Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  “No!” he cried. “Wait. You cannot go out like that!”

  Shalima’s shoulders drooped, and she returned to the bed.

  Amie took a turn in the bathroom to allow Shalima time to cool off. She had such mixed emotions about her. On the one hand the Muslim girl had saved her life, and for that she was grateful. But it didn’t necessarily follow she had to like her, or get on with her, Amie reasoned to herself as she turned on the shower. She’d never known anyone quite like Shalima before. She knew England was a class-ridden society, but it had never really affected her. All the pupils at her school came from similar backgrounds and even when she went to college, she mixed with other teenagers who had ambition and wanted to get on. They spoke normally, didn’t use swear words in every other sentence and were as far away from the rougher areas of the major cities as it was possible to be. There were programmes on the television that interviewed those on welfare handouts; free money from the government. She’d seen single mothers boasting about how much they raked in each week, while several young children hung round their legs, patting their Mummies bulbous tummies; more babies on the way. While she shampooed her hair, Amie acknowledged she’d had a very sheltered upbringing, which hadn’t provided her with the survival skills she needed in Africa, and possibly not in some areas of England either.

  By the time Amie re-joined the others Shalima was busy decoding more documents and Ben was heading out.

  “Ben’s gonna get some stuff for me,” Shalima informed her. “If there’s anyfink else what you need, yer better tell him now.”

  From the tone of her voice, Shalima was speaking about Ben as if he was the hired help and it took a lot of self-control not to retaliate. They needed each other, and it would only make things worse if they started a fight. She threw an apologetic look in Ben’s direction hoping he’d understand how badly she felt.

  “Ben, if I write a short list would you get a few toiletries for me please?” Amie asked him gently.

  “Yes of course. You could come, but …”

  “No, no. It’d be silly to take risks,” Amie agreed. “There isn’t a white face anywhere on the streets. I doubt the government is still after me but I really don’t want us to take any more chances than we have to.” She squeezed his hand.

  “By the way, how much money did Edward have?” Somehow, it felt less criminal spending stolen money today, than it did yesterday.

  “Several thousand dollars,” Ben replied.

  “What! What on earth would he need all that cash for?” Amie was amazed.

  “So he wouldn’t leave a trail stupid,” Shalima answered before Ben had a chance.

  Ben took the list from Amie’s hand and slipped out of the door before any more could be said.

  “Do you want any help with the decoding?” Amie asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” Shalima replied abruptly.

  Did Amie imagine it, or had Shalima’s hand covered the papers as if to protect them? Well, she couldn’t blame her. It was something to do while they were holed up in this small hotel room with nothing else to occupy them.

  Amie paced up and down. She was on edge, confined and wishing she’d gone with Ben after all, even swathed in that suffocating burqa. She was fretting about Jonathon. How must he be feeling? How scared was he? Where was he? What would life be like without him? Amie looked mentally into the future. She’d be alone. They’d never even had a baby together.

  Her thoughts turned to Angelina. It was too cruel. No sooner had she found the child, against all odds, she’d lost her again. She’d had such plans for the poor little waif who had no mother, no father and no family she knew about. She’d had such a sad life. Amie had great plans for her. She wanted to give her the best education, help her through college; she could be a doctor, or go into business, or even politics. Amie wanted to give her the whole world. The only good thing was at least Nomsa Motswezi was caring for her. But what would Angelina think now? Amie had left that day, supposedly for a few hours and she hadn’t returned. She had now done this twice. Angelina would have little reason to ever trust her again.

  She paced to and fro and turned on the television, then turned it off because the picture was snowy and all she could find was a football game. She got an angry glare from her roommate, so she rummaged in the other small bag looking for something in Edward’s luggage to interest her. But there was nothing. She would’ve had another look at the computer, but Shalima still had her nose stuck in it.

  She thought briefly about insisting she help Shalima with the documents again, but decided against it. She flopped onto the bed and counted the cracks in the ceiling. She must have dozed off, because she was jolted awake by Shalima’s excited shriek.

  “Bingo! Effing marvelous!!!”

  “What is?” Amie bolted upright.

  “New emails in, sent from Atari to London.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Amie sliding off the bed. “Is it likely they’d be sending him important messages if they haven’t heard from him for several days? The embassy in Atari must have informed them the plane went down?”

  For a moment Shalima looked nonplussed and squinted again at the screen.

  “Yer right, it ain’t for him, it’s just a CC to him. My guess is that the person who copied it to him don’t know yet as what he’s snuffed it yet, or his laptop is missin’.”

  Amie cringed, “So, what is the marvelous news?”

  “Little Hussein has been singing his heart out and they’ve intercepted messages from Syria to some of the camps in Ruanga and it gives their route. So, we know exactly where they’re going! Brilliant!!”

  “What? Who are going? Where to?” Shalima wasn’t making much sense. Amie leapt off the bed and went to stand beside Shalima.

  “The lot what took yer hubby and the other one, Charles was it?” Amie nodded.

  Shalima consulted her notes. “Well, they’re making for Libya, but only by road to start with. They were to stop off at another camp for a few days and now they say they’ll be travelling north through Togodo in four days’ time. They’ll be stopping off to get more supplies which they’ve asked to be airdropped for them and here, these are the co-ordinates for the drop. Brilliant eh!” Shalima dug Amie heavily in the ribs. “We know exactly where they’re gonna be in a couple of days and we can intercept them and be waiting and you can get yer man back. Cool eh!”

  It was all a bit much for Amie to take in. They were now actually ahead of the party that was transporting the guys? And now she knew precisely where they’d be? It was too good to be true, or maybe, just maybe, they’d had their first real stroke of luck.

  Ben returned a couple of hours later, carrying bags with all the bits and pieces they’d asked for, to find the girls eager to share their news.

  “Ben,” Amie said hesitantly, “I don’t expect you to come with us. This isn’t your fight and there’s no need for you to put yourself in danger.”

  “No, I want to help Amie,” he replied. “We have got this far, I want to help you set Jonathon free. I feel bad you had so much …” he searched for the right word. “… so much pain from my people, so I want to do what is right now.”

  “Course he’s gotta come,” Shalima bellowed. “How we gonna walk around in these effing things,” she pointed to the burqas on the chair, “wiv’out a male escort eh? Tell me that.”

  “I’m not going to use Ben simply to make life easier, especially when it’ll put him in danger.” Amie thought Shalima was being particularly selfish.

  “Well, don’t come cryin’ to me when you get yerself locked up again,” Shalima said huffily. “Think you can do everything on yer own don’t you?”

  “Well, no, but …”

  “Accept the man’s offer, he made it. Be gracious for once.” Shalima packed away the papers and files, tucking them back into the carry cases. She powered down the laptop and put it back in its bag. “Time for a walk I think, don’t you?” she suggested brightly. “Gonna go mad if I’m stuck in here mu
ch longer.”

  At that moment there was a loud banging on the door. Everyone stopped what they were doing and held their breath. Ben pointed at the bathroom door.

  They didn’t need to be told twice and grabbing the burqas, they collided in their frantic attempts to squeeze into the tiny en suite.

  When Ben answered the door, all they could hear were murmured voices. It sounded as if Ben was thanking someone profusely. He tapped on the bathroom door looking serious.

  “That was an old friend,” he said, “he works here at the hotel. He came to tell me the police are doing a check on the rooms and asking the guests questions. We need to go. Fast!”

  “But how? Which way?” gasped Amie struggling into the hated burqa.

  “We cannot use the lift,” Ben replied, “but I saw stairs at the end of the corridor.”

  “Let’s go,” Shalima was already packed and waiting. “No time to hang around. Come on!”

  Why does she always state the obvious? Thought Amie, collecting the other case and the shopping bags. She waited behind Ben as he opened the door to the corridor and peeped outside. There was no one in sight, so they followed him along the carpeted hallway and through a door marked ‘stairs’.

  Ben paused again to look over the railings to check the coast was clear, then beckoned for them to follow. They raced down the three flights as quickly and quietly as they could. When they reached the bottom, the door in front of them gave no indication where it would lead. Ben pushed it open a crack and peered through. There was another corridor on the other side, with several rooms going off in both directions, but for the moment there was no one in sight. One by one they slipped through and turned right.

  They heard voices from one of the rooms, and were forced to duck through an open door into a laundry room. The voices got louder.

  “Please don’t come in here,” Amie whispered. “Walk past.”

  Their hiding place was large, with floor-to-ceiling shelves piled high with sheets, blankets, pillows and towels. They backed further in as two women, dressed in hotel uniforms, stopped in the doorway.

  It sounded like they were never going to stop talking; they chattered on and on. The three of them crouched down and slid under the lowest shelf in the farthest corner. If the hotel employees turned around, they’d be sure to see them. The burqas would stand out like black squares on a chess board.

  There was a shout from outside, and both women rushed away. Without saying a word, Ben, Amie and Shalima raced to the door. For now, the corridor was empty and the girls followed Ben, twisting and turning around corners and baggage trolleys as he tried to find his way out. They went past the kitchens and a supply room, and another room piled high with bottles, until at the end of the last corridor there was a door that led onto a back street.

  It wasn’t until they’d pushed it open and rushed through that Amie saw that it was the kind of door that usually triggered an alarm, but like many things in African countries, it didn’t work. They were out, free and clear.

  They walked briskly down the narrow alley, avoiding the piles of rotting rubbish, and stepping over mud-filled drains. Everywhere she looked, it was filthy and Amie didn’t want any of it getting on her clothes. She had no idea when she’d get an opportunity to wash them. She held her burqa off the ground with one hand while the other held the case and the shopping. When she looked down, she noticed her white hands were showing and beside her, Shalima’s hands were too light-skinned for an African. For once Amie was glad of her boots and her long trousers that were tucked into her thick socks which covered her legs and ankles. But after several showers, all the brown boot polish had washed off her hands and arms, and she didn’t know if the replacement tin she’d asked Ben to buy for her, was in any of the bags they were carrying.

  It was hot, itchy and suffocating under the full burqa and Amie wasn’t sure how much further she could walk so quickly. Her breathing became short and tight, her chest felt as if a boa constrictor was playing hugging games, and her shoulders and legs ached. She didn’t ask where they were going, or how far it was, but blindly followed Ben as he strode in front.

  No one seemed to pay them any attention, but Amie felt everyone was looking at her, and imaginary eyes were piercing into her back as she doggedly followed her Togodian friend through the alleyways.

  Eventually, they entered a park that had once been exquisite, full of shady trees, neat lawns and pretty flowerbeds. Now it was neglected and overgrown. No one had tended it since the civil war had broken out, and it was practically deserted. It was the perfect place to rest for a while and decide what to do next.

  They slumped onto a stone bench, which was home to an ivy plant, and took several deep breaths.

  “So, what now?” Shalima was the first to recover.

  Ben looked at his watch. “It is too late to leave Apatu today, and if you have those co-ordinates, I will need to purchase a GPS, or we will never find the drop zone.”

  “Brilliant idea Ben,” Amie said. “But how safe is it to sleep here in the park?”

  “Not safe at all,” Ben told her. “Come dusk all the prostitutes, pimps, drug sellers and addicts will arrive.”

  “So where can we go?”

  “I have friends in a nearby township I can trust,” Ben replied. “They will hide us for one night, two at the most, but I would not ask them to do it for longer. Someone would talk and we would all be in trouble. I cannot do that to my friends.”

  “No, I understand,” murmured Amie.

  “If you both wait here, I think there is a shop nearby where they might sell a GPS. I will be quick.” Ben walked briskly out of the park.

  Amie felt panicky again. Was she getting paranoid? She was frightened and scared Ben wouldn’t come back. All kinds of scenarios tumbled through her mind. What if the police found them here now? What if they arrested her and put her back in jail? What if they couldn’t find Jonathon and they wandered out into the bush and got lost and died from thirst and hunger? She slapped herself on the wrists. My over-active imagination again, she told herself sharply. At least this time you’re not alone and you know so much more about living off the land. Pull yourself together Amie and focus on what’s important. It might be easier to walk away and not try to rescue Jonathon, but could you ever live with yourself again if you didn’t? How could you not attempt to rescue him? Better to die trying than not to try at all.

  She was amazed at how laid-back Shalima looked, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. How did she do it? Amie wondered. Doesn’t she imagine the dangers, or does she simply take one day at a time? More likely one hour at a time.

  Rifling through the cases they discovered the tin of polish, but it was a very small tin and it didn’t go very far. The results were less than convincing, it left streaks over their hands and wrists. No one will notice, Amie thought hopefully. Many people had skin with strange colourations and markings.

  Ben was gone for a long time, and as the sun sank behind the buildings, they began to worry.

  “How long should we wait for him?” Shalima asked.

  “I don’t know, but when it begins to get dark, we should leave,” Amie said. “And remember twilight doesn’t last very long in Africa, one moment it’s daylight and the next it’s dark. I don’t have a watch any more, but let’s say when the sun starts to go behind the last tower over there, we move.” To her surprise, for once, Shalima didn’t argue.

  Nervously they watched the sun sink lower and lower and still Ben didn’t come. A few people wandered into the park, types that made Amie feel very nervous. She checked around her to see if there was anything she could use as a weapon, but nothing seemed obvious. She wished now she’d brought the gun Jonathon had given her, but it was still back at the Mathesons. She’d put it in a drawer in the bedroom before she’d changed her clothes, and afterwards there seemed little point in carrying it around, even when they went to overfly the camp. She could kick herself for not bringing it, though as she’d never even
fired it, it was probably worse than useless, except as an empty threat.

  At last Shalima got to her feet. “Well, I ain’t waitin’ around here any longer,” she pronounced firmly. “I vote we leave now. We can get our own GPS and do wiv’out Ben.”

  Amie rose, discomforted by the people already staring at them. She’d noticed an empty syringe and some used condoms close to the bench and wondered who’d been persuaded to use the prophylactics. The ladies of the night might try to insist, but most African men weren’t keen at all. It made the spread of AIDS more difficult to control.

  She clutched the case and bag, and keeping her hands out of sight as much as possible, followed Shalima to the park entrance. Even the once-imposing stone pillars were crumbling and the iron gates hung at crazy angles on either side, never to close again.

  They paused, not sure where to go or what to do.

  18 THE WITCH DOCTOR

  They had just reached the pavement outside the park and were considering which way to turn, when Ben appeared out of the gloom.

  Amie could have hugged him she was so pleased to see him.

  “Come, I have everything. We can get a taxi near here, keep your hands hidden and say nothing.”

  Amie was familiar with the taxis, which buzzed like angry bees around Apatu and most African cities. Nearly all of them were in a poor state of repair, decorated with bumps, scratches, dents and peeling paint. Many were also decorated with names scrawled in bright colours, ‘Road Monster’, ‘Speed Machine’, ‘Ace Tours’, ‘I’m the Best!’ and other similar proclamations. A few were obviously the pride and joy of their owners, but most drivers were employed by one of the big bosses who owned a lot of these minibus taxis, and so were none too careful how they drove them. Amie thought not many of the vehicles would ever pass a roadworthiness test in England.