Taking the money, she folded it into her tunic then pushed three room keys across the desk. ‘Welcome to the Eagle Wing,’ she said, with a forced ‘have-a-nice-day’ smile. ‘And enjoy your stay.’
Steve took his key and started to walk towards lodge number twelve. The rain was still falling heavily as they stepped through gardens lushly planted with flowers and trees. From their vantage point, they could see clearly out across the lake and, at this height, straight into Batota.
‘We’re going right back,’ Steve told the others.
‘I know,’ said Ian. ‘But first we rest . . . and plan.’
‘We can’t leave Ollie and the rest of the boys there,’ said Nick. You could hear the anger in his voice.
‘It’s three men against a whole country,’ said Ian wearily.
Steve nodded, still looking out across the lake. ‘I know,’ he replied, his voice threaded with quiet determination. ‘But it’s the right three men . . . and the wrong country.’
Thirty-Two
STEVE HELPED HIMSELF TO A bowl of cereal, a jug of coffee and a carton of orange juice from the breakfast bar. The clouds had cleared, and the lake was a dazzling, deep blue. Birds were skating across its surface, and over in the distance, you could see the wide open spaces of the safari parks.
A beautiful country, he thought to himself. If only there weren’t so many madmen screwing the place up.
Ian had persuaded him they should get some sleep and get their strength back, and although he’d disagreed with him at the time, now that it was morning Steve could see he’d been right. He’d put his head down, and crashed for twelve hours straight. By the time he woke up, the impact of what had turned into forty-eight hours of non-stop fighting was starting to fade. The bruises and the cuts were still there, but the spirit and determination were back. And that was what counted.
We’ll get our mates out, he told himself, pouring milk on top of his cereal. But we have to plan our way in and out again. Otherwise we’re just throwing our lives away.
‘We’ve got work to do,’ said Ian, sitting next to him, with Nick at his side.
From a single glance, it was obvious that both of them had been up for a couple of hours. They were washed and shaved, and wearing some fresh clothes that they must have bought at the lobby desk. They looked like a pair of out-of-season tourists: it was only if you got up close that you became aware of the fury in their eyes.
‘There’s something you should see.’
Steve stood up and followed Ian into the hotel bar. There was a TV in the corner, tuned to CNN. The weather forecast was playing right now - more heavy storms were forecast for South and Central Africa - but the headlines were coming up next.
‘Watch,’ muttered Ian.
Steve looked straight at the screen.
‘Our top story this hour,’ said the newscaster. ‘President Kapembwa of Batota foils an assassination plot. CNN reporters are not allowed into the country, but our Southern Africa correspondent Kenneth Mialich reports from Johannesburg. Ken . . .’
Steve’s eyes tracked the screen as a man in a white open-necked shirt appeared.
‘A dramatic day in Ibera,’ started the reporter. ‘Veteran leader Benjamin Kapembwa claims to have foiled an assassination plot sponsored by Britain and other Western governments.’
Footage of Kapembwa speaking to an angry-looking crowd flashed up on the screen.
‘He has accused the British Government of conspiring with a group of white mercenaries to assassinate him and to bring back colonial rule,’ continued Mialich. ‘He said they’d been working alongside the rebel leader August Tshaka - who has now been executed - and were planning to assassinate him too, as a prelude to a full-scale coup.’
The report cut to Kapembwa booming into a microphone. ‘The British want to bring the white man back to rule in Batota.’ he said. ‘They want the white men to take over the farms once again, to run the factories, and to own the Government. But we have defeated them before - and we will defeat them again.’
Back on screen, Mialich continued the story. ‘The arrested mercenaries have been named. Ollie Hall, formerly of the British Army’s prestigious Household Cavalry, is reported as being the leader of the group. He is joined by five other men, named as David Mallet, another Englishman, Chris Reynolds, a South African, Dan Coleman, an Australian, Ganju Rai, a former Gurkha, and Maksim Perova, a Russian citizen. A spokesman for the British Foreign Office said in London this morning that they had no knowledge of the plot, but refused to say whether the Government would be asking for their release. The statement went on to say that the UK can’t condone mercenaries, nor can it help British citizens who may have broken the laws of a country they are visiting.’