by D C Macey
‘Yeah, Ro had to assume Sam would catch up with him, and then Sam’s masters would know exactly where he was. You and Sam broke his cover and created the urgency that moved Ro along. Then we just made sure his first best exit flight option was us.’ Tracy leant back in her seat, satisfied.
‘Sam’s masters? You don’t own him. He only helped in the first place to save his old friend.’ She leant forward and called across the aisle to Bob. ‘Did you know about all this?’
‘I’ve been held prisoner for days, trussed up like a turkey.’
‘Well, Sam is not going to like this one bit, believe me.’
The aircraft’s continued bumpy descent suddenly dropped it below cloud level and the pilot immediately began some final manoeuvring to achieve the best approach on the fast closing runway. Instinctively, Helen broke off from the conversation as all the passengers craned to see what was outside.
• • •
Sam was driving Ro’s 4 x 4 back towards the runway; he had casualties on board. Wounded morani were packed into the rear cargo space, the back seats and up front beside Angel’s driver who had made the mistake of wandering away from his vehicle into the grid and been shot for his error. Each had bullet wounds to the lower leg, none of them would be walking anywhere for the next week or two. One had a shattered tibia bone, which needed sorting quickly or the man might end up crippled. Sam had applied some emergency first aid, but they all needed proper treatment.
Ahead, as the first solid bout of rain eased away to only sporadic flurries, he could see Angel resting under the warehouse cover, just where Sam had left him. He glanced about wondering where Charles was. Then he saw him, standing motionless near the office doorway, looking across the runway towards the shapes scattered here and there on the far side. His fallen clansmen. Nephews, cousins, friends. He was leaning part of his weight on his club as though it were a walking stick, and from somewhere the chief had retrieved a spear which he clutched in his other hand for further support.
The two bullet holes in his leg should have kept him down. But Charles had work to do and little time to do it in. Sam shook his head; Charles should not be standing. He tooted the 4 x 4’s horn as he approached, and the chief turned towards him. As Sam neared, he saw Charles’ face lighten at the sight of his morani in the vehicle.
Pulling to a halt, Sam leant out. ‘Found them, they’ll live. And I’ve been back to our own vehicles, the four morani you left on guard there were unhurt. Angel’s driver was hit because he thought it was okay to go walkabout! Your boys are coming through the bush now, should be here in a few minutes.’
‘Let’s get you and Angel inside now. I’ll drive across the runway and, when your men get here, we’ll load your dead on the roof. Sorry, it’s not very respectful, the alternative is we leave them here, otherwise we’ll all be trapped on this side of the river pretty soon.’
Charles was not looking at him. Sam thought, he’s not even listening. The chief raised his spear and pointed it along the runway. Sam turned to see what had captured the chief’s attention. Perhaps two miles off and closing fast, was the cargo plane.
‘Holy Christ,’ said Sam. He jumped back into the driver’s seat and hurried the 4 x 4 off the runway and beneath the warehouse roof; he paused beside Angel, jumped out, lifted the groaning priest and, without ceremony, shoved him inside. Then Sam drove the 4 x 4 out of the far side of the warehouse and slewed to a halt behind the first growth of bush beyond. He hoped it would go unnoticed in the poor weather.
Getting out, he hurried back through the warehouse, pausing to pick up a pistol that its dead owner would not need again and hurried back to join Charles. ‘Come on, man. We need to get to cover.’ Charles would not budge.
Suddenly, the roar of the landing aircraft deafened them as it bounced, skidded, and settled into its route along the runway amidst a trail of splash and spray. It hurtled past them, engines screaming, while the pilot fought to slow his charge before he ran out of runway. Eventually, the expertise of a seasoned pilot began to have an effect, and just as Sam thought there was no chance left, it began to slow, stopping a few paces short of the end. Sam gave a sigh, he didn’t care about Ro and his men, but Helen was on board.
Sam pulled at Charles’ arm. ‘Come on, let’s get to some cover, in the office building, we can assess things from there.’ He felt the man resist his pull for a moment, then Charles acceded and followed Sam inside, just as the plane completed its turn and began to taxi back.
It was a struggle for Charles to get up the flight of steps to the upper-level office and Sam helped as best he could. Once there, they saw dead men lying on the floor beneath the windows. Sam didn’t take pleasure in shooting people, never had, but, in this moment, was pleased they were dead. Wounded men would have presented a dilemma: should he administer first aid just when Ro was returning or focus on the coming conflict?
He looked at Charles, saw the hatred in his eyes and realised it wouldn’t have been an issue. In rural Africa, justice was rough and ready, if the men had still been alive, Charles may well have administered summary justice. As it was, Sam could tell it was all Charles could do now to stop himself from stabbing the dead bodies with his spear.
He guided Charles past the bodies to one of the windows. ‘You watch from here, I’m going to the next window along. Keep your head down.’ Stooping to pick up a dropped machine pistol, Sam grabbed a spare magazine from its dead owner and reloaded the weapon. By the time he was in position, the plane had come to a halt directly outside the office building.
The rear cargo bay door lowered, and Sam brought his weapon to bear on the widening opening. A movement within drew his attention, and he readied himself as people began to appear on the ramp. He aimed, then hesitated.
He watched Helen run down the ramp. She glanced about then called out his name, shouting and looking around her anxiously. She was joined by Bob Prentice who called his name too. Sam was puzzled. Where was Ro? Was it a trap? Then Rupert strolled down the ramp. Sam did a double take, what was he doing here? Never mind weapons, the man was still carrying his umbrella, in a combat zone.
‘Sam, where are you? We’ve got Ro, it’s all okay.’
Sam rose and cautiously leant around the window frame. ‘Helen! Up here. What’s going on?’
Sam could see she was genuinely at ease. This was not a set-up. He leant out of the window. ‘We’ll be down in a moment.’ Ducking back inside he helped Charles up and made for the stairs.
‘That lady of yours has something about her. The children in the boma were right you know; a real lioness.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Sam. ‘Don’t let her hear you say she’s mine. Or we’ll both be facing a lioness.’
Charles laughed. ‘Your ways are so different. She is a strong lioness, yes, but in our world, the lioness must always belong to the lion. A strong lion.’
‘Well, trust me - that one belongs to no one. Come on, let’s get down and find out what’s happened.’
• • •
Helen met Sam at the office entrance, and they hugged. She took a moment to ask Charles how he was, then quickly explained what had happened. Sam showed no emotion as she explained how they had been used by MI6 and the CIA.
‘You’re alive, Helen, that’s the most important thing to me right now. Come on, let’s see what Rupert and your CIA friend have in mind.’ Charles waved them on. In public, he would not accept help, so he shuffled along behind them.
Approaching the ramp, Sam called out, ‘Rupert, you’ve cut this all a bit fine. And I’m thinking you could have handled it a bit differently; it all got a little hairy for a while.’
‘A little hairy?’ hissed Helen. ‘They hung us out to dry. Charles lost men.’
Sam shushed her gently, then as they reached the ramp, he looked at Rupert expectantly. ‘Well? What’s the story?’
‘Yes, it wasn’t the easiest of rides, I’ll grant you. I’m afraid enlisting your assistance was the only way we could see of manoeuvring Ro
, so we could tidy things up.’
Helen pointed across the runway. ‘Look! There are dead men over there. Good men who died because you took the easy option. That’s not tidy. That’s heartless and low, low. Dirty low!’
She saw Rupert’s pained look. ‘No, no, Helen. Never the easy option. We took the urrg … the safest option, yes that’s it, the safest option.’
‘And you know, Helen, it was the only way we could be absolutely sure of stopping Ro from getting ACE out to some pretty nasty regimes,’ said Tracy, walking down the ramp to join them.
Helen glared at her, then looked away in exasperation. On the far side of the runway, she saw Bob Prentice hurrying back towards the aircraft followed closely by their two civilian-dressed rescuers who struggled to keep up while carrying his now dormant Roller between them.
Sam rested a hand on Helen’s shoulder then moved slightly in front of her. ‘In any event, Rupert, let’s worry about recriminations later. You’re here, we at least are safe, you have ACE back, and you’ve got Ro, which has to be a bonus in anyone’s book. Now, I’ve got a bunch of wounded men who need medical treatment and once that rain resumes I’m betting your pilot will refuse to take off again. So, let’s all get on board and get the hell out of here.’
Tracy stepped up beside Rupert. ‘I’m sorry, that’s not how we’re planning to play it,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Listen, Sam, we’re sorry but we have to follow security protocols.’
‘No! We all need to get out of this environment quickly.’
‘Oh, you will, Sam. Just not on our plane,’ she said.
‘I’m an American citizen, you can’t just leave me, leave all of us out here. You know that,’ said Helen, pushing past Sam. ‘You know, I think you’ve only landed again just to dump me off. Now you let us all on that plane and fly us up to Arusha, then you can go wherever you choose.’
‘Sorry, can’t do it,’ Tracy looked at her expressionlessly.
‘You can, you just won’t.’
‘No. This plane has an unlogged flight plan. It’s been bobbing up and down like a yoyo,’ said Rupert. ‘Wherever we land in East Africa, the authorities are going to take a very keen interest. And I’m afraid we can’t let that happen, otherwise it will put ACE out into the public domain, which is what we’ve been struggling to avoid.’
Sam had gently eased Helen back. ‘Okay, I understand your security position, I really do. But you have to land somewhere, where? And what do you mean; we will get out, how?’ he said.
Rupert cleared his throat a little. ‘You will recall our phone conversation of yesterday? You asked for medical help for your wounded driver. Well, we currently have an airborne British Army medical team doing joint training with the Tanzanian military. I took the liberty of speaking with their commanding officer last night, and I anticipate an Army Air Corps helicopter and medical team should be reaching the boma quite soon. They will treat your boys and then fly you back to Arusha, discreetly.’
A few big drops of rain fell. Sam put his hand out and one splashed into his palm. He looked up at the clouded sky, gently squeezed Helen’s shoulder. ‘When it rains next, the plane won’t be able to take off and pretty soon the ford is going to be unpassable too.’
‘So, all the more reason to get moving,’ said Rupert.
‘You didn’t say where you were going,’ said Helen.
‘Where we originally came from,’ said Tracy. ‘Diego Garcia.’
Helen looked at Sam. ‘Where’s that?’
‘Indian Ocean island base. A British sovereign territory. It’s leased to the States as a secure naval base. They don’t like visitors there.’
‘You got that right, now we need to go,’ said Tracy as Bob hurried past them up the ramp. He threw Sam a warm wave in greeting then disappeared into the cargo bay, eager to ensure his helpers stowed the Roller securely in its space in the control vehicle.
‘What about Ro and his men?’ said Charles.
Rupert looked at him a little disdainfully. ‘You can let us worry about that.’
‘No. He has committed murder in my lands. He must face justice here.’
‘Not going to happen, friend. Ro’s coming with us,’ said Tracy, a note of impatience creeping into her voice. ‘We’ve got a long flight over the Indian Ocean and I’m thinking Ro and his friends will want to try some open water swimming, no witnesses, no bodies, no questions. That’s how it has to be. Now we’ve got to take off and you’ve got a river to cross. Let’s go, huh?’
Charles spoke a few quiet words in Maa. Then, resting his whole bodyweight on his uninjured leg and spear shaft, he raised his rungu and pointed it at Tracy and Rupert.
Tracy laughed. ‘I don’t know whether that’s a blessing or a curse, but we’re going now, anyway.’
Helen tried hard to keep the elation from showing in her face as Tracy and Rupert turned to walk up the ramp only to stop short with long glinting spear points pressed close into their bellies. She had watched the four morani emerge from the bush on the far side of the runway and cross silently to arrive just in time to respond to Charles’ quietly spoken command.
‘Whether it is a blessing or a curse for you will depend on what you do next, I think,’ said Charles. ‘Now, I want Ro. He must face the justice of my people; it is the way. Bring him out. The rest you can have.’
‘You’d better do as he says,’ said Sam.
The group at the foot of the ramp remained a frozen tableau while Tracy shouted instructions up into the cargo bay, to the men helping Bob restore some order inside his control vehicle. They had trouble obeying her instructions, as they emerged from the control vehicle to be greeted by very sharp spear points. It took less than a minute for Ro to be dragged down the ramp and deposited on the runway. His mouth was a mess of blood and broken teeth, his hand still bleeding, but he had regained his air of arrogant contempt.
Tracy looked angrily at Sam. ‘Get this, Cameron; Ro has been a thorn in our side for years. He must not get out of the bush; do you understand me? He ends here, and I’m holding you responsible.’
‘Whoa there, I’m just a civilian, remember? The civilian you left on a runway to die. Remember that too? I’m not on your payroll and not about to take any orders from you. I’m just a guest here; I don’t have any influence on what happens.’
‘Don’t smart mouth me, Cameron.’
‘You need not worry yourself about this man. Justice will be done, and the bush will swallow everything,’ said Charles.
‘It sure as hell better or—’
‘Or our masters will be rather disappointed,’ said Rupert, unfurling his umbrella and flipping it up as the rain began to fall. ‘Perhaps the answer to all our problems is for Charles and his people to have their justice, and for Sam to see that justice is done. I’m sure that would meet all our needs, don’t you think?’ He looked towards Tracy.
She still looked defiant. The raindrops were falling steadily now.
‘For God’s sake, Tracy, if we don’t take off now we’ll all be trapped here for days. By which time the authorities will be looking for the plane that dropped off their radar and it’s guaranteed they’ll take a great interest in our cargo. Let’s take the deal and go!’ They all waited for Tracy’s decision while the drumbeat of falling raindrops landing on Rupert’s umbrella grew louder.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ she said.
Charles issued an order. His men allowed their spears to drop away from Tracy and Rupert and all stepped back from the ramp. Grabbing their captive, they manhandled him off the runway. Tracy and Rupert boarded, and the plane immediately began to taxi away as the cargo bay ramp started to close.
• • •
Just before the crest of the riverbank, Sam stopped the 4 x 4 and pulled on the handbrake. He left Charles in the front passenger seat and got out. Standing still in the rain, which now fell at a steady pace, he looked about. From his vantage point at the top of the bank, he could see down towards the rive
r and, immediately below him, could see a moran standing at the foot of the bank. Across the river was another - they were marking the river crossing’s entrance and exit points. Necessary even in daylight now, as the appearance of the banks was changing with the rising river level. The men gave him a wave of greeting and beckoned him on.
Sam acknowledged them then turned away. He walked to the rear of the vehicle, passing the watching morani who filled the 4 x 4’s back seats. Squeezed amongst them was Ro, looking very uncomfortable.
Ro saw Sam looking in through the side window at him and, in a fit of defiance, spat. It splatted on the glass between them, and Sam turned away without responding while the morani to either side of Ro indignantly punched him.
Sam surveyed the bodies of Ro’s dead men; the morani had dragged them from where they fell and bundled them up onto the 4 x 4’s roof rack where they had been lashed down tight. Rivulets of red trickled down the sides of the vehicle, evidence of where the rain was steadily rinsing through wounds and stained clothes. A lot of bodies. He looked back at the rising river and worried that his vehicle might prove too top heavy for the crossing. He glanced again at Ro; Sam didn’t like it but knew there was a price to be paid. He knew that Ro knew it too. Sam hurried on.
Parked behind his 4 x 4 was the orange Land Rover. At the wheel was Helen. She poked her head out of the window as he approached.
‘How’s it looking?’
‘Water’s up quite a bit already. How are you all doing?’
‘We’re fine … well, we will be once we’re across.’
Sam glanced into the interior. Beside Helen was Angel, next to him was his driver looking sorry for himself and occasionally emitting a little groan. In the rear were the wounded morani; all transferred from the 4 x 4 to the Land Rover, which offered a little more space for the journey. He smiled encouragement at them. They grinned back, stoically. A lifetime of training demanded they show no weakness or pain. If Sam had not known all of the men had bullet wounds, he would not have been able to tell from their demeanour.
