On the riverside of promise (21 page)

Nicole shouted back in what sounded
surprisingly good Igbo, and didn’t even spare a moment away from
Father Likembe.

Then she felt Ethan’s knife against her
throat, the coldness of the steel a stark contrast to the warm
sweat covering her from head to toe.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she said even
as she calmly tried to apply more pressure to the father’s wound,
the white in Likembe’s eyes rolling about as if he was about to
have some sort of seizure.

“What does it look like?” said Ethan, his
kneecap forcing Nicole to bend forward in a very uncomfortable
position down on the ground. He forced her arm behind her back and
kept it there, her free hand flailing wildly with the towel.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, just let me
try and save this man, for God’s sake!”

“You’re just wanking me around again, aren’t
you? He’s got another minute or two to live and that’s all. Main
artery’s ripped open. He’s bleeding like a pig.”

“That’s your handiwork right there!”

“Next time I’ll stand by and have me shot
then.”

“We needed this man alive.”

“After all this, you still take me for a
pillock? Why, the nerve!”

“The man’s dying, could you at least have the
decency-”

“Enough!”

The dripping rain grew into a rainstorm in
mere moments. From the corner of his eye Ethan could see the women
and children had sought refuge in the small church.

Nicole’s voice was calm and quiet.

“Father Likembe,” she said and swallowed
hard.

“What about him?” asked Ethan with eyes
flickering about, searching for signs of danger.

“He’s dead,” replied Nicole unassumingly.
Ethan simply said with a shrug:

“Godspeed then.”

“You’re going mad, aren’t you?” she replied,
breathing with evident difficulty. Ethan’s stare wandered to a
couple of men who were gathered outside, eying both of them
intently. His voice was vexed, weary and coarse:

“For the last time, I know about the fake
body. I know you’re not CIA, because I checked. What I don’t know
is why you’re so hell- bent on making me think Andy’s dead. And I
need answers, love. Not any more of your bullshit. Answers!”

A heavy silence ensued, while two of the
younger looking men made a few steps towards the hut. Nicole
motioned them to stop with her free hand. She breathed deeply and
sighed before asking Ethan:

“Could we do this in a more civilized
fashion?”

“I like it just the way it is, crass and
sharp. Who do you really work for?” he asked her, every word out of
his mouth seeping with controlled anger.

“Who do you think?”

“The French, right?”

She nodded silently. Ethan noticed the men
were taking slow steps towards the hut. He eyed them vehemently and
they stopped moving. He went on:

“Why do you want me to think Andy’s dead so
badly? Is he your hostage? Is that how you got hold of his
things?”

Ethan was practically shouting while Nicole
remained calm. She told him then, “Andy is my husband. He’s not
anybody’s hostage.” Ethan scoffed, cringing his face and looking
disgusted.

“I said no more bullshit,” he told her and
twisted her arm to the point of breaking.

“That much was true!” she cried in anguish.
The men were closing in on them with deliberate steps. Ethan jerked
the blade no more than an inch before the men stood still. He asked
her with urgency in his voice:

“What else was true then?”

“Not much,” she replied, shaking her head
imperceptibly.

“Where is he then?” said Ethan through
gritted teeth.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“What’s going to stop me from cutting your
throat then?”

Nicole grinned and said: “I didn’t think you
had a penchant for being so bloodthirsty. They might though.”

“Will they now?” he said and ran his tongue
over his lips. He eyed the men warily, pressing the knife’s sharp
edge against her throat to the point it cut her skin. She flinched
and a few drops of blood smudged the knife. She said with cool
determination:

“They’re Likembe’s sons.”

“Oh, bugger me. I guess I’ll have to take my
chances with the bastards then.”

“Christ! Adopted sons,” she cried out as she
felt the knife tear another small cut.

“I’m way past caring right now. Where is
Andy?”

“Listen, we can work this out, if you’re
willing to let me go!” said Nicole, her cool manners giving way to
an attitude of mounting panic. Ethan looked at the three young men
still standing outside, ready to have a go at him at the flick of
an eye.

“I thought the only reason they haven’t
jumped on me now is the sharp instrument at your throat,” he said
and grinned at them nodding at the knife. They remained calmed but
poised, not the least troubled by the small fires in the distance
and the general mayhem.

“I can reason with them,” said Nicole trying
to sound convincing with little effect. Ethan shook his head and
let out a short laugh before saying:

“You’re trying to swing this around, aren’t
you? No joy. For the last bloody time, where’s Andy?”

“I can’t tell you, because I don’t really
know where exactly!”

“More lies, at a very inopportune time. If
this is how it’s going to be, I think I’ll have to take my chances
anyway,” he said and traced the knife around her throat in the
mockery of a slow, ominous ritual. The man closest to them seemed
ready to plunge forward but hesitated when a loud shrill noise
signaled a jet passing over them. Within moments the night lit up
with plumes of fire nearby. The light illuminated their faces with
the modest warmth of a candle. The cries of some unlucky few were
dulled by the falling rain.

“Jesus! I can tell you were they hit the
caravan!” she cried in fear, the words coming out of her mouth of
their own volition.

“Some random point in the map? I may be half
Scottish, but I’m not a complete idiot.”

“You’ve got a knife against my throat and you
still can’t believe a thing I’m saying!”

“No reason to act surprised, love,” Ethan
told her and lightly tapped the knife against her throat. She
breathed in deeply before she spoke again:

“What if I walk you over there? It’s not very
far from here, it’s some ways over to the west, near the
river.”

Ethan frowned. He remained silent for a
moment.

“The Niger?” he asked then and Nicole replied
by simply nodding. He puckered his lips and said:

“Hands tied behind your back. Legs tied with
a foot-long rope. That means no running. And these boys better
leave first.”

“Fine,” she said, feeling the knife around
her throat relax only to the point it did not cut directly into her
skin. She asked him with a weary sigh: “And then, will you release
me?”

“I’ll think about that when I find Andy. Good
enough?”

She nodded lightly and turned her head
sharply, establishing an uneasy eye contact with Ethan after quite
some time.

“How can I trust you?” she said
anxiously.

“I should be the one asking that,” replied
Ethan with an expressionless, sombre face, his features strict and
unyielding.

“Alright, let me talk to them,” she said as
the storm continued unabated.

She spoke in Igbo, her sentences small and
curt but fluent. Ethan couldn’t understand half of it though; he
suddenly wished he had taken a much more serious interest in
learning the language when he had had the chance.

Ethan was focused on the two men, eying them
intently. They looked like they were about to speak but had second
thoughts all of a sudden. The men looked at each other, and then
said a few words that seemed to make Nicole uneasy. She asked them
something repeatedly in a nervous voice, but they didn’t
answer.

Ethan’s instinct told him things were about
to take an even stranger turn and then the deafening noise of a jet
making a low fly-by blanketed every sound. Moments later a grove no
more than a hundred feet away erupted in flames. A wall of fire
rose upwards through the jungle and bathed everyone in light, when
finally the scattered anti-aircraft guns opened fire, dashes of
tracer rounds going up in the night sky from seemingly random
locations.

Through the corner of his eye Ethan saw a
rising shadow on the remains of the hut’s walls. The two men lunged
forward. Nicole realised who they were aiming for and shouted:

“Behind you!”

Ethan was already sweeping about with one leg
extended, blindly trying to trip the assailant from behind. As he
did so, he let go of Nicole, ducked furiously and brought the knife
on his other hand. He barely had time to see a tall, heavy-set man
in fatigues before he was dragged down to the ground.

Nicole managed to kick one of her now former
comrades hard in the face, before rolling halfway towards the hut.
The man screamed in pain and instinctively tried to stem the
bleeding from his ruined nose. The other one staggered for a moment
before rushing to Nicole.

Ethan grappled with the man in uniform only a
few feet away from her. A hasty jab with his knife missed and hit
nothing but muddied dirt near the man’s ear. He then felt something
hit him in the face with the force of a brick. His head throbbed
with pain, his skull seemingly about to explode. When his eyes
could focus again, he realised the man had simply punched him with
a powerful right fist. He heard Nicole struggling but couldn’t do
anything about that for the moment; the brute that had assaulted
him rolled over him with all the weight of his body and pinned him
down.

His knife hand became free for barely a
moment and Ethan made it count. He put as much power into his
strike with his arm as the grappling allowed and felt the blade go
deep. The man on top of him grunted and placed both of his massive
hands on Ethan’s throat; he began to choke him.

Ethan felt warm blood pour down on his hand
and mingle with the thick rain. He heard dulled grunting noises and
shouts from Nicole, as he felt a crushing pressure around his
windpipe and blood rising up in his head and ears. He threw another
jab with his knife that didn’t pierce through; it met only bone.
Then another one, and another one, as the seconds that passed by
seemed an endless ordeal. He couldn’t breathe or move, one hand
flailing wildly at the man’s face with no effect, while his knife
hand was all bloodied as each strike buried the blade inside the
man who would refuse to give up or die.

He could see the man’s icy black eyes staring
back at him in the playful light of napalm flames eating away at
the grove behind them. He saw a gleam of fury and zeal; that man
would see to killing him first before bleeding to death. And then
he heard a piercing shot but no cry. He felt the man buckle and
groan, the pressure on his throat relaxing.

Ethan turned his head only slightly towards
Nicole and saw her lying with her back on the ground, drawing the
gun in her hand coolly towards the two men who dived towards the
gun head-first in a desperate attempt to stop her. The man with the
ruined nose crumbled down first when Nicole fired next, hitting him
straight in the chest, sending a sputter of blood flying forth in a
wide arch.

The bulky Biafran had little life left in him
and grew weak, finally letting Ethan gasp for air, blood starting
to circulate once more. Ethan pushed and shoved him aside before
slithering his way under his body and back on his feet. He saw the
last man standing punching Nicole hard in her face while with his
other hand he was trying to disarm her

The first few breaths hurt like hell as
Ethan’s larynx expanded back into its normal size. He wasted no
time; he didn’t know why they had turned on her but he knew she was
all that stood between him and Andy and that was reason enough. He
rushed him with a primal scream, bent forward.

The Igbo man threw a glance at him but still
focused on grabbing the gun away from Nicole. As he lay on top of
her he kicked her with a knee hard against her kidneys. Nicole’s
scream pierced through the rumbling rain; the pain was
mind-numbing. She relaxed her grip on the gun reflexively,
stretching her fingers for only a moment.

At that instant, Ethan was already hurtling
the man on top aside, arching his knife for a deadly blow. As he
did so, the man somehow flicked the gun off Nicole’s hand and
tossed it into a pool of runny mud only a foot away. That only
allowed Ethan a wider opening and as they tumbled away from Nicole,
Ethan’s knife found its way with practiced ease into the man’s
heart, straight between his ribs.

He saw the man’s puzzled expression and his
vacant stare before he turned his head to see Nicole scrambling
again towards the gun. She reached for it with a groan, the kick in
her kidneys still sending pulses of pain throughout her body. Ethan
slipped on the mud before he found enough purchase to leap onto
her.