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  Their intention was to present themselves as lost travellers, bedraggled, hungry and scared. It didn’t take much acting. As they emerged gingerly from behind the treeline, the children immediately stopped their game and stared silently at the little group of newcomers. Lukas took the lead. His black skin was less alien to the villagers, but Max thought that for some reason the children seemed more scared of him than of the rest of them.

  The cadets filed into the centre of the village. Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw some of the women leave their cooking fires and hurry towards the children, scooping them up in their arms or ushering them into the huts. The men in the central clearing turned to face them, squaring their shoulders as if preparing for a fight. A few of them held rocks. But there was nothing confident or aggressive about them. They seemed as scared as the women and children, even if they were trying to hide it.

  Silence fell over the village. The cadets stood in a line. The women and children had disappeared into the huts and the men had formed a huddle. It suddenly dawned on Max that the villagers might think the cadets were Oscar Juwani’s people. If so, he thought, their tactics were all wrong. They shouldn’t be bunched up in a group like that, an easy target for anybody with an automatic weapon. They should be spread out, ready to act. Even as he thought this, he had a mental image of the Watchers nodding their approval at his tactical thinking. When had he started seeing the world like that? he wondered.

  Lili stepped forward. ‘Does anybody speak English?’ she called in a clear, confident voice.

  The men muttered and shook their heads. Unsurprisingly, it seemed that nobody did. Then a figure appeared from behind a nearby hut. He was no older than the cadets, and skinny. His hair was wiry and scruffy and his clothes hung off him. He seemed as nervous as the rest of the villagers.

  ‘I speak English,’ he said, biting his lower lip. ‘Who are you?’

  Lili glanced at the others. ‘We’re lost,’ she said.

  ‘You are not … You are not here to attack us?’

  ‘What? No, of course not. We’ve been walking through the jungle for two days. We need somewhere to rest. C-could you help us? Please?’

  The young man frowned. ‘You should leave,’ he said. ‘It is more dangerous here than in the forest. Leave! Go!’

  He turned his back on them, hurried over to the men and started talking to them in their own language. Max assumed that this was Lingala, but there were so many different languages spoken in the DRC that he couldn’t be sure.

  ‘Well, I’d say you were right about the warm welcome,’ Abby drawled. ‘What now?’

  Max removed his backpack and fished around in one of the outer pockets, where he had stashed a bundle of Congolese francs. He peeled off several notes and led the cadets towards the central clearing, holding up the money. ‘We can pay,’ he called. ‘We only need a little food and water, and some help getting home.’

  The money instantly grabbed the villagers’ attention. They were suddenly less hostile. One of the older men said something to the boy who spoke English, and pushed him back towards the cadets. Max held out his hand. ‘I’m Max,’ he said. ‘This is Lukas, Abby, Sami, Lili. What’s your name?’

  ‘Roland,’ the boy said.

  ‘How come you speak such good English?’

  Roland glanced towards the huts. ‘An English person came here once. A missionary. He taught me his language.’ He frowned. ‘But then he disappeared. I think they killed him.’

  ‘Who?’

  Roland shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Max let it go. ‘Here,’ he said, and handed over the money. Roland gave it to the older man, then turned back to Max. ‘Why are you here?’ he said.

  ‘We were on a trip, searching for gorillas.’

  ‘Why would you search for gorillas? What else are you searching for? Snakes? Don’t you know how dangerous they are?’

  ‘Sure, but we were with experts. We got separated from them somehow – I don’t know how.’

  Roland’s expression darkened. ‘Gorillas are not the most dangerous creatures in this jungle, I suppose,’ he said, and glanced nervously towards the treeline.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The boy sniffed. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘I have some water you can drink.’

  The cadets followed Roland to his hut. The other villagers seemed to have lost interest in them. The women had re-emerged and were tending their fires. The men were counting out the notes Max had given them. Only the children paid them any attention. They followed. Roland said something sharply to them, but he had a twinkle in his eye and Max could tell he didn’t mean it. The kids could tell that too: they giggled and continued to follow.

  Roland fetched a wooden jug of water and several wooden bowls from his hut. The cadets drank gratefully, then sat on the ground outside at Roland’s insistence. A boy no older than five threw himself onto Lukas’s back. Lukas’s frown instantly melted into a grin, and he tickled the kid mercilessly. The others smiled to see it. When the kid had wriggled out of Lukas’s grasp, Roland spoke to the children again. This time they took him more seriously, and left him and the cadets to talk.

  ‘I mean it,’ Roland said. ‘You would be better not to stay here. You would be better to take your chances in the jungle. There are bad people in the area. It is only a matter of time before they arrive here. They have been seen nearby. When they come …’ Roland shuddered and glanced in the direction of the children.

  ‘What?’ Abby said.

  ‘Have you heard of Oscar Juwani?’

  ‘No,’ Abby lied. The cadets shook their heads.

  ‘Oscar Juwani is the worst man in the world,’ Roland said. ‘I have seen him. To meet him is to meet the Devil.’

  Max found he was holding his breath.

  ‘Why?’ Abby asked.

  ‘His face is scarred from fighting,’ Roland said. ‘One of his eyes is the colour of milk. Nobody knows if he can see out of it or not. But that’s not what makes him evil. What he does makes him evil.’ He lowered his voice. ‘He takes children and young people. Their families never see them again. They are forced to do terrible things.’

  ‘What sort of things?’ Sami said. His jaw was set.

  ‘Things they could never admit to. Things that bind them to Oscar Juwani for life. They become his soldiers and his worshippers. He sees himself as a god, and the children as his disciples.’

  ‘How come you met him?’ Max asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Roland said. ‘All that matters is that we know Oscar Juwani’s people are close. They have been seen in the forest. Yesterday word reached us that they had attacked a village a day’s walk from here. They murdered many adults and stole the young people. They will come here next, and when they do …’ He waved an arm. ‘Many of us have fled. Those who have remained are not strong enough to fight them.’

  ‘Why didn’t you leave?’ Lukas asked.

  ‘Where would I go? My friends, please, leave. Oscar Juwani would like to catch you. Get away from here before it’s too late.’

  The cadets sat in silence. Roland’s impassioned plea had chilled Max. Leaving, however, was not an option. He shook his head. ‘The group we were with will try to find us in villages like this one. We can’t keep moving around. We have to stay put, or we’ll never get home.’ He gave Roland an unconvincing smile. ‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ he said.

  Roland gave a ‘don’t blame me if it goes wrong’ shrug. ‘You may use my hut,’ he said. ‘I will find you all something to eat. We don’t have much, but what we do have, we will share.’ He stood up, nodded to them and wandered off towards one of the other huts.

  Abby exhaled heavily. ‘Sounds like a charmer, this Oscar Juwani,’ she said.

  ‘Does it seem weird to you,’ Lukas said, ‘that Roland knows so much about him?’

  ‘People talk,’ Max said. But now that Lukas had planted the thought, he couldn’t quite forget it. How had Roland seen Oscar Juwani face t
o face? What was the real reason he hadn’t fled the village?

  ‘Do you think Juwani’s gang will really be here tonight?’ Sami asked.

  ‘The people are very nervous,’ Lili said. ‘Can’t you feel it? They sense something is about to happen. Yes, I think it will be tonight.’

  ‘If they try to kill someone,’ Sami said, ‘I will stop them.’ He sounded determined.

  ‘You know what Hector would say to that,’ Max said.

  ‘That we’re not here to fight other people’s battles?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Do you agree with him?’ It was more a challenge than a question.

  Max looked around. At the men, all on edge, waiting to protect their village. At the women, anxious about their children. And at the kids themselves, playing happily, as if there was nothing wrong.

  ‘No,’ Max said quietly. ‘I don’t.’

  The food Roland provided – a kind of thick, grainy porridge – was plain but filling. The cadets kept to themselves and ate sitting in a circle as evening drew in. Night fell quickly, almost as if somebody had flicked a switch. The only light came from the central fire pit and the stars twinkling overhead. The sounds of the jungle grew quieter. From their position by Roland’s hut, the cadets saw silhouettes of the adult villagers congregating around the fire. They spoke in low voices, but none of them invited the newcomers to join them.

  The cadets themselves hardly spoke. This was their third mission together and Max was growing used to the period of quiet reflection that preceded potential danger. He was going over everything the Watchers had told him about this mission, going over all his training and skills. And he was remembering Roland’s words: Oscar Juwani is the worst man in the world. To meet him is to meet the Devil.

  Finally, the villagers fell silent and wandered to their huts. A few of the men took up positions at the perimeter of the clearing, but they had no light and they weren’t armed. Max checked his watch that hid the PLB. It was 23:00 exactly. At Roland’s invitation they entered his tent. By the light of a smoky animal-fat candle, they saw that the interior was simple: a thin mattress, some cooking utensils and little else. The cadets each found themselves some floor space and, using their rucksacks as pillows, settled down for the night.

  Max knew nobody was really asleep. The irregular breathing. The tossing and the turning. Although his limbs were tired, his mind was active and alert. He wished he could be at the perimeter of the village, watching. If – when – Oscar Juwani’s gang arrived, he wanted to be in a position to help the villagers. But to do that would blow their cover. It was essential that the cadets appeared to be what they said they were: ordinary travellers, trying to get a night’s sleep, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  The minutes ticked by. Midnight came and went. One o’clock. Two. A thick blanket of silence covered them, ruffled only by the occasional screech of an animal. Max realised his pulse was racing again, and he was drenched in sweat.

  02:55. Max sat up. He’d heard something. It sounded like a monkey screech, but it was dark and the monkeys weren’t active at night. Anyway, the sound wasn’t quite right. It was more like a human, mimicking an animal.

  The others sat up.

  ‘They’re coming,’ Max whispered.

  5

  Sitting Ducks

  It took all their restraint to stay still. There was another fake screech from the opposite side of the village. A call – and a response.

  ‘The villagers should be in the jungle,’ Abby whispered, ‘waiting for the gang to enter the village. Then they could surround them and capture them.’

  Max knew she was right, but these frightened people were not military tacticians. They were sitting ducks. And so were the cadets. They had to be.

  Suddenly, there was a terrific noise – a hollering and screaming from all around. Horrific, bloodcurdling sounds. It was clearly intended to be frightening, and it was. Max tried to estimate how many voices there were. Twenty? Perhaps more. They sounded male, but not quite adult. After a few seconds the villagers also started to scream, and the night was filled with a deafening, panicky noise.

  Roland, who had been sleeping by the entrance to the hut, rushed out. As he opened the door, Max caught a glimpse of the central fire pit. It was roaring, much higher than it had been earlier in the evening. He caught a stench of burning fuel, and realised the attackers must have doused it with petrol or some other fire-starter. Silhouettes rushed here and there in front of the flames. Then the door shut and the cadets were in darkness again.

  ‘We can’t just stay here,’ Sami said. ‘What if they hurt people?’

  ‘We’re here to be captured,’ Lukas reminded him. ‘We can’t mess that up.’

  Even as he spoke, a woman screamed. She sounded utterly desperate and terrified. Her scream was followed by another – a child this time.

  ‘No,’ Sami said. ‘No way.’ He stood up and burst out of the hut.

  Max slapped his forehead and groaned. ‘Sami, come back.’ But he knew his friend wouldn’t do that. He was just too good a person. He couldn’t bear injustice, even if speaking out got him into trouble. That was why the cadets liked him so much, and they weren’t going to abandon him. Already Abby and Lili were standing up to follow. Max did the same. So did Lukas, although he seemed a little more reluctant than the others.

  Max could feel his heart pumping hard and a cold sweat on the nape of his neck. As they burst out of the hut, they were greeted by a scene of chaos. The village fire was still burning ferociously. It illuminated several young African men. Some had rifles slung across their chest. Others held rifles above their heads, screaming maniacally. It looked to Max like they were prepared to use those weapons.

  Two of them were close. They wore red tops: one a T-shirt, one a thin jumper with holes in the sleeves. One man stood behind a woman from the village, clutching her hair in one hand. His other hand held a knife to her throat. The woman was screaming desperately but didn’t dare move. The second man stood behind a child who couldn’t have been more than eight years old. The boy was kneeling and the young man held a rifle to the back of his skull. The kid’s face was wet with tears and his body was shuddering. The gunman’s face was as contorted with rage as his friend’s. He looked like he was going to shoot the boy.

  ‘Don’t do it!’ Max screamed.

  His words were drowned out by a sudden burst of automatic gunfire elsewhere in the village. The screaming and general chaos increased and the sound seemed to fuel the gunman’s madness. Max could tell that he was going to shoot the kid any second. He took a step forward, but there was nothing he could do. The gunman squeezed the trigger.

  There was a click.

  ‘Stoppage,’ Sami hissed. As the gunman stared, frustrated, at his weapon, Sami dived over the kneeling boy at the gunman, knocking him to the ground. At the same time, Abby and Lili hurled themselves towards the guy with the knife. The gunman’s problem with his weapon had clearly distracted his mate, who had lowered the knife a little as he peered over the woman’s shoulder to see what was happening.

  Big mistake.

  If the gang were like wild dogs, Abby and Lili were highly skilled birds of prey. They almost seemed to fly towards the knife man. Lili grabbed his knife arm and yanked it back sharply. There was a sickening crack. Abby pushed the woman roughly away from the man then brought her fist down hard on the young man’s neck, right on his carotid artery. He collapsed, unconscious, to the ground.

  The kid scurried to his mum while Sami wrestled with the gunman. Max ran to help him. As Sami pinned the young man’s arms to the ground, Max seized his rifle. He made it safe before removing the clip, throwing the neutered weapon into Roland’s hut and scattering the rounds on the ground. By this time, Sami had also delivered a well-placed blow to the gunman’s neck. He lay, unconscious, on the ground.

  Sami sprang to his feet. The woman and her frightened son disappeared into the melee of noisy, frightened villagers. The cadets look
ed at the motionless figures on the ground, then at each other. Lukas was scowling. ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he hissed. ‘You’ll blow our cover.’

  ‘They were going to kill that boy,’ Sami retorted, not bothering to keep his voice down. ‘What were we supposed to do? Watch?’

  Lukas couldn’t answer. There was another burst of automatic fire and a sudden clamour of voices. There was shouting, punctuated with bursts from a rifle. The villagers congregated in a huddle by the central fire pit. Many were holding children. Some were kneeling. Armed gang members swarmed around them, yelling and making aggressive motions with their weapons. Max tried to pick out Roland, but couldn’t among the terrified throng of villagers. Suddenly he became aware that he and the other cadets stood apart from the villagers. ‘We should get away from these two,’ he said, pointing at the unconscious figures on the ground. Even as the others nodded in agreement, however, he felt a strange prickling sensation down his spine. Were they being watched?

  He turned. There, just a few paces away, stood a small group of young men. Armed.

  There were five, but all Max’s attention was on one of them. He stood at the front of the little group, dwarfing them. It was hard to gauge his age, but he had downy hair on his face, which made Max think he was a teenager, despite his height. His hair was closely cropped, apart from a mane down the middle of his scalp, tied tightly in a ponytail. He wore trousers and a rough black waistcoat – Max noticed that all his companions wore black tops too – with a bandolier of ammunition slung across his chest. His arms twitched and rippled with muscle. He was carrying a submachine gun in his right hand. It was almost an extension of his arm. But worse than his size, or the weapon, were his eyes. They reflected the flames at the centre of the village, but they looked strangely hollow and dead. They were the eyes, Max thought, of a person for whom killing was commonplace.

  The man glanced at his two comrades lying unconscious on the ground. His lip curled with disdain. He gave a short command that Max did not understand. Two of his companions swaggered past the cadets to the unconscious bodies and dragged them towards the fire. The tall guy asked the cadets a question in an unpleasant, rasping voice.