Recoil - Andy McNab [50]
They were both late forties, early fifties, with wide faces that needed a shave and cropped hair that needed a wash. Maybe the heat was too much for them, or maybe they just hated everything they saw; their big, brown, deep-set eyes broadcast anger. Then again, perhaps they were hungry. They looked like the only things on four legs they hadn’t eaten were tables.
They stopped in front of us and glared at Sam. The one on the right jerked his head at me. ‘Who’s he?’
Their faces had been well chewed after years in the bush, and their accents were strongly white African.
‘This is Nick.’
Their eyes didn’t shift from Sam. It was as if Crucial and I weren’t there.
I said, ‘Hello,’ but didn’t offer my hand. I knew it wouldn’t be shaken.
Still they ignored me. ‘Nobody asked us about having a new man.’
The statement was barked. Everything about them was aggressive. Even their nightmares were probably afraid of them. I could hear Crucial breathing heavily as he tried to keep his cool.
‘He’s not.’ I wanted to fuck off out of the sun, but Sam was sweetness itself. ‘I’m taking him in to link up with the Mercy Flight people in Nuka.’
They stared at him. ‘Are we a fucking charity now, man?’ Without waiting for an answer, they turned and walked away.
We did the same. ‘They live in Erinvale as well, do they?’ I asked.
‘Aye.’
‘You lot must have some great nights out in the False Bay.’
He laughed and patted Crucial on the back. ‘It’s OK. Don’t let them get to you.’ He turned to me. ‘You’ve just had the pleasure of being introduced to Mr Bateman and Mr Tooley.’
‘Which one’s which?’
‘Blessed if I know.’ Sam gave me a huge grin. ‘Only their mothers can tell them apart.’ He thought for a moment. ‘And if you ask me, their mothers have got a fair amount to answer for. Things have been getting a bit out of control with them lately.’
Crucial grunted. ‘Nothing a couple of rounds of 7.62 couldn’t sort out.’
Sam gave him another slap on the back. ‘You know that’s not the way. Getting Nick to help is.’
I squinted from one to the other, trying to work out where the fuck this was leading.
Crucial bared his teeth and the sun glinted on the two rocks. ‘Kony says he’s fighting for God – but how? By letting children die in his name? Some of those kids are so young they can’t even lift a weapon, let alone fire it. I know, Nick, remember?’
I wasn’t about to forget. I cut away, and made myself focus on the one thing that mattered to me – moving out on patrol and getting the fuck across to Nuka.
‘God’s work . . . How does he get away with it?’ Sam muttered. ‘If the kids try to escape, the others are forced to kill them. If they don’t, it’s not long before they’re killed themselves.’ Sam was really sparking up: missionaries were his new best mates when he compared them to these guys.
‘Why doesn’t somebody just go and slot this Kony fucker?’
Sam shook his head. ‘Would be good, but it’d be easier finding Bin Laden.’
They looked across at each other. They had thought of doing it: that was why they knew how hard it would be.
‘Even the guys who could get to him won’t kill him,’ Crucial said. ‘Kindoki still rules round here – you know, man, witchcraft – and Kony has everybody thinking he’s the main nganga man . . .’
‘Nganga man? My Congolese is a bit rusty these days.’
‘Witch-doctor, Nick. Nobody’s going to go up against that, even if they wanted to. And, you know, when people don’t trust their government or anything they get from the media, the only thing they do believe is word of mouth from people they know. And if that someone is convinced Kony can see in the dark and knows exactly where your children are, then so are you.’
It made a whole lot of deeply scary sense. ‘Yeah, nightmare. But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about Standish, and what he’s got to do with your problem.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Sam shrugged his shoulders like a Frenchman. ‘I didn’t want to tell you in case you didn’t come. Then when you said it wasn’t a job, well . . . I’m sorry.’ He stopped in his tracks and grabbed