Justice Page 2

  He peered through the trees, trying to catch sight of the other cadets. Nothing, and he knew better than to call to them and give away his position to anyone who might be in the vicinity. No – his priority was to get to the ground. He had to work fast. He had no idea how securely he was hanging from the tree. He needed to rope up before his parachute rig slipped. From the pouch on his chest he removed the shorter rope. It was only about two metres long and had a metal carabiner at one end. He searched for a branch to fix himself to. There was nothing in reach. The sturdiest and closest was more than an arm’s length away. He would have to swing towards it. He shifted his weight gingerly, first left, then right, careful not to make any sudden movements that might dislodge his rig from the foliage above. Stretching out his right arm, he clawed for the branch. He missed it the first time, but managed to hook his arm over it on his second attempt. He held it tightly while he wrapped the short rope around it, looping the leading end through the carabiner and quickly clipping it to his abseiling harness.

  No longer at the mercy of his parachute rig, he turned his attention to the second rope. This also had a carabiner at one end. He looped it around the branch and fed the leading end through the carabiner as he had before, so that the rope was secure. He then fed the rope through the figure-of-eight descender that was clipped to his abseiling harness. He let the rest of the rope fall and was pleased to see that it reached the ground.

  He was sweating heavily, but he couldn’t lose his concentration. He unclipped his parachute harness and wriggled out of it, leaving it hanging from the tree. Then he undid his shorter safety rope. Attached only by his abseiling harness, he carefully lowered himself as he had been taught by the Watchers back at Valley House.

  It was good to be on solid ground. But he instantly realised that the jungle was a harsh place to operate. The earth was mossy and damp underfoot. The air was hot, humid and difficult to breathe. A cloud of insects buzzed around his head. Absentmindedly, he slapped at his face with one hand as he removed his abseiling harness with the other. He unstrapped his rucksack from his legs. Only then did he try to peer through the jungle. Here on the ground the visibility was even worse: the undergrowth was thick and he did not have the advantage of height he had had in the tree. The strange, haunting sounds of the forest continued in his ears, making him feel dangerously alone. The sooner he made contact with the others, the better. He suppressed his instinct to move through the forest and find them. They had a plan: the others were to come to him. He whistled loudly. The chirruping of the jungle birds quietened at this strange new sound, then returned to its usual volume. There was another whistle in the distance: Lukas, most likely, confirming that he’d heard Max and making contact with the others.

  Two minutes later, Max whistled again. This time he heard three whistles in response, much closer. He didn’t need to whistle a third time. He saw movement in the foliage twenty paces to his nine o’clock. Quietly, Lukas emerged, followed by the others.

  The team had barely been in the jungle for fifteen minutes and already it was getting to them. Their faces were moist from the humidity, and dirty. They each had their own personal cloud of insects. Sami and Abby had already been bitten. Lili had grazed her cheek during the insertion, though it didn’t seem to bother her. Of all of them, however, Lukas looked the most uncomfortable. Max had the feeling this strange environment was freaking him out more than the others. His eyes darted from left to right and his frown was even more pronounced than usual.

  Nobody spoke. There was no need. The Watchers had drilled them well and they knew what to do. Each cadet removed their helmet and padded jump suit. Underneath, they wore sturdy hiking gear: tough, quick-drying trousers and shirts. Wide-brimmed hats and mosquito head nets. Weathered Gore-Tex boots. Snake gaiters covering their lower legs to protect them from snake bites. Their clothes were not military. They had no camouflage gear or operational apparatus. They had no GPS or radios, because that wouldn’t fit with their cover story. There was only one exception to that rule. Max felt in the left-hand chest pocket of his shirt. Inside was something circular and hard. It was his Special Forces Cadets challenge coin, which he had secretly sewn into the fabric of his shirt. Each of the cadets had been awarded one of these the day they passed selection. The Watchers were convinced that nobody they were likely to encounter would know what they were, even if they found them. But if ever the cadets needed to identify themselves to the authorities, they would use the challenge coins. Until that happened, the coins were to be kept hidden.

  Max let his fingers fall and examined his friends. They looked suitably dirty and bedraggled. All their clothes had been pre-scuffed, dirtied and ripped in places, to make it look as if they had been trekking through the forest for some time. Days, at least. Their cover story, should anybody ask, was simple: they had been travelling through the jungle with an environmental group doing research into Congolese gorillas and had become separated from their friends. They would claim that they had survived their harsh surroundings for two days and two nights. Their gear needed to tell the same story.

  So did their skin. Max grabbed a clump of moss from the forest floor and rubbed it into his face before putting on his mosquito head net. While the others were preparing themselves in the same way, he checked his watch.

  Like the rest of the cadets’ gear, Max’s watch was scuffed and weathered. It looked quite ordinary, though perhaps a little chunkier than most watches. There was a good reason for that. This was the personal locator beacon. As soon as the cadets had located the missing SAS team, it was Max’s responsibility to activate the beacon. To do this, he had to pull the dial on the side of the watch. This would extend a long, flexible antenna and send a GPS signal strong enough to penetrate the jungle canopy, if necessary.

  ‘Maybe you should keep it in your rucksack,’ Lili said quietly. ‘You know, out of sight.’

  ‘I dunno,’ Max said. ‘I feel kind of safer with it round my wrist where I can see it. If we lose this thing, we’re in trouble.’

  Max pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his watch and opened up the battered North Face rucksack at his feet. It was double-lined with sturdy plastic liners to keep the contents dry. He fished out a sharp, broad-bladed knife, carefully stowed in a sturdy sheath. He took it out and examined the blade – one edge smooth, the other serrated – before re-sheathing it and hanging it from his leather belt. Then he turned to Sami.

  His Syrian friend had a button compass in his right hand and was orientating himself. ‘Hector told us that the village we’re to head for is approximately two miles north-west of our landing zone,’ he reminded them. He pointed into the forest. ‘That way,’ he said.

  The jungle was identical in every direction. North-west was as thick and impenetrable as every other bearing. They had no alternative; they had to hack their way through the undergrowth. It would be exhausting, energy-sapping work. To travel two miles in such conditions would take the better part of the day.

  ‘Everybody ready?’ Max asked his friends. They left their jump suits in a pile on the ground. Max’s parachute was still suspended from the canopy. The cadets all had their rucksacks strapped to their backs, their mosquito head nets covering their faces and their knives in their hands or hanging from their belts.

  ‘Ready,’ they said in unison.

  ‘Then let’s get moving,’ Max said.

  ‘And try not to step on a mamba,’ Abby said lightly.

  ‘You had to say it, didn’t you?’ Max muttered.

  ‘Snakes not your thing, Max?’

  ‘No,’ Max said. ‘They’re really not.’

  ‘You probably shouldn’t have come to the jungle, then. Apparently they quite like it here. Shall we go?’

  3

  Grub

  Moving through the jungle was hard work. Sami took the lead, following the north-westerly bearing he had established. With one hand, he hacked his way through the thick, tough greenery. With the other, he held a sturdy stick to prod the ground and warn off any hidden snakes. Nobody could keep that up for long. After twenty minutes Sami was drenched with sweat and his arms were growing weak. Max, just behind him, whispered his name. Sami stopped. His face was sodden under his mosquito net.

  ‘Let me go first for a bit,’ Max said.

  Sami didn’t argue. They swapped places, double-checked their bearings and Max continued to hack through the forest. He was soaked in sweat within two minutes, the moisture trickling into his eyes half blinding him. Within ten, his arms ached and his muscles burned. His shirt was torn in several places and he had tiny cuts all over his hand. He was vaguely aware that the monkeys screeching in the canopy overhead had grown louder. He wondered if groups of them were following the cadets. He decided not to worry about that. He had to focus on hacking his way through the jungle …

  ‘Max!’ Sami shouted. ‘Watch out!’

  Max froze. What was Sami warning him about? A snake? Some other creature? He felt himself being yanked backwards, and almost toppled. A second later, a thick dead branch crashed to the ground, landing at Max’s feet. Max swore under his breath, his heart racing. Above him, the canopy was alive with movement: monkeys swarmed through the treetops, hundreds of them. Had they mischievously thrown the branch to the ground, or had their movement simply dislodged it? It didn’t much matter either way. If Sami hadn’t been so quick, that branch would have hit Max. It could have killed him.

  The cadets stood in stunned silence. ‘I’m thinking,’ Abby said, slightly out of breath, ‘that from now on we look up as well as forward.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Lili said. Her voice was a little more high-pitched than usual. ‘How do we even know we’re going in the right direction? Vaguely heading north-west is hardly reliable.’

  Nob
ody had an answer to that. They stood there without speaking as the noises of the jungle started to close in on them.

  ‘What’s that?’ Lili whispered.

  Max listened hard. There was a distant sound of running water. He grinned at Lili.

  ‘What is it?’ Lukas demanded with a frown.

  ‘Water,’ Max said. ‘And in the jungle, water leads to civilisation. Chakunda’s the only village round here, right? My bet is the water leads there. We need to find it.’

  Lukas seemed unable to find a problem with that. He drew himself up to his full height and breathed deeply, as if filling himself with confidence. ‘My turn to lead,’ he said.

  The water was off to their right. They moved more slowly now that they had to check for falling debris and listen for the stream, but gradually the sound grew louder. Within ten minutes they had found a stream, narrow enough to jump over. It was murky but fast-flowing and travelled in a straight line. Abby eyed it uncertainly. ‘Crocodiles?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Max said. ‘It’s just a tiny stream, not a river. I don’t think this is their habitat.’

  ‘Wild animals will come here though,’ Lili said. ‘To drink. We must be watchful.’

  The others nodded their agreement.

  There was a rough trail by the stream. Max thought it had been made by animals, rather than humans. He saw teeth marks on the foliage and clumps of fur caught on branches. Trees overhung the stream, and the ground was knotted with roots. Despite that, the going was easier here, even though they still had to step carefully, keep looking up, and occasionally hack their way through thickets and patches of impenetrable jungle.

  ‘Hey, Lili?’ Max said after they had been going for ten minutes. He was at the back of the line and she was just ahead of him.

  ‘Uh-huh?’ she said.

  ‘Does Lukas seem okay to you?’

  She stopped and turned. Her face, shaded by her net, was drenched in sweat and humidity. ‘Now you mention it,’ she said, ‘he’s been in a strange mood ever since we were briefed on this mission. Back at Valley House I offered him my pudding after dinner. He turned it down.’ She frowned. ‘Lukas never turns down pudding.’

  ‘It’s more than that,’ Max said, a little irritated that Lili didn’t seem to be taking him seriously. ‘It’s like he’s not part of the team any more. Like he doesn’t want to be here.’

  Lili gave Max a ‘do you really want to be here?’ look.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Max said. ‘It’s just … he’s not himself.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s fine. We can’t always bring our A game, you know.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ Max said. He couldn’t help thinking that if ever there was a time to bring your A game, this was it.

  ‘We’d better keep going,’ Lili said. ‘The others are way ahead.’

  Morning turned to afternoon. The stream meandered only occasionally and the cadets stuck with it, rather than trying to keep going in a straight line and lose their water source. They grew hungry. As they rested for a few minutes, splashing their faces with water from the stream, Abby started poking around beneath a fallen log. ‘Hey, Abby,’ Max said, ‘careful. You know snakes hide under logs, right?’

  ‘No snakes here, Maxy,’ she said. She turned and held up something between her thumb and forefinger. It was a pale cream colour, about two inches long and almost as fat. It squirmed and wriggled in Abby’s grasp. ‘Palm grub,’ she announced. ‘Anybody else peckish?’

  The cadets stared at her in horror.

  ‘What?’ she said defensively. ‘It’s good food, isn’t it? Lots of protein.’

  ‘That’s gross,’ Lukas said.

  ‘Put it down, Abby,’ Lili said. ‘We’re not starving yet.’

  ‘Speak for yourself, sister.’

  ‘Just put it down. That thing could make you really ill.’

  Rather regretfully, Abby put the grub back down in the shade of the log. Something in the vegetation caught Max’s eye. He parted the foliage and reached for one of the round green fruits he had seen hanging from a tree. He plucked it. ‘Hey, Abby,’ he said. ‘Catch!’ He threw the fruit at her. Abby’s reflexes were fast and she caught it with ease. ‘It’s a guava,’ Max said.

  ‘And what do I do with a guava?’

  ‘What do you think? You eat it.’

  ‘Maxy, baby, I could kiss you.’

  ‘How about you save the kisses and show me your gratitude by not calling me Maxy baby?’

  ‘Deal,’ Abby said, and bit into the fruit. ‘Well, it’s no Snickers,’ she said through a mouthful of guava, ‘but it’ll do.’

  Max plucked some more guavas and threw them to the other cadets. They ate gratefully. Only Lukas seemed unimpressed. He threw his guava into the stream without a word. Lili caught Max’s eye as if to say, maybe you were right. Lukas reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear Ziploc bag. Was it really filled with …

  ‘Biscuits?’ Abby said incredulously. ‘You had biscuits all this time?’

  Lukas shrugged. ‘I came prepared,’ he said. Rather reluctantly, he held the bag out to the cadets.

  ‘What?’ Abby said. ‘Boring old biscuits when we’ve got these delicious … What did you say they were, Max?’

  The cadets laughed, all except Lukas, who scowled at them, crammed a biscuit in his mouth and shoved the bag back into his pocket.

  Minutes later they were on the move again. They were silent as they struggled through their unfamiliar surroundings. None of them said what Max suspected they were all thinking: that if this strategy of following the stream was wrong, they were hopelessly lost. That would mean activating the personal locator beacon in his watch before the mission had even properly started. Max was just imagining Hector’s disapproving words and Woody and Angel’s disappointed faces, when he noticed that the foliage was thinning out. The stream was wider here, though the canopy was thicker. Abby, who was leading, halted. ‘What’s that smell?’ she said.

  Everyone stopped. Max sniffed. No doubt about it: woodsmoke tinged the air. ‘Either the jungle’s on fire,’ he said, ‘or that’s a fire from the village. Come on, we’re getting close.’

  4

  Roland

  The village of Chakunda lay in a wide clearing where the jungle trees had been felled and the vegetation cut away. But as the cadets surveyed it from behind the treeline, Max could almost feel the jungle straining at the perimeter of the village, like a hostile army desperate to retake open ground.

  It looked like a village from another time. Huts, perhaps fifty of them, were dotted around. They were constructed from slim tree trunks with rush roofs. In the centre of the village was a clearing where a pit fire billowed smoke into the air. There were other small fires outside some of the huts, over which the village women, dressed in colourful skirts and tops with elaborate headscarves, were cooking food.

  The men had congregated in the central clearing. Most wore jeans and faded tops. One of them was in an old Manchester United shirt. There were perhaps thirty of them, and there was something strange about their demeanour. None of them seemed to be speaking. Each man stood alone, peering away from the village as if trying to see into the surrounding jungle.

  Nine or ten children played in the dust not far from where the cadets stood, watching, but there was something listless about them.

  There were no vehicles, of course, because there were no roads. A couple of wheelbarrows leaned against a nearby hut. A few rusted oil drums lay on their sides here and there. This was obviously a poor place, without electricity or running water or any modern conveniences. It was also, he had the impression, waiting for something bad to happen.

  ‘Do we just walk in?’ Sami said.

  ‘I don’t see that we have much choice,’ Max said. ‘But don’t expect a warm welcome.’