Black Pearl (23 page)

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was westering downriver towards Granville Harbour and the ocean. The choppers had returned an hour ago and the interim had been taken up with feeding the men. Richard and Anastasia had not been alone in finding they had no appetite. Instead of eating, Richard had gone to find Robin and bring her up to date. Now the pair of them were hurrying across to Kebila's command tent as they had this conversation. Robin, of course, had hundreds of questions arising from Richard's terse report of their adventure and his equally terse explanation. But Kebila's briefing answered most of them before she managed to frame them – let alone ask them.

‘It is clear that Corporal Livitov was not a suicide bomber in league with Odem and the Army of Christ,' the colonel began, looking around the frowning faces of his senior officers. ‘We found enough of his head to be certain that his mouth had been taped shut. Indeed, the fate of Colonel Mako's patrol last night makes it quite possible his tongue had been cut out. From the strange way he approached us, I am certain that he had been restrained or crippled in some way, had explosives packed with shrapnel strapped to him, then put into the Ngoboi costume and left behind for us to find.'

Kebila paused and looked around the assembled faces in the tent as though expecting questions. But neither the men who had gone upcountry nor the others who had followed the drainage channel inland had anything they wanted to ask yet. ‘We were doubly lucky when we did find him,' continued the colonel soberly after a while. ‘The first piece of luck was that Sergeant Tchaba stopped Miss Asov shooting him. The second piece of luck – the leopard – shows us that the device Livitov was wearing had an impact detonator.'

He turned to look directly at Anastasia. ‘Had your bullet struck him, he would certainly have exploded and at least two thirds of the command – starting with ourselves – would have been killed either by the explosion or by the shrapnel wrapped around it. The leopard spinning him round and knocking him back saved us. The unfortunate creature's body soaked up much of the explosive force. The shrapnel decimated the trees above us instead of tearing us to shreds. We even found some dead birds and monkeys when we began our search of the area. But I still find it hard to see how Odem could take the risk of disguising his bomber as Ngoboi …'

Richard held up his hand. ‘I believe Odem very reasonably expected someone to shoot Corporal Livitov, believing him to be Ngoboi,' Richard said slowly and clearly in his best Matadi. ‘It is the most logical conclusion. And had anyone shot him, there would have been two likely outcomes. Either
all
of the patrol would die, in which case the Ngoboi disguise was hardly relevant, for no one other than the Army of Christ would know about it. Or
most
of the patrol would die – in which case the survivors would describe how the desecration of the god brought enormous death and destruction as an immediate result. You can bet he's got more Ngoboi costumes – and the reputation of the next man wearing one would have been immeasurably enhanced.'

‘He's fucking with our minds,' observed Anastasia.

‘He has been all along,' replied Richard grimly.

‘Let's hope he stops at our minds,' added Robin, glancing at Anastasia's pale, determined face and thinking of the obscene wooden phallus in her blood-spattered bed last night. Then she changed the subject slightly, raising her own hand and catching Kebila's eye. ‘And was it only the impact of a bullet – or a leopard – that was designed to detonate the bomb? One hears so much about mobile phones being used. Bombs set off by hand, simply by dialling the right number. Or putting it in the memory and hitting
recall
…'

‘We searched the jungle right the way down to the river itself,' countered Kebila, ‘but we found no one there. Certainly no one close enough to have seen what was going on and decided when to detonate by hand …'

‘But,' interjected Richard, ‘your local mobile phone company has such a well-structured network here that phone signals can be broadcast for miles up and down the river. And I don't suppose my phone is unique in having a very effective built-in video camera.'

‘I see your point, Captain Mariner,' said Kebila formally to Richard. ‘Someone miles away could have been watching pictures transmitted by the phone strapped to Livitov's chest as part of the bomb. And as soon as he saw we were close enough, he would simply hit the right number, even if he was up on the shores of Lac Dudo or on the slopes of Karisoke. This has all clearly been very cleverly thought through and quite meticulously planned – not to mention being extremely well-equipped. And that fact alone immediately raises another consideration …' Kebila paused, clearly deep in thought.

After a moment or two, Richard continued with what he supposed the colonel's sentence would have concluded. ‘That Odem, or someone close to him, has been to the terrorist training camps in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Sudan or Somalia. That they have returned not only with the knowledge and the techniques used by Al Qaeda, the Taliban, Al Shabaab, Boko Haram and the rest, but also the sort of equipment they use. That means money and – probably most worryingly of all – pretty upfront political support. And, if the evidence shown to President Chaka and the conversations I have had with him are anything to go by, that support may well be coming from just across your south-eastern border. Just on the eastern slopes of Mount Karisoke itself. Which, at the very least, also explains his access to replacement technicals and – suddenly and unexpectedly – to river boats that are large enough to transport them.'

Kebila nodded. ‘It also means,' he continued, ‘that we – and of course Mr Asov's men – will be facing something relatively new. A seventies-style jungle-wise bush army like Joseph Kony's Lord's Resistance Army, combined with a terrorist trained and equipped cadre, equivalent to a top-flight Al Qaeda cell, with access to and expertise in the most cutting edge of twenty-first-century hardware. We may all find that we are fighting two entirely different types of war with the same people in the same place and at the same time.'

‘Everything from AKs, cocaine and Ngoboi,' nodded Richard thoughtfully, ‘to IEDs, smart phones and the Internet.'

‘It seems to me,' said Anastasia militantly, ‘that it doesn't matter a damn whether you've got smartphones or spears, clubs or computers. Or whether you're Abubakar Shekau, Habeeb Bama, Odem, Ngoboi or Osama Bin Laden. Once the bullet goes through your head, you're dead.'

‘That's true,' answered Kebila gently. ‘Our problem will be getting to Odem's head. Or Ngoboi's.'

‘They managed it with Joseph Kony, Habeek Bama and Osama Bin Laden. It shouldn't be beyond us!' persisted Anastasia curtly. ‘We cut our way through the jungle to the Army of Christ. We cut our way through the Army of Christ to Odem and Ngoboi. And we shoot the fuckers. Job done. Simple!'

‘If that was all there was to it, then it would indeed be simple,' agreed Kebila. And both Richard and Robin were relieved that his tone was not in the slightest bit patronizing. ‘But you know as well as I do, Miss Asov, that it will not be anywhere near that easy. Even for the impressively skilled army of Amazons you have trained to protect your orphanage.'

‘I didn't train my people just to sit here and wait for someone to come up and go
boo!
to them,' said Anastasia brusquely. ‘Any more than you did. Or are doing now – I assume!'

‘Quite,' said Kebila drily. ‘But we are here to regroup and to plan our next foray upriver. You are not. You and your command will remain here to guard the orphanage. I will leave some of my men to stand alongside you under the command of Sergeant Tchaba, with whom I believe you will work very well. But I'm afraid you have accompanied us for the last time.
For the immediate future, at any rate
,' he added as he saw a murderously mutinous look descend on Anastasia's face. Then he looked back at his own officers. ‘And of course we have a new priority as well. On top of finding and neutralizing Odem and the Army of Christ, it is our clear duty to try and rescue the other Russian, if we can. Corporal Livitov's missing companion.'

‘Brodski,' snarled Anastasia, as though the word were an insult she was throwing in Kebila's face. ‘His name is Sandor Abramovich Brodski.' And she got up, grabbed her rifle and turned to leave the tent.

‘It might be just as well if you were to stay here,' said Robin to Anastasia later, as Richard accompanied the two women back to the main orphanage building. ‘The camp was deserted all morning except for the maintenance, admin and catering staff. The Zubrs were both gone and all the Russians aboard them. It was tense here,
creepy
. Obviously Father Emil and the sisters were all bustling about, taking classes and running the orphanage as usual. The ancillary staff were cooking for the children, feeding them breakfast, lunch after the lessons and so forth. We even had a visit from the elders of the town to see how we were – and to catch up on the gossip. But everyone was on edge. Your Amazons were all like cats on hot bricks until Esan and Ado took them off. And then, when they were gone, the rest of the children were simply terrified …'

Anastasia nodded curtly. ‘I know. They rely on me more and more. Too much, I think. But it's only because of the way the country's still being run – too much military, not enough police. Yes, I know. Like at home in Russia still. The best way to deal with the army and get some civil order is to put Celine in the President's Palace. And the best way to deal with everything else they're afraid of is to bring Odem to justice and prove Ngoboi is no more than his puppet.'

‘You've thought this through, haven't you?' asked Richard gently.

‘Of course I have, Richard,' she said quietly, pronouncing his name
Reekard
in the Russian way. ‘Without Celine running things beside me, this place is becoming as much of a prison as a home to me. I do not want to spend the rest of my life in an African Butyrka. I have been planning my escape. And it looks like getting rid of Odem is the best way to make a start.'

D
eep in thought, Richard escorted Anastasia and Robin back to their refurbished rooms in the orphanage and then over to the orphanage refectory for dinner. And the smell of the egusi soup and jolloff rice the staff and students were just about to eat proved irresistible, reminding him that he had skipped lunch altogether. Egusi soup was in fact a thick stew of minced beef and seafood with shredded spinach in a spiced tomato sauce. It was accompanied by traditional eba – roasted cassava flour seasoned and boiled then rolled into balls. It was eaten from a communal bowl and looked a little like mashed potato. Jolloff was a fiery rice full of chicken and all sorts of peppers. Richard tucked into it all hungrily. Then he went to the communications tent and found Kebila talking to his cousin. ‘Now that Odem's on the water, you'll have to keep a sharp lookout, Caleb,' Kebila was saying. ‘And warn Captain Zhukov to do the same. He has explosives. The kind they put into vests for suicide bombers. In all likelihood he has a prisoner – so be wary of Russians staggering into your camp, particularly if it's Brodski.'

‘Both
Stalingrad
and
Volgograd
have a full set of countermeasures in place, capable of handling anything he could throw at us,' came Caleb's reply. ‘But I'll warn Mako and Ivan to keep extra watches out when we beach and set the Russians down to proceed on foot. At that point we'll decide whether to wait or return. We'll be in contact then, as planned. But I've been thinking: with Odem on the river, the orphanage's back door is pretty wide open until we get back on to your slipway there. If you're off upriver after the Army of Christ first thing tomorrow, then they'll be vulnerable to attack from the water, even if you leave Sergeant Tchaba and a pretty strong squad to back him up.'

‘I've thought of that,' said Kebila. ‘When I've finished speaking to you I was going to call for a couple of fast patrol boats to get up here at full speed.'

Richard held up his hand.

‘Wait, Caleb. Yes, Captain Mariner?'

‘Since the passage through the ruined bridge at Citematadi downstream has been cleared,' said Richard, ‘you could get something bigger than a patrol boat past it. You could get a frigate up here if you wanted. She'd have to drop anchor as there's no docking facility big enough to take her, but something like your frigate
Otobo
is as well armed as the Zubrs. And as fast as your fast patrol boats. If she could be spared from her sea duties …'

‘Did you hear that, Caleb?' asked Kebila. ‘What do you think?'

‘I think Captain Sanda might never forgive you for taking his beautiful blue-water command and demoting her to brown-water duties. But apart from that, Captain Mariner is right. The river should be deep enough,
Otobo
's draught is seven metres fully laden. And now that the main channels are clear of both water hyacinth and rubble …'

‘Consider it done, then,' said Kebila decisively. ‘Talk to you later, Caleb. Have a quiet night. Over and out.' Kebila broke contact and sat for a moment, deep in thought.

‘Do you have the authority to order Captain Sanda and
Otobo
up here, Colonel?' asked Richard.

‘No. But Minister Aganga does,' answered Kebila.

And she's in Felix Makarov's pocket unless I'm very much mistaken
, thought Richard, remembering what Robin had told him of her last ride down to the docks with Celine Chaka. I wonder how
she'll
view Kebila's request.

But he was not to find out immediately. The minister was not available, it seemed. Kebila was given unusually short shrift. Disturbingly short shrift, considering his position, power and influence.