The Rescue (24 page)

‘But that’s so wrong,’ Ketty said, open-mouthed. ‘They can’t just stand by and ignore innocent people being massacred.’

‘Oh, wake up,’ Dylan snorted, flicking back her long red hair. ‘Why
should
Geri and the government be interested in helping some poor little region in the middle of nowhere? They don’t have anything to give back – like money or oil – do they? That’s just how the world works.’

I sat back. I guessed Dylan was right. Not that it made any difference.

‘You don’t have to come,’ I said. ‘Any of you.’

Dylan snorted again. ‘Of course we’re coming. Who cares what Geri wants? Carson just does whatever he’s paid to do. Djounsou’s the
main
villain.’

I gritted my teeth. ‘No,’ I said. ‘We’re getting Carson too. That’s why I left that ring round Mahore on the map back in the compound – so he’ll know where we are and follow us.’

Ketty and Dylan both stared at me.

‘And you did this because Djounsou and his army aren’t going to be enough of a challenge?’ Dylan raised her eyebrows and glared at me. ‘Couldn’t we have left Carson alone and just given Geri directions to his compound?’

I shrugged. That was what Geri had wanted, of course. But as soon as Carson knew we were gone I was sure he’d disappear too. Luring him to Mahore was the only way I could be certain of getting revenge for what he’d done to Luz.

We sat for a few more minutes in silence. Nico fell asleep, his head lolling against Ketty’s shoulder. Then Dylan wandered away. Ketty glanced over at me and smiled.

‘That vision earlier got me out of the block I was having,’ she said. ‘I tried just now to see into our immediate future and it worked.’

‘What did you see?’ I said.

‘Us watching that fire,’ she said. ‘The one I saw in the earlier vision.’

I nodded, then focused on making contact with Amy again. I reached her mind easily enough and asked her to tell Geri we were going to Mahore and that Carson was following us there.

As I broke the connection, the shop owner appeared, car keys jangling from his hand. He said his name was Jimmy. We piled into his battered old Ford estate, squeezing ourselves in around a selection of crates – bananas and beans, mostly – and two dusty sacks of yams.

Thirty uncomfortable minutes later, we arrived at Mahore. There’d been no sign of Carson’s men on the journey, though it was always possible they’d taken an alternative route.

‘Very empty,’ Jimmy said, peering out of the window at the deserted streets. ‘I drop you here.’

My heart thudded. I checked my watch again. It was almost the time that Djounsou had said he would arrive. We got out of the car and headed towards the centre of town, where Jimmy said we would find St Luke’s Church.

This was where Tsonga had said the weapons were hidden – where Djounsou had sent his men to round up Tsonga’s brother and the other rebels.

A couple of minutes later, we reached the central square in Mahore. A crowd had gathered outside the church – a tall, imposing stone edifice in stark contrast to the rundown, crumbling houses that seemed to make up most of the rest of the town.

We walked closer, our eyes glued to the front of the church. The large wooden door was open. A soldier was walking up and down beside it, clearly guarding the entrance.

Nico nudged one of the bystanders – a woman carrying a huge plastic bag. ‘What’s going on?’ he said.

The woman shook her head. ‘It is very bad,’ she said. ‘General Djounsou’s soldiers have found weapons and men guarding them and they are threatening terrible things.’

‘Where are the men?’ I said.

The woman pointed at St Luke’s. ‘Inside there. Waiting for the general to arrive.’

We moved through the crowd, trying to get a better view without exposing ourselves to the door guard. A series of wide stone steps led up to the church door. Several hundred people were milling on the steps and in the square beyond, muttering to each other about what Djounsou would do when he arrived. The tension in the air made the heat even heavier.

We passed the steps and peered down the side of the church. A wooden door was set into the wall. Further down, towards the end of the church, was a series of stained glass windows. Beside me, Ketty gasped. ‘Oh, no,’ she said.

‘What?’ Nico and I spoke at once.

‘This is the place from my visions.’ Ketty’s eyes were wide as she stared up at the stained glass window on the church wall. ‘This is where I saw the fire.’

25: Mahore

Before I had time to register what Ketty had said, a car horn blared out. We whipped round to see Djounsou arriving in an open-topped jeep. He was dressed in full khaki uniform and accompanied by six armed guards. We ducked behind a wall, keeping ourselves hidden as he strode up the church steps. Flanked by two soldiers with rifles, Djounsou faced the crowd.

A few people called out names: ‘Thug . . .’ ‘Butcher . . .’ but Djounsou just stood there, solid and unmoved, shaking his head.

‘I am a father to Mahore,’ he shouted. ‘Like a father, I want what is best for the people. Like a father, I offer you protection. Like a father, I am misunderstood when I try to help . . .’

More catcalls. I waited, my heart racing.

‘I come here as a father, to bring you the security you crave. But a father has to be strong. A father has to be brave. Some of you have plotted against me. Rebellious children, fighting against your father.’ He paused. ‘Those people must be punished.’

Djounsou gave a signal and Tsonga appeared from the jeep. One of Djounsou’s soldiers pushed him roughly onto the church steps. The crowd gasped as it caught sight of Tsonga’s bruised and bloodied face. One eye was completely swollen shut and there was a long, purple gash across his cheek. His hands were tied behind him with a length of rope.

‘How many men do you think we could handle between us?’ Nico whispered.

I clutched the wall we were hiding behind. Despite the hot sun just a metre away, the shadowed stone felt cool under my hand.

‘Not enough,’ I whispered back. ‘Not against soldiers with guns.’

Another signal from Djounsou and five more people were brought out from inside the church. Three of them were men. One of them had the same high forehead and stubborn expression as Tsonga – his brother, presumably. Next to him stood a woman dressed in a blue dress. She was shaking. A small girl held her hand. As soon as the little girl caught sight of Tsonga she tried to dart towards him, but the woman pulled her back.

‘That must be Tsonga’s brother and his wife,’ Ketty whispered.

‘And the little girl must be Tsonga’s daughter, Victoria,’ I said.

‘Sssh,’ Dylan hissed. ‘Listen.’

Djounsou was talking again, about loyalty and disobedience.

‘These people have betrayed me,’ he said. ‘Betrayed all of us. Betrayed our family.’

No. That’s not right.
An angry murmur ran through the crowd, yet no one called out.

‘They’re scared,’ Ketty whispered in my ear. ‘There are too many soldiers for us to fight against.’

I nodded, my heart sinking.
Too many soldiers for Nico to disable alone. Too many potential threats for Dylan to protect herself from. Too many minds for me to hold all at once.

‘Bring me the weapons,’ Djounsou ordered.

As if they’d been waiting for the cue, three soldiers appeared from inside the church. Each one carried a large crate overflowing with guns and ammunition. A fourth soldier pointed his gun at the crowd, which parted, clearing a path to Djounsou’s jeep. The soldiers started loading the weapons into the back.

Djounsou drew himself up, waiting until the angry muttering in the crowd subsided. Then he took his gun and held it at Tsonga’s brother’s head.

‘These rebels must be punished.’ He paused. ‘Take them inside the church and tie them up.’

Tsonga glanced at his brother – a terrible look of loyalty and pain. Then the soldiers shoved the brother, his wife and the other two rebels through the church door. Djounsou, Tsonga and little Victoria were left outside.

Ketty gripped my arm. ‘Maybe he won’t hurt Tsonga’s daughter?’

I shook my head. What was Djounsou playing at? The little girl was shaking now, standing at the top of the steps. Her lips trembled as she looked over at her father. He smiled encouragingly, but even from where we were standing you could see the fear in his eyes.

‘We live in hard times,’ Djounsou said, ‘and no father wants to see his children suffer. But wicked actions must be punished. My soldiers have children too.
I
am a good father.’ He pointed at Tsonga. ‘This man is not. He has sacrificed his own daughter to a false ideal.’ Djounsou’s gaze swept across the crowd – angry, imperious, demanding. I shrank back into the shadows.

My mind spun. I couldn’t see how we could save
anyone.
The odds were just too heavily stacked against us.

‘And so the sins of the father are visited upon the sons,’ Djounsou said slowly. ‘Or, in this case, the daughter.’ He turned to another soldier. ‘Take her inside the church too. Tie her to the cross.’

‘No, please,
no
.’ Tsonga pleaded.

‘Daddy!’

My guts clenched as little Victoria was dragged away.

Another signal from Djounsou and one of the soldiers from the jeep appeared with a metal can. He disappeared inside the church. A few moments later he was back, walking backwards out of the church, splashing the liquid from the can in front of him. He finished at the church door and turned, swinging the empty can so that the final few drops spattered across the crowd.

I caught the smell immediately. Petrol.

‘He’s going to set fire to the church,’ Nico breathed.

I caught Ketty’s eye.
This
was her vision.

‘He’s going to burn all the rebels to death.’ Dylan sucked in her breath. ‘Even that little girl. That’s totally
evil
.’

I couldn’t believe what Djounsou was doing. And yet, it made sense. By killing Victoria and the others, Djounsou would personally punish Tsonga
and
send a message to Mahore and beyond not to mess with him.

‘We can’t let him do this,’ I said, as Djounsou produced a lighter from his pocket.

‘What can we do?’ Ketty wailed. ‘I mean, Nico could teleport that lighter out of Djounsou’s fingers . . .’

‘. . . but there’ll always be another lighter . . .’ Dylan finished, grimly.

The crowd, whose voices had risen again at the sight and smell of the petrol, quietened as Djounsou held the lighter right in Tsonga’s face.

‘This is your punishment for fighting me,’ Djounsou said, calmly. ‘You will watch your daughter die – before I kill you.’

‘NOOO!’ Tsonga’s roar brought the crowd to life. They jeered, surging forwards, as he kicked and struggled against the soldiers holding him.

I gripped the wall in front of me more tightly. Maybe the crowd could stop Djounsou.

But Djounsou simply signalled one of his soldiers to fire. The gunshot blasted into the air and a shocked silence fell again. Tsonga stood, defeated, his chest heaving as Djounsou flicked the lighter on and tossed the flame behind him, into the petrol that streaked around the church door.

Fire rose up immediately, licking at the door.

‘Oh my God,’ Ketty moaned beside me.

The crowd fell into a shocked silence. My heart seemed to stop beating.

Think of something.
I had to get inside the church. Somehow I had rescue Victoria and the others. But how?

‘What do we do?’ Nico’s forehead was furrowed with a deep frown. ‘Telekinesis won’t work against a fire.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘but it will work against locked doors. Come with me. If you can get me through that side door we saw, I can try and rescue the people inside.’

‘You can’t do that,’ Nico said, horrified.

‘Just get me inside.’ I raced off. As I ran I glanced at Djounsou and his men up on the church steps. They were facing the blazing door Djounsou had just set alight, not looking into the hushed crowd. I kept my head down anyway, keeping close to the far wall as I ran.

As I reached the side of the church, the others caught up with me.

‘You can’t go in there, Ed,’ Ketty panted. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

‘She’s right, the fire’s too big,’ Dylan added. ‘And even if I could get past the flames, none of us would survive the smoke. The people inside have only got a couple of minutes as it is.’

I turned to Nico. ‘Just open the door for me.’

‘No,’ he insisted. ‘It’d be suicide.’

I stared at him. Somewhere in my head I knew he was trying to help me, but right then all I could feel was fury. ‘Then I’m going in the front,’ I snapped.

I turned away.

‘You can’t,’ Ketty shrieked. She grabbed my arm. ‘Nico, stop him.’

‘Ed, man,
please
.’

‘You can’t just stroll over and walk in through that main door,’ Dylan added. ‘If Djounsou doesn’t kill you, the fire will.’

I turned back, facing the three of them. I took in the tension on their faces. The fear. And suddenly my anger at them vanished. They just didn’t understand.

To Nico, Dylan and Ketty, the death of the rebels – and Luz – was a terrible tragedy that didn’t, in the end, have anything to do with them. Just as Geri and the government thought that it didn’t have anything to do with them, either.