Recoil - Andy McNab [45]
Two million people had fled their villages and sought refuge in foreign aid stations and refugee camps to escape Kony’s trademark combo of brutal massacre and black magic. He was so insane, he’d decided a while back that bicycles were only used to carry information of his whereabouts to the authorities, and ever since anyone caught riding one had had his feet chopped off. And now it seemed he was turning his attention to the mining business.
‘OK for me to continue, Sam?’ Standish said. ‘Or do you have more to say?’
Sam waved his hand. ‘Just thought Nick should know what we’re up against.’
Standish got back to his map. ‘Interrogations after last night’s contact suggest there’s a fresh wave of Kony’s men heading south – three, maybe four days’ march from our mine. But they will not take it. If they do, we lose everything we’ve worked for.
‘So, here’s the plan. Normal patrol turnaround is cancelled. We need to get all available bayonets to the mine as quickly as we can. Top priority when we get there is to safeguard the two surveyors and defend the mine. So, Sam, you take your patrol in as soon as you’ve paid them – they’ve been given a warning order. I’ll follow with the other patrol as soon as they’ve been fed and watered. They’re due back any minute. We will stand our ground. They will not take the mine. They must not take the mine. It’s as simple as that.’
He turned to me. ‘And here’s your deal. You will go with Sam’s patrol. You can do a detour to Nuka and get this little rich girl – but make it quick. You will be on your own. I’m not risking manpower. Once you have her you will return to the mine and pick up Sam’s sat nav and the surveyors. Then you get back here with them, quick time. Lex will take you both out of the country, but only if you’ve got the two surveyors in tow. Is that clear?’
I nodded, though he clearly hadn’t written Tim and his helpers into the equation. I wasn’t turning into Mother Teresa here: what if Silky refused to leave without them? ‘What about the Mercy Flight people in Nuka and the people they’re caring for? You protecting them?’
It was like I’d asked Standish to eat elephant shit. ‘We’re a business,’ he said crisply, ‘not a coffee shop for the stupid. Any minute now you’ll be suggesting we take in Sam’s waifs and strays.’
‘I hear they’re looking after the earthquake victims. Some of them must be your guys, right? Wouldn’t it be better to evacuate them all into the mine, give them some protection?’
It was like I’d told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. ‘Sam here been leading you along the path of the righteous, has he?’ He roared with laughter. ‘There was no quake – a fault line ruptured when we blew some boreholes. And there’s no room for freeloaders. I only have two jobs to do here, and that’s to protect (a), the surveyors, and (b), the mine.’ He leaned across the table. ‘There’s no Chinese parliament here. The Regiment days are over for all of us. I want those surveyors out of there – soon as. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.’
It was my cue to back down if I wanted to see Silky any time soon. He had me by the bollocks, and he knew it. ‘You’re right. I’m listening.’
‘I hope you’re getting paid well for this. They’re a waste of oxygen, those do-gooder charity morons. Africa’s full of them. They achieve nothing whatsoever. They’re just like the missionaries, aren’t they, Sam?’
Sam snorted. ‘They get their blueberry muffins and bacon and eggs flown in at huge expense, then sit on their