‘Christ, this coffee tastes like crap,’ said David, joining Steve on the porch.
Inside, Ian, Maksim and Dan were hauling themselves out of the simple metal beds inside the barracks and washing themselves down.
‘I can see why it’s the Kenyan coffee that’s world famous and not this rubbish,’ continued David. ‘I mean, you never see Batotean coffee in Tesco, do you? Not even in Aldi. Now we know why.’ He drained the last of the tin mug, and took a slice of dry bread and some fruit to eat.
‘What do you reckon on those clouds?’ said Steve, pointing upwards.
David stared into the sky, a worried frown on his forehead. It was dark in the fort. There was no mains electricity, the power coming from a diesel generator that was switched off for most of the night to conserve the fort’s meagre supply of fuel. The clouds were blocking out the moon and the stars, and only the oil torch Steve had lit earlier was providing any light on the porch. Yet even through the darkness, you could see the dampness in the clouds.
‘Any chance of a weather forecast?’ David asked.
Steve laughed. ‘Out here? This mob haven’t even got any anaesthetics in the medical tent.’
Both men were silent for a moment. They knew it was madness to attempt a chopper attack in the rain. In any kind of proper military action, the soldiers would have access to detailed weather information. Without it, they were flying into the unknown. And that was the one place you never wanted to go.
‘If it starts to rain heavily, that’s going to make things tricky,’ said David. ‘We need speed - it’s the only advantage we have - and the rain will slow down the approach. If there are gusts of wind as well, it’s going to be hard to hold the chopper steady.’
‘Meaning?’
‘You ever been dangled on the end of a rope like a puppet?’
Steve shook his head.
‘You might be about to find out what it’s like.’
‘My stun bombs will still work,’ said Ian. He helped himself to a cup of coffee, and joined them on the porch.
‘Doesn’t matter what the weather is like,’ he continued. ‘We’ll still get the flash and the bang - and that should throw them off balance.’
‘I’ll tell you another thing,’ said Maksim. ‘If the weather’s bad, the last thing they’ll expect is a bunch of madmen dropping out of the sky.’
‘I know it doesn’t make any difference to the Spetsnaz, mate, but surprise means bugger all if we’re all already dead.’
‘You reckon we should abort?’ said Ian.
‘The way I heard it, Ollie’s in charge now,’ said Steve. ‘We’ll let him decide.’ He stood up and started pulling his webbing into place.
‘Don’t listen to any of that public-school-man crap,’ David advised. ‘I’ve been on that treadmill and all it got me was a temporary job on the Algerian oil rigs. And that’s about as far down the career ladder as you can get. Me and a few Somalis who couldn’t even make it to Britain as asylum seekers. So just ignore Wallace’s bullshit. It’s where a man’s going that counts, not where he came from.’
‘Well, I reckon we’re going straight on then, and getting the sodding job done,’ said Steve. ‘We’ll radio through to Ollie and make a decision closer to the target.’
Ollie looked up into the sky.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such total darkness. The clouds were a thick, low blanket lying across the lake, smothering any light from the moon or stars. Ganju was steering the patrol boat steadily forwards but he was using the charts and the compass and its onboard radar. There was no point in trying to look at anything. If you held up your hand, you could barely even make out your own fingers.
Africa, thought Ollie to himself. It had the most brilliant, orange sunshine during the day, the warmest, most embracing light you had ever felt on your skin, but then when the sun went down, the nights were cold and dark and hostile, as if you were about to be sucked into an abyss. ‘How far?’ he hissed.
‘We’ve covered about fifty miles,’ Newton whispered. He was using a tiny flashlight to read the map. ‘We’re already into Tshaka’s territory. We see anyone now, we should assume they’re an enemy.’
I’m already assuming that, thought Ollie. I’ve been assuming it for days.
‘We’re on track,’ murmured Ganju. ‘It’s three-thirty in the morning, so we should be getting close to the fort by around five. We’ll slow right down for the final approach. We don’t want to let the enemy know we’re coming.’