Fire Force(22)

‘Who says it’s the wrong side anyway?’ shrugged Archie. ‘They were fighting for a country called Batota and that was a damned better place to live in than what’s there now, and that was true for the black man as well as the white.’

‘That’s not the issue,’ said Ian fiercely. ‘It’s about self-determination. And it’s about self-respect.’

‘There’s not much point in self-respect when you’re hungry,’ said Ollie.

‘Shall we skip the political discussion?’ interrupted Steve. He looked back towards Newton. ‘Go on.’

‘Like I said, we were brothers, we were fit and young and strong, and we didn’t have any trouble getting accepted into the Scouts,’ continued Newton. ‘We did our basic training with the Eighth Commando Division. That unit was the closest thing to the Foreign Legion ever put together. There were Germans, Irish, Japs - all sorts. You could sign up for the Eighth and no questions were asked, none answered. They were rough men, on the run many of them, but good soldiers, and as fierce as the sun is hot. After a year, we were assigned to the Scouts . . .’

He paused, taking another hit on the coffee.

‘We got transferred up to Nafa Nafa, a collection of grass huts up near Lake Hasta where the selection for the Scouts took place. For eighteen days, we had no rations; we had to live off the land, learning how to drink water from the belly of a wild animal, and cook snakes and maggots so that you drained the poison out of them. Both of us passed with ease. We were waiting for our first assignment when one of the Generals came to see us. He sat down with us and asked us about our village and our family. Then he pointed out that we were both Nshani, the same tribe as Kapembwa, the man leading the rebellion.

‘They needed someone on the inside, he told us. So he asked my brother if he’d go back to the village, where he’d be given some papers to show that he’d been at college in Angola for a year. He’d join up with the rebels, become a loyal soldier fighting for Kapembwa, but in reality he’d be a sleeper, the eyes and ears of the Scouts within the enemy camp, just waiting for the right moment - and when that moment arrived, they’d call on him. Meanwhile, I’d join up with the Scouts, but I’d also be the point man, the guy who had to make contact with my brother when he was needed. The General said it was a brave decision, and if we didn’t want to do it he’d understand, but for my brother there was no question. If you join an outfit like the Scouts, you put yourself in the hands of your commanders, and you don’t start asking questions.

‘I stayed with the Scouts while my brother joined Kapembwa’s Army. That was 1978. I didn’t make any contact with my brother, and I didn’t expect to for a few more years yet. The idea was to let him rise within the ranks and then use him as a spy. Then in 1980, Batota surrendered, and a few months later Kapembwa was the President. I guess that’s the way it goes in warfare, certainly in Africa. One day you’re the rebel, the next you’re the President. The Scouts didn’t want to hang around to see what the new regime was like. We’d been the fiercest defenders of the old country - and the new government hated the black unit more than the rest of the Scouts. They saw us as traitors, and we’d have been executed as soon as they had the chance. So the night the old flag came down, we slipped quietly across to South Africa. Some of us joined up with the Recces, as the South African Special Forces were known. Others amongst us became mercenaries. Quite a few just melted into the townships and got jobs doing anything that was available. And me? I stayed as a soldier. I fought with the Recces for a couple of years, then I found work as a mercenary, fighting in Mozambique, Angola, anywhere they needed men who knew how to fire a gun, and where you got paid a decent wage-packet at the end of the week. Eventually, I got mixed up with the wrong job, and ended up in Broken Ridge . . . and the rest you know. I haven’t seen my brother since the day he left the Scouts to go and join Kapembwa’s rebels.’

‘But let me guess,’ said Ian. ‘His name was Esram.’

Newton nodded. ‘That’s right,’ he replied. ‘He changed his surname to Matola when he switched sides, so that he could never be traced back to me.’

Ian tapped his fingers on the table. ‘And let me guess something else,’ he said. ‘The General? His name was Ritchie Sharratt.’

Archie smiled. ‘The very same,’ he said. ‘I heard about the story of the twin brothers and the sleeper in the enemy camp from my dad. I knew he’d never been used because the war was over much faster than anyone expected. But I also knew that Esram was still there, and that he’d risen to be the man in charge of the President’s security. That’s why I paid you boys to break Newton out of jail . . . because he’s the key.’