by PJ Skinner
They were interrupted by Bob’s arrival. He looked surprised to see Dirk consorting with the enemy. Sam had good news for Bob which she hoped would persuade him that she was on his side.
‘Bob, just the man I wanted to see.’
‘Oh yes? Why’s that then?’
‘I thought you might be pleased to learn that there is a big consignment of spare parts coming from South Africa for your machinery.’
‘That’s brilliant news. How do you know that?’
‘Oh, I suggested to Black that we needed to get the diamonds out before the civil war broke out again. I tried for new machinery but he said that MARFO rebels would only come and steal or sabotage them.’
‘Jesus, that’s pretty great. Thank you.’
‘No problem. I get a bonus too you know.’
She had not made any progress with Fred, who still flopped around like an overweight catfish, harrumphing and sighing every time he was asked to do anything. Sam could not understand how he remained so overweight with the quality of food on site. She was getting thinner and thinner and had to ask one of the mechanics to use a dowel to make some more holes in her belt.
She spent a lot of time in the recovery facility monitoring the production, which was relayed to Fred. He was not happy that Sam had been given access to his precious data. She had to put up with his grudging compliance and mediocre work rate.
‘I’m not happy about you being given access to the diamond production data,’ he said.
‘I know Fred but Black wants me to get more involved. I can’t direct production with Ewen if I don’t know what’s going on with the grades.’
‘I still don’t feel comfortable.’
‘I know you are used to being the only one who can access the data but someone else needs to do it when you are away. What if you leave?’
‘Who said I was leaving?’
‘No-one. Just saying.’
Fred relied on his ability with computers to lord it over the administration department. There were very few staff with good computer skills and he was not going to share his knowledge with anyone if he could help it. After all, if someone else could use the computer, it would soon become apparent that Fred took ten times longer on any minor job than was necessary. Sam knew this but she also needed access to the data to make her plan work, so she did not comment on his lack of application.
After a couple of weeks of elevated production, the number of carats of diamonds in the safe was again approaching a danger level. This was a nominal value at which it was thought the camp became too much of a temptation for the MARFO fighters to ignore. Diamond shipments to Mondongo were always organised at this point to reduce the chance of attack.
Sam called security on the radio and asked them to arrange an export. There was a long silence on the other end.
‘Coming to you. Your location? Over,’ said a voice.
‘In the office. Over.’
Five minutes later, a red-faced Brian Lynch arrived puffing at the office. He sat heavily down on one of the desks in the middle of the office. Sam brought him a glass of water. He gulped it down so fast that water ran down his chin and dropped on his pristine uniform.
Sam went to get some more water. She wondered how many rosters Brian had left in him. He was heart-attack material, a ticking bomb. She sat opposite him, waiting for him to talk.
Brian composed himself and snarled, ‘Are you fucking mental? You’ll get us all killed.’ Sam was taken aback. She tried in vain to work out what he was talking about. Nothing came to mind.
‘I’m sorry, said Sam. ‘I’ve no idea what you are talking about. Have I done something wrong?’
‘Something wrong? Did you hear that, lads? Sam wants to know if she’s done something wrong.’
The other people in the office, who up until then had not paid much attention to Brian’s arrival, turned around and listened.
‘She’s only gone and talked about the export on the radio, that’s all.’
None of them needed any encouragement to stick the knife in where Sam was concerned. They laid into her with gusto.
‘For fuck’s sake, how stupid can you be?’
‘Jesus, woman, don’t you know MARFO listen to the radio? There are dozens of stolen radios out there.’
‘Fucking typical. Black must have been out of his mind when he put you in charge. Did you sleep with him, or what?'
‘Well, Sam,’ said Brian, enjoying the effect of his tirade. ‘You’ve put us all in danger now.’
Jorge, who had been making himself a coffee, walked over and stood beside Sam.
She was speechless with panic. She felt a chill run up her back, which came out in a cold sweat.
Jorge shook his head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Brian. Every village picker who works in the recovery house knows how many diamonds are being put in the safe and what quality they are. They can all tell MARFO any time they like. Sam didn’t know the rules because she's only just been issued with a radio and this is the first time that she has been in charge of an export. I don’t think you can accuse her of putting us in danger.’
‘Why are you taking her side? Did she sleep with you, too?’ asked Brian.
‘My wife is on site. I don’t think she’d like that.' Jorge smiled to try and reduce the tension.
‘I’ll be reporting this to Black,’ said Brian. ‘The bloody woman is a fucking liability.’ He stomped out of the office, leaving Sam and Jorge with a sea of glaring faces.
Jorge took Sam’s arm and pulled her into one of the cubicles. He shut the door.
Sam was shell-shocked. No one had told her that she should not mention the exports on the radio but it was something she should have known instinctively. She had been cocky and over-confident. What a fool. She had missed her big chance, and now she had put everyone in danger by breaking a cardinal rule. She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. She felt like crying but was numb with shock.
Jorge had left the cubicle and now returned with a large mug of coffee, which he handed to her. It was very sweet and strong, and it jolted her back to the present. Jorge watched her, waiting for her to recover her composure.
‘You okay?’ he asked. ‘It’s not true, you know. All the locals know how production is going. It’s not a secret. Anyway, it’s my fault, not yours. I should’ve told you about the radio codes. I forgot that you don’t have anyone to guide you. I’m supposed to be your friend. I’m sorry I dropped you in it.’
‘I thought Brian was going to have a heart attack,’ said Sam.
‘Ah, you don’t know about Mr Lynch? He went to Black while he was here on his visit and made it clear that he was horrified that you had come to Kardo to work. He also complained that you were running production while Jim was away. Black told him to mind his own business, which didn’t go over very well because he isn’t used to having his advice ignored.’
‘Jesus, no wonder he is pissed off.’
‘He's been looking for his chance to prove that he was right and that you are a liability. So far he's been disappointed by your grasp of operations and obvious flair for the job. He was just waiting for this opportunity.’
‘But what has he got against me?’
‘My dear, Lynch is a misogynist. He hates you. He was one of the instigators of the betting pool, placing a large bet on Dirk to be the first one in your knickers. To his chagrin, you weren't taken in by Dirk’s advances, despite spending a lot of time with him. Brian told the others that you were a lesbian. What normal woman works in a mining camp after all?'
Sam managed a smile.
‘I hope you're feeling better because we need to go and inspect the stockpile at the DMS plant. Come on.’
Sam felt better. She knew that what Jorge said made a lot of sense. The MARFO leaders were fed a constant stream of information by the pickers. She was not going to collapse in a heap when she was so close to success. They walked back into the main office, where everyone glared at her.
‘I am very sor
ry about the breach of radio conduct,’ she said. ‘I had no idea that mention of exports was prohibited. I feel like an idiot. It won’t happen again.’
No one responded. She left with Jorge following behind.
***
After the incident with the radio, Sam felt as if all her hard work on making better relationships on site had been undone. She had not anticipated giving Brian the upper hand and losing more ground. The heat was oppressive and she struggled to get things done against a tide of indifference and obstruction.
Fred was thrilled to have a weapon. ‘I heard that you told MARFO when to attack us. Way to go, Sam.’ He turned a self-satisfied, sweaty back on her.
Two days later Jorge’s father had a heart attack. Jorge got Black’s permission to leave the site for a week. There was plenty of stockpiled material to wash, so Jorge being away would not affect production. Jorge did not want to leave Sam alone, but he had no choice.
Sam fought back her tears as she watched him leave for Mondongo with his wife. She felt bereft. How would she survive without any support? Ewen did not notice that she was being bullied. He was not very observant at the best of times. He did not mention the radio incident. She did not know if he was even aware of it.
She was devastated to lose Jorge but realised that his absence was an excuse for her to high-grade the material going through the plants by using the stockpiles of rich material instead of diluting it with lower grade material dug by Jorge day-to-day. At least Jim was due back at the end of the week. She could survive until then and complete her mission before he took over the reins again.
Sam sat out on the steps of the office for a long time after Jorge had left for the airstrip. She smoked one cigarette after another as she mulled over the events of the last few weeks. The smell of the red earth and the sound of a million insects competing for a chance at love soothed her. She looked up at the sky with its carpet of stars and marvelled again at the difference compared to London skies. The moon was full and yellow and loomed very large through the mango trees. She could see the man in the moon. He was laughing at her.
So much for her office job in Mondongo. That turned out to be a big fat lie. In a funny way, though, it was better to be at Kardo. She was suited to a life in the field and did not miss home comforts that much. If the other residents of Kardo would only give her some credit, she might even start to enjoy her job.
There were only two more days before Jim came back from leave. Two more days to hit the target.
XI
The attack that night was lit by a full moon, which threw fat shadows around the mango trees lining the roads. The fighters overcame the local security forces with ease, as most of their expatriate superiors had gone to a meeting in Mondongo to negotiate a new contract. The local men who worked for security were well-trained but disorganised without their leaders. Some of them ran away rather than face the ferocious MARFO fighters.
The MARFO leader ordered his fighters to spread out through the compound and search for management, who could be used to access the diamond recovery plant. Several people who had not had the time or initiative to flee were found in their houses., But they did not find enough of the key holders to get into the safe room.
Sam woke from an exhausted sleep to a peculiar popping noise which she quickly realised was gunfire. She was hyperventilating with fright. An attack on the mine had always been a remote possibility but like most people, she had assumed it would happen to another mine, not Kardo. She had the awful feeling that she might have precipitated the attack with her radio announcement about the export, despite Jorge’s reassurance to the contrary.
Sam knew the attackers had to be members of the rebel movement. MARFO fighters had taken advantage of the light of the full moon before for their attacks on the isolated compounds of the diamond mining companies. In the past, they had been driven away from Kardo by the army who formed the outer ring of defence by patrolling the surrounding countryside. But this time, it looked like they had evaded that first line of defence and were engaging with the private security force.
People might die because of her ignorance.
Groggily, she swung her legs out of bed and fumbled about for her clothes. She put on her dirty socks, shoved her feet into her working boots, grabbed a scrunchy from the rough wooden bedside table and bundled her hair into a tangled bun. She sat down on the bed. It was hard to think clearly but she knew she was not dreaming as she felt every thread in the rough blanket under her fingers. Her heart thundered.
Her emergency backpack hung on a hook on the door across the darkened sitting room. She forced herself to review the contents in her head; the malaria tablets, medical kit, insect repellent, mosquito net, full water bottle, tins of tuna, penknife, underwear, socks and towel all jostling in the bag. Water purification tablets! She felt around in the drawer of the bedside table. She grabbed the bottle of tablets and a large bag of chewy sweets that were also there.
Trembling, she inched across the floor on her hands and knees to the window facing the road that ran through the compound. She looked out. The stars were still visible and bright moonlight illuminated the compound. The shooting had stopped and it was very quiet. The mango trees cast moon shadows on the dirt surface of the road.
Sam unhooked the backpack and unzipped it, thrusting the sweets and purification tablets into the front section. She sank to the floor, clutching it close for comfort.
Now what? She knew that it was safer inside than out on the road risking a stray bullet. Where were the security forces? A few of the top security officers had gone to Mondongo to deal with a pay dispute but surely they had left sufficient cover for an attack.
When she had first arrived at the site, Frik, a fat, bald security man carrying an old Kalashnikov had been assigned to look after her in case of trouble. His large gut had not inspired confidence. He did not look like someone who could run away at any speed. The only time Sam had seen him since was in the canteen carrying an overloaded plate of food. Given the circumstances, he was sure to be too busy to look for her now.
A blast of gunfire split the night. Sam hugged her knees tight, trying to control the cold fear in her spine.
She wondered what had happened to the others. They were all capable of leaving Kardo to hide in the bush if they got the chance. She hoped that Ewen had got away. She could not bear to think of him having to do another long march. It was even worse to think that this could be her fault. They had been right. She was a liability. What was she doing here?
The shooting started again. This time it was much closer and louder. Sam was terrified. Suddenly, there was shouting in the road. She could hear people running past her house. The smell of cordite wafted under the door into her room. She stifled a cough as it caught the back of her throat.
Someone was outside her house. For a brief moment, she hoped it might be her plump saviour come to whisk her out of danger. But no one knocked or called out for her. Then there was the sound of the padlock being cut open as the outer door was breached. She held her breath and pushed herself against the wall, trying to melt into it. She saw the outline of a large pair of feet in an old pair of boots through the gap below the inner door.
Sam let out an involuntary whimper.
The padlock was torn off. The door burst open. An enormous black man stood blinking in the gloom. He felt for the light switch. Sam gasped as the strip light flickered into life. She saw the thick tribal scarring on his face standing out in stark relief. His dark eyes fixed upon her as she huddled against the wall, holding on to her backpack with white knuckles. A nasty smile spread across his face. But he did nothing to hurt her. He just gesticulated at her to stand up and come with him.
Sam was not about to protest.
Her massive captor took her hand and led her out of the house. It was oddly reassuring. She was sure he did not intend to shoot her if he was holding her hand. She must have looked terrified enough for him to pity her. He carried her CD player, which he had picked
up on his way out, under his other arm, holding his AK 47 and crow bar awkwardly in his hand.
Outside, the shooting had stopped. The mango trees dripped into the road, and dark pools of water sat in the road wells and gutters. They walked down the middle of the road, Sam now carrying the player and her captor smoking a cigarette.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Sam.
‘Ha! You speak Portuguese?’
‘Yes.’
‘My name is Thiago, yours?’
‘I’m Sam.’
‘Sam.’
‘Yes.’
That was as far as Thiago’s interest in his captive went. They walked down the road in silence. They arrived at the canteen where several large, black, armed men, their skin gleaming under the street lights, had congregated. They were all stuffing themselves with food. Bags of rice and other contraband sat in the road.
Sam tried to see who else had been captured. She caught a glimpse of Brian, Bob and Fred in the group on the side of the road that also included all the Filipino mechanics and heavy machinery operators. There was no sign of Ewen. But then Sam remembered that he had slept at Gali.
She realised that she had forgotten to put a loo roll in her rucksack. She approached Thiago.
‘I need the bathroom.’
‘You can go in the road.’
‘Please, I have women’s problems.’
He looked alarmed and let her go into the female toilet in the canteen, while he stood outside the door. Sam had a quick pee for authenticity and stole both loo rolls from the cubicle. She washed her hands and then stole the soap, too. She stuffed them into her rucksack. Suddenly, she heard a noise from the end cubicle. She froze.
‘Who’s there?’ she hissed.
‘It’s me, Jean. Please, don’t tell them I’m here. I’ve got children at home.’
Sam had no intention of giving her away. She was irritated by the assumption that she would ever do such a thing. ‘Don’t be fucking ridiculous. Why would I tell them? You stay there and don’t come out until morning. Please tell my family what happened to me.’