Cut for Life

by Lucinda E Clarke

  “Felicity wouldn’t do a thing like that,” Fazia announced. “And nor would I. Our parents didn’t teach us those kinds of things.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Linda lunged for Fazia and shook her like a rag doll. “What you mean?” she repeated.

  “Girls, stop this fighting! Now!” Amie pulled the girls apart but Linda grabbed Fazia again.

  “Stop it! Get off me!” Fazia pushed Linda away. “Only what you told me. Your dad’s in jail yes?”

  “What of it?”

  “He’s into that sort of criminal stuff. You told us yourself that he taught you how to pick pockets and steal from shops. Bet your mum does that too, doesn’t she?”

  “So, what if we did?” Linda’s face turned bright red. “Them rich people don’t need money like what we do. An’ I weren’t born into a rich, posh family like you. Bet you had everything you asked for, didn’t you?”

  “Will you shut up the pair of you, this is getting us nowhere. We don’t want the whole neighbourhood to know what’s going on do we?” Amie yelled at the two elder girls. The little ones were sitting wide-eyed on the bed looking from Linda to Fazia.

  “We’re in enough of a mess as it is. We must stick together and help each other, not squabble. So quit it now! Got it? Once you’re back in England you can fight it out all you want. You can arrange a big contest in a ring, with boxing gloves and sell tickets and prizes and everything – but not now!”

  The thought of this made both girls giggle, and Winnie climbed onto Amie’s lap.

  Maisie sat up suddenly. “That big man must have followed us. Does he know we’re here? He’ll come and get us!” She started to cry then tried to climb onto Amie’s lap. Winnie pushed her out of the way claiming Amie for herself, and they began to tussle, each trying to take comfort from the only adult they could trust.

  “Now stop it you two, there’s no need for this. I won’t let any harm come to you, big man or not, do you hear? Now settle down.”

  Amie picked them both up and put them back on the bed.

  “Now listen up all of you. I’m going to be as honest as I can with you and treat you all like grownups. You will have to do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?”

  Four pairs of eyes stared at her and four little heads nodded.

  “I am going to have to go out again for a little while. I need to get some money, then Doug will be coming to help me bring the Land Rover back, so I want you older girls to put the little ones to bed and sit here quietly, sleep if you can. Do not go outside, do you understand?”

  They nodded again. Then Winnie whispered. “You will come back F’licity? You won’t leave us, will you?”

  “Of course I’ll come back and that’s a promise.” Amie gave her a hug and quickly left the room, shaking her head. What a nightmare! She glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she would just have time to get back to the internet cafe before Doug arrived, but first she had to find Twigga.

  She knocked on the kitchen door, opened it and peeped inside. Twigga was drying dishes but turned round with a smile. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “I hope you can. I paid for our rooms in US dollars because that’s all the currency I have but could you change a little for me as I need to buy a couple of things.”

  Twigga paused for a moment and then agreed. As the currency changed hands Amie was sure the amount she quoted was way over the bank rate, even the black market exchange rate, but she was in no position to argue with her. She thanked her with a big smile, then clutching the dirty Ruangan notes she slipped out of the house and walked briskly down the road towards the commercial centre. She kept close to the walls, deep in the shadows while keeping a look out for the dark-haired man.

  She glanced in the window of the internet cafe and when she couldn’t see him in there, she pushed the door open and approached the counter. She smiled at the same pimply youth from earlier and paid him for thirty minutes’ air time. He pointed her to the closest desktop and although Amie indicated she wanted to use the one in the corner, he shook his head, nodding towards the closest one. Then, ignoring her completely he turned back to the grubby magazine with the naked ladies on the cover he’d been perusing. She shrugged, admitted defeat and sat down at the only computer without a blank screen; the one nearest to the door.

  She felt very vulnerable sitting so close to the entrance. She peered into the reflection from the screen but so far, there was no sign of anyone entering the cafe behind her. As the only customer, she was highly visible. She prayed this wouldn’t take too long.

  She fretted as the slowest internet speed in the world took its time to boot up to allow her access to her mail box. At this rate the thirty minutes would be up before she could even get in. Finally, the cursor blinked and she typed in her password. Her mailbox was empty. There was no reply from Maddy, and nothing from Simon either. She refreshed the page and tried again, still nothing. She looked to see how much time had passed since she’d sent her message to London; over two hours. Damn! But there had been a message in before the line dropped out earlier. Where was it? What was going on? Were they out at some fancy wine bar near Whitehall? Weren’t they worried about her? Unconcerned they had lost contact with her? Even curious about what had happened to her? She ground her teeth. Dare she sit here for another twenty minutes and wait in the hope there would be a reply? She needed some guidance. She’d told them she needed urgent help.

  Glancing round she saw that the cafe was still empty, so she took a chance and called up a map of Ruanga while she waited. The pin dropped on Atari as the capital city, and she studied the route north to the next door country, Togodo with its capital, Apatu. She studied the border line between the two. Was that the answer? Travel further north, find the people she knew and get help? She googled the list of British Embassies in Africa and was relieved to see that the one in Apatu was still operating. She went back to search for the embassy in Atari and sure enough, it stated that the diplomatic mission had been withdrawn until further notice and that travellers, business personnel and those living in the country should liaise with the American Embassy for the foreseeable future.

  Would the Americans help her? wondered Amie. She had no passport and four kidnapped British children, also without passports. Would they get involved? One thing was certain she could not admit she worked for the UK Government.

  The thirty minutes were almost up so she tried one last time to see if Maddy had responded, but her mail box remained empty. Where had Maddy’s last email gone, she had seen one before she’d been cut off earlier hadn’t she? She’d just cleared the cache when the screen went blank and her session was over. She cursed, shaking her head at London’s ineptitude and exited the cafe.

  She headed back to the guest house. She was so preoccupied with questions without answers that she wasn’t as vigilant as before.

  She suddenly became aware she was being followed. She pretended to trip and swung round to get her balance, and came face to face with the big man. He loomed over her, his blue eyes glinting, his dark, wavy hair framing his tanned face, his crooked smile filling her with dread.

  “You run away?” he sneered.

  “No, of course not.” Amie stood up and stared at him.

  “I must talk with you, explain Amie ... You must come with me.” He reached out to grab her arm but Amie was faster. He was probably expecting her to try and run, but she stood her ground raised her foot and jammed it into his groin as hard as she could.

  The look of complete surprise on his face almost caused her to laugh out loud. When he slumped over cradling his injuries, Amie kicked him as hard as she could on the side of his knee, grabbed his hair and chopped the side of his neck with her right hand. She pulled his head back again and brought her knee up under his jaw. He dropped like a stone, twisting round to stare sightlessly at the late evening sky. Got you back, Amie thought. Now you see what it feels like.

  She felt for a pulse. Nothing. She shivered. She’d not meant t
o kill him, but her training had kicked in before she had time to think. She checked the street, but it was deserted. She ransacked his pockets, removing his wallet and anything else she could find. To her surprise he had a gun, a little Glock 26 stuck in his waistband and she took that as well. She left the body lying there and walked away.

  In Britain, a murder like that would raise a hue and cry, it was a more common sight in Africa. The police would investigate, in their usual half-hearted manner, but they rarely caught the perpetrators unless the corpse had been either a wealthy man or a politician. This man was European and wearing expensive Levi jeans, polished boots and a smart leather jacket, he probably had connections. He had an accent too, French? What was a well-dressed Frenchman doing in the African bush with a bunch of child kidnappers? She had no answer to that but she was shaking as she made her way back to Twigga’s place.

  She’d killed a man. It was one thing to be trained to kill, quite another to actually take a life. Once inside the guest house walls, she slid down in the shadows behind a small syringa tree and inhaled deeply several times. Her pulse rate slowed helping her to calm down before she went inside. This latest event answered one of her questions. It was imperative they get out of Ruanga as soon as possible. Maybe the police here were more switched on, but she dared not hang around. Did she leave fingerprints on his leather coat? Was she seen? The fact she’d not seen anyone did not mean the reverse was true. She fingered the gun in her pocket – small, neat and deadly – she hoped she never had to use it.

  She crept in through the back door, past the bedrooms and into the toilet. She sat down and went through the wallet. She heaved a big sigh when she saw a huge wad of money, Ruangan and Togodian, plus a hefty amount of American dollars. There were a few bits of paper, receipts and a business card for some import export company but nothing else. No driving licence, no identity card, nothing to give a name to the man she had just killed.

  A horn beeping on the road outside startled her. Damn! Doug! She’d forgotten he’d promised to bring fuel and help her rescue the Land Rover.

  She stuffed the wallet and gun back in her pockets, and grabbing the keys, hurried out to meet him.

  On the journey Doug chatted about his work and life in Ruanga. Her silence would have led him to believe she was fascinated by his tales and she was happy to let him think that. He told her about the expatriate club and invited her to join him for a drink when they got back into town. Amie smiled as she refused the offer explaining she was exhausted. Maybe the following evening? They arranged to meet at seven the next day; he’d been very kind but she had no qualms about lying to him. She hoped that by then she would be miles away heading for the Togodian border.

  “Do you have internet access, Doug?” There must be an answer from Maddy by now, perhaps she could send another urgent email.

  “No, unfortunately. The signal is so bad most people go to the club and use the facilities there; they’re free. The prices they charge here for online connections are beyond extortionate. I can take you over there if you like after we pick up your truck.”

  Amie couldn’t face walking into Atari’s expat club. She could just imagine the questions they’d ask: ‘How long have you been here?’ ‘Are you working here?’ ‘Who for?’ ‘Found a house yet?’ Would you like me to show you around?’ Aagh! No way!

  “Uh, thank you, but no, it’s not urgent,” she lied. “How long ago did they close the British Embassy?”

  “Oh, a good couple of months,” he replied. “There was a huge bust up after a demonstration in London about human rights. One of our British workers here was involved in a brawl in a down town drinking den. He’d made a play for one of the local girls and her boyfriend or husband took great exception. There was a fight and our guy knifed him. As luck would have it the Ruangan guy died. An arrest was made and three days later, they hung him. They still have the death penalty here.”

  Amie shuddered. She’d just killed a man. Had anyone seen her? A cold hard knot gripped her insides. Visions of a quick trial flashed through her mind: prison, dead man walking, the hanging rope swaying in the breeze. She could feel the rope around her neck now, the rough hemp rubbing against her skin, the terror, panic – she gulped, her fingers curling into a ball. She’d been very close to it once before, tied to a stake, a target for the firing squad and only saved by an explosion and the prison wall falling on her captors. It was not something she relished going through again.

  Doug continued chatting, totally unaware of the dread he was striking into his passenger. “They don’t hang around either. No time for any kind of negotiations with the British reps from the embassy to plead his case, no chance for an extradition order so he could spend his time in a British jail. No, it was chop-chop, all over within a week.”

  She blinked. “There was a trial, wasn’t there?” she asked.

  “Well, yes, if you could call it that. Dozens of witnesses and the only guy from our plant who saw the dead man pull out a gun, wasn’t even given a chance to speak. As far as the locals were concerned it was an open and shut case. ‘Course there was an uproar and protests, so the Ruangan authorities simply kicked out the lot of them and demanded the embassy shut, and that all happened within another week.”

  “Were the Americans sympathetic? Didn’t they try to help?” Was this still an option?

  “Not had much to do with them. They sat on the side-lines. Their silence was deafening. Lucky it wasn’t one of their guys, could just as easily have been. Possibly they would help evacuate us if we needed to get out, but only after their own of course. Apart from that no help at all really. Got lots of Yanks working on the plant, but they’re not too sympathetic either.”

  “Didn’t the British Government suggest that you all left as well?”

  “No! Money talks. The bosses aren’t about to give up on that. We’ve been warned that we’re here under our own auspices and must take the consequences. It’s up to us really, but we get a good salary, accommodation and all that, so we’re not running home with our tails between our legs, just yet.” As he spoke, Doug glanced down at Amie’s legs. She sighed, any sort of romantic or sexual involvement with Doug was the last thing she needed.

  The Land Rover was exactly where she’d left it and to her relief it had escaped the vandals who could have easily stripped it for spare parts in the time it took to think about it. Doug had brought a large metal jerrican and it only took a few minutes to fill the tank.

  “Hey,” Doug called to her, as she was about to climb back into the truck, “Give me a smile. Cheer up, you look as if you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  Amie gave him half a smile. A brief, bright flash made her blink, but she thought nothing of it at the time. She climbed in behind the familiar wheel and drove off with him following close behind. She was pleased to see that Doug had left the empty can in the back. She could fill that too on the way out tomorrow and buy more cans.

  She hit the accelerator hard and flew down the road towards Atari taking half the time it had taken in Doug’s truck earlier. It was only as she approached the few twinkling lights in the darkness that she slowed down. It would not do to be stopped for speeding with no papers and a possible murder charge hanging over her head. The more she thought about it the more scared she felt. It wasn’t the first time she’d encountered death, but the first where she’d been the deliberate perpetrator. She wondered if it would be easier the next time, and the time after and the time after that ... She hoped she would never have to kill again.

  16 THE LION ATTACK

  Amie parked outside the guest house and thanked Doug profusely, promising again to meet him the following day after work. She bit her lip as she watched him drive off, checking her pockets again for the gun and the wallet.

  As soon as he was out of sight, she hopped back into the Land Rover and parked it several streets away. She didn’t need anyone recognising it and connecting it to where she and the children were staying.

&nbs
p; Even when she finally fell into bed, Amie couldn’t sleep. Her mind played the murder scene over and over again: her foot into the big man’s groin, her kick to his leg, her hand chop to his neck, and the upper cut to his jaw. Standard moves she knew could kill, but never thought she would have to use.

  Why did he want to talk and ... oh my God! He’d used her name. He’d called her Amie! He had hadn’t he? How did he know her name? Of course! He must have heard her mother use it in the restaurant. Who was he? Whose side was he on? She should have simply disabled him to get more information. Were her parents in danger now because of her? Well, no, not anymore, because the danger was dead – unless he’d told someone. She tossed and turned.

  At dawn, after almost no sleep whatsoever, Amie headed out of the back door to collect the Land Rover from where she’d left it the night before. She didn’t want to think back to yesterday, so she forced herself to eat Twigga’s hearty breakfast with the children, chatting as if nothing was wrong. “It will be interesting to see Zimbabwe,” she smiled, kicking Fazia’s leg under the table when the teenager gaped at her. Thankfully, the others didn’t notice.

  Once they were all dressed and scrubbed, they set off waving merrily at Twigga and heading for the open road once more.

  “So, children we’re driving north ...”

  “But you said we were going to Zimbabwe and that’s south!” Fazia exclaimed.

  “Yes, I did, but there’s no harm in pointing others in the wrong direction is there?” Amie glanced back at her and smiled when she saw her nodding.

  “I know people further north who will help us make arrangements to get you all back home.”

  Amie had thought about lingering for a while in Atari and picking up yet another phone – that scenario was getting ridiculous – and trying to contact Maddy again, but after last night’s encounter with the big man she reasoned it was best to get as far away from the city as quickly as possible. The last thing she needed was a roadblock on the way out of town.