Digging Deeper: An Adventure Novel (Sam Harris Series Book 1) (13 page)

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.

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.’

‘Okay, sorry, you're right.  Thanks and good luck, Sam.  You’ll make it.  I’ve seen you in action.’

Thiago banged on the outside door of the toilet. Sam came out so he would not go in and find Jean.   He grabbed her rucksack and looked inside.  He took some sweets and handed it back to her dismissively.

Emerging from the canteen, she saw that the prisoners and captors had been organised into a convoy.  The fighters all carried booty looted from the camp.  They had loaded bags of rice, grains and other food stuffs into crude wheeled carts.  These were pulled by a man between two shafts and pushed by other fighters walking alongside.

Sam tried to approach the Kardo captives but was prodded with a gun toward the women at the back of the convoy.  They were the camp followers, wives, girlfriends and cooks, and were accompanied by a smattering of excited children.

As they walked out of camp, Sam saw bodies on the side of the road.  Some of them looked as if they were wearing Grey’s uniforms.  Sam had never seen someone dead up close before.  She screwed up her eyes to see more clearly and let out a gasp.  Dirk!  That lifeless form was Dirk.  She tried to go to him but the women grabbed her arms and pulled her away.  What if he was injured?  They could not leave him there.

But they did.

‘He is dead,’ said one of the women, as if that explained everything.

Sam knew it was useless to make a scene.  If they had shot Dirk, they would shoot her, too, if she slowed them down.

It was still dark when they set out walking along the road that went through the village.  All the doors remained shut as they passed through, although Sam was sure the inhabitants knew what had happened.  No one wanted to be recruited.

She did not know if she was fit enough to last on a long walk as Ewen had done.  If she fell behind, she would be disposed of.  She decided that whatever happened, she would keep going, one foot in front of the other.  Dirk’s death had been a shock and made all this seem very real.  Until she had seen his body, she had still been hoping that she was having a nightmare.

Somehow she had to get through this but she did not yet know how.  Something touched her hand and made her jump.  She looked down and saw one of the small boys from the canteen.  Then she realised that it was a small grainy hand reaching up and insinuating itself into hers.  His brother appeared at her other side, and although he did not take her hand, he walked very close, bumping into her thigh.  She almost burst into tears with relief.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Are you coming with me?’

The older brother said, ‘Yes, our mother is a cook for the valiant fighters of MARFO.  I am Edison, and my brother is called Pibé.’

‘Like Valderama?’ asked Sam.

‘Yes. My father liked football, but he is dead now.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’

‘He was a hero in the MARFO.’

‘I’m sure he was very brave just like you.’

The little boy gave her a radiant smile that would have melted a glacier. They all walked on into the darkness of the Tamazian bush.

***

On the first night, they walked in the moonlight for about four hours.  The gravel road crunched under foot. Despite the moonlight, Sam stumbled into several puddles.  The cicadas sang their hearts out and big fruit bats swooped close to the convoy, catching the mosquitos attracted by the hot sweaty bodies.

Her colleagues were all ahead of her, but no one looked back to see if she was alright.  Their backs accused her.  Sam remembered again what Jorge had said about the pickers knowing of every export and she refused to take the blame.  Where was Jorge?  She realised that she had not seen him amongst the hostages taken by the rebels, but then she remembered.  Jorge was in Portugal with his wife.  She smiled in relief.  She kept walking at an even pace, hoping they would soon stop for a rest.

After a couple of hours, they got to a river with several stepped banks of alluvial gravel with rounded quartz pebbles that glinted in the moonlight: the kind of geology that shouted ‘diamonds’ in this part of Tamazia.  Definitely the sort of place that made Black’s balls itch.  Rough agates littered the ground, their beautiful banding obvious in the moonlight.  She resisted the temptation to collect them, even though there were no security guards now to prevent her from picking up stones.  She did not know how far she would have to walk, and the agates would only get thrown away again if it was very far.

The women set up fires and mixed up the funge for cooking.  Funge was the staple diet of the local population in Tamazia.  It was made from the cassava root, which was sliced thin and left to dry in the sun. These dry chips were pounded into flour and then mixed into a paste, which was cooked in a pot over the fire.  As Sam could testify, it had the consistency of wallpaper paste and tasted awful.  It had a way of sticking in her throat that made her fear she might choke.  Not that she had a chance to taste it that evening.  The hostages were not offered food.

Sam sucked a sweet, saving her cans of tuna for the time being.  She was grateful that Thiago had not bothered to take them from her.  He had bigger booty in mind, bearing all the food they had stolen from the storehouse.

She drank some bottled water and sat on the edge of the cooking area.  There was movement behind her.  She looked around to see Pibé standing there, holding out a banana.  Beckoning him over, she made him sit beside her on the bank of sand.  She peeled the banana and broke it in half, giving one half back to the little boy.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘You’re welcome.’