Night of Knives

by Jon Evans

  Jacob says, "Derek is dead."

  Rukungu's pace doesn't even falter. "How?"

  "He was abducted. We were too. Taken into the Congo. He was killed by Al-Qaeda and interahamwe."

  "It was all over the news," Veronica says lamely. In this refugee camp the rest of the world might as well not exist.

  "How did you find me?"

  "I was Derek's best friend," Jacob says. Veronica winces at this avoidance of the truth.

  "Derek said he told no one about me. No one."

  Jacob hesitates. "He didn't. We followed your phone."

  Rukungu looks at him and says nothing.

  Veronica says, "We need your help. We need to know what's going on."

  "I will speak only to Derek."

  "You can't. I'm sorry. Derek is dead."

  "Then I will speak to no one," Rukungu says flatly.

  "We're trying to find out who killed him. Who was responsible," Jacob says. "I was his best friend."

  "So you say," Rukungu stops and turns on Jacob, steps into his personal space, moving so suddenly that Veronica takes an alarmed step back. He looks ready for violence. "But how can I know this is the truth?"

  Veronica can't think of any way to break the tense silence that follows.

  Then Jacob smiles, as a light bulb visibly goes off in his mind. "I'll show you." He reaches for his hiptop. "Look."

  Rukungu looks suspicious but grudgingly circles around to look as the much taller man punches buttons.

  "This is us at university," Jacob says. "At a Nirvana concert, six months before Kurt Cobain killed himself. Twelve years ago now."

  Veronica leans in, curious despite herself, and sees a picture of a two kids barely out of their teens; one is tall and skinny, the other shorter and pudgy, with unkempt hair and sallow skin. She recognizes both, but only barely.

  "This is Derek?" Rukungu asks, and his voice echos her own amazement.

  "Yep. And this is him when he got back from Bosnia." Jacob pushes keys, and then Derek appears again, still young but trim and muscular now, she can see the man he will become within his not-quite-fully-formed features. His dragon-tattooed arm is around a slender redhead. "And here's us in Thailand, a few years ago. Not my most flattering picture, but hey."

  It's true: Jacob is lying on a beach, pale and pasty and rail-thin, staring up at the camera with bloodshot eyes. Derek is beside him reading a Martin Cruz Smith novel.

  "I was badly hung over. His then-girlfriend took it. Then they broke up while I was there, it was awkward."

  Rukungu looks at the pictures, then at Jacob, not quite convinced.

  "Come on," Jacob says, exasperated. "What do you want, a notarized statement? We were best friends for twenty years. Ask me anything."

  The African man asks, "Do you know Lydia?"

  Jacob looks at Veronica, surprised, then back to Rukungu. "You mean the, the lady in the Hotel Sun City?"

  "Yes. Yes, the Sun City. Is she still there? Is she well?"

  "Sure. We saw her last week. We gave her money, I'm sure she's fine. But, I mean, you know she has… "

  "Yes," Rukungu says shortly. "I know. Is she still strong?"

  "Strong enough," Veronica says gently. "Do you know her?"

  He doesn't answer.

  "Is that why Derek was taking care of her? Because you asked him to?"

  "She could not come here."

  "Why not?"

  "There are banyamulenge here who know her." He uses the word like an epithet. Veronica doesn't know what it means, and from his expression neither does Jacob.

  "What did you do for Derek?" Veronica asks, "Why are you here?"

  Rukungu looks at her, then at Jacob, and comes to some decision, "I was waiting for Derek. He said there would be a transfer this week, and he would come. I was to take him to bear witness. He was right. Tonight is the new moon. There will be a transfer."

  "How do you know?" Jacob asks.

  "Because I was one of them."

  "One of who?"

  Rukungu looks at Jacob as if the question is stupid. "One of Athanase's men."

  Veronica sucks in breath sharply.

  "I can take you to the transfer," Rukungu says. "It is not too late. It will happen at midnight."

  "No," Veronica says quickly. "No, it's too dangerous."

  "There will be no danger. I can take you to a place where they do not see us. But you can see them. You will see everything."

  Veronica looks at Jacob. She wants him to say no.

  "You trusted us," Jacob says. His voice is quiet but Veronica can sense his excitement. "We ought to return the favour."

  Chapter 25

  Jacob, Veronica and Rukungu march through the night. When Jacob shines his flashlight around them he sees that these hills above the refugee camp have been stripped bare of trees, ravaged by the demand for firewood and arable land. The resulting erosion has obviously eaten away from the soil; jagged rocks protrude with increasing frequency as they climb the steep slope. Jacob wonders if rainy-season landslides will soon threaten the camp itself. The trail they follow leads them through tiny, ragged, and ever less fertile plots of farmland.

  Rukungu moves slowly but unstoppably, and carries the spectrum analyzer as if it is a balloon. Veronica is beginning to wheeze. Jacob too is soon exhausted, his muscles have not yet recovered from the Congo, and this climb is gruelling. He forces himself to continue on weak and rubbery legs, aiming the flashlight straight down on the ground, to illuminate the ground on which they walk. He wonders if its light is visible from below. At least it is a good flashlight, a small but durable Maglite that shows no signs of darkening.

  "I have to stop," Veronica pants. "I can't make it all the way up without a break."

  "Me neither," Jacob gratefully seconds.

  Rukungu turns to them. "Go slow. Softly, softly. But do not stop."

  They follow his advice, take smaller steps. For a while it works. Then both lungs and legs begin to burn again. Jacob is on the verge of demanding another halt when Rukungu stops on a flattish patch. While Jacob and Veronica catch their breath, Rukungu kneels beside a large boulder, carefully thrusts his hands beneath, and withdraws a dusty panga.

  "What's that for?" Veronica demands nervously.

  "For making a path. Come."

  "Five minutes," Jacob grunts.

  Rukungu nods. Jacob turns off the light and focuses on his breath. Eventually the stars stop swimming in the sky and fix in one place. He is ravenously hungry, he wishes they had stopped long enough to eat, right now he would devour pocho as if it was made of chocolate truffles.

  "What time is it?" Veronica asks Jacob.

  He consults his hiptop. "Ten."

  She turns to Rukungu. "How much further?"

  "Myself, thirty minutes. With you, I think one hour."

  They continue, leaving the farming plots behind; the slope has become too steep and stony to eke out any crop. There is no longer any trail, they have to improvise their route through bushes and rocks. Jacob is glad the refugees have cut down all the trees for firewood or construction. Thick forest would take hours to climb through.

  When they finally reach the crest of the ridge the night is so dark they see nothing of the hills around them at all, nothing but the distant glow of the few electric lights in the camp's administration center. At least the mosquitoes are now few.

  "There is a road," Rukungu says, pointing downwards, away from the camp. "Past the road there is a river. Past the river is the Congo."

  Rukungu takes the flashlight and begins to lead them downhill. Jacob follows uneasily. They are placing an enormous amount of trust in this man they just met. He could take the light and leave them and they would probably never find their way back. He could turn on them with his panga and kill them both. Jacob supposes if Rukungu were going to do these things he already would have. Somehow this is unconvincing comfort.

  He is beginning to wish he had declined Rukungu's offer. He hadn't quite realized it would
mean marching for hours through barren African wilderness in the moonless dark. And now that it's actually happening, the idea of spying on a rendezvous between smugglers and Al-Qaeda on the very border of the Congo, with no recourse if something goes wrong, seems completely insane.

  Well, you always wanted your big adventure, he thinks to himself. Adventure, noun. Long periods of tedium interspersed with brief moments of terror. Except Jacob has learned this Devil's Dictionary definition is incomplete: in real adventures, the tedium is usually coupled with total physical exhaustion, and the terror never really goes away, it's always there in the background, gnawing at him like sandpaper.

  "Look," Rukungu says softly.

  Jacob looks. Lights in the distance, headlights, bouncing up and down, the road is clearly as bad as that leading into the camp. Rukungu immediately switches off the Maglite. The vehicle rounds a gradual curve until it parallels the ridge they just crossed.

  "We must hurry," Rukungu says. "This torch is too bright."

  He gives Jacob back the flashlight, produces his Nokia phone, and uses its screen to light their way down the ridge. Veronica follows, with Jacob behind her, using his hiptop as light. They follow a narrow path that seems to have barely worn its way into the thick trees and bushes. Jacob twice sees footprints too small to be Rukungu's. Prints left by a child's feet. Or a pygmy's. The vegetation here is thin, Rukungu doesn't need to use his panga. Jacob wonders why he brought it, then. Maybe for self-defense. Maybe this isn't as safe as he promised.

  As they descend, the vehicle pulls offroad and stops, almost directly beneath them. They are only a few hundred feet away now. Jacob's muscles are taut, almost cramping with fear and adrenalin. He has to force himself to breath slowly, quietly.

  The vehicle's engine switches off, its doors open, and Rukungu stops so suddenly that Veronica almost collides with him.

  "What is it?" Veronica whispers.

  "You are very loud. We must wait for more noise."

  "From where?" Jacob asks, low-voiced.

  "The other vehicle."

  "We're almost in range of the analyzer," Jacob says. "Just twenty metres closer."

  "No."

  Jacob doesn't argue. Ahead of him Veronica is breathing fast. Jacob reaches out and takes her hand. She squeezes back tightly. Then Jacob lets go, shrugs his backpack off as silently as he can, and kneels. He gently opens his pack, withdraws camera and lens, and begins to assemble them by touch, working slowly and gently. His heart is thumping but his hands are steady. He remembers soldering circuit boards together, back in university, he was always good at that. Twice he slips slightly, metal clicks against plastic and Veronica inhales sharply, but Jacob isn't worried, they're surely far enough away that the men in the vehicle can't hear anything. Those men are speaking, conversing in low voices, but he can't make out any words or even the language.

  "They come," Rukungu mutters.

  Jacob looks west and sees two more headlights in the distance.

  Rukungu says, his voice so low Jacob can barely hear him, "You must be silent. Absolutely silent. No light."

  He begins to move further downslope. Veronica takes a deep breath and begins feeling her away along the path too. Jacob follows, but he can't move quickly with the camera, and soon she and Rukungu have disappeared into the darkness ahead.

  * * *

  Veronica's outstretched hand touches something warm and she almost gasps before identifying it as Rukungu. He is crouched behind something, a rock outcrop. Beyond a dirt slope drops maybe twenty feet to the road, lit by the approaching headlights. Veronica huddles next to Rukungu. At least the outcrop, plus the low trees and bushes on this stony ridge, should screen them from view. She can smell cigarette smoke. They are almost directly above where the first vehicle is parked. The men there are smoking, she can see their incandescent red dots of their cigarettes. Veronica badly wants one herself.

  The second set of headlights wash over the first vehicle, a matatu like any other. Four men loiter around it, standing or leaning against the vehicle, smoking and waiting. They could be the same men Veronica saw last night in the scrapyard, she can't be sure. Light reflects from the white matatu onto the second vehicle as it pulls in alongside. It is big, blocky and angular - a Humvee. Its doors open and three men emerge. Veronica squints. The headlights are aimed away, and the diffuse light isn't enough to recognize faces, but one of the men is small but built hugely, like a bodybuilder. Veronica shudders. It's him, she can't recognize his face but she's sure of it; there, only fifty feet away, stands the Al-Qaeda terrorist who beheaded Derek.

  The two groups of men engage in a brief and businesslike discussion. Veronica does not understand their language. She wonders if Rukungu does. If so he makes no obvious sign of it, just watches patiently.

  Veronica is suddenly aware of someone on her other side. She twitches, turns her head, and is relieved to see Jacob kneeling next to her, holding his camera with zoom lens attached. He rests it cautiously on the edge of the outcrop, aims it down at the two vehicles and seven men, and pushes the button. Veronica stiffens, but no sound or light emerges from the camera, Jacob must have switched it to some kind of stalker mode.

  The smokers below carefully crush their cigarettes beneath their feet. Then the short, wide man who killed Derek opens the back of the Humvee, revealing a forest of yellow jerrycans. All seven men begin to move the jerrycans out onto the road. Veronica can smell gasoline.

  Jacob leans over to whisper gently into her ear. "I read about this. Gasoline smuggling. That gas actually got trucked in through Uganda in the first place, but there's no government in Congo, so no taxes, so the price there is so much lower it's cheaper to bring it back in from the Congo than to buy it in Ugandan gas stations."

  Veronica doesn't care and wishes Jacob didn't either. She wants to snap at him to focus. This isn't a time to be interested in the economics of smuggling. This is exactly the kind of knife-edge dangerous situation he promised they wouldn't get into.

  Below them, the rear doors of the matatu are opened. Veronica breathes in deeply as she sees the two coffin-sized metal boxes within, the same boxes she saw on the pickup last night. She sees something written on them, stencilled letters she can't quite make out. Jacob returns to his camera. The metal boxes are heavy, it takes four men to carry each from the matatu into the Humvee. Once they are loaded, the bodybuilder and two other men get back into their vehicle and drive away, heading west again, towards the Congo. Veronica watches their taillights disappear. She feels relieved but also disappointed. They are safe, but they haven't learned anything new. She was expecting something more important, more decisive.

  The four men from the matatu load the vehicle with jerrycans. Jacob reaches out to adjust the zoom. The camera lens extends outwards –and knocks loose a pebble that rattles loudly down the rock outcropping.

  Veronica freezes as one of the men below turns around to stare at the unexpected noise. Her skin tingles with acid electricity, her heart fills her throat. The man stares into the darkness for a second, then says something and points, directly at them. The others stop working and follow his lead. She feels like they're staring straight at her. She couldn't breathe even if she dared.

  Then Rukungu opens his mouth and an inhuman sound emerges, a warbling, high-pitched animal noise, some kind of mammalian chitter. The men below visibly relax, and one chuckles. Veronica starts to breathe again, shallowly and silently. The man who pointed at them is the last to turn away. He goes to the matatu's passenger-side door and gets into the vehicle. The last few jerrycans are loaded, the rear doors are slammed shut.

  The passenger door opens again and the man emerges with a flashlight in his hand. Veronica's heart convulses again as he shines it into the darkness. She crouches lower, as do Jacob and Rukungu crouch lower, all three are fully obscured by the rock outcrop.

  But Jacob's camera is still perched the rock, its lens aimed straight at the man with the flashlight.

  Veronica closes he
r eyes. They won't see it, she tells herself. It's too dark.

  Then she hears a surprised and outraged shout, and an icy fist clenches at her gut.

  "Run!" Rukungu orders.

  Jacob grabs the camera and sprints noisily back up the trail. More shouting erupts below. Veronica stays where she is, hunched over, she feels paralyzed, like a rabbit caught in headlights, until Rukungu shoves her so hard she almost topples over. It breaks the spell. She too turns and rushes uphill, stumbling on the uneven ground, in the darkness she can't make out the path. She hears Jacob running above her and deliberately turns diagonally away. They're better off splitting up.

  Then she hears the firecracker noises of gunfire behind her, an automatic weapon. She throws herself to the ground, heedless of the the thorns and branches that claw at her face and arms. The gunfire continues briefly. Then she hears running noises from below. They are following. Veronica considers trying to flee, but she'll make too much noise, they're too close, and they're faster and stronger. Best to hide and hope.

  She curls up in a ball and looks behind her, down the ridge. Two lights are coming up the path. She is less than twenty feet away from the trail, not near as far away as she hoped. She can see the face of the man holding the first flashlight, the form of the second man behind him, and the rifles they carry. They rush right past her, pursuing Jacob; but the other two-man team, with the second flashlight, is climbing much more slowly, and examining the ground as they come. Both hold drawn pistols.

  Veronica stays rigidly still and silent. She wants to run, to leap to her feet and scramble away, but it is too late now. She can't bear to watch, she wants to close her eyes, but doesn't let herself, she needs to know what's happening. She tries to tell herself that she will be fine, that somehow this will all be over soon.

  The two men with pistols veer off the path, straight towards her. Veronica twitches with dread. She has to hold her breath to keep herself from moaning with terror. Their light is aimed at the ground, they are studying that circle of illumination carefully. They are thirty feet away, maybe less, they will see her in seconds.