Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

Amie nodded.

  “It’s a long story, so I’ll fill your coffee mug again before I start.” Once Ken had left, Amie checked out the tent for another weapon. She didn’t think she could overpower Ken plus a gang of poachers, but it might help her to escape if she had the opportunity. She could see the dark shadow of a man standing just outside the tent, so the possibility of making a quick dash for the bush was doomed. There was nothing visible that might inflict any damage at all, until she remembered the first aid box on the floor under the cot. Quickly, she opened it and removed the pair of scissors and something that looked like a scalpel and hid them in her pockets. She only just had time to close the lid, slide it back under the cot and sit back in her chair before Ken returned with two mugs of coffee.

  He handed her the drink, and pulled up another chair. “I think I need to start at the beginning,” he paused, “First, let me ask you. Who do you think I am?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come on, what do you know about me? Speak up, don’t be shy.” There was an edge to Ken’s voice which warned Amie that it might be easier to play along with him. If he was on some sort of power trip, it would be best to humour him.

  “All I know about you is that you’re British and work for the Foreign Office, your real name is Ken, not Peter. And that’s all.”

  “Wrong, wrong, and wrong again. Yes, I do look British, don’t I?” Ken smirked. “I’m black but you thought I was British, because of my educated accent. Hah! Well, I’m not. I’m an African born and bred and proud of it. This is my home,” he said, waving his arms in a wide arc to encompass the bush outside the tent. “This is where I was born and here is where I shall die, in the home of my ancestors. And you thought I was British,” he snickered.

  “You sound British, and you must have lived in Britain to work for the government. So how can I believe you’re African?”

  “I’ll start at the beginning, as I promised you.” Ken settled himself comfortably in his camp chair and his face took on a dreamy look as he began to tell his story.

  “There were several of us, ordinary kids growing up in a typical rural village, no prospects, no chance of a future other than herding the cattle and the goats, until one day a visitor arrived. He was driven by a chauffeur in a large black car. We were so impressed. We young ones hovered as close to it as we dared, trying to peek in the windows, but I remember they were tinted very dark. A tall, imposing black man got out and asked to be taken to our chief.

  “He was invited into the house and they spoke in there for many hours. When at last they came out, our chief summoned all the young boys between the ages of seven and eleven. I was one of them. The visitor poked us and prodded us, feeling our muscles and running his hands up and down our legs. Then he made us run and jump to make sure we were physically fit. He engaged us for hours, asking questions and noting our answers. He checked how much we could read and write and then he chose some of us to go with him.”

  “But didn’t your family mind …?” So far, the story sounded like an early slave trader collecting human goods for sale.

  Ken looked at her reproachfully. “Oh, Amie, you’ve been in Africa long enough to know that if your chief tells you to do something then you obey him. It’s for the greatest good. You see this visitor had a wonderful vision and after hearing him, our chief shared his vision too. He was proud that a few of his village boys would be part of that future.”

  “What vision?”

  “Patience woman. You won’t learn anything if you don’t listen. We were taken into the bush and taught lots of things, not only survival in the wild, but more useful things – how to speak English, German, French or Russian. We learned to write, the customs and cultures of our soon-to-be-newly adopted countries. It was hard work, very intense but at the end of two years we were ready.”

  “And then?” Despite herself Amie was fascinated though she wasn’t sure she believed a word he said.

  “I never saw any of my brothers again, but we would all be working for the same cause in different countries around the world.

  “For the first time I was invited to travel in a big black car, and taken to Cape Town. There, I was introduced to my new family, they were rich and lived in London. And yes, before you ask, they were black, of course.” Ken paused to sip some coffee before continuing.

  “If I thought the limousine was impressive, it was nothing compared to the size of the passenger liner. The voyage back to England was to give me and my new family time to get acquainted.” He shook his head slowly. “I shall never forget that trip. Such luxury, the mountains of food, the sumptuous décor and the clothes, things I’d never dreamed of, such ships I never knew existed.”

  “And when you arrived in London?” Despite herself, Amie was fascinated by the story.

  “Southampton,” Ken corrected her. “We docked in Southampton. From there everything went to plan. I attended a prep school for a couple of years, and then I was sent to a public school, fees were enormous, and my ‘British’ education was complete when I played cricket, rode to hounds, and indulged in all the usual upper-class pursuits.

  “Next, it was Cambridge University to study politics, where for three years I sat and listened to all the bloody clap trap about doing things the western way, and the extent of the bloody empire they’d enslaved. What a joke, but I sat there and pretended and no one ever suspected a thing.” Ken roared with laughter, very pleased with himself as he reminisced about his past achievements.

  “But why?” Amie still couldn’t work it out.

  “For the vision, you stupid girl. For the vision! Weren’t you listening to anything I’ve just told you?”

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “It was all so easy. Due to the stupid government policies for minority fast tracking it wasn’t too difficult to get into the Civil Service and from there, so easy. In no time at all I was on the inside where I could really get to work.”

  “Working against the government?” Amie was almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Exactly, girl. Don’t they always tell you to change things from the inside? The Africa desk was an obvious choice, especially as I spoke a couple of local languages, taught to me by my respectable ‘British’ parents. And fast tracked I was, until I was in a position to really make a difference.”

  Amie hesitated for a moment but her curiosity got the better of her. “So, what was this vision? What were you hoping to achieve?”

  “Not hoping, girl. The plan is working. It’s simple, throw every one of our white oppressors off the continent where they had no right to be in the first place.”

  “How!”

  “If they don’t choose to leave then we make their lives intolerable, or kill them, requisition their farms, increase their taxes. Oh yes, there are lots of ways. It’s already working very successfully in many countries.”

  “But don’t you realise that some white people have nowhere else to go! There were people working in the Consulate whose families arrived in South Africa two or even three hundred years ago. No other country will take them now.”

  “That’s not my problem. My people didn’t invite them here. They spilled our blood in their greed to take our land. They enslaved my people and now it’s time to evict them or …”

  “Kill them?”

  “If necessary, yes. We shall not cease until the blood of every white man flows down the rivers and into the sea.”

  Amie blanched. “But you saw for yourself there are lots of black people who really are British. They’ve been in England for generations. Do you think they want to leave and come back to Africa?”

  “The door will always be open to them, but too many of them have now forgotten the old ways, they no longer talk to their ancestors, and those are lost to us. But we who are here will build a new empire and return Africa to the old ways.”

  “What about world trade, and the mines and imports and exports, how can you live in isolation without trading with the white man?�
� Amie argued.

  “You have such a high opinion of your white skin, don’t you?” Ken sneered at her. “Do you think you’re the only race that matters? We will have the choice, and we could probably get much better prices from the Chinese, or the Far East. Of course, the Indians will have to go, too. Africa will once again be only for the black man. We will take back our rightful heritage.”

  Ken was working himself up into quite a frenzy. He was fanatical about his vision, and Amie didn’t think she could talk her way out of this dilemma. But why had he taken her away from the other prisoners to boast about the whole plan to her? Did he just want to show off? Brag how clever he was before he sent them all to their deaths? No, he wanted something else and she would just have to wait until he told her what it was. But there was one burning question she had to ask. “Why the change in name? Why do Karen and Bob know you as Peter when I know you as …”

  “Ken?” he finished for her. “Quite simple. As far as the British government knows I’m in Apatu right now, toiling away in the embassy. With modern communications these days we can be anywhere. Also, it makes it easy to intercept all kinds of information. So, if anything goes wrong here, no one will even think to question me about it. My job,” he took a sip of coffee, “was to rescue you, deliver you for training, and return to Apatu. Couldn’t have everyone here calling me Ken now, could I?” He sat back, pleased with himself. His eyes narrowed. “But then you showed up with the others, I wasn’t expecting that. I’d thought they’d keep you safely in the Consulate where your doctored reports would continue to lay the blame on Simon for anything nefarious. But you were a good girl and kept your mouth shut.”

  “But why are you here?” Amie couldn’t help herself.

  “To ensure that any information that gets back to London about the arms deal is the wrong information; point them in Simon’s direction, muddy the waters. The information will come from you, of course when you chat with Maddy.”

  Amie gasped, so Ken knew about that as well. Of course! Who gave her War and Peace as her code book?

  “You’re just so naïve. All so easy to fool.” He smirked.

  Amie felt the scissors poke into her side. She briefly considered lunging at Ken and trying to stab him in the eye, but she would never be able to take them out of her pocket and attack him before he stopped her. She thought of another idea.

  “I need to pee,” she said.

  “All that coffee, right?” Ken stood and rifling through a rucksack, brought out more cable ties. “You’ll have to manage as best you can. I’m not taking any chances with you.” He secured one firmly round her wrists. “Take your time, neither you nor I are going anywhere, anytime soon.”

  Amie got to her feet and walked unsteadily out of the tent. She paused, blinking in the bright sunlight, looking round to take in as much as she could. There were at least six of Ken’s men in the camp and she had no idea if there were more that she couldn’t see. Two were fiddling under one Land Rover, one was tending the fire in the middle of the camp, while the other three were sitting talking. They all had guns beside them and one pair of scissors and a scalpel weren’t exactly great weapons against well-armed troops. She would have to distract them somehow.

  “Ken! Ken!” she screamed.

  Ken came rushing out of the tent.

  “What?”

  “The mamba! I saw it over there,” Amie pointed with both hands. “It looked the same size as the one that killed Kirk.”

  Ken cocked his head as if weighing up to see if she was telling the truth.

  “I saw it! And you know they’re territorial.”

  “Where, show me where,” Ken grabbed her arm.

  “Over there, behind that bush. Don’t make me go any closer, please.”

  When Amie first screamed all the men had leapt into action, reaching for their guns and peering round to see what was causing her panic.

  “Inyoko” Ken shouted.

  “It’s the black mamba!” Amie shrieked.

  Everyone understood her. One by one the men cautiously approached the area Amie had indicated, and while they were distracted, Amie twisted her arms to retrieve the scalpel and the scissors from where she’d stuffed them in her pocket. For a moment, she considered keeping one of the weapons for herself, but she would have no chance to use them with Ken ogling her.

  She sidled over to the other green tent and, pushing the flap aside with her hips, flung both the scissors and the scalpel inside. Now she could only hope that the commotion would alert the others, and they would see a way of cutting themselves loose. Just for good measure she screamed again, pretending that she’d seen the mamba further over on the other side of the camp area. “Look, look, there it is!” she screeched. “Get it, kill it before it kills us! It’s very dangerous. Oh, catch it please, get rid of it. Don’t let it come over here.”

  Amie was dancing up and down behaving in the way she detested, a typical, scared, hysterical female making a big fuss about a possible danger. Typically Hollywood – over the top.

  The men looked around for the snake that wasn’t there for several minutes then one by one they gave up the search shaking their heads. Ken turned to Amie and shrugged. “I guess you scared it off with your screams. Go pee, I’ve not finished with you yet. This way.” He grabbed her arm again and pushed her away from the green tent and out the opposite side of the clearing. “You’d better hope it doesn’t bite you on the bum,” he sniggered, “if it was ever there at all.”

  Amie shuffled behind a bush and with great difficulty relieved herself. She’d not been lying when she said she needed to go. She glanced around hoping that she hadn’t tempted fate and the black mamba had returned. It was most unlikely. They were generally shy snakes and kept away from humans. There was plenty of activity around the camp to scare them off.

  She wandered back into the clearing. It was madness to try and escape. With her hands tied together and no food or water she wouldn’t get very far, even if she could outrun the men. She’d only make things worse for herself. Who knows what animals were lurking, lured by the stench of the rotting elephant not very far away. Every now and again, the breeze blew the stench of the carcass in their direction.

  Ken watched her approach and motioned her back into the tent and into the camp chair. “Now, what I need from you is your mobile. Where is it?”

  “My phone?” Amie pretended to be astonished.

  “Yes, your mobile, your cell phone. What have you done with it? My men couldn’t find it anywhere.”

  “But what do you want my phone for?” Amie played for time.

  “What do you think?” Ken leaned over, nearly tipping the chair over and forcing Amie to recoil. “You’re not as bright as you think. Your phone, where is it?”

  “Who do you want me to call?” she played for time, she knew exactly what he wanted.

  “No one, you stupid girl. I want what’s on it.”

  Ken didn’t want her phone for the contact numbers of the few people who worked at the Durban Consulate. It was the pictures he was after, the ones she’d taken of the arms deal going down. It was evidence, but of what? Simon with the arms dealers? Was Ken going back to denounce him? Was it that simple? No, it was more than that. Ken had no intention of letting any of them go.

  Then it dawned on her. “You’re in those photographs, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, well done, Amie, Very good indeed. At last you have a brain cell working. Now you’ve got it. So, where is it?”

  “I … I don’t know.” Amie wasn’t telling the truth. She knew exactly where it was. She frowned as she pretended to think murmuring, in the flat? No, maybe in the car? What was I wearing last Thursday?

  “Hurry up, don’t keep me waiting.” Ken was getting angry and to Amie’s horror he pulled out a knife, throwing it from hand to hand.

  “I honestly don’t know,” she spluttered. “I don’t think I even brought it with me.”

  Ken pointed the knife at her and leaning forward he pushe
d the point against her neck.

  “If you kill me now, you’ll never find it!”

  “Oh, I’m not going to kill you before I get my hands on it, but in my experience a little discomfort helps the memory.” Ken pushed a little harder and Amie felt a wet trickle run down her neck.

  She gulped. She was terrified, but she wasn’t going to show it in front of the man she now despised. “That’s not going to help,” she said bravely. “If you really want me to remember then I need to calm down, not be frightened.”

  Reluctantly, Ken removed the knife but Amie found it difficult to take her eyes off it. Think, think, what was the best thing to say? If she told him it was on the coffee table in the apartment would he be forced to take her back to Durban to check? Or would he take her word for it and kill her here anyway. If it wasn’t there, he was no further forward, and he would need to bully her again, if she wasn’t dead already. As usual, she dithered, trying to make up her mind. Tell him it was somewhere in the bush, maybe in the truck? In the tent? No, that was the last place she wanted Ken to go, he might discover the others had cut themselves loose.

  “I think,” she said slowly “I had it in my pocket when the land mine went off. It might have dropped out when I fell backwards. That’s the first place to look.” Well done, Amie, she thought, let’s get rid of a few of them, send them off on a wild goose chase.

  Ken stood up and went out to call his men, barking instructions at them in Zulu. Amie heard voices as at least two of them walked off in the direction of the open plain. She hoped they would be attacked by any large predators that arrived too late to share in the elephant banquet.

  Ken came back in. “Let’s see if they find anything, shall we?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure it’ll be lying around out there somewhere.”

  “I hope, for your sake they bring it back. Now,” he paused, licking his lips. “While we wait, let’s have a little fun, shall we?”

  “What!” Amie gasped in horror.

  “It’s simply my duty to console a grieving widow. All this time without a man. Unless, of course, Simon obliged? Yes? No?”