The Devil's Kingdom

by Scott Mariani

  Jude had the first bolthead worked almost loose. He paused to let some weight off his knees. ‘You know about Khosa?’ he whispered down to her, surprised at the mention of the name.

  ‘Are you kidding? I’ve spent most of the last year finding out all there is to know about that bastard. He’s the reason we came to Africa.’

  Chapter 26

  Jude gazed down through the bars at Rae’s slender shadow inside the cage. He could just about make out the pale oval of her face looking up at him. ‘I don’t understand,’ he whispered. ‘He’s your big story? He’s just another warlord.’

  ‘He’s a little more than that. You have no idea how deep this goes. Not many people realise it yet, but Khosa’s on track to rule this whole country one day, with a little help from his friends. Do you know who his brother is?’

  ‘I knew he had one,’ Jude said, appalled by what she was telling him. ‘Louis Khosa. Masango told me they don’t get on.’

  ‘Governor Louis Khosa. The autocratic dictator of Luhaka Province. To say they don’t get on is putting it mildly. But they were close once. Virtually from childhood, they fought together for Joseph Kony and the LRA. Then, after the Rwandan genocide when hundreds of thousands of Tutsi refugees flooded over the border into what was then Zaire, the Khosa brothers ran with Hutu death squads hunting them all through the eastern provinces around Goma. They murdered thousands of men, women and children. After a few years, killing wasn’t enough for them anymore. They started seeing the potential to become rich and powerful, and they had the skills to achieve it.’

  With just one bolt removed and the minutes ticking rapidly by, Jude went back to wrestling with the second bolt as she talked. Either the threads had rusted, or whoever had built this particular cage had used nylock nuts; he couldn’t tell in the dark, but it was hard work and he was making little progress. The bent spoon was becoming slippery with sweat and he was worried it would snap from the pressure he was exerting on it.

  ‘Louis was always very smart,’ Rae went on, in the same low voice. ‘He fell in with an Israeli huckster called Gil Mendel, who was buying stakes in government mining interests from behind the front of fake companies set up in the British Virgin Islands. The Congolese Mobutu government was so incompetent and corrupt, Mendel could snap up the mining interests for a fraction of what they were really worth, and then turn around and sell them on the international market for ten times as much, making a fortune in the process. When the government officials found out and tried to reclaim the mining territories by force – that was when the Khosas came in, for a percentage of Mendel’s dirty money.’

  She paused and moved closer to the window for a moment, listening out for a guard patrol. There was nothing outside but the chirp of insects.

  ‘We’re okay,’ Jude said. ‘Go on talking.’ He’d managed to get the second bolt loosened enough to unscrew the rest of the way with his fingers. He wriggled it out of its hole and immediately got to work on the next. A couple more bolts removed, and the top of the cage would start to come free. He was making progress, albeit slowly.

  Rae crept back to stand directly below him, looking up. ‘Where was I?’

  ‘Khosa and his brother became the muscle for this Mendel bloke.’

  ‘Right. So, the Khosas put together a big militia out of the disparate armed groups from neighbouring states like Burundi, Angola, and Uganda. President Mobutu had always been happy to harbour his neighbours’ enemies, but unfortunately for him he hadn’t reckoned on the fact that these guys would always work for the highest bidder. It was easy for the Khosas and their mercenary army to keep government forces at bay while Gil Mendel went on making more money for them all.’

  ‘So why did the brothers fall out?’ Jude whispered. The third bolt was turning, but only just. His fingers were already going numb. He had to pause more and more frequently to shake some life back into them.

  ‘Louis tried to cheat Jean-Pierre out of millions of dollars of their share,’ Rae replied. ‘When Jean-Pierre confronted him about it, Louis and his Israeli pals ousted him and almost succeeded in killing him. He’s been sore about it ever since.’

  ‘Have to say you can’t blame him,’ Jude muttered. He was beginning to wonder why Rae was telling him all this, but he was content to let her talk. She had a lovely voice, even when she was whispering.

  ‘Meanwhile, Mendel was backing Louis’s campaign to become governor of Luhaka, making an increasingly useful ally out of him. There are a lot of mineral deposits in the region, and more being found all the time. The Israelis wanted in, and Louis Khosa was their ticket. The democratic process was a joke, even by African standards. Louis Khosa literally trampled his way to power. There were all kinds of stories about how he had his soldiers chase opposition witnesses out of the polling stations all across Luhaka, so that his agents could be left alone for hours to stuff all the ballots they wanted. Then when the election result still came out against him, he just used rape, murder, and kidnap campaigns to persuade his opponents to “correct” the result.’

  ‘Sounds pretty much like his brother.’

  ‘He’s a pussycat next to his brother. Who, meanwhile, went on the rampage, calling himself a general, gathering a bigger and bigger army around him and conducting his own private wars here and there. He was always looking out to take his revenge on Louis. Better still, to depose him and then move on to bigger things. While Louis had his friends in Israel, Jean-Pierre made alliances with the Chinese who were looking to get in on the mineral boom and were buying land all over the place. It’s the curse of the Congo. The poorest nation on earth, with the richest resources on the planet. Diamonds, gold, copper, cobalt, uranium, and lots more. No wonder the place is such a mess.’

  ‘The Chinese?’

  ‘One of the biggest exploiters of minerals in the whole country. They started employing him to look after their private mines. Then the coltan boom started. That’s where the real money comes from.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of it.’

  ‘Not many people have,’ she whispered. ‘Even though almost everyone in the West uses it. Even fewer people have the slightest idea of the ravages that it causes. Coltan is a short name for something called columbite-tantalite. It’s a black metallic ore that’s heavily mined and processed to produce the element tantalum, which is used to make tantalum capacitors that are a key constituent of mobile phones, game consoles, digital cameras, computers and all kinds of other consumer electronics. Demand for coltan started soaring in the early 2000s. In the space of twelve months in 2000, its price went from about ten dollars a kilo to nearly four hundred dollars. Now it’s even higher. The profit margins are enormous.’

  As he finally managed to worm the third bolt out of its hole, Jude wondered again why she was telling him all this. It had to be more than just her desire to talk to someone after so many days in lonely captivity.

  ‘This is your big story,’ he whispered, realising. ‘This is what you and Craig were investigating.’

  ‘Yes. The Democratic Republic of Congo has about seventy per cent of the world’s coltan. It’s led to unimaginable suffering here. Any number of militia groups slaughtering each other for dominance, claiming territory and raiding villages so that they can force the people to work as slaves in the illegal mines and live in concentration-camp conditions. The trade is funding war and genocide, just so that folks back home can play computer games and text each other on their smartphones. Lots of the big corporations are secretly involved, but the biggest piece of the pie belongs to China. You wouldn’t believe the level of investment the Chinese are pumping into Africa. Kenya, Nigeria, the Congo, all over. They’re building highways. Light rail systems. Apartment blocks. Entire cities that are just sitting there, empty, uninhabited, behind wire fences.’

  ‘Come on,’ Jude said, feeling in the darkness for the fourth bolt. Once that one was dealt with, he could shuffle across bars to the opposite corner and get started on the next four. ‘Why would they do that?’


  ‘Nobody really knows for sure,’ she whispered. ‘The Chinese government keep that information under incredibly tight wraps. But Craig and I became convinced that in the longer term, they’re planning on moving thousands of their own workers in from China to expand their mining operations tenfold, a hundredfold. Gold and diamonds are yesterday’s news. It’s all about the coltan now.’

  ‘But why is it allowed? Why doesn’t anyone stop it?’

  ‘There are restrictions in place under international law, but those are almost impossible to enforce in a country like DRC. Most of these operations are deep in the jungle or the mountains and protected by armed guards, so nobody’s been able to get close enough to prove they exist. Meanwhile, there are so many billions being raked in from the illegal trade that the big corporations are able to influence both the politicians and the local authorities to turn a blind eye. Not that it takes much to do that. It’s the usual African story – nobody really cares that much about who suffers or dies here. The UN could theoretically step in but they don’t do a thing, just like they stood by and did nothing during the Rwandan genocide. They couldn’t protect the millions of Tutsi refugees, any more than they could act to disarm the Hutu militias that were hacking them apart in the streets, the schools, the hospitals, and all over the countryside. Aid workers were reduced to going around scattering lime on the piles of dead bodies. Humanitarian missions are just a fig leaf.’

  ‘Slow down,’ Jude said. ‘This is too much for me to get my head around.’

  ‘That’s the very reason why things are the way they are in central Africa,’ Rae whispered, speaking more and more urgently as if she badly needed to tell him as much as she could. ‘It’s all just too complicated, and always has been. Going all the way back through the history of all the wars here, the Western media have never been able to get a handle on this place. There are no clear-cut goodies and baddies. It’s not reducible to an easy morality story, like Nazis murdering Jews. The public aren’t even aware it’s happening. And so on it goes, with these bastards stealing all they can, for as long as they can get away with it, regardless of the human cost.’

  ‘And Khosa?’

  ‘The Congo is in such turmoil politically that the Chinese are loath to get too openly involved yet. For now, they’re content to stand back and cultivate local allies to protect their interests, keeping them well supplied with money and guns. That’s where Khosa comes in. His army is the fastest-growing military force in the country, thanks to his new backers. In return, he acts as their guard dog.’

  ‘Guarding what?’

  ‘What Craig and I uncovered is probably the most extensive illegal coltan mining complex in central Africa, deep in thick jungle. Just across the river there’s an army of Chinese workers building what looks to be a whole new city, a really major project that’s completely encircled by high wire fences and soldiers. Khosa’s soldiers. He’s using it as a military base, tucked away in the middle of the jungle where nobody can get to him.’

  ‘It’s unbelievable.’

  ‘It is, but Craig and I had the evidence to prove it. We spent three days living rough in the bush and sneaking around the perimeter of the complex with long-range lenses, taking hundreds of photos of the mines, the slave labour camps, the hydro plant on the river that feeds the city, the Chinese construction crews going in and out on the new purpose-built highway, and even some shots of the security fence around the city, with the high-rise buildings and cranes plainly visible in the distance. We were nearly caught taking those, but we got them. Those photos would have been the basis of the biggest exposé of the illegal coltan trade ever. We’d have blown the lid off the whole thing and finally forced governments to act. We were trying to escape with the evidence when Khosa’s soldiers picked us up. I guess we weren’t as careful not to get spotted as I thought.’

  Jude sensed that whatever Rae was building up to, she was almost at the punchline. He paused, looking down at her through the bars.

  ‘Now do you understand why I’m telling you all this?’ she said, speaking more loudly now as her sense of urgency took over. ‘Craig and I are the only two people in the world who can prove the link between Khosa, the illegal coltan operation, and the Chinese. Right now, I don’t know if Craig’s alive, or dead, or what. If they’ve killed him already, that leaves just me, and frankly I’m beginning to doubt that I’ll ever see home again either. Even if I did make it out of here, we’re in the middle of nowhere with Khosa’s men all over the place. Anything could happen to me. I’ve seen what they do to people, and I can well imagine what they’ll do to a woman. Let’s be realistic. My chances are slim. But you might make it. Someone has to get out and tell the world what Craig and I found here.’

  Jude hadn’t expected this, and the surprise almost knocked him off the top of the cage. ‘You mean me? I’m not a journalist,’ he protested. ‘I wouldn’t have the first idea what to say to people.’

  ‘Tell them the truth,’ she said. ‘They’ll listen. They’ll send more investigators down here. Sooner or later, it’ll all be exposed and then at least Craig and I won’t have died for nothing.’

  ‘Stop talking that way.’

  ‘I’m serious. I’ve given it a lot of thought.’

  ‘So am I,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to die, because I’m going to get you out, okay? You have to trust me.’

  ‘Then hurry.’

  ‘I am hurrying.’

  She seemed about to say something else, then broke off with a sudden gasp and whirled towards the window, pressing up against the side of the cage to see. ‘Did you hear that?’

  Jude froze and listened. He had heard it, and now he heard it again. The sound from outside was unmistakably that of the clang and creak of the compound’s metal gates being unlocked and swung open. The rev of engines grew louder as several vehicles drove in through the open gates. Next, bright lights glared through the hut window and swept across the opposite wall like a search beacon.

  Jude was caught in the beam and crouched there for a split second, blinking and startled. Then he quickly scrambled down from the cage, barking his shins on the metal edges. He ignored the pain and rushed across to peer cautiously out of the window.

  What he saw wasn’t encouraging. Half a dozen pairs of headlights dazzled him as a line of vehicles surged across the compound, straight towards the huts. Straight towards him and Rae.

  Jude ducked his head down below the window and whirled around towards Rae. Her face was lit up by the headlights and there was pure terror in her eyes. Jude knew his own expression must look just the same.

  ‘I think we’re caught,’ he said.

  Chapter 27

  At last, Khosa gave the signal to his men to stop the beating. He didn’t want Ben Hope to die just yet. For all his insubordinate ways, this man could still be useful to him, at least for the moment. He simply needed to be broken in, like taming a wild animal to the will of its new master. Khosa had allowed his soldiers to take the punishment to within an inch of killing the man, though in his not-inconsiderable experience there were very few who could have taken such a beating and still survive.

  Just to make certain they hadn’t overplayed it, Khosa summoned the witch doctor, Pascal Wakenge, to come and check the unconscious white man’s vital signs. Wakenge arrived on the scene in his robes and monkey-skull necklace, gravely tested the pulse of the limp, bloodied form hanging at the end of the rope and offered his learned medical opinion that the white man wouldn’t die before dawn. As an additional temporary insurance, Wakenge rattled his skulls and softly chanted an incantation or two that would keep the evil spirits from stealing away his soul during the night, when it was most vulnerable.

  Now that the fun was over, the soldiers reluctantly dispersed in search of something else to do, which amounted to little in a city with no bars or prostitutes. Most would return to their dormitories to sit up late, drinking Kotiko and smoking hashish or chewing khat and laughing about the fun they’d had
with the white soldier. None of them thought it likely that there’d be any training taking place tomorrow.

  ‘Shall we cut him down, General?’ Umutese asked as Khosa was climbing back into the black Range Rover to be whisked back to the comfort of his suite.

  ‘Let him hang there until the morning,’ Khosa said. ‘He is protected now. Death cannot touch him until I say so.’

  ‘Very good, General.’

  ‘Cut him down at dawn and take him to the prison. There will be a surprise for him there.’ Khosa smiled. ‘His real punishment is still to come.’

  Moments after the beating had come to a merciful end, Jeff and Tuesday had been put in a Jeep and driven back to the hotel, where they were locked inside their fourth-floor room that now had two empty bunks. Jeff slumped on the edge of his bunk with his head in his hands while Tuesday listened with his ear pressed against the door. ‘Sound like at least four guards out there,’ he said.

  ‘Or six, or ten, I’ll bet,’ Jeff muttered without looking up. ‘They’ve got us stitched up like a kipper.’

  Tuesday moved away from the door and started pacing agitatedly up and down the width of the small bunk-room. ‘We have to do something. It can’t go on like this.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ Jeff said, still not looking up. ‘We’re stuck, mate.’

  Tuesday paused and looked at Jeff. A strange little smile came over his face and he patted the pocket of his combat jacket. ‘Maybe not that stuck,’ he said slyly.

  Now Jeff did look up, and noticed the bulge in Tuesday’s pocket that hadn’t been there before. Tuesday reached inside and showed Jeff what he’d been hiding in there.

  Jeff’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Bloody hell. Where’d you get that?’

  ‘Lifted it off one of those clowns while they were all too busy gawking at our friend getting beaten half to death,’ Tuesday said. ‘It’s an old Russian F-1 frag grenade.’