Time of the Assassins (22 page)

'They were names,' Tambese whispered. 'Whoever it is probably saw that the two guards weren't in the watchtower and thinks they might be in here with the guard.'
'I'm going outside,' Graham said softly, placing Tambese's Uzi on the table. 'We'll be trapped in here if he raises the alarm.'
Both Tambese and Sabrina nodded their agreement. Graham pulled the blind up carefully then eased himself gingerly through the window and landed silently on the ground outside. His breathing was shallow and ragged as he moved cautiously towards the edge of the building. There was another knock at the door, this time louder, and the voice called out again in Swahili. He wiped his sweating face as he reached the end of the wall. He gripped the Uzi tightly in his hands then swivelled round to challenge the guard. The man, who was dressed in a pair of shorts and a vest, looked round sharply at Graham, his eyes narrowed in surprise and amazement. He held an AK-47 at his side. Graham indicated for him to drop it. The man swallowed nervously then jerked the barrel up towards Graham who shot him in the chest with a burst from his silenced Uzi. The man stumbled backwards, lost his footing on the steps, and as he fell his finger squeezed the trigger and a row of bullets ripped into the wall several feet above Graham's head. The noise echoed around the delicate silence. Graham cursed loudly. It would only be a matter of seconds before the whole compound converged on them. He shot off the lock and kicked the door in. Tambese, who already had Mobuto in a fireman's lift on his
shoulders, hurried down the stairs and lumbered laboriously towards the manhole. He could already see several lights on in the barracks.
Sabrina threw Tambese's Uzi to Graham and they ran ahead, waiting for the first of the rebels to appear. They were still a good sixty yards away from the manhole. A window pane was smashed in the barracks and the barrel of an AK-47 pushed through the aperture. Graham, holding an Uzi in each hand, raked all four of the windows facing out towards them, spraying glass across the floor of the barracks. The AK-47 disappeared. The door was flung open and a rebel darted through but was cut down by Graham before he could fire. The momentum of his body cartwheeled him across the ground and he came to rest in a crumpled heap several yards from where he had been shot. Graham and Sabrina stood their ground and raked the windows and door of the barracks, giving Tambese precious seconds to get closer to the manhole. Graham tossed one of the Uzis away when the magazine was spent then snapped a fresh clip into the other Uzi and shouted to Sabrina to keep up with Tambese in case any of the rebels were waiting behind the building for them. She nodded then sprinted after Tambese as Graham raked the side of the barracks again.
He continued until the clip was finished. He ejected it, pushed his last clip into place, then ran towards the manhole. The clip ran out as he reached the end of the building. He darted round the side and stopped abruptly as he found himself facing half-a-dozen rebels, all armed with AK-47S. He could see two of
their dead colleagues sprawled close to the manhole. And there was no sign of the others. He grinned. They'd made it. A man who had been standing beside the manhole turned round and looked at Graham. He was dressed in a grey tracksuit. Graham immediately recognized him as Tito Ngune. His face still bore the bruises from the lynching he'd received several days earlier in Habane.
'That was quite a show, Mr Graham,' Ngune said. 'Don't worry, though, we'll catch your companions before very long. They can't travel very fast under those conditions.'
'You speak good English for a barbarian,' Graham retorted, eyeing Ngune contemptuously."
Ngune smiled. 'Drop the gun, please.'
Graham tossed it onto the ground. He heard the footsteps behind him and was still turning when the butt of an AK-47 crashed against the back of his head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
'We can't leave Mike back there,' Sabrina snapped.
'We'll have to, at least for the moment,' Tambese replied through gritted teeth as he struggled to get a better grip on Mobuto.
Sabrina felt gutted. What would happen to Graham? She refused to even think about it. But she knew Tambese was right. There was nothing they could do for him, not without getting caught themselves. They had only managed to get out with seconds to spare before the rebels had descended on the manhole like a plague of rats. She knew she had shot three of them from inside the sewer. One had fallen
through the opening and landed in the water. She also knew it would only be a matter of time before a team would be sent after them.
'There's a cover about five hundred yards from here. We can get out there.'
'That's crazy,' Sabrina shot back. 'The rebels will have found the holdall by now. And that means they'll have the blueprint. They're sure to have men waiting at all the manholes by now.'
'Trust me, Sabrina.'
She didn't pursue the matter. It could wait. She had to concentrate fully on keeping them alive until they reached safety, wherever that may be. After all, she was the only one who was armed. Then she heard it- footsteps. It couldn't have been an echo of their own footsteps. They were both wearing rubber-soled shoes. These were boots. And there were more than one pair.
She peered into the gloom behind them, not that she could see much further than a few yards in front of her. The lights, which were mounted on the opposite wall at intervals of forty yards, were weak and several of them had fused and never been replaced. If her friends could see her now. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips and helped to calm the sudden burst of anxiety that had swept over her. Had Tambese heard the footsteps as well? If he had, he wasn't saying anything.
Then she saw a movement in the shadows thirty yards behind them. She was about to fire then she eased her finger off the trigger. Conserve your ammo, girl, she said to herself. She was down to her last clip and she didn't know how many bullets were left in it. She flicked the fire selector from automatic to single fire. Another silhouette flitted across the shadows. Again she held back.
But why hadn't they opened fire? Unless they had instructions to bring them back alive? Possibly. The thought was still lingering when a figure appeared momentarily in a shaft of light behind her. She fired. There was an anguished cry followed a moment later by a loud splash.
'What was that?' Tambese called out over his shoulder.
'That was one of the rebels,' Sabrina replied.
'Why didn't you say we were being followed?'
'I thought you'd have heard the footsteps.'
'No, I didn't hear anything,' Tambese replied guiltily.
'Don't worry about it, you just keep moving. How far's this manhole now?'
'A hundred yards or so,' Tambese replied.
'Thank God for that,' she muttered.
A bullet cracked against the roof of the sewer above them. Sabrina cursed under her breath. If only she had the torch. Then she saw another movement and she fired again. But there wasn't any anguished cry this time. This time she cursed herself for firing blindly. The footsteps suddenly grew louder. Bullets began chipping against the walls around them, but they were still only warning shots. Even so, Sabrina found herself doubled over as she moved backwards, her eyes continually darting behind her to make sure she didn't get too close to the edge of the path. Then they came into view. She counted at least seven of them, and they were closing in fast, their AK~4ys held in front of them.
'How far to the manhole?' she shouted.
'Thirty yards," Tambese called back.
To hell with it, she thought, and flicked the Uzi back onto automatic fire. She fired a burst at the approaching men. Two fell and a third tripped over one of them and tumbled headlong into the water. Still they came. They had to be a suicide squad. There were probably another eight men behind them waiting to take over from their fallen colleagues. And all because Ngune wanted them alive. They would continue coming until she ran out of bullets. That had to be their strategy otherwise the three of them would be dead by now. How many bullets left? She fired again. Another man stumbled and fell.
'We're almost there,' Tambese shouted to her.
She fired again. Another fell. Two left. She pulled the trigger. Click. The magazine was empty. And they were closing in fast. Were there others behind them? She couldn't see any. She was confident she could disarm them when they came into range. She discarded the Uzi and stood her ground, her hands held up protectively in front of her. A sudden burst of gunfire behind her scythed over her head, cutting them down when they were less than fifteen yards away from her. She dropped to the ground and looked round in horror at how close the bullets had passed over her head. Tambese stood on the ladder leading up to the manhole, an Uzi in his hand.
'Are you OK?' he asked.
'Just. Where did you get that from?' she asked incredulously, gesturing to the Uzi.
'Come up, I'll show you.'
She pulled the woollen hat from her head and followed him up the ladder. A hand was held out towards her but after a sharp word from Tambese it was quickly withdrawn. She climbed out of the manhole and looked around her slowly, her eyes narrowed in uncertainty. The man standing next to Tambese was dressed in army fatigues and wore the rank of captain. An army jeep was parked at the side of the road behind them. Another eight soldiers stood beside the giant Challenger tank which was guarding the end of the street. The hatch was open and she could see the tank commander, his arms resting on the turret, goggles pulled up onto his forehead. He was smoking a cigarette.
'What's going on?' she finally asked, looking round at Tambese. 'And where's Remy Mobuto?'
'I've had him taken to hospital. These are some of my men. The others have been deployed throughout the city. Kondese is no longer in the hands of the rebels. It's all gone according to plan - '
'What plan?' she demanded. 'Why weren't we told about it?'
'It was top security. Jamel and I were the only two who knew about it. We couldn't afford to take any chances, not with so much at stake. There's a lot of sympathy for Ngune within the army. That's why I had to handpick these men personally for the operation. And they were only given their orders before I left the house.' Tambese held up his hand before she could speak. 'I know, I owe you an explanation. Later. First we've got to get Mike out of Branco.'
'How?'
'You'll see.' Tambese smiled at her bewildered expression. 'It'll be quite a show, that I can promise you.'
When Graham came round he found himself lying on a carpeted floor. He rubbed the back of his head gingerly then, after struggling to sit up, he looked slowly around him. It was an office. Then he saw the portrait of Alphonse Mobuto on the wall. Beside it was a framed photograph of Mobuto and Ngune shaking hands at some formal function. Both men were wearing tuxedos. There was also a picture of Ngune on the desk. It wasn't difficult to work out where he was. Then he noticed the armed guard standing by the door. The AK-47 was pointing straight at him. Graham continued to massage his neck until he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened and Ngune entered, still dressed in the grey tracksuit. He nodded to the guard who had snapped to attention then told him to stand easy and keep the AK-47 on Graham.
'Please, take a seat,' Ngune said, indicating the armchair in front of the desk. He stepped behind the desk and eased himself onto his padded leather chair.
Graham pulled himself to his feet and slumped into the chair, his hand still rubbing the nape of his neck.
'Cigarette?' Ngune said, extending the silver box towards Graham.
Graham glared back at Ngune.
'As you wish,' Ngune said then took one out for himself and lit it. He exhaled the smoke then sat back and studied Graham before smiling faintly at him. 'As
I said earlier, you certainly put on quite a show here tonight. Eight dead at the last count. There may be more.'
'I certainly hope so,' Graham retorted.
'They can be replaced,' Ngune replied with a dismissive shrug, 'unlike a wife and son.'
'You son-of-a-bitch,' Graham screamed and lunged at Ngune.
The guard slammed the AK-47'$ butt down onto Graham's shoulder, knocking him to the floor. Graham swung round on the guard but he was already out of striking range. The AK-47 was again aimed at his head. He pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. His breathing was shallow and ragged as he glared down the barrel of the Walther ?5 Ngune had taken from one of the desk drawers.
'Sit down, Mr Graham, before you do yourself an injury.'
The intercom buzzed on the desk. Ngune waited until Graham had sat down again before answering it.
'It's the control room here, sir,' an anxious voice said in Swahili. 'We can't get through to any of the patrols. They're not answering their radios.'
Ngune wiped away a drop of sweat that trickled down his forehead. 'Send out a patrol to reconnoitre the area. And keep trying to contact the other patrols.'
'That's not all, sir. We can't get through to garrison either.'
'Have you checked that there isn't something wrong with our radio?'
'Yes, sir. It's working.'
'Keep trying. And keep me advised.'
'Yes, sir.'
Ngune switched off the intercom and looked across at Graham. 'We know you were working with your partner tonight. Who was the third member of your team?'
'Mickey Mouse,' Graham replied contemptuously.
'Who was it?' Ngune shouted, aiming the Walther at Graham's head.
'Got some trouble, have we?' Graham said, glancing at the intercom.
Ngune lowered the gun. 'Killing you would be stupid. Either you answer my questions here in the comfort of my office or I will have you taken down to one of the interrogation rooms and tortured until you tell me what I want to know. The choice is yours, Graham.'
'A choice?' Graham said in mock surprise. 'And I thought you abhorred democracy. Perhaps I've been underestimating you all along.'
'I will ask you for the last time. Who was the third member of your team?'
'I told you, Mickey Mouse.'
Ngune sat back and stared at Graham. 'I have come across your kind before. You think you can unnerve me by pretending to show no fear at the thought of being tortured, but it never works. I have never failed to get the answers I want from a prisoner, never. You will not be the exception, Graham, no matter what you may think. I will break you.'
'Torture me as much as you want,' Graham replied, holding Ngune's stare. 'But you tell me this, how can you break a man who's already immune to pain?'