Decisive Measures

by Decisive Measures (retail) (epub)

  They looked on the point of mutiny. ‘Maybe we should level with them,’ I said.

  Rudi met my gaze with a ferocious scowl and pulled me to one side, out of earshot. ‘Need-to-know basis,’ he said. ‘They don’t.’ The others gave us sullen stares and I could hear them muttering to each other as we settled down to rest and prepare for the night. Rudi posted Raz and Reuben as guards, keeping them apart, I thought, so that they would have no further chance to share their grievances.

  We had little food between us, and though Raz and Reuben shared some of their rations, albeit with ill grace, Rudi and Hendrik kept all theirs for themselves. I cut brushwood and made a crude bed for the old man, raised a few inches above the sodden earth. He lay down, closed his eyes and was asleep at once.

  Layla sat by him, her face etched with concern. As night began to fall, we curled up together on the ground.

  Layla studied me in the twilight. ‘Why did you come back?’

  ‘I finally realised that what you told me was true. You can’t escape responsibility by sitting on the sidelines or looking the other way. You’ve got to take sides and get involved; otherwise you’re no better than the rest of them.’

  We fell into an exhausted sleep, our arms round each other, but we were awake again before first light. As the light strengthened, we began moving on through the water. Kaba and I supported Njama, carrying him through the deepest parts of the swamp.

  A few hours later, we stopped to drink a mug of swamp water, strained through a gauze dressing, and eat a few grains of rice and a piece of dried fruit. When we set off again, Rudi changed the marching order, putting the two younger mercenaries, Raz and Reuben, at the front of the column and bringing up the rear himself with the more experienced Hendrik.

  In the gloom under the dense vegetation we could see no more than five yards ahead or behind us. We had been wading in single file through the swamp for almost two hours, when there was a burst of gunfire from the forest behind us. We hurried forward.

  Raz and Reuben had stopped dead at the head of the column. They dropped into firing positions at either side of the animal track we were following.

  Raz jerked his head at me. ‘Take them on ahead,’ he said. ‘We’ll follow when we’ve cleared the danger.’

  Layla took over my role of supporting the old man as I moved to the head of the column. As I had seen Rudi and the others do, I paused every few yards to watch and listen, and kept checking the GPS, trying to keep us on a direct bearing to the helicopter. I lost all track of time as I inched forward through the swamp, my nerves jangling at each noise – the plop of a frog splashing into the water, the faint rasp of a snake’s belly as it slithered away through the undergrowth or the cries of birds in the canopy high above us.

  At last I could see the land beginning to rise ahead of us. We had reached the end of the swamp. One by one we emerged out of the water on to dry ground.

  There was brighter light ahead and we reached a natural clearing where a giant tree had collapsed, tearing a hole in the forest canopy. I hesitated, peering towards the shadows on the far side of the clearing. A track ran through the middle at right angles to our course. I stayed hidden in the undergrowth, looking and listening.

  Nothing moved and I heard no sound. After a couple of minutes, I waved the column forward, trying to cover them with the rifle as they crossed the clearing and disappeared back into the forest. Layla, Njama and Kaba had just begun to cross when I saw movement from up the track to my left. I shouted to them, ‘Take cover! Fast!’

  They dived into cover. I looked back to my left. A woman was walking slowly towards me. I stepped out into the centre of the track and held up my hand, palm out, to show her she had nothing to fear from us. Her face remained nervous, frightened.

  That was nothing unusual; these were desperate times, when every stranger was to be feared, but something made me look again. As I peered at her, I saw the black mouth of a rifle poking out from under her arm, and in the dust behind her I saw a double shadow – the woman herself and another figure crouching behind her. I swung up my rifle and shouted at the woman, ‘Get out! Get out of the way!’

  She gave me a terrified look, whimpering with fright, but she didn’t move. I saw the mouth of the rifle swinging towards me and threw myself back into the cover of the undergrowth. There was the crack of a rifle and a bullet smashed through the vegetation a couple of feet from my head. I rolled sideways and then belly crawled a few more feet. As I did so I heard another single shot, and then a burst of gunfire shredded the undergrowth where I had been hiding. I slid my rifle forward and raised my head a few inches to peer out through the fronds of a fern towards the clearing.

  The woman lay sprawled in the track, apparently dead, a pool of blood slowly widening around her. She had outlived her usefulness to the rebel soldier. He was now moving towards where I had disappeared into the undergrowth. He walked erect, not even bothering to stoop, certain of his own invulnerability.

  I took aim, then squeezed the trigger. The rifle was set on semi-automatic. The first couple of rounds ripped through his chest, hurling him backwards. The rest of the burst sprayed high and wide, but he was already dead, slumped over the body of the woman he had killed.

  I waved the rest of the column through, urging them on, then I dropped back to the rear. We had gone no more than fifty yards when I heard the sound of pursuit.

  I wormed my way into the undergrowth, my rifle pointing back along the track we had made. I heard the sound of people moving fast, crashing through the undergrowth after us. Easing off the safety catch, I squinted along the barrel, drawing a bead where the track disappeared from sight, aiming about three feet above the ground. A figure burst into the open. My finger was already tightening on the trigger when I recognised the burly figure in camouflage fatigues. Rudi had only Raz and Reuben with him.

  I called ‘Rudi!’ and, not wanting to be shot by reflex, I waited until I saw recognition in his eyes before I stood up.

  ‘I saw your handiwork back there on the track,’ he said. ‘Not bad. We might make a soldier of you yet.’ He paused. ‘But I didn’t think you English gentlemen killed women.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ I said. ‘The gunman killed her.’

  He smiled. ‘I believe you, English. I believe you.’

  ‘What happened to you?’ I said. ‘What was the shooting?’

  ‘Rebels. A small group. They won’t be troubling us again, but they may have been the advance guard of a larger group.’

  ‘There are only three of you. What happened to Hendrik?’

  ‘Hendrik is dead. The rebels shot him.’

  Something in the way he said it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. He pushed past me and began to walk off up the track we were following.

  Raz was white-faced and I could see a muscle tugging insistently in Reuben’s cheek, counterpointing the rapid blinking of his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry about your mate,’ I said. ‘Were either of you with him when it happened?’

  Raz shook his head and turned away to follow Rudi. I stood staring at the ground, a growing chill in the pit of my stomach.

  Chapter Thirteen

  We overtook the struggling column within fifty yards and pushed on together, finally leaving the swamps behind and beginning the long, slow ascent towards the mountain.

  I moved up alongside Rudi as he scanned the open hillside beyond the last of the trees. There was no one in sight, nothing moving on the whole expanse of hillside but, hampered by Njama’s wounds, I knew that we would be exposed in the open for at least two hours before we could reach the landslip where the helicopter was hidden.

  Rudi took a last look around, then turned to me. ‘You go on with the others,’ he said. ‘We’ll loop the track and make sure we’re not being followed. If they catch us in the open out there, they’ll cut us to pieces.’

  I had the feeling that his words concealed more than they revealed.

  He stood for a moment and to
uched his pistol, his ration pack and the grenades attached to his webbing, as if he were carrying out a mental checklist. Then he turned and hurried away. He hissed an order to the other two and they followed him back into the forest.

  The rest of us moved out of the trees and we laboured up the hillside, slipping and stumbling over the loose rock and scree.

  Njama’s head lolled on his shoulders and his mouth hung open. He was exhausted. I handed Layla the rifle and hoisted the old man on to my back. As I stumbled slowly upwards, my head pounded from dehydration. We were still creeping up the dry stream bed and had another fifty yards or so to go to reach the contour line that would take us round to the mouth of the landslip. Then there was an explosion from the forest behind us, a single blast, followed by a burst of gunfire. I urged the others on and redoubled my own efforts.

  I climbed until I thought my lungs would burst, then set Njama down for a moment and turned to look back down the hillside.

  Rudi was just beginning to climb the stream bed behind us. He was alone and climbing fast, never once turning to look behind him.

  He overtook us just as we reached the landslip. ‘Where are the others?’ I said.

  ‘We were followed. They threw a grenade. They killed Raz and Reuben. I shot those rebels, but there’ll be others. We have to get out of here fast.’

  I stared at him.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ he said. ‘Let’s go. Let’s go.’

  I kept staring at him. There was a gap on his webbing where a grenade had been hanging when he’d gone back into the forest.

  ‘I only heard one grenade and one gun firing, Rudi,’ I said.

  He looked down, following my gaze. When he raised his eyes again, there was a cold murderous look in his eye and I now found myself staring down the barrel of his rifle.

  He studied me for a moment, chewing his lip as he pondered his options. Then he shrugged. ‘Less people to share the diamonds with, Jack. That’s all you need to worry about. Just fly this heli over the frontier, ditch it in the jungle near a city and we walk out with a few million in diamonds each.’

  I shook my head. ‘No way.’

  ‘You don’t have a choice, Kaffir-lover,’ he said.

  I glanced towards the others and he laughed at me. ‘You think that coloured whore or those Kaffirs will help you? If it means saving their own necks, they’ll stand there and watch you die.’

  Just the same, he moved slightly, trying to keep them in his sight as he confronted me. Njama’s son just stood there blank-faced, but I saw Kaba slink away from Rudi towards the rocks. I didn’t blame him. I’d have run for it too, if I could.

  ‘Kill me and you’re trapped,’ I said. ‘You can’t fly the helicopter.’

  ‘I don’t need it. You think in twenty years’ Kaffir-killing I haven’t learned how to survive in the bush?’

  ‘Then you’d better go ahead and shoot me,’ I said. ‘Because I’m not going anywhere without these people.’

  His jaw worked and I saw his knuckles whiten as he tightened his grip on the trigger. The crack of a rifle shot reverberated from the rock walls around me. A bullet smashed into my shoulder, hurling me to the ground. I tried to push myself upright, then collapsed again as my shattered shoulder gave way beneath me. I stared stupidly at the blood soaking my right sleeve.

  I looked up. Rudi’s mouth hung open in a silent scream of pain and rage. His head was tilted to one side, and his right arm hung at a strange angle. A dark stain was spreading over his fatigues. I saw his fingers spread and his hand fall limp at his side. The rifle dropped to the ground, its butt streaked with blood.

  Rudi turned to face his assailant, but as he did so Kaba struck again, reaching up on tiptoe like a kid stretching for a sweet jar, except that in his hand he held a bloodstained panga. Rudi let out a bellow and aimed a punch at the boy’s head with his one good arm, but Kaba ducked underneath it and swung the panga again at the back of Rudi’s knees. His hamstrings snapped like guitar strings and he collapsed to the ground.

  Rudi and I stared at each other, both sprawled in the dirt, as Kaba advanced and stood over Rudi, his face devoid of expression.

  ‘Kaba! No!’ I shouted, but it was too late. The panga was already rising again. He held it two-handed, high over his head for a moment, then brought it whistling down with all his force across Rudi’s neck, hacking his head from his body.

  Kaba stood motionless, his face impassive as he stared at the dead man. No one moved until Layla got to her feet, walked over to the boy and laid a hand on his arm. He started, but made no resistance as she gently eased the panga from his fingers, and turned him away from the dead body, cradling his head against her chest.

  One of the old women led him away as Layla ran to my side. I stifled a yell of pain as her fingers probed the wound. ‘It’s badly broken,’ she said. ‘I’ll tie off the bleeders and then I’ll have to set it and strap it up. I’ll give you some morphine. It’s going to hurt.’

  ‘No morphine,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to fly the heli.’

  ‘With a broken shoulder? You can’t.’

  ‘I have to. And you’ll have to help me.’

  ‘But I can’t fly a helicopter.’

  ‘You can if I tell you how to. If we don’t get out of here we’ll die, Layla. Either the rebels will kill us, or we’ll starve to death. Now patch up my shoulder so I don’t bleed to death on the way back and then let’s get out of here. But, Layla,’ I held her gaze. ‘No morphine. I need to be alert or we’re all dead.’

  ‘You can’t imagine how painful this is going to be.’

  ‘Just do it,’ I said.

  She gave me a twisted piece of cloth to bite on and then began to clean the wound, picking out fragments of bone and tying off the severed veins. I kept my eyes averted most of the time, but it hurt like hell and I felt waves of hot nausea sweeping over me.

  She paused for a moment and our eyes met. She kissed my forehead. ‘Hold on,’ she said. ‘This is the really painful bit. I have to move your arm to set the bone, then I’ll strap it across your chest.’ She called to Kaba and one of the women. They knelt either side of me and held me down as Layla straddled my chest and took hold of my arm. Electric stabs of agonising pain shot through me. I heard the dry scrape of bone on bone. The pain built and built until I thought my head would explode. Then I blacked out.

  When I came round, Layla was still crouching over me, watching my face. The worry lines etched into her forehead faded as my eyes flickered open and she gave a gentle smile. ‘Are you all right?’

  My shoulder throbbed with a dull ache. I glanced down. My right arm was strapped across my chest. ‘I think so. Help me up.’ She and Kaba supported me as I struggled to my feet. The effort sent more hot waves of pain coursing through me and I had to steady myself against Layla and close my eyes until it subsided.

  ‘It’s too soon,’ she said.

  I shook my head. ‘Help me get this net off the helicopter.’

  We hauled at the camouflage net and I sent Kaba up to wipe the thick layer of dust off the canopy.

  Layla and Kaba then helped Njama to climb into the cab and laid him on the floor. The other villagers clustered around him.

  I led Kaba over to Rudi’s body. ‘We need that case he’s carrying,’ I said. ‘Can you break the chain with the panga?’

  He studied it for a moment, then nodded. ‘I can get it for you.’ He raised the panga above his head and brought it down. There were no sparks and no sound of metal on metal, just a noise that was now all too familiar to me – a dull, wet thud like an axe chopping sodden wood. I looked down. Rudi’s left foot had been severed at the ankle. Kaba reached down and pulled the bloodied chain over the stump and offered me the case.

  ‘Just put it in the cockpit of the helicopter,’ I said. I turned to Layla. ‘Let’s get airborne. I can still do most of the work, but you’ll have to operate the cyclic for me.’

  She stared at me. ‘This is madness. I can’t help you fly this. We
’ll crash and be killed. We can walk out instead.’

  I shook my head. ‘We’d be dead long before we reached the frontier. How long would I or Njama last? Or the old women? Or you? Even Kaba would struggle to make it. It’s the only way, Layla.

  ‘I told you all this once before, remember? I can still operate the rudders, the throttle and the collective, all you’ve got to worry about is the cyclic. The controls are duplicated for the pilot and the co-pilot. All you have to do is move your cyclic when I tell you. The movements required are very small, absolutely minimal. If I see you do anything wrong, or feel, by the other controls, that you’ve overcooked it, I’ll get you to correct it. We may fly like a drunk on a rollercoaster, but we will keep airborne. Trust me?’

  She studied my face, then gave a slow, reluctant nod.

  I smiled with a bravado I was far from feeling. ‘Then let’s do it, before either of us realises what fools we’re being.’

  Layla slid the cab door closed, then helped me up into the cockpit. I couldn’t get my flight harness over my injured arm, so I remained unstrapped. She put on her own harness, then sat back in the seat as far as possible and closed her eyes.

  I settled my feet on the rudder pedals and gripped the collective with my left hand. The pain in my shoulder had subsided a little, but it was still bad enough to make the sweat stand out on my brow, and any movement sent a fresh stab of pain searing through my body.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Get the feel of the cyclic before we do anything else.’

  She opened her eyes and took hold of it in a tentative grip, her forearm resting across her thigh.

  ‘You have to hold the cyclic more firmly than that,’ I said. ‘When we fire up the engines it’ll start to shake around.’

  She took a firmer grip on it.

  ‘That’s better,’ I said. ‘Now practise moving it around. Go left… right… forward… back… That’s fine, except that you’re moving it too far. Try again, but no more than a quarter-inch in any direction. Better to have to nudge it further than ram it over and then drag it back again.’ I paused. ‘Right, helmets on.’