?’ he simply nodded, and I knew there was no point in arguing.