‘You had better go,’ I told him, ‘before you are missed.’
He nodded and looked relieved. ‘What should I do, Mr Marc? This is a bad thing they do.’ He nodded towards the ruined huts of Dhalib. ‘To the fishermen also. Many people have already left Kamboni. They believe airplanes and soldiers will come and there will be much fighting.’
I didn’t want to tell him that was unlikely, so I said, ‘At the first opportunity, you should leave. Go home. The only thing waiting for you here is death. How did you get here?’
‘By sea. They said that is the only way to avoid the Kenyan army around Kismaayo.’ His face twisted at the memory. ‘I was sick all the way. They thought I was weak, like a girl, and threatened to throw me overboard.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I told him. ‘Some of the greatest sailors in the world were often seasick.’
‘True?’
‘Absolutely. Can you go back that way?’
‘Yes. There are always boats looking for men to help. And I can cook.’ He thrust his chest out, a boy wanting validation among men.
‘Then do that. At least in your home town you have a sister. She will be pleased to see you again.’
‘That is true.’ His eyes grew large. ‘Are you going to attack the house?’
‘No. There are too many men.’ That wasn’t quite true, but I didn’t want to give away any plans I might have. ‘But if they execute the English, everybody in the house will die. You don’t want to be here when that happens.’
‘I understand.’ He frowned, processing the information. It must have been hard for him to take in, and I wondered whether I’d gone too far. If the thought of the house being flattened really freaked him out, he might run back and warn the others.
‘Before you go,’ I said, ‘show me where the two English people are being held.’
He sank to his knees and drew a square on the floor, dividing it roughly into four sections. He prodded the right-hand square at the front of the house, facing the sea, and said, ‘That is the room I have prepared.’ He then pointed to the one behind it, at the rear. ‘This is where I prepare food. Under this floor are steps into a hole — another room. The English are down there.’
‘Locked in?’
He shook his head. ‘No. There is a flat door, but always with two guards watching over it. The English have mattresses and water in buckets. It is not a good place. It smells of death.’
‘Lighting?’
‘They have one flashlight. They asked for candles but Xasan said they might try to burn down the house. He does not trust the big Englishman. I think he is scared of him.’
As well he might be. Tober was in a hell of a situation, but he wouldn’t have been picked for this job if he wasn’t capable of thinking on his feet.
The situation hadn’t been good to begin with. Now it was far worse. I had to let Vale know, although I had no idea what he could do with the information.
‘Get out of here,’ I told Madar. ‘Do it now. When you reach town, keep going and don’t look back.’
He stood up and held out his hand. I shook it gravely. He turned towards town and scurried away into the gloom.
Thirty-Nine
Pryce and Tober listened as the talk went on above their heads. The voices were muted by the thickness of the floor between them, but it was evident that somebody important had arrived and that feelings among the men upstairs were running high, like a charge of electricity.
‘Musa,’ said Angela. She automatically looked towards Tober, although it was so dark down here that she needn’t have bothered. And the flashlight had to be saved for later.
‘I reckon,’ Tober agreed. ‘Excitable bunch, aren’t they? I’m wondering what the gunfire was about.’
Angela waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. She took it as a bad sign.
‘You don’t think this is going to end well, do you?’
‘If I was a betting man, I wouldn’t expect good odds, no.’ His voice was surprisingly calm, and she wondered how he managed it. She had worked with others like him before, but not in situations quite like this. It made her realize that she had been incredibly naïve to have gone into this so willingly. What the hell had she been thinking? She gripped her fists tight to prevent a tremor running through them, and was glad of the darkness to hide in. What chances of a career progression now, she thought? ‘Is there going to be any backup?’
A short silence. ‘I wouldn’t count on it. You know what Moresby said.’
‘Yes.’ Moresby had said they would not be in any danger. Assurances had been given by Xasan and the people behind him that their safety would be guaranteed. That all they were doing was talking. Negotiating. Even so, there was a chance, wasn’t there?
‘So we’ll join the hostages.’
‘Most likely.’
She felt a ripple of irritation at the brevity of his responses. ‘You don’t talk much, do you?’
‘Never felt the need. Why — do you think talk will get us out of here?’
‘No. I don’t. But it might help … to … help.’
She heard a shuffle in the dark, and then felt Tober’s presence alongside her. He didn’t touch her, but stayed a heartbeat away.
‘This any help?’
She smiled and felt reassured. It was enough, under the circumstances.
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t sweat it. First op I went on I pissed myself.’
She didn’t believe him but said, ‘Aren’t you scared about what might happen?’
‘A bit. But scared is good; it makes you ready for fight and flight. You give in to fear and you might as well lie down and die.’ He touched her shoulder. ‘Be ready, that’s all. When the time comes, you might get one chance only. If it comes, take it and go.’
‘I will if you will.’ She touched his hand, grateful for the support. When he spoke, she could tell he was smiling.
‘No worries. I’ll be right in front of you.’
Forty
‘I want to know what your contingency plans are if you fail to hear from Pryce and Tober within the next few hours.’ Vale barged into Moresby’s office, past caring what the ops director might do or say. A bad situation had been allowed to deteriorate, and with no word from the two operatives in Somalia, nor from Musa or Xasan, the outlook was looking increasingly grim. They should have heard something by now.
Moresby looked startled, and put down the phone he’d been using. Behind him, lights glowed in the darkness across the river. It was a reminder to Vale that he himself hadn’t been home in days and he was running on reserves of energy that would soon become too depleted to function effectively. He’d done it before, many times — but he’d been younger then, with energy to spare. Now things were different.
‘What do you mean crashing in here?’ Moresby demanded, rising from his seat.
‘Sit down, you idiot.’ Vale threw himself into the visitor’s chair and stared at the senior officer. ‘You’ve fucked up and you know it. You’ve put two people in the wind and have no way of knowing whether they’re alive or dead. It’s time to stop pretending you’ve got a hold on this farce and do something.’
‘The first thing I’ll do if you don’t leave is call security!’ Moresby’s face twisted at the idea. ‘It’ll be quite a scene, having someone of your length of service hauled along the corridor and kicked out of the building.’ He reached for the phone.
‘No, you won’t.’ Vale stared at him with an air of calm. ‘You pick up that thing and I’ll activate a prepared internal memorandum copied to the Joint Intelligence Committee giving chapter and verse of the botch-up you’ve made of this operation.’