“Neither do I – now,” Karen bit her lip.
“So, who did you think Simon was?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, Felicity, need to know and all that …” Karen trailed off.
Amie was getting angry. “Look, I may be new to this game and be right on the bottom rung of the ‘for your eyes only’ security ladder, you bloody well know that, you’ve just helped train me. But my life is on the line here, we’re out in the middle of nowhere, we’re not even sure where in the nowhere and you’re keeping secrets. That’s just not fair and you know it! I tried to tell you last night that the guy you call Peter I know as Ken and he delivered me right to the door of the Residence. He arranged the ….” In her ranting Amie had forgotten why they had walked away from the camp and she was beginning to shout. She also realised that she was about to tell Karen her real name was Amie and blow her cover.
Karen glared at Amie and put a hand over her mouth. Ignoring Amie’s comments about Peter, she said; “Look, if Simon was the Durban Consul this puts a different light on things,” she whispered. “I’ve not been told the truth, either.”
“So,” Amie repeated her question, “who did you think Simon was?”
“An arms dealer you’d been told to hook up with in Durban.”
“And who told you that?”
Before Karen could answer a twig cracked and they both froze.
“Well, I can’t see any hole at all, are you sure it was here?” Karen asked.
Amie immediately switched tack. “I’m sure it was. Last time I was standing by that tree and I watched the porcupine approach. I wanted to get a really good look at it, but no way was I going to try and pull it out of its hole, not with all those sharp quills. They usually use holes which are concealed behind some overgrowth and not easy to see.”
“Can’t they shoot their quills at a predator? I’m sure I heard that somewhere.”
“No,” Amie replied. “One might come loose and stick in an attacker, but that’s all.” She thought she saw Bob duck back behind a tree and wondered how much of their conversation he’d overheard.
There was no further opportunity now to talk privately, so they made their way back to the camp area.
“With landmines all over the place and your story about that man being bitten to death by a snake, I’m not too comfortable walking anywhere around here, “Karen remarked. “Africa is a really dangerous place. I’d never thought about that before.”
“Is this your first visit here, then?” Amie asked.
“Yes, and I was thrilled to be offered the opportunity for some real field work. Nothing personal, but it can get a bit tedious staying in the same place training one set of recruits after another, week in and week out.”
Amie nodded, but wondered if sometimes it wasn’t better to lead a quiet life every now and again. Her adventures started shortly after leaving England for the first time and hadn’t stopped since.
As Bob had volunteered that first evening to cook the food, it had fallen to him to take charge of their supplies. He was busy relighting the fire which had gone out. It was almost impossible to gather enough wood to keep it going all the time.
“Ouch,” he exclaimed as he burnt his fingers on the cigarette lighter.
“Wounded in action eh?” Amie smiled. “It must be easier than rubbing two sticks together.”
“Huh, here,” Bob handed her the lighter. “You try it without setting your hand on fire.”
“What will the culinary delight be for breakfast, Mr Bob?” asked Karen as Amie attempted to set light to the kindling.
“Corned beef hash straight out of the tin, if we get the fire going,” he replied, “but we’re fast running out of food and I’m concerned about the water levels. We’re drinking far more than I planned for. I didn’t see a water point on the way up here, did anyone else?” Everyone shook their heads.
“Guess we could dig for some,” Peter suggested, “in that donga over the ridge.” No one got up to volunteer.
“So, are we just sitting around waiting for the elephant to die before we go back to finish the work?” Amie was curious to know why they were hanging around the camp.
“I guess so,” Bob answered.
“I’m not very keen to go back at all if the place is dotted with landmines. We’d be putting our lives at risk just to gain some evidence which may or may not be useful. I think we should pull out tomorrow morning and go home, “Karen said.
Bob thought that was a good idea as well. “I agree, and I’m not going to enjoy the trip back now I know there might be landmines on the roads. I shall breathe easier when we’ve crossed back over the border.”
Peter rounded on him. “Look, we were sent here to do a job, and we’ll bloody well complete it, no argument, no discussion. We just need to get over yesterday’s unpleasantness then we can get back to work.”
“Amie still has that bag with some of the labels and I picked up a couple of cartridge casings, won’t that be enough?” said Karen pushing her point home.
“We might only have a few bits and pieces but I reckon we have enough now for the forensics,” Bob replied.
“We wait!” Peter commanded, stalking off into the bush.
The rest of them looked at each other.
“What’s bothering him?” Amie asked.
“No idea, but he’s become a real pain in the butt,” Bob replied.
Amie thought she heard Karen murmur ‘none of this makes any sense’ but she couldn’t be sure. Sitting around, with dwindling supplies of food and water didn’t make sense to her either, and for what? As the most junior member of the team she wasn’t in a position to question orders, but she knew how dangerous it was if they ran out of drink, then all their lives would be in danger and none of them might survive.
The day dragged on. They dozed in the heat and lounged about doing nothing. Bob tried again to organize some card playing, but neither of the girls felt inclined and Peter was so jittery that he couldn’t sit still for a second. Amie couldn’t decide what was wrong with him and why he kept looking at his watch, it was almost as if he were expecting someone to arrive for an appointment at any moment. What were they all waiting for?
Amie also wondered if Peter was officially in charge of the group. He was taking the lead now and from the looks on their faces, his decision was not the least bit popular.
After supper they sat quietly round the small fire under a bright canopy of stars. In the distance they could hear the odd roar from a lion, the barking of jackals, and close by, a hyena howled. Amie could imagine the elephant carcass was attracting all kinds of attention and she felt they were far too close for comfort. To go back and work next to the bloated, rotting beast was sheer madness. The smell alone would be enough to induce nausea. If Peter ordered them back there to collect samples in the morning, she would simply refuse. What’s the worst that could happen? A black mark on her record, a price she’d happily pay to stay alive.
The light from the camp fire picked up the reflection of eyes watching them in the darkness. Amie froze and nudged Karen who was sitting next to her. “Look! Over there,” she hissed. “I don’t know what it is but there’s something just on the edge of the camp.”
Bob heard her and reached for the rifle. “There’s more than one,” he whispered softly. “I think we should make for the vehicles. We’ll be safer in there.”
“We should all move at once, make a dash for it,” Karen added.
But it was too late. There was a flurry among the trees and a party of Africans appeared. They were carrying guns and they didn’t look friendly, at all. They said nothing, just stood there staring at the group round the fire.
For several seconds no one moved then something hard hit Amie from behind and everything went black.
21 KEN’S STORY
When she came around it was daylight and she was in one of the tents. She tried to get up but found she couldn’t move her arms or legs. She was securely tied to the cot. She cou
ldn’t sit or even roll over. She stopped struggling and looked round. Her head pounded as if it was in a vice. Karen was lying close by also trussed like a chicken, but Amie didn’t think she was conscious.
She heard noises from outside, low murmurs and the smell of roasting meat wafted in through the tent flap. She wondered if they were cooking part of the dead elephant. Her stomach heaved at the thought. Her mouth felt dry, and she ached all over. There was no sign of either Bob or Ken, she guessed they’d been tied up as well, probably in the other tent. Should she cry out? Ask for water? Her skin felt tight and hot as if she was running a fever, but she was too scared to call for help. The inside of her mouth was parched and her tongue felt the size of a tree trunk.
The voices outside got louder, there were angry exchanges. “Karen,” she hissed, “Karen, are you awake?” There was no response.
Amie tried again to move, but her wrists were secured to the cot with cable ties. The more she pulled on them the deeper they cut into her flesh. She tried wriggling her arms back and forth but the straps wouldn’t give way. She suspected they’d imprisoned her feet with cable ties too; they were completely numb. She lifted her head and strained towards her wrist, hoping she could bite the plastic and get free, but it was impossible. Her stomach muscles cramped up, her head beat an angry tattoo and the sinews and tendons in her shoulders screamed in agony; she couldn’t even get close.
She lay back exhausted, sweat running off her face and into her eyes. She took stock, taking deep, even breaths like she’d been taught at the Residence in meditation classes, and slowly her heartbeat settled.
She hadn’t taken much notice of the cots before, but now she focused on their structure. The canvas was attached to a metal frame, with spaces around the hinges to collapse the whole bed and pack it away in a small bag. She rotated her wrist until she could feel along the metal side rung, her fingers probing for the bottom of the hinge. Yes, while the top of the frame was smooth, underneath the edges were sharp. Could she cut through the plastic? She dragged the tie along to the rough area and by pulling her arm upwards, she began to saw back and forth. She had no idea if it was working, she only knew she had to try. The plastic cut deeply into her wrist but she bit her lip to stop herself crying out.
Every now and again she glanced at Karen, but her friend hadn’t moved once, and Amie began to think she was dead. She blinked back tears of frustration and concentrated on getting free. With her heart and head pounding in unison, she was so focused that at first, she didn’t hear someone approaching and only just stopped in time before they could see what she was doing. She lay back, half closed her eyes and pretended to be out cold.
It was a tall, black man who entered. He was dressed in a dirty pair of cut-off jeans with a scruffy, white shirt and a red bandana wrapped round his neck. He leered at the girls then turned around and went back out again before Amie had a chance to ask him for water, or who he was or what he wanted. If they were poachers then most likely they would all be killed, the last thing they’d want was witnesses reporting back to the authorities.
All she could do was continue to rub the plastic against the sharp edge of the metal frame hoping it must be nearly through. She was forced to stop when the man came back. Behind him, two men, their heads covered by black bags and securely bound with ties stumbled and shuffled their way in, urged by another of the poachers holding a gun on them. They collapsed on the ground between the two cots and the poachers removed their hoods, amid raucous comments, they went back outside. Amie could hear them laughing and giggling along with the clink of tin mugs and plates.
As soon as they were left alone Amie continued working at the cable tie until suddenly it snapped and her right arm was free. She rolled over and wriggled the serrated edge of the plastic back through the loop on her other wrist but it was hopeless. On the left side of the frame the hinge area was smooth above and below, and there was nothing sharp to cut it with.
She rifled through her pockets with her one free hand hoping to find something sharp she could use as a knife, but the only weapon she had was the cigarette lighter Bob had given her to start the fire earlier. Even the thought of putting the flame on her skin make her recoil but it would be less painful than anything the poachers had in mind.
When one of the men groaned, she turned to look and gasped. She had expected to see Bob and Ken, but the man lying next to Bob was Simon. What was he doing here? And where was Ken, had they already killed him? She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
A dark shadow blocked out the sunlight in the doorway. She looked up to see Ken standing there. Even a glance told her he wasn’t a prisoner.
His bright, cheery smile filled her with dread. “So, you’re awake at last, and I see you’ve managed to free one arm. I always knew you were resourceful. I have to give you that.”
He strode over to her cot, cut through the rest of the restraints and dragged her to her feet. Amie flopped like a rag doll, and as much as she didn’t want to, she had to hang on to Ken as her knees gave way and the pins and needles shot up and down her legs. He chuckled and held her up by the armpits. “Bit stiff, are we? Not surprising. I’m sure you could do with a cup of coffee, right? I know how you love your coffee.” Putting one arm round her waist and using the other to pull her hand round the back of his neck he dragged her out of the tent.
Amie blinked in the bright sunlight. To her surprise, there were two other vehicles parked next to their trucks, rather battered and dented Land Rovers which, despite their bad condition looked to be a very recent model. If poachers rode around in style these days, business must be good, she shuddered at the thought. There was another change too, three extra tents, so they were planning to stay a while longer.
Ken led her over to his original tent and pushed her inside, but not before she noticed three of the poachers dragging one of the elephant’s tusks into the clearing. She groaned.
“Yes, it’s sad, I know,” Ken said, “but it keeps them happy and on side.”
“That’s what poachers do, kill beautiful wild animals for money,” Amie blurted out.
“My dear girl, you think they’re poachers? They’re with me. They’re my men. The tusks are just an added bonus on this trip.” While talking, Ken had moved a camp chair to the middle of the tent and almost tenderly lowered her into it.
Amie rotated her ankles trying to get the blood flowing again. She still ached from being in the same position on the cot for so long. Ken left the tent with a sideways sneer, coming back two minutes later with a tin mug filled with coffee which he gave her along with a couple of tablets.
“What are these?” Amie looked at them suspiciously.
“Just pain killers, go on you can take them, they won’t poison you.”
Amie put them to one side. She wouldn’t even pretend to swallow them.
Ken sighed, reached under one of the cots and produced a metal first aid box which he opened, then presented her with a sealed strip of Paracetamol. “Here, you can see these haven’t been tampered with. Take a couple, they’ll relieve the aches and pains.” When he handed them to her his hand brushed her knee, lingering for a fraction longer than was necessary. Amie stiffened and jerked her knee away.
“Now, that’s not very friendly, is it?” Ken looked peeved. “I’ve just saved you from a fate worse than death, well, death itself and you can’t even be nice to me?” He rested his hand on her thigh, gently kneading it, then ran his fingers up and down her leg.
“Who are you, and what do you want? I don’t understand.”
“Well, I think it’s perfectly obvious what I want. I want you, Amie Fish.”
Amie was shocked to hear her real name spoken. Of course, this was the man who’d arranged her new identity, who’d probably decided that Felicity was a good name, even though she still hated it. This was the same man who’d been in the embassy in Apatu, who’d chased her in Durban then travelled back with her to Scotland, and delivered her like a parcel to Karen and Bob for
training.
He’d turned up again in time to join them on this trip so why, why was he sitting here, fraternising with a group of poachers while the rest of the team were trussed up like turkeys and would probably be killed. And why was he calling himself Peter? None of it made any sense.
“Goodness,” mocked Ken, “I can hear the cogs turning in your brain. You’re trying to figure it all out, aren’t you?” Amie just glared at him.
“Would you like me to explain it to you? I can you know.”
Amie shrugged her shoulders. She desperately wanted to know the truth but she wasn’t going to admit it to him. She was beginning to hate the man, not that she’d ever particularly liked him before.
“I thought you were the curious kind.” He was taunting her and she didn’t like the thought that he knew her as well as he did.
He changed tack. “It must be very hard for you now, now that Jonathon has gone.”
Amie gasped. “Did you …? Was it …?”
“Me … who blew up your house? Your maid was kind enough to give me a spare set of keys – Lulu? Was that her name? No, sadly, I can’t take credit for the explosion, much as I would’ve liked to, after making sure you were quite safe of course. No, our friends the Extremists did that. No one crosses them and gets away with it. Their thirst for revenge is legendary and they have cells everywhere. A simple text and they spring into action.”
Amie sat there mute. Her mind swirled round and round. Every time she thought she knew what was going on, who was on the good side or the bad side, the goalposts changed. Had Ken overpowered the other members of Her Majesty’s government, the team he worked with? Or was he also a prisoner of the poachers who’d materialized last night? No, he seemed free to move around, they hadn’t tied him up. None of it made sense.
Ken chuckled. “The cogs inside your head are grinding even harder. I’ll put you out of your misery, shall I?”
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 90
