Shutting the door quietly behind him, he walked towards the main foyer. The hotel was a maze of pleasant, nondescript corridors, all finished in the same decor, while covers of popular music played on pan pipes repeated on an endless soundtrack.
The corridor opened up into a bustling lobby with people crowded into every part of it. Tourist season had just started in Rwanda and the Safari Lodge was the most popular hotel in town. It was brimming with locals and foreigners all going about their business. To one side, Luca could see a suited delegation being herded into the conference centre, while a group of Western tourists were crowded into the curio gift shop, waiting for their tour guide to arrive for the start of the gorilla trek. Each one of them had a long-lens camera and a nose glistening with sunblock.
Everywhere around him people were going about their normal lives. They were eating, working, arguing and laughing; and it made his sense of separation feel all the more acute. He felt utterly detached from these people, as if even their basic needs were somehow different from his own. This was their version of normality, not his, yet from all his climbing expeditions, Luca already knew that it was something he needed to come to terms with, and quickly, if he was ever going to fit back into ‘normal’ society.
This was now his life. And he was going to have to accept it.
‘Mr Matthews.’
It took the receptionist several more attempts to get his attention.
‘You have a message, sir.’ She smiled, somehow looking attractive despite the garish colours of her hotel uniform. ‘It arrived this morning.’
‘Thanks. And is breakfast still going? I’m starving.’
‘They’re packing away the last of the buffet, but I am sure you can still get something.’
Luca thanked her and moved out on to the balcony. A huge swimming pool stretched out below him. Tables and sunloungers were neatly arranged to either side, with tourists already busily tanning and ordering their drinks from the passing waiters. Opening the note, Luca read it then slowly folded the paper in two.
It was from Joshua at the hospital. The doctor had cleared him to travel and he had booked them on to the evening flight back to the UK. In only nine hours’ time, Luca would be boarding a plane.
He had tried to remind himself that this time with Bear would have to end, but for three days now they had been closeted in their bedroom, only venturing out when hungry. Time had become irrelevant for them, as if reality had been carefully placed to one side and all the days and nights had merged into one. Sometimes they made love in the early hours of the afternoon; other times they talked long into the night. It didn’t matter. Nothing that the rest of the world did mattered any more. Their existence centred around each other, and both of them had become lost in it all.
From the moment they had checked into the hotel, Luca had realised that Bear was the kind of person who, when she gave herself to someone, gave herself completely. It was just her nature to be that way; no reticence or prevarication, just her, laid open. As they switched off the light on that first night, she whispered ‘Je t’aime’ into his ear. Love. Luca had repeated the words over and over in his head. It somehow seemed so simple, more like a statement of fact than any complicated emotion. And by the next morning, he had found himself saying the same thing back to her.
With this note from Joshua, all that had suddenly changed. The world that Bear and he had created for themselves would soon come crashing down and there were only a few hours left for them.
Luca turned to see the breakfast hall slowly emptying of diners. Moving across it and grabbing a large plate, he piled what remained of the buffet on to it, quickly reclaiming some of the dried-up scrambled eggs and layers of streaky bacon before the waiters took the large metal trays out from under the heat lamps. There was a pot of coffee to one side and, scooping it all up, he quickly hurried back.
Bear woke as Luca placed the plate down on the bedside table and climbed on to the other side of the bed. He watched her slowly stretch and yawn, unhurriedly drawing her body towards his until she was lying on top of him, with her elbows folded across his chest. She stared into his eyes for a moment, before leaning forward and kissing him.
‘You’re always hungry,’ she whispered. Luca smiled, but she sensed his hesitation.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘I just got a message from Josh. The doctors say he’s well enough to travel.’
‘But what about the chemo and radiotherapy?’
‘He still has all that to come, but he wants to get back to England and do it there. The tumour’s right at the early stages and he said they have a really good chance of beating it if they start straight away.’
Bear slowly shut her eyes. ‘But this means you’re leaving.’
‘Tonight. The eight o’clock flight.’
Luca leaned forward and kissed her, feeling the words hanging between them. He felt Bear respond to his kiss, but as they parted he could see the sadness in her eyes. There was resignation there too, as if this was something she had been expecting at any moment.
‘I was thinking,’ he said. ‘I could just change my ticket and stay a bit longer. You know, we don’t have to do this now.’
‘That’s not the point,’ she whispered. ‘It’s about where we go from here.’
She placed both her hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes. ‘I meant what I said, Luca. Je t’aime.’
‘I know. But how do we know this is real?’ he asked. ‘How do we know this feeling will last? That it isn’t just right here and now?’
Bear frowned. ‘Because I grew up in Africa, and I can feel it in my heart when I love someone.’ She raised his hand, pressing it against her chest. ‘I can feel it here when I love someone. Even if they can’t.’
Luca embraced her, pushing her head back slightly with the force of his kiss. ‘I do,’ he whispered. ‘I do love you.’
After a moment she blinked, staring blankly ahead as Luca curled his fingers into her hair. Already, she was shaking her head.
‘I have a son,’ she said, her voice so soft it was barely audible. ‘Nathan’s back in Cape Town, waiting for me. I have a whole family back there, Luca. A life.’
She looked into his eyes. ‘I can’t just ignore that.’
He stared at her, realising what had to be done, but the very idea of it ran counter to everything he felt right then. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and stay where they were, put everything on hold and be together. But already he knew that this wasn’t the basis for any lasting relationship. They were too wrapped up in the horror of the last week, too blinded by the strength of shared experience, to know what was real and what was not.
For several seconds he stared at her. Finally, he spoke.
‘We have to leave each other for a while,’ he said. ‘You have to go back to your family and try to make it work. Properly try. And forget about me.’
Bear’s frown deepened. ‘Mais comment je peux faire cela?’ But how am I supposed to do that? she pleaded. ‘After everything we’ve been through, you’re asking me to leave? Like I can just ignore my own heart!’ A tear ran down the side of her nose. ‘I can’t live like that, Luca! I can’t go on pretending that I don’t feel a certain way. That you don’t exist.’
He reached out, gently pulling her closer to him. ‘You will go on, and you will pretend, because you owe it to your son. If you still feel the same way about me a year from now, then come and find me. I’ll be waiting.’
There was a pause. ‘Why is it that I can’t be with the people that I love?’ she whispered. ‘First my father, and now you.’
Luca didn’t answer, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would suffice. For the longest time they lay in each other’s arms, listening to the low hum of the air conditioning and feeling the soft draft of air wash across them. There was the faint rumble of cars going past on the main road beyond the hotel’s carefully manicured gardens, and they listened to each sound from the outside world
, feeling it draw closer with each minute that passed.
Eventually, Bear looked up and glanced down at her watch. She kissed him once again, but this time, as she pulled back, Luca saw a faint smile on her lips.
‘If we only have a few hours left,’ she said, ‘we’d better make the most of it.’
Chapter 39
THE SUN ROSE above the sprawling city of Kinshasa. It filtered past the high-rise buildings of downtown and the Boulevard de 30 Juin, before beaming down across the mass of tin-shack slums crowding the river. Hundreds of small boats and pirogues were anchored along the water’s edge, with rubbish littered high on each bank. Here, the Congo River was wide, as if gathering itself before spilling out into the Atlantic Ocean as its thousand-mile journey finally came to an end.
On the side of Mont Ngaliema, the first light of day crept past the curtains of the presidential palace. It threw into relief the silhouettes of the Louis XV furniture and the high, ornately crafted ceiling of the master bedroom. Lying on the bed, a man was fast asleep, but every few seconds his body jerked involuntarily and he twisted from side to side, knotting the sheets around him. Sweat prickled across his forehead, while his cheeks twitched in spasm. He was starting to wake, and as the daylight crept a little further into the room, his eyes jolted open.
Joseph-Désiré Mordecai slowly raised himself off the bed and sat with his head in his hands. Sweat dampened his palms. As he slowly pulled his hands back from his face, he could see they were trembling. The nightmares had started again.
Since they had reached Kinshasa and his LRA forces had easily overthrown Kabila’s ill-disciplined government troops, Mordecai had locked himself in the presidential apartment with orders not to be disturbed. He had left instructions to change the LRA’s name, founding instead Le Mouvement Démocratique du Congo or MDC, and already every sycophantic minister from the old regime had switched sides and was pledging allegiance. What was left of the MONUC forces were hurriedly dismantling their compounds, while the Mai-Mai rebellion in the east had been swiftly crushed. It had taken a sizeable part of his army to do it, but now every last Mai-Mai village had been razed to the ground. Despite the Americans’ money, barely a single man, woman or child from that tribe was now left alive.
Already, the delegations from the West had arrived to start negotiating for mineral rights.
He had learned that the French had tabled a motion in the UN Security Council to downgrade the level of criminal status of the LRA, wiping any notion of genocide from their files, while stories had been circulated in the press that the newly formed MDC was in fact nothing to do with the murderous LRA rebel group formerly led by Joseph Kony. The whitewash had begun, and Western governments were experts at it.
Mordecai heard a gentle knock at the door.
‘I said I was not to be disturbed!’ he roared, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He stared down at his trembling hands. The nightmares … They were getting worse. He was starting to get them during the day as well, his vision fogging as the images flashed before his eyes. The days and nights were blurring into one; becoming an endless halflight filled with the tortured faces of his victims. But there was one face that kept coming back to him, no matter what he did. That woman by the river. The one that had split his lip and broken his nose. She had been the first to stand up to him, the first without fear, and now, every morning, he would wake seeing her hateful eyes.
Something had switched that day. It made him feel naked and unsure, his confidence diminishing with each new morning, and each new vision. He felt crippled by the very thought of going to sleep and knowing that she would be there when he woke, with those eyes burning into him.
There was another gentle knock at the door.
‘Sir, the American delegation has arrived,’ a voice said nervously through the door. ‘And you mentioned, sir, that … that you wanted to speak to them. They have now been waiting for over two hours.’
‘Let them wait!’ Mordecai screamed. After a pause, he raised himself from the bed and slowly turned away from the door. He paced across to the window and slid his fingers around the edge of the curtain, cautiously drawing it back. From where the palace was situated, high up on the hillside, he could see right across the city. The fires had finally stopped and the war was over. For over a week now, he had been the ruler of all the Congo.
Moving into an antechamber, he went to the beautiful bathroom and swiftly got dressed. His clothes had been laid out for him: a sombre, charcoal suit with a discreet pale blue tie. Hanging in the cupboard just next to him, he could see one of his old white suits, now freshly laundered but still grey stains remained on the cuffs and ankles. He reached forward, gently rubbing his thumb and forefingers across the fabric. How had it come to this so quickly? He was already starting to dress like one of them.
As he finished getting ready and moved back to the bedroom door, he paused, his hand just resting on the handle. He stayed like that for several seconds, with his forehead pressed up against the hard wood, and exhaled deeply, feeling the same trepidation he had felt on waking back in the jungle, he had always found it so easy to face the light, to find the truth. Now everything seemed so unclear.
Pulling the doors back, Mordecai suddenly stepped out into the light. His bodyguards were there, flanked by two private secretaries, waiting.
‘Take me to them,’ he said, making his voice seem casual and unhurried.
The secretaries quickly led him down one flight of red-carpeted stairs and then another, winding through the interior of the palace to where a crowd of waiting diplomats were assembled in the great hall. There were hundreds of them, grouped by nationality and mutual interest. As Mordecai approached the entire room fell silent, each one of them staring expectantly towards the new leader of the Congo.
‘Muzongos,’ Mordecai said to himself as a smile appeared on his lips. ‘They never learn.’
Acknowledgements
I am always amazed at how selfless people can be. Time, knowledge and energy were offered to me in abundance on this book and I am indebted to a long list of people, from those that accompanied me on the adventure itself to those that inspired me, even unwittingly.
For Oli Steads agreeing to come with me to the Democratic Republic of Congo and guiding me through the process. Then, to those who helped so much along the way; Tom Mills for advice in London, Rosemary Ruf for taking us in at the Okapi Reserve, Mbake Shiva through Thalia Liokatis, who was just so kind and caring. To Luis, our fixer in Goma, and Jon Cadd the Cessna pilot who got us in.
Thanks to Adam Pletts for that evening discussing Kony in Beirut, and Cirine El Husseini for proofing every draft and doing the Arabic translations. To Jeff Willner and his help with the Swahili translations and Charlie Scott for the military know-how which saved the book from my Rambo clichés. To Simon and Chika for their corrections, and for Mike for being a sounding board over pints at the Windsor castle.
Then to Tim Glister at Jankow and Nesbit for such unfailing support. Kate Weinberg, the source of so many ideas and structure for this book. Like the first, I really couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you. The same goes for Rosie de Courcy who went through the manuscript time after time, beating it into shape. It gives me such confidence to know you are there.
Thanks must go to Rick and Margie Garratt in Cape Town for suffering my tired moods and giving up various parts of their house to becoming offices. Oscar and Electra, for spending so little time with you this time round in South Africa. But finally, my thanks go to Robyn. Always there, always patient. We got through it together.
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Copyright © Patrick Woodhead 2011
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Table of Contents
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Patrick Woodhead
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
The Secret Chamber Page 32