It would be a pleasure.
The Fat Man shrugged.
Perhaps Green has outlived his usefulness anyway. He´s grown old and soft. It would be better for a younger man to take his place. Don´t you agree?
I do.
But to give him this message is not easy. It could even be dangerous. And I don´t want to spend time watching my own back. There are secrets of mine that perhaps no one else should know.
I understand what you are saying.
Good: then go home. The arrangements will be made for you and meanwhile think about how you would do it. When you get to the place, you wait for my signal. Who knows; maybe Green will ring to tell me that he has the money and then perhaps everything is different.
I´ll wait.
Smith showed himself out. The Fat Man sighed heavily. Arranging disagreeable tasks always made him feel tired. He should try to take a nap. It had been a mistake to send Green on that job when he had been so furious about Bloom, though he´d tried hard not to let that show. But telling Green he could keep the money had been stupid and unnecessary. That had just been part of his rage. And the fact was that suspicion was now ingrained so firmly in his character that now he felt that he couldn´t trust Green, or anyone else for that matter.
He knew that the fault was his own after too many years in the business; and that distrust clouded his judgement. But once suspicion entered his mind, what was he to do? You may as well ask a jealous husband not to mistrust an innocent wife. There was only one way to be free of the doubt; but perhaps it was him, not Green, who was getting old.
Then again, Green was intelligent and that was another problem. You never knew where you were with such people. In the past, the clever ones had been useful to him. Still it was acceptable in someone like a book keeper, who´d be too terrified to step out of line. But in a man like Green it was dangerous. From now on, the Fat Man resolved, he´d had enough of men who could make their own decisions. Better to rely on half-wits like Smith who did what they did because they enjoyed it and really only needed directing against a particular target.
But still, he must remember, it was only business. So set Smith against Green. If a man like Smith is able to dispose of Green, then Green is in serious decline and it´s time he was let go. If Green gets the better of Smith even when he has no cause to expect him, then maybe he still has his uses. Nothing to link Smith to the Fat Man lying in his office, because everyone knows that Smith has a grudge against Green ever since that last job. So a win-win situation and good business however you look at it.
The Fat Man studied his hands. His fingers had begun to shake sometimes, just a little; and he´d started to bite his nails recently. Now, at his time of life. He´d need another manicure, probably tomorrow afternoon would be good. When he thought about the phone call he was expecting from Green, the thought of his money made him start to sweat; and that wasn´t a good sign. You could always make your voice sound calm, but sweat was harder to disguise
***
They’d been walking for less than two hours and already, Jill was thinking that maybe she had made a mistake. Their little group was not in such good shape; though at least none of them were complaining, yet. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were slowing them down badly. The old couple kept moving but they were always falling behind the gentle pace that Simon was setting at the front, even though the two of them were hardly carrying anything.
It turned out that Simon had completed some noted long distance walks in the past, as well as being a keen trail runner. That solved one of the problems that had been worrying Jill: how to pace themselves so that they made enough progress without exhausting everyone. She was very conscious that the water they had with them wouldn´t keep them alive for very long; and she would have been tempted to hurry them along more than Simon. He warned her that the group could only travel at the pace of the slowest and that anyway they could not afford to burn energy quickly in this heat.
Andrew Parker kept plodding along second or third in line, dried blood staining the improvised dressing that they´d used to cover his wound. He’d not seemed badly hurt by the blast, but he was still dazed. Jill didn’t have any medical training, but she believed he must have suffered a concussion. He certainly shouldn’t be setting off on a march like this in his present condition, but what could she do about that?
There’d been no response to the smoke signal; and by the time everything was prepared for their departure it felt like they had no alternative but to set out. The only discussion was about which way they should head. Some of them wanted to retrace the route they had followed on their way here. At least they knew there was an established path, which meant there was a chance they would meet others who were following it before too long.
The problem with that approach was, as Jill had quietly said to Simon, that they had travelled many miles along that route without seeing any water or a trace of a settlement. They couldn’t hope to make their own way to safety that way. They would be taking a gamble that someone might come across them en route, which was really no better than just staying with the truck.
From the next to useless map that they had, they could guess that there was life somewhere to the east of them; and it was to the east that Jonathan Bloom had gone.
Bloom knew where he was heading, Jill said. He had a plan. Tracks are easy to follow on this sandy ground. If Michael could make out different sorts of animals while he was driving the truck, then seven of us should be able to follow a trail of boot prints if we do it carefully.
But if Bloom thought that we might follow him, he could have set off in the wrong direction, deliberately, Mr. Johnson pointed out.
The Johnsons seemed to be coming back to life again and it was encouraging that they seemed mentally if not physically resilient.
He could have doubled back once he was out of sight, Mr. Johnson went on.
That’s possible, but I think he was too sure of himself to take the trouble.
Jill remembered, without wishing to, the smile on Bloom’s face; the voice calmly threatening.
I think to him, we were just idiots who were going to run around in circles until the lions came to finish us.
In any case, Simon put in; we should be able to spot any direction switch if we keep our eyes open. And east is easy to find: we just head towards the sun each morning and keep going.
How many mornings would they be able to do that, Jill wondered to herself?
He could be waiting for us out there, Emma protested.
There are seven of us.
But he has a gun.
If he’d wanted to shoot us, Jill said; he could have done it yesterday. Perhaps he’s crazy, but not in a random way. I don’t think we are part of his plan now. In any case he didn’t have so much water that he could afford to hang around and wait for us. I don’t think we need to worry about catching up with Bloom. He´ll be travelling much faster than we can.
The trail of boot prints led clearly enough from the Land Cruiser out to the near distance, where they could all picture a far-off figure turning round and waving at them with the gun held above his head. No-one wanted to follow that route, but in the end everyone agreed it was their best chance.
But what had seemed clear when they were only talking about it wasn’t so obvious once the Land Cruiser was out of sight behind; and they had started to feel how big and empty was the country before them. They had spent enough time in the vehicle for it to feel like a place of security even after what had happened and even though it was now a useless wreck.
That was an irrational attachment; the sort of feeling they now had to guard against, Jill reminded herself. Even so, they’d had to leave so much behind that might have been useful. By now they could have put up the rest of the tents for sleeping; maybe found some kind of shade from the killing heat that was drawing precious water out of their pores.
Water was the main concern of course. After they’d tried to share out what they had equally, it was clear
to everyone that their supply was hopelessly inadequate. How long could you survive without water? None of them could remember for sure. How long would they need to keep going before reaching safety? That was even more unknown. In his present condition, Andrew Parker was not going to offer any opinions; and maybe it was better they didn´t know.
George knew something about diet and metabolism. He spent his life trying to control his weight, he said. According to him, it would be better for them not to eat more than was absolutely necessary, because digestion used up water as much as exercise did. They had more than enough energy stored in their bodies to keep going for days, provided that they didn’t burn it too quickly and that they could manage to ignore the body´s demands that they eat.
It’s just when that feeling comes that you simply have to chew down something, George told them. It’s only your stomach complaining out of habit, but it takes a lot of willpower to make it stop.
Jill wasn’t sure how far the rules of a weight loss diet applied in the African bush, but she remembered what Parker had told her about it being important to use all the knowledge that they had. In any case food was heavy and they couldn’t afford to carry much of it, which meant they should ration what they had.
Be careful though, George warned. You know that once we have that terrible hungry feeling inside, we’ll start snapping the life out of each other. I’m impossible to be around when I’m fasting.
Andrew Parker had been standing near to the conversation, and started to mutter something that Jill had to ask him to repeat. He wasn’t so coherent, but she could tell that what he was trying to explain was that they shouldn’t try to ration their water intake. You had to keep drinking even if there wasn’t much left, or the body would stop working altogether.
It seemed to make sense: but what do we do, Jill wanted to ask, when there’s no water left at all?
***
As the day became hotter, with the sun directly overhead, it seemed like a bad idea to keep walking, even if there was no good shade anywhere. Some of them tried to crawl under the bushes as they had seen the wild pigs do. Others sprawled with spare clothing covering their faces. Only Andrew Parker remained standing where he was, having simply stopped when a halt was called. Emma guided him gently to a place where he could lie out of the worst of the sun.
How far do you think we’ve come? Jill asked Simon.
Six miles; seven maybe.
In three hours?
Simon shrugged.
That’s not so bad as it sounds. You can’t measure it normally. If you’re in the hills you reckon an extra mile for every two on the map, but here it’s worse. It’s so hot and the sand isn’t easy to walk on where it’s deep. If we’d stuck with the path we’d at least have made better time.
Towards what? Jill demanded.
I know. I’m not arguing with you, but we have to take our time. And I’m frightened of losing the trail.
It had not been all sandy ground. There were some places where Bloom’s track was clear enough and others where the hard earth or scrub held no imprint for many minutes of walking. In these places, Simon could only trust to the general direction they were travelling and hope that Bloom had not changed course.
Jill was thinking aloud.
It’s too hot. Maybe we should have decided to walk at night and rest in the day.
The stars are a good reference for navigation, Simon agreed; but it would be too dangerous. No-one seriously wants to risk being out in the night with the animals around. Anyway, in darkness we could walk straight past a village and never notice anything.
We haven’t seen any animals in this place so far.
But we know they’re here. We saw what happened to poor Michael. Anyway, do you think I could follow these footprints in the dark, even with a head torch?
It was all true; but Jill was beginning to question every decision she had made; and there was another thought troubling her that she was reluctant to share even with Simon.
Maybe it’s no good to be following Bloom anyway, she said.
What do you mean? It was your idea.
But we know he’s crazy. Crazy people believe they can do anything; and he doesn’t know this country any better than we do. He might have looked at the map and thought he could walk to wherever he’s headed easily, as if it was a stroll down a leafy lane in Surrey or wherever it is he comes from. Did you notice he told us nothing about himself? The point is, he could die out here just as easily as we can.
Simon considered the point.
You could be right. But it doesn’t do us any good to worry about it, he replied.
Nothing we can do, Jill agreed. And not something to talk about with the others. But we have to change some other things. Tomorrow we set off as soon as it’s light enough to see the way. And we rest as soon as the sun gets high, or we’ll burn to a frazzle.
By tomorrow, Simon warned her. I think they’ll rest whenever you’re not behind them to tell them to keep going.
***
They made better progress in the late afternoon, when they felt less like moths pinned onto a giant collector’s card by the intense sun; but the day wore on with no sign of other human life and no change in the unrelenting landscape. Sand and dust, bush and scrub, with barely a contour to distinguish one kilometre from the next. Jill knew that they had all secretly hoped that once they started walking they might soon come upon a settlement, or at least a road of some kind. By now she´d half convinced herself that Bloom had been trying to trick them. No one would deliberately strand himself as well as them in a landscape like this without some easy means of escape.
But it wasn’t going to be like that. They were still following tracks that must have been his, because there were no others. Following Bloom was the one thing that was proving easier than expected. And still it seemed that they were no closer to safety at the end of that day than they had been at the beginning of it.
Jill reminded herself that it was dangerous to think that way; especially when it seemed that the others were looking to her to lead them. She had never wanted that either. One of the others should be telling them what to do; Andrew Parker, if he recovered; or Simon, who was a teacher and used to giving instructions at least.
She’d never been a person to push herself forward, except that she´d be the one to object when they told her to do something stupid. She was happy enough in a job that didn´t demand too much and paid her well enough to indulge her passion to travel and understand as much of the world as she could. She never even thought about promotion; and yet here she was ordering six other adult people about, even Mr. and Mrs. Johnson who were so much older than her. And it mattered. They were in a situation where decisions meant life or death and any one of their party might know better than she what they ought to do.
But someone had to make those decisions.
Now that the day was starting to cool, there was another concern: they would have to start thinking about a camping place soon. None of them had eaten more than a little dried fruit and some corn snacks, passed out hand to hand. They would need some kind of meal as well; but more than that, they would need shelter and a fire.
Jill remembered how quickly the sun disappeared at these latitudes: the African sunset that was the most beautiful in the world: the soft pink ball going down before your eyes with the colour thickening to a deep red that eventually spilled out across the sky, silhouetting the few thorn trees that stood up in the broad expanse before the horizon. She would have liked to just sit and watch it; but now the coming of evening was just another threat.
At least there wouldn’t be any mosquitoes to worry about. Where they were now, there wasn´t enough water for them or anything else.
Jill called a halt early that day, when they came to a place that seemed like it might be good to spend the night. The ground was baked a little hard; as if there must be water here in the rainy season. It would be less comfortable for sleeping, now that they were with
out the mattresses, but it would be easier to set up the makeshift shelter. More importantly, the elephants had been in this place. There was dry timber where they had ripped out or maimed the few trees that struggled to grow.
Even so, it proved almost impossible to convert the heavy tarpaulin that Simon had carried all day into a shelter. They had taken down the canopy from the truck before they realized how heavy it would be. Even after they’d managed to cut it down to something like the size they would need, it weighed at least as much as one of the tents. And the tents were free standing, held rigid and in place by their own structure without relying on pegs. When it came to erecting the tarp, they understood that pegs were not much use in this soil. They needed to find stones and rocks big enough to hold the sheeting down. At least they would all fit under the one shelter and have the extra warmth of being crowded together.
While Simon supervised efforts to put up the makeshift tent, Jill and George were trying something else. The obvious fact that the water they had was not enough to keep them alive was something that none of them wanted to talk about, or even think of, any more; but it needed to be faced. George had remembered reading somewhere about making a still to attract moisture from the air. By chance they’d brought along some light plastic sheeting from the trailer. Jill had thought that it might make a groundsheet for the old couple, though already that seemed like an absurd degree of comfort to be worrying over. George thought that maybe they could use it to trap water.
The idea was that you dug a reasonably deep hole and covered it with the sheet, weighted down so that the plastic hung down in the hole but without touching the sides or bottom. If you left it long enough, moisture was supposed to condense from the air and gather in the hollow of the sheet.
They only had one spade with them, but taking turns with George at digging made Jill realize how much weakened they were already. The day was cooling down, but the mild exertion of using a spade had them both sweating and panting from the first moments. Jill wouldn’t normally feel like this, she knew.
the Disappearance of Jonathan Bloom Page 12