The Spoilers / Juggernaut (40 page)

‘Talk to him. Tell him to move faster. Use my radio.’ He indicated his own command car, but as Sadiq moved to comply I said, ‘Let me talk to him, Colonel. He will accept my instructions easier.’

‘Very well, Mister Mannix. I will listen.’

I waited while Sadiq got on net with Kemp and then took the mike. ‘Basil, this is Neil Mannix here. Do you read me? Over.’

‘Yes, Neil. What’s going on back there? Over.’

‘Listen and don’t speak. There is an army detachment here which needs to use the bridge urgently. I assume you are moving at designated speed? It will be necessary for you to increase to the—’

The Colonel interrupted me. ‘What is this designated speed?’

‘Hold it. Over. It works out about a mile an hour, Colonel.’ I ignored his stricken face and went on into the mike, ‘Basil? Increase if necessary. How long do you estimate as of now? Over.’

‘Fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty. Over.’

Taking his cue, Kemp was giving answers only. He could pick up clues pretty smartly. There was no such thing as a designated speed and Kemp knew this. I went on, ‘Get it down to no more than fifteen, ten if possible. Over.’

I was praying for an interruption and for once I got lucky. Sadiq’s military unit had got restless and several vehicles, including those carrying the guns, started down the road towards us. The commander turned alertly to see what was going on. In that moment, with nobody listening except the
Colonel’s driver, I said hastily, ‘Basil, if you don’t get the hell off that bridge we’ll have shells coming up our ass. These guys are trigger-happy. Go man go. Acknowledge formally. Over.’

It was all I had time for, but it was enough. The Colonel was back, looking more irritated than ever, just in time to hear Kemp’s voice saying, ‘Message understood, Neil, and will be acted upon. Going faster. Out.’

I handed the microphone back to the driver and said, ‘That’s it, Colonel. He’ll do the best he can. You should be on your way in a quarter of an hour. I’ll arrange to hold all the rest of our stuff until you’re through.’

The muscles round his jaw bunched up and he nodded stiffly, casting a quick glance skywards, and then began snapping orders to his Captain who got busy on the radio. All down the line there was a stir of activity, and with interest and some alarm I noted that machine guns were sprouting from turret tops, all pointing skywards. I remembered the jets that had gone over and wondered what Air Chief Marshal Semangala, or whatever his title might be, was doing just at that moment. Away in the distance I saw the four barrels of a 20-millimetre AA quickfirer rotating.

I said, ‘Has a war broken out, Colonel?’

‘Exercises,’ he said briefly. ‘You may go now.’

It was a curt dismissal but I wasn’t sorry to get it. I joined Sadiq and we drove back to our lines. I passed the word for everyone to remain clear of the bridge and to let the army through, once the rig was safely on the other side and uncoupled from its umbilicus. Everyone was bursting with curiosity and the tension caused by the rig’s river passage had noticeably increased, which wasn’t surprising. But I had little to tell them and presently everyone fell silent, just watching and waiting.

Seventeen minutes later the rig was clear of the bridge and safe on firm land again. Things are comparative, and
after the bridge even the most friable and potholed road would seem like a doddle, at least for a time. The airlift truck was uncoupled, its hoses stowed, and it was moved back from the bridge approach. The Colonel came towards us in his staff car.

‘Thank you,’ he said abruptly. Graciousness was not a quality often found out here and this was the nearest we’d get to it. He spoke into the mike and his leading motorcycles roared off across the bridge.

I said, ‘Mind a bit of advice, Colonel?’

He speared me with dark eyes. ‘Well?’

‘That bridge really isn’t too safe: it’s been cheaply made. I’d space out my tanks crossing it, if I were you.’

He nodded shortly. ‘Thank you, Mister Mannix.’

‘My pleasure.’

He peered at me uncertainly and then signed to his driver to go ahead. As he drove off already talking into his microphone, I sighed for the days of the mythical bush telegraph. The battalion that followed was mostly armour, tanks and a battery of self-propelling guns, with a few truckloads of infantry for close defence work. Even as small a unit as a battalion takes up an awful lot of road space and it was twenty dusty minutes before the rearguard had crossed. I watched them climb the hill on the other side of the river and then said, ‘Right, you guys. Let’s go and join Mister Kemp, shall we?’

As the convoy started I turned to Sadiq. ‘And then, Captain, perhaps you’ll be good enough to find out from your driver, and then tell me, what the hell is going on. I know you’ll have had him radio-eavesdropping right from the beginning.’

And then for some reason we both glanced quickly skywards.

Both Kemp and Hammond looked shaken. I couldn’t blame them; nobody likes being at the wrong end of a big gun. Hammond, as could be expected, was belligerent about it. ‘This wasn’t allowed for in any contract, Mannix. What are you going to do about it?’

‘It’s hardly Neil’s fault,’ said Kemp.

‘I am going to do something about it,’ I said. ‘Something I should have done before this. I’m going to put you two properly in the picture.’

‘Was that what you said you wanted to talk about?’ Kemp asked, giving me a chance to cover myself. I nodded. ‘Overdue,’ I said. ‘But first I want another word with Captain Sadiq. Want to come along?’

Kemp and Hammond conferred briefly, then Kemp said, ‘Yes. Everyone’s a bit jittery still. We shouldn’t move on until we know the situation. I wish to God Geoff was here.’

‘We’ll try to contact him,’ I said. I didn’t see what he could do but if his presence was enough to calm his partners’ fears it would be a big bonus. We found Sadiq, as expected, glued to his earphones in his car, and according to the usual ritual he handed them to his sergeant before joining us. I said, ‘All right, Captain. What’s the story?’

His voice was neutral. ‘You heard Colonel Hussein. The Army is holding manoeuvres.’

I stared at him. ‘Don’t give us that crap. No army captain is going to threaten to shell a civilian vehicle during war games. He’d be scrubbing latrines next. And that was damn nearly more than a threat.’

Kemp said, ‘You’ll have to do better than that, Captain.’

I jerked my thumb towards the sergeant. ‘You’ve been monitoring the wavebands pretty constantly. What have you heard?’

Sadiq shrugged. ‘It’s difficult to tell. There’s a lot of traffic, mostly in code. There seems to be much troop movement. Also a lot of aircraft activity.’

‘Like those jets this morning.’ I had plenty of ideas about that but I wanted his version. ‘What do you
think
is happening?’

‘I don’t know. I wish I did,’ he said.

‘What does Radio Nyala have to say?’

‘Nothing unusual. Much music.’ Kemp and I glanced at one another. ‘There was a little about us, news of the new power plant at Bir Oassa. And other talk as well…’

He was getting closer to the real thing. His voice had become very careful. I said nothing but waited, out-silencing him. He went on at last, ‘There was other news from Bir Oassa. The new airfield was opened today, with a ceremony.’

I gaped at him. ‘But it isn’t meant to be ready for a couple of months at least. Who opened it?’

‘The Air Chief Marshall.’

My first irrelevant thought was that I’d guessed his title right after all. Then I said, ‘Semangala. Right?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Kemp said, ‘Isn’t he the chap who was in France when we left Port Luard? The only military bigwig who couldn’t attend?’

‘Yes,’ I said grimly. ‘And what’s more, he’s meant to be in Switzerland right now. He left two days ago with his family. I saw him at the airport when I left for Lasulu. He got all the
usual military sendoff, except that he was in civvies. Are you
sure
, Sadiq?’

‘Yes, sir.’ His eyes were sad now. ‘He made a speech.’

‘Who exactly is Semangala?’ asked Hammond. ‘Is he that important?’

‘He’s the Air Force boss and right now he’s the most important man in Nyala. Wouldn’t you say so, Sadiq?’

I was pushing him and he hated it. ‘I don’t know what you mean, sir.’

‘Oh yes, you do. You’re not stupid, Sadiq, and remember, neither am I. I know the score as well as you or anyone else in your army. Listen, you two; I’m going to have to make this short and sharp. This country is on the verge of civil breakdown and military takeover, and if you didn’t guess that it’s only because you’re new here and you’ve had your hands full with that giant of yours. The Army is split; half supports the Government and half wants a military junta to take over. It’s complex but don’t worry about the reasons for now. Both sides need the Air Force to give them a victory, and up to now Semangala has been playing one side against the other. Am I right so far, Sadiq?’

‘I am not a politician,’ he said.

I smiled. ‘Just a simple soldier, eh? That’s an old chestnut, my friend. Now, Semangala has been in France, probably buying planes or missiles. He comes back and decides he needs a holiday: a funny time to choose but he’s his own boss. He flies out openly with his wife and kids, but he’s back the next day. He probably had a plane on standby in Zurich. My guess is that he’s made up his mind and has parked his family out of the way. Now he’s bulldozed through the opening of the Bir Oassa airfield, which means that it’s squarely in his hands instead of being run by the civil aviation authority. The only question that needs answering is, which side did he come down on?’

Hammond and Kemp were listening carefully. Hammond said, ‘I’ll be damned. Usually I just read about this stuff in the press.’

Kemp asked, ‘Just how much does it matter to us which side he’s on? Either way they’ll still want the power plant.’

‘Don’t be naïve. Of course they do, but that doesn’t mean we can go on trundling through the country with a shield of invincibility around us. This is going to be a shooting war.’

Sadiq nodded. ‘Very bad for you. I do not know how to protect you.’

He meant that he didn’t know which side to protect us from.

I said, ‘If there’s a war, whoever wins will want us. But they have to win first. Meantime we’re going to be up to our necks in it, and accidents happen all the time. If the Air Force is against the Government they might decide to take us out, simply to help topple the economy. And what the hell could we do about it?’

‘But you’re talking about civil war!’ Kemp said.

‘What else? Captain Sadiq, which side will you be on?’

He looked aghast, ‘I do not know. I told you I know nothing of these affairs. I must obey my orders from Major General Kigonde.’

‘And if you get no orders? Confucius he say that man who walks down middle of road gets run over. You’ll have to make up your own mind sometime. Now that Colonel Hussein—whose side is he on, do you think?’

‘He is Kigonde’s man.’

‘Where’s he heading for, and why?’

Sadiq showed a flash of irritation. ‘He didn’t tell me. Colonels don’t make a habit of telling captains their orders.’

Kemp asked, ‘What did he tell you concerning us?’

‘To stay with you. To protect you. To watch out for sabotage.’

‘And you’ll do that—even if your own army buddies start shooting at you?’

He didn’t answer and I couldn’t blame him. For the moment my mind had ground to a halt, and I felt that without a great deal more data to work on I couldn’t begin to make any decisions regarding our mission. Then to my surprise and my considerable relief the matter was taken firmly out of my hands. Basil Kemp had become inattentive during the last few exchanges, and was drawing patterns in the dust with his toe. I was starting to think that he was in the grip of the same uncertainty as held me, when he suddenly straightened up and spoke with decision.

‘We’ve work to do. I think we’re wasting time, Neil. We have to get on the road at once. We can discuss things as we go.’

‘Go where?’ I asked.

‘To Bir Oassa. While you’ve been jabbering I’ve been thinking. The war hasn’t started yet and we don’t know that it ever will. All this is speculation so far. If there is no war we’re still in business. But if there is I would like to be a good deal closer to Bir Oassa than we are now. Sadiq has told us that the new airfield is open, so there’s one escape route for us at least. Here there’s nothing—we’re like sitting ducks. And we can’t go back. If there is a war the two main towns will be worst hit and the docks a shambles.’

His words made sense and his voice was firm.

Ben Hammond was almost jubilant. ‘Right, let’s get on with it. We’ve got pretty good fuel reserves, water too. We were supposed to be restocked with food but we’re not short yet.’ His mind was into top gear, sorting out the priorities and he was obviously glad to have something positive to do.

Kemp went on, ‘Captain Sadiq thinks there may be shooting. We must talk this over with the men. Ben, call them all together for me, please. I still wish to God Geoff was with us. He’s better at this sort of thing.’

‘You’re doing fine,’ I said. ‘Better than me. 1 agree that we can’t just sit here, and there’s another good reason for pressing on.’ My mind was working again.

‘And what’s that?’

‘Tell you in a moment. You go on ahead; I want another word with the Captain first.’ I stared hard at him, and as before, he picked up my cue and said at once, ‘Right. See you soon.’ He went off, taking Ben with him. I turned to Sadiq.

‘This is a hell of a mess, Captain. I’m glad you intend to stick with us. I’ve been admiring your foresight. The gun emplacements, for example.’

He expanded. ‘You noticed that? I was told to be aware of possible danger.’

‘What do you really think is going on?’

He took off his cap and scratched his head, and the smart soldier became an ordinary, slightly baffled man. ‘Colonel Hussein is going to meet the Seventh Brigade, which is stationed at Bir Oassa. Then they will all come south. Back here, unfortunately.’

‘Won’t they stay there to protect the oilfields?’

‘No-one will attack the oilfields. Both sides will need them. But here at Kodowa…’ He took out a map. Kodowa was about thirty miles north of us, sprawled across the great road, and the only sizeable town in the vicinity. We had reckoned on using it as a major restocking depot.

‘From Kodowa a road also goes east and west,’ Sadiq was saying. ‘So it is a crossroad. Also the heart of Kinguru country. If it was taken by rebels there would be little Kinguru resistance left. So the Seventh Brigade must come down here to protect it, to hold this bridge as well. Hussein will meet them somewhere north of Kodowa.’

‘Christ! We’re right in the thick of it, then. What about the air force base near here?’

‘It is just outside Kodowa. It makes it very difficult to take the town, if the Air Force has really gone with the rebels. That is why Hussein will not stop there.’

‘And do you think the Air Force has gone over—or will?’ He shrugged. ‘Very hard to say, Mister Mannix. But I think…’

‘Yes. So do I.’ We were silent for a moment, and then I went on. ‘I thank you for your frankness. It is very necessary that we keep each other aware of all that we know, Captain. I think I must go and join Mister Kemp now.’

I had a hundred questions still. For one thing, I would very much like to have asked his personal convictions. As a Moslem he might well be against the Kinguru rule; he already had one Moslem superior and the head of the Seventh Brigade might be another. But there was a limit to what I could ask him, and for the moment I had to rely on the fact that our convoy might be felt worthy of protection by both sides, so that Sadiq’s loyalty would not affect his usefulness to us. But it was one hell of a nasty situation.

I joined Kemp just as his meeting broke up. There was much talk as the crew went about its business, and Kemp turned to me with relief. ‘They’re all a bit shocked, naturally, but they’re willing to bash on,’ he said. There’s been some talk of danger money, though.’

‘Good God! There’s not a shot been fired yet—and may never be.’

‘It’s just one man. A trade union smart boy.’

‘You’d better remind him he’s in darkest Africa, not home in dear old England. The guy who comes at him with a rifle won’t ask if he believes in the brotherhood of man, or look at his union card. Who is he?’

‘Look, he hasn’t—’

‘Basil, I must know
all
the factors. Who is he? I’m not going to say or do anything, just keep an eye open.’

‘His name’s Burke, Johnny Burke. He’s a damned hard worker and a good crewman. For God’s sake don’t make much of this.’

‘Okay, I promise. But if he starts making waves I have to know. Now, I want to fill you in.’ I quickly told him of my conversation with Sadiq and some of my own speculations. He said, ‘You wanted to tell me something else, presumably out of Sadiq’s hearing.’

‘Yes. I think the less Sadiq hears of our plans or discussions the better. You’ve got a map of Nyala? Let’s have it.’

We both bent over the map. From Kodowa our road continued in a more or less northerly fashion, through increasingly sparse scrubland and into the semi-desert regions where Bir Oassa’s oil derricks were pumping out the country’s newly discovered lifeblood. The river we had just crossed, like two others before it and one more to come, were all fairly major tributaries of the huge Katali, which ran up from the coast north of Lasulu to form the boundary with Manzu, Nyala’s neighbouring state. And from Kodowa another road, not as massive as the one we were travelling on, ran right across the country from the east to the western boundary, towards the Katali river. Here there was no bridge, but a ferry carried goods and people over the river from one country to the other, doing desultory trade and forming a second route to the oilfields.

I pointed to this road. ‘Do you know anything about this route?’

‘Not much. I saw it, of course, when I did the survey. But I didn’t go and look at it. There was a fair amount of small traffic using it. Why?’

‘If we get to Kodowa and this damned war has started, you’re right in saying that we can’t turn back to the coast. But I’m not happy about going on to Bir Oassa either.
There’s nothing up there that isn’t brought in: no food supplies, no water—’

‘Not even fuel,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘It’s all crude.’

‘Exactly. The desert is a godawful place to be stranded in. And if the rebels have the airfield, they won’t simply let us fly out. They’ll hold all personnel in what the press calls a hostage situation. So I don’t think we want to go there, do you?’

He looked at me in horror. All his careful plans were being overturned, and now here I was about to suggest the whackiest scheme imaginable.

‘You want me to take a three hundred ton load on a multi-artic trailer over an unsurveyed route into the depths of nowhere? What for, for God’s sake?’ he asked.

‘Look at the road going west. It goes back towards the rainforest. There are several villages, lots of chances to find food and water. And fuel, both gas and diesel. It may not be a good road, but it exists. At the Katali it follows the water course down to Lasulu and the coast. I saw the beginning of that road beyond Lasulu and it wasn’t too bad. We would meet the river here—at Lake Pirie.’ It wasn’t really a lake but a considerable widening of the river. ‘There’s even a moderately sized town there, Fort Pirie, as big as Kodowa apparently.’