Recoil - Andy McNab [51]
Crucial rallied round too, taking off his gigs and staring into my eyes. ‘Please, hear us out, Nick. It’s all connected.’
Sam didn’t need to gather his thoughts. He’d obviously been thinking plenty about what he wanted to say. ‘It’s like this. Once we’ve defeated the LRA at the mine, the plan is to move north. We’re going to hit them again and again, and take control of the mines they’ve hijacked. We need more bayonets for that, but Standish and the terrible twins want to use the kids to fight our way into the mines.’
I could guess what was coming.
‘We want you to help us stop him.’
Sam wasn’t taking any chances. He kept the pitch rolling. ‘Look, we want to take the mines too, no problem with that – it makes the whole area safer and it means we can build more orphanages, maybe one at every mine head. But they want us to do the recruiting because the kids trust us.’
‘Why not just fuck him off?’
‘We’ve tried, but you know what he’s like once he’s set his mind on something . . .’
‘Why doesn’t he use the porters? He seems to have them coming out of his ears.’
‘He needs them to carry the ore,’ Crucial said. ‘The kids are . . . expendable . . .’ His eyes stared deep into mine, and I knew that expression only too well. ‘You with us?’
This wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t just the guilt thing. Two opposing factions on the same job normally meant only one lot made it home. And right now I was more concerned about what obstacles Standish and his invisible man might throw in our way once I’d got Silky and the surveyors back to the strip. This suddenly had all the hallmarks of a weapons-grade gangfuck.
‘Where does Lex fit in?’
‘He doesn’t. He’s his own man, not part of the team. He doesn’t care one way or the other, as long as Standish buys weapons off him and he’s paid to fly the rocks to Kenya.’
I looked from one to the other. ‘I’m sorry. Can we take this one step at a time? My real concern at the moment is Silky.’
They hid their disappointment as we headed for the table, but I knew that that wasn’t going to be the last of it. Crucial started shouting and reorganizing what the sergeant-major already had in hand. The pay parade began. Each of the men came up to where Sam had settled himself with the open suitcase in front of him, saluted and stated his name. Many wore the same wooden crucifix as Crucial.
No one in the queue had a weapon. It was probably an SOP to keep the suitcase safe from temptation. Crucial didn’t seem to travel anywhere without his.
The salutes were terrible, like nine-year-olds in the Boys’ Brigade. I stood by Crucial as he checked each name off against a list, then got the guy to press his finger on to an ink pad and make his mark. His reward was two hundred dollars’ worth of Rwandan wonga and a party-sized pack of Prudence condoms. I knew it was wishful thinking. After a night out in the shanty they’d probably shove them over their heads, blow them up and pretend to be spacemen. After a couple more salutes, the sergeant-major pointed them into the tent immediately next to us and they came out clutching a bottle of Cutty Sark. No need for any ghat.
I leaned over Crucial’s shoulder. ‘Fuck me, where do I sign up?’
He didn’t think it was that funny. ‘This dop culture . . .’ He grimaced. ‘Before they worked for us, these guys used to be paid with drink for working in the fields. They’re alcohol dependent, and we have to provide or they don’t operate.’
What the fuck did I care about dop? ‘Listen, Crucial, I couldn’t hold you. You just slipped out of my hands, I tried but—’
He handed out more Prudence. ‘I know, man. I saw it in your eyes. I have no anger with you. Never had.’
I tightened my grip on his shoulder. He seemed to get the message.
‘I know what you’ve been feeling, Nick. I have too. You know, the downside of having God in your life is that He makes you think of others rather than yourself. I knew that you would have spent these years with that picture in your head. I know I have. I’ve thought about you many times and felt guilty myself for being responsible for your guilt.’ He turned