The Watchman

by Adrian Magson

  ‘That’s some priceless damage you did there,’ he muttered, when he came back and gave the all-clear. He sounded impressed. ‘Blew the beach to shit and back.’

  He was right. The smell of explosives and burned wood was much stronger now, catching in the back of the throat. The C-4 had taken a huge bite out of the beach and the ground directly in front of the villa, but the building had been shielded from serious harm by the overhang of impacted sand beneath the garden boundary. Even so, part of the roof shingles had been torn away and some of the upper cinder blocks cracked by the proximity of the blast.

  We went inside and did a quick check of the rooms. We were in for a shock. It was clear that Musa and his men were continuing to use the place as a base. The al-Shabaab flag was hanging across the window in the front room, with clothes and other supplies scattered around in boxes. Spare magazines of AK ammunition were stacked against one wall along with two shortwave radios and a case of Russian-made smoke grenades and a crate of rocket launchers. The crate markings had been obliterated but the launchers looked like RPG-7s or a later derivative. I checked through the window and saw boxes of grenades stacked right outside. The thought of all that explosive power so close by made my back itch.

  I checked the basement. It was empty and smelled like a cesspit.

  ‘We can’t stay here,’ I said. ‘There’s nowhere to hide.’ It was also a disaster zone waiting to happen.

  Tober nodded and looked longingly at the grenades. ‘We could leave them a little surprise package. One trip wire and all gone.’

  ‘Nice idea, but it would tell them we were still around. Maybe later.’

  I helped myself to a bottle of water and some dried fruit from one of the boxes of supplies, then walked over to the window overlooking the beach and eased aside one corner of the al-Shabaab flag. The glass was cracked and filthy, and by some miracle it had survived intact. I rubbed away some of the dirt, and felt an instant kick in my gut.

  Two skiffs with armed men on board were just offshore, coming in fast and leaving curving white furrows of foam behind them.

  ‘Time to go,’ I said urgently. ‘Keep the house between us.’

  We sprinted directly for the slope, running past the hole I’d been hiding in before. Once we reached high ground and could be sure we weren’t being observed, we hunkered down and watched as the two boats slid into the shallows and the men began to offload more supplies. It looked well-rehearsed and it was obvious they were here for a long haul. Each boat carried four men, and while two stood guard with AKs, eyeing the extent of the beach and the terrain inland, the others dragged boxes up the sand to the villa.

  When we had seen enough and the men had disappeared inside, we angled round and picked up Madar, then headed further inland until we saw a copse of trees. It wasn’t much, and was uncomfortably close to the coastal track and too far away to keep an eye on the villa, but it would have to do. Perfection doesn’t always come as part of the package.

  We sat out the rest of the day, which meant working hard on keeping Madar quiet for the first few hours. I had two energy bars left in my backpack, which helped. Now he was with us he was like a dog with two tails, as if he thought we were bomb-proof and it would give him the same protection. Thankfully, though, he still hadn’t recovered fully from his beating at the hands of Musa’s men, and tiredness eventually took over and he crashed out.

  ‘What do we do with him?’ Tober asked, when Madar began snoring softly. ‘We can’t take him with us and we can’t leave him here – he’ll get himself killed.’

  ‘What I said before: we get him somewhere where he can get a boat heading north. Not all the men in Kamboni are Musa’s goons, and one of the fishing boats will be happy to have a free deck-hand.’ It wasn’t the perfect solution, but Madar was bright enough to make his own way. In any case, there was no way we could see him all the way home. He was going to have to do some fast growing up.

  Tober and I took turns to watch the track while the other catnapped. The sum total of activity for the day was three vehicles, two heading north, one south, and five small motorbikes loaded with produce, bouncing along through the ruts and potholes. Nobody stopped to investigate the trees, but we both went on high alert each time, ready to take anybody down who came too close.

  I debated ringing Vale with an update. But there was nothing to tell him. He knew roughly where we were, and would know by now from Piet that Angela Pryce was on her way. Beyond that he was as powerless as we were. I decided to leave it and conserve battery power.

  By nightfall we were edgy, thirsty and eager to be off. Madar was up again, his energy reserves back to normal, and asking endless questions about what we were going to do next and when. I figured the only way to bring him down to a safe level was to move towards Kamboni, and let a touch of natural fear take hold of him. At least then he’d be easier to keep quiet and do exactly what we told him.

  It was time to roll.

  There was thin cloud cover, which allowed some starlight and a watery moon to show through. That was good and bad; good because it gave us some vision, bad because it made us easier to spot. We set out in file, me on point and Madar between us. I had a slight advantage over Tober, having seen the general layout of the area, which wasn’t a hell of a lot.

  The air was still, with just the buzzing of insects to disturb us and clamping down on us in clouds, sticking to our faces and clothes. I got adept at spitting them quietly off my lips every few seconds, and tried hard to ignore the feel of them moving through my hair and tickling my scalp.

  The closer we got to the sea, the cooler it became, and the louder the hiss of the waves brushing the beach. It sounded peaceful and serene, a holiday trailer, and it simply couldn’t last.

  It didn’t.

  Fifty-Seven

  Musa had decided to box clever. Going ahead of the other two to scout the land, I found guards had been posted some way out from the villa. They looked more alert than their predecessors and I guess his trackers had reported in that some of us were still on the loose. He was taking no chances.

  Good for him but bad for us.

  I walked back and angled away from the area, following a parallel path along the coast towards Dhalib, but not so close to the track from the north. Being caught out by men in vehicles would see us quickly run down and surrounded, and we didn’t have enough ammunition for a protracted firefight.

  Even moving slowly and stopping every few metres for a listen and to let the other two catch up, I eventually ran into trouble.

  It came in the form of a sentry taking a bathroom break.

  He shouted in surprise and rose up in front of me, clutching his skirt in one hand and a rifle in the other. There was no time for pleasantries; I had just enough time to loose off a shot from the AK. It took him high in the shoulder and spun him round, but he was a tough bird and hollered out to his friends before I could smack him down with the rifle butt.

  Too little too late.

  Answering shouts came from the darkness behind us, and a shot sounded as one of the men got excited and drilled a shadow. It wouldn’t be long before they were swarming around us and our way out was cut off. We had to move fast.

  I whistled and got a reply from Tober, and an even louder one from Madar. Darned kid was going to get himself killed – but at least he was awake and alert. Seconds later they caught up with me and we began running south.

  We arrived at the cluster of huts that had once been Dhalib. It still smelled of fire and death, and there was a taste of ash lingering in the air, but the bodies had been taken away. Now it was merely a ghostly place with no sign of life. Given time, I figured it would simply blow away with the next strong wind and be forgotten.

  We left the ruined huts behind, but it was obvious from the distant shouting that Musa’s men weren’t far off. They couldn’t know who they were looking for, nor how many, but they must have found their man and were operating on the logic that at least Tober and one other were out here,
and were armed and ready to fight.

  I slowed down to let Tober and Madar catch up. The kid was game enough, but he hadn’t the strength for a full-on run and Tober was having to hustle him along, which slowed him down, too.

  I had to think of some way of delaying the pursuit, and giving us a chance to get clear. I could have done with a couple of packs of C-4 right now, but that was wishful thinking.

  I grabbed Tober’s arm and said softly, ‘Head along the coast until you get to the first few houses. Madar will show you. Dig in somewhere on the beach and I’ll catch up with you.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll spook them and lead them off the other way.’

  He nodded and I stepped back towards the track and the incoming pursuers, sinking to one knee while the other two disappeared into the gloom. I was hoping Tober would get them both clear and not stay around to help me. It was pointless us all getting caught.

  The first man came out of the dark like a runaway train, his sandals slapping on the hardened ground. He was grunting with excitement, his face shiny with sweat and desperately wanting to be the one to catch us.

  He was lucky; he was going to be the one to live.

  I waited until he was right on top of me, then stood up and hit him with the butt of the AK, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs but not to knock him out completely. I needed him conscious enough to be aware of what I was doing so he could tell his colleagues.

  I snatched up his AK and called out into the dark, making sure he saw that I was looking directly to the west, inland and away from Kamboni. It was a piece of theatre, but I wanted him to think I was following others away from the town into the bush.

  As I ran off I heard him trying to holler for backup from his friends, who could only have been a short distance behind him, and the answering chatter of men arguing over the direction I had taken.

  Just to make sure they got the message, I shouted again and fired a short burst from the fallen man’s AK towards the voices, then hit the ground. I was just in time; the answering fire was thick and fast and sounded like a small war as they let loose in my direction, bullets snapping angrily past me.

  I waited for the excitement to die down, then jumped up and ran for several minutes, jumping scatterings of thorn bush and tangled grass more by instinct than sight. After I’d covered enough ground I shouted again and fired another burst until the magazine clicked on empty.

  The Somalis responded in like terms, but this time the firing was lighter and seemed to be going in several directions at once. The sound of my shots must have been confusing in the darkness, and the excitement of the chase would have allowed them little chance of figuring out exactly where I was. But they had also learned by now to be cautious, which was going to work in my favour.

  I tossed the empty AK to one side and carried on running. This time I headed south, aiming directly for the town and the beach beyond and hoping I didn’t run into someone smart who’d figured out what I was doing. I was hoping the diversion would take the men enough time to sort out to give me a chance of catching Tober and Madar and figure out what to do next.

  Fifteen minutes later I saw the shadows of buildings to my right, and came across the main coastal track. I had hit Kamboni head-on. I veered off slightly left and skirted a long thatched bungalow, keeping low and trying not to trip over anything in the gloom.

  The smell of dried fish was very strong now, with the underlying fresher tang of the sea. I moved between two more long houses siding on to the beach and protected by a line of palm trees, then knelt down to get my bearings.

  A dog barked in the distance, and the sea hissed across the sand and bubbled out again. Apart from that, it had the cold, dead feel of a ghost town. I wondered how many people were here, reluctant to leave the few possessions they had in the world.

  I checked the beach, looking at the boats moored close to the waterline. I knew Tober would have gone looking for a way out of here as a matter of instinct.

  And where there were boats, he would be, too.

  Fifty-Eight

  I spotted Madar first. He was moving along the waterline, keeping low and checking the boats which were moored in a row, their rigging down. He seemed to be by-passing a lot of solid looking craft, and I wondered why. Then it hit me: Tober would have told him to look out for one with twin engines.

  That automatically ruled out boats belonging to the local fishermen. If they had engines at all they were small and probably far from new, held together by repeated tinkering and lots of prayer. Only the pirates could afford the fancier machines required to get them in against their targets in rough seas and away again if they encountered resistance on board or an armed naval patrol vessel.

  I stayed where I was and checked out the beach either side, listening for sounds of pursuit coming from among the huts behind me. Going out to meet up with the two others might attract unnecessary attention, and I could do more useful work watching their backs.

  Tober appeared, stopping every few paces to check his back trail, then giving each boat the quick once-over in case Madar had missed something. I made sure nobody was behind him, then followed a parallel course through the passageways among the huts, keeping the beach within sight.

  Kamboni was on a promontory shaped like the head of a hammerhead shark, with the uppermost part of the hammer forming the protective arm of a natural bay. Most of the town was set back slightly inland, with a few buildings and the local mosque closest to the water at the centre of the hammerhead. I hadn’t ventured that far, but from a satellite shot Vale had provided, it seemed that all the boats were moored in the bay, where they would be less vulnerable from storms along the coast.

  I paused to watch as Madar approached a large boat in the shallows. We were getting very close to the area around the mosque, which I guessed might have some kind of watchman in attendance. If he carried on much further, he would run out of beach.

  Then I stopped moving and lifted the AK. A figure had stepped out from the houses and was walking down the sand. I couldn’t see a rifle but he had something bulky over his shoulder. I checked through the scope to see what it was.

  A rolled fishing net. And he was heading for the boat where Madar was standing.

  Madar saw him too, and stopped, sinking to his haunches in the water. I looked to my left. Tober had frozen, hard up against another boat.

  I heard voices.

  The man had spotted Madar. But he wasn’t shouting in alarm. I held my breath, finger light on the trigger. I didn’t want to kill the fisherman just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if he started yelling, we were in big trouble.

  Madar stood and walked towards him. The man dropped his netting on the sand by the boat, then stretched his back and looked up at the stars. Next he pointed to the stern of the boat and said something.

  Madar stepped forward and picked up the net, heaving it on board.

  I waited, wondering what he was doing. Could it really be this simple? Had Madar stumbled on his way out of here? If so, Tober and I were down one problem and free to make our own way out, too.

  Madar turned and looked along the beach and gave a short whistle. Tober stood up and moved forward to join them, and stood listening before he turned and waved to me.

  He was good. He’d known I was here all along.

  I jogged down the beach and saw Madar was grinning, looking like an excited puppy about to go on an outing.

  ‘Mr Marc,’ he whispered. ‘This is Tawfiq.’ He indicated the fisherman, who didn’t seem that surprised to see two armed white men on a remote beach in his country. If he thought anything he certainly wasn’t saying. Up close, I could see he must have been in his sixties, with the build of a marathon runner, a scrub of white beard and deep-set eyes.

  ‘He is a good man,’ Madar continued, ‘and says the other men are very bad and will bring nothing but trouble to Kamboni. He believes the Kenyan army will come soon and attack the town, and
many may die. That is why he is leaving. It has happened before when the pirates come; they bring nothing and take everything. I have asked him if he will take me with him to the north.’

  He rapidly translated for Tawfiq, who nodded and replied in a guttural burst of his own.

  ‘What did he say?’ I asked. ‘Can you trust him?’

  ‘Yes. He says he dares to go out at night because he has a bigger boat and knows the waters like his own hand. The others are like women with the courage of goats. His cousin’s son who helps him is not well and he says he will take me as a deck hand but I will have to work hard or he will throw me overboard to the sharks.’ He grinned again. ‘I do not think he means that.’

  ‘Let’s hope not. Does he need money?’ I didn’t want to insult the man, but I couldn’t take advantage of his kindness.

  Madar spoke to him, and the old man looked nonplussed. I dug out some notes and handed them to Madar. ‘You deal with it. Tell him if he doesn’t take you home, we will come back and sink his boat.’

  I’m not sure Madar passed that on, but the man seemed happy with the money.

  Madar turned to Tober and shook his hand, then to me and hugged me briefly. ‘Thank you, Mr Marc,’ he muttered, his voice choked. ‘You are a good man, too.’

  I hugged him back and slapped him on the shoulder. He was a decent kid and I hoped he made it.

  Tober and I helped push the boat out until it floated free, while Tawfiq and Madar climbed aboard and got busy, the fisherman telling the kid what to do in a calm, practiced voice. The sail went up and filled gently, and the boat was soon moving with deceptive grace into deeper water.

  Then we heard a shout, followed by gunshots.

  Fifty-Nine