The Secret Chamber (32 page)

‘Don’t fuck with us, Étienne, or we will make your life a living hell. You know who I work for.’

Jean-Luc stared at him for a moment longer. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You’re in the Congo now, and there’s nothing you can do about anything that goes on here. So, little man, why don’t you stop trying to prove you’ve got balls and get back on your plane?’

‘Screw this,’ Devlin seethed. ‘I warned you. Now, give me those co-ordinates!’

Devlin reached out his hand as if he could snatch the
information
out of Jean-Luc’s grasp. As he moved his men reacted, hands reaching for their guns. Laurent and the rest of Jean-Luc’s men were rigid with anticipation. Some already had their hands on their own pistols.

‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Jean-Luc tutted. ‘Got everyone worked up, and all I wanted to do was get drunk for a couple of days. You know something, Devlin? You’re really messing with my chi.’

Devlin glowered, trying to contain his rage but mindful of exactly how carefully he had to play this. There was just too much at stake to let things get out of control. A couple of seconds passed, with the room absolutely silent, before Devlin slowly lowered his hands.

‘OK, Étienne. If this is how you want to play it. How much do y’all want to drink yourself into the next year?’

Jean-Luc inhaled deeply. ‘I’m not selling. Come back tomorrow.’

Devlin shook his head in disbelief, his cheeks flushing red with anger. But he couldn’t lose his temper. He had to hold back and not rise to this son-of-a-bitch’s petty games. Ever since Langley had identified the fire coltan as the substance used in the new generation of Chinese satellite phones, the situation had escalated beyond anything he could have imagined. Right now, he needed to keep his head.

Only two days ago, ChinaCell had made their launch public, and since that time US scientists had been working around the clock trying to understand how they could produce a regular handset small enough to communicate with low-orbit satellites. These things were flooding into every
high-street
store, crippling the West’s telecom brands as customers queued around the block for the handsets to come on sale.

It was only when they had discovered that fire coltan was crucial to the capacitors and antennae, enabling the high-frequency bursts to the satellites, that they started to piece it all together. Fire coltan made the circuitry run hotter than normal, but aside from that, the technology was flawless.

Suddenly, Devlin’s investigation had escalated from being a minor provincial affair into a matter of national security. The entire Western communications platform was being overrun, and fire coltan was the mineral at the centre of it all. The directive was simple – they had to get their own supply and take control of that mine.

But it was a balancing act. Everyone knew that they could never openly challenge another veto member of the UN Security Council. They couldn’t be seen to be interfering with Chinese interests in Africa, and so from the outset this was a war that was going to be fought by proxies.

A task force had already been sent to negotiate with the Mai-Mai south of Bukavu. The rebels there were renowned for their brutality, contravening almost every single rule of engagement during the bloody years of the Congolese civil war, but despite their pariah status, they were the only rebel force left in the Congo who might have a chance of defeating the LRA. Despite the fact that the UN had spent almost a decade trying to disarm them, now all that was going to change.

An American C-130 Hercules had dropped a huge
shipment
of weaponry at a Mai-Mai outpost near the Rwandese border and by now the rebels were already on the move, heading north towards the Ituri. They knew the mine was somewhere in the forest, but had still to get the exact co-ordinates.

And here Devlin was, right at the centre of it all. Until the main task force arrived from Langley, he was the man on the ground in a situation fast climbing the ranks of importance in US foreign policy. All eyes were turning to the Congo. And for the next eight hours, he was the man in charge.

Devlin stared at Jean-Luc, watching the way his head swayed from the booze. The Frenchman was a belligerent animal with no understanding of the value of the information he possessed. Trying to beat it out of him would take too much time. But there was another way.

‘You know, since you boys have been buzzing the skies around here, we’ve been picking up a bit of chatter. Usual stuff, nothing fancy, then we heard a mayday call from a Cessna 206. Call sign Golf Hotel Juliet. Mean anything to you?’

Jean-Luc stared at Devlin blankly. Casually reaching inside the pocket of his safari jacket, Devlin took out an iPod and a small black speaker. As he set them down on the table, he stared at Jean-Luc.

‘Still doesn’t ring any bells?’

They all listened as a woman’s voice played out softly across the room. She was obviously in distress, running through the protocols of a mayday call, but as she reached the co-ordinates
of
her crash location, the recording had been deliberately wiped clean. The room was silent for several seconds before Devlin spoke again. This time, he was smiling.

‘We did some checking and the plane’s registered to one Beatrice Makuru. Damn’ shame, but it looks like she was shot down over the Ituri.’

‘What the hell was Bear doing up here?’ Laurent in terupted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

‘She and two white men busted her plane out of MONUC quarantine three days ago.’

‘Who were they?’

Devlin shrugged. ‘Like I give a shit. Now, you listen good Étienne because you’re gonna get his deal only once. You give me the co-ordinates of Mordecai’s mine and I’ll tell you exactly where her plane went down.’

Jean-Luc’s eyes glassed over as he felt a flood of emotion hit him. He couldn’t quite believe it. Bear had crashed her plane. The news that she might be in pain or hurt filled him with a sense of paternal outrage; something he hadn’t even thought existed in him any more. But it was there, visceral and uncontrollable, suddenly making him boil with anger.

The years seemed to peel back and he could hear the same muffled static in her voice from when he had first taught her how to fly, diving low over the savannah. So much time had passed, so many regrets. He had presumed the memories were all but buried. But still he thought back to that night in Cape Town … the night he had last seen her, all those years ago.

Laurent followed the direction of Devlin’s gaze, knowing just how much Jean-Luc’s little girl meant to him. To some degree she had been raised by them all, touring with the squad from mission to mission, country to country. And now Bear was the one thing they never spoke about.

Devlin snapped his fingers in front of Jean-Luc’s face.

‘Looks like you’ll be giving me those co-ordinates after all,’ he said, not bothering to hide his glee.

‘How do I know she survived the crash?’ Jean-Luc whispered. ‘What if I I give you the information and she turns out to be dead already?’

‘You don’t. She could be alive or dead, but guess what? You’re shit out of options. But do make your mind up quickly, because if she is alive, you’d better pray you get to her before the LRA do.’ Devlin’s smile widened. ‘I saw a photo of your girl on file. Pretty. I bet she’s just the LRA’s type.’

Laurent shook his head in dismay. Don’t toy with Jean-Luc, he wanted to say. Especially not about his daughter.

‘So,’ Devlin continued. ‘We got a deal?”

‘You’ll get the co-ordinates for the mine,’ Jean-Luc said. ‘Now, leave.’

Devlin’s smile twisted with uncertainty, not wanting to lose the momentum of this encounter. ‘I don’t think y’all really understand how things work,’ he began, but Jean-Luc suddenly jumped off the sofa, seizing Devlin’s throat with his right hand. The speed of it took everyone by surprise. There was a delay before the room erupted in a flurry of movement, as both sides reached for their guns.

‘Wait!’ Devlin screamed, the word coming out in a strangled wheeze. ‘Don’t … shoot!’

Jean-Luc put his face close to the American’s. ‘You’ll have your co-ordinates and you’ll get your bloody little war. Now … tell me where she crashed before I rip your throat out.’

Devlin struggled in his grip, tilting his chin down to try and relieve the pressure on his windpipe. He could smell the alcohol, rank on Jean-Luc’s breath and skin, and stared into his bloodshot eyes, terrified. His mind raced as he desperately tried to keep a handle on the situation.

‘OK … OK,’ he wheezed, signalling to one of his men to hand over a piece of paper. Laurent snatched it from his grasp.

Jean-Luc held on to him for a moment longer before releasing his grip. Devlin staggered back towards his own men, before leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees.

‘The Mai-Mai are already marching north,’ he wheezed. ‘You better hurry … because they’ll be past that position before daybreak tomorrow. Now, give me those goddamn’ co-ordinates.’

Jean-Luc didn’t answer, only turning towards Laurent.

‘Captain, I want a complete weapons check of the Rooivalk. Lose the ATGMs and take a full complement of MK4s with the cannon set to five-round bursts.’ His gaze swooped over the other men. ‘Take all you can carry of the 7.62mm rounds and I want each Oryx loaded with a full med kit and rescue gear for ground extraction – two-hundred-metre ropes and the winch systems up and running.’

His men took in the information with quick nods of their
head
, the drunken lethargy evaporating. They hadn’t heard Jean-Luc talk like this since the old days.

‘We leave in an hour. And, Captain, I want full thermal imaging on the Rooivalk.’

Laurent nodded smartly. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now, give them what they want.’

Scribbling the co-ordinates of the mine on to the back of a paper serviette, Laurent passed it across to Devlin. Then he led Jean-Luc’s men towards the exit.

‘This better be right, Étienne,’ Devlin warned, waving the serviette in front of him. ‘Or I promise you, we’ll come for you.’

Jean-Luc returned his gaze.

‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m going to pay you a special visit when I get back.’

LUCA LAY ON
his back next to Joshua, staring up at the open sky. Sweat ran down his forehead, mingling with the river water soaking his hair. He was too exhausted to move. The swim across the river had been gruelling, with the current pulling them much further downstream than they had anticipated. Now, they lay on their backs, the black mud of the riverbank oozing up around their shoulders, trying to muster the strength to move.

‘We’ve got to wait …’ Joshua panted ‘… wait for the others, I mean.’ His voice was little more than a whisper and he looked utterly broken by the swim. On the last section, all he had been able to do was grip on to Luca’s shoulders. The extra weight had pulled Luca down almost beneath the surface so that he had had to fight for every lungful of air.

‘I know,’ Luca replied, too tired to say anything more. He forced himself up on to his knees with a low groan and reached out one hand. The palm was black and Joshua stared at it for several seconds before grabbing it.

‘I never thought I would see all this again,’ he whispered, his eyes moving from the river to the sky. ‘I haven’t seen the sky for so long. You forget what it’s like. How big it is.’

‘Take it all in because once we get into the forest, you’re not going to see it again for a long time.’

‘I can live with that,’ Joshua replied, finally clambering to his feet. ‘Just don’t ever take me back to that mine again.’

Side by side they slipped across the thick mud, using the long blades of bull grass to pull themselves forward and into the cover of the forest. As they reached the trees they turned left, heading back upstream towards the tunnel entrance. They had been going for nearly ten minutes when Luca suddenly stopped and pulled them both down to the ground.

There in the mud, only three feet away from where they were lying, was the clear imprint of a military boot. It was fresh, possibly minutes old, with trickles of water still collecting in the impression of the heel.

Joshua remained still, his whole being paralysed by an incredible sense of disappointment. What had he been thinking, allowing himself to believe that they would escape? He should have known that they were never going to be free from Mordecai. The mine was all there was. The sum total of existence. Staring at the footprint, he let his eyes slowly close. It was just impossible that they could have been found so quickly.

Luca looked up, checking that no one was nearby, then inched closer to Joshua.

‘An LRA patrol was following our trail all the way here,’ he whispered. ‘This must be one of their tracks.’

Joshua blinked, processing the information, while Luca warily got to his feet. He stood over the footprint, staring out into the bushes, and tried to focus on what to do. But already his mind was thinking ahead to the tunnel. As soon as the others took one step out of it, the patrol would be on them.

Joshua staggered towards him, speaking so quietly that Luca had to hold his breath to hear what he said.

‘If it’s the patrol and not the guards from the mine, then they might not know about the tunnel. They might have passed further along the riverbank. Out of sight.’