Authors: Chris Ryan
Tenth Man Down (17 page)
‘No way,’ I told him. ‘I want to have a little chat with her and find out what she was up to. I’ve been thinking about the scene of the crash. When we found the two guys lying dead, there wasn’t a mark on their clothes. Those shirts and shorts were clean as clean. Whatever else that party was doing, it hadn’t been on safari.’
SEVEN
We went over the hill at first light, and by 0700 we were established in an excellent OP, looking down through binoculars on the mine from a distance of seven or eight hundred metres. After so much dry, sandy terrain, our first sight of the river valley was quite something. Away to our left, upstream, the Kameni was wide and shining, flowing gently towards us between borders of brilliant green.
‘Phragmites,’ said Joss.
‘What’s that?’
‘The reeds by the water. Spiky leaves. They can be ten feet tall.’
The surface of the river was dotted with what looked like dozens of little sandbanks, and it was only when some of them moved that we realised they were hippos, basking in shallow water. Beyond them, on the far shore, stood a small settlement: a square enclosure fenced with dried reeds, with the conical roofs of four grass huts showing above the walls.
A short way downstream, and close in under us, the land was higher. On our side, the base of the hills reached out to the river bank, and on the far bank rocky, scrub-covered outcrops rose from the water’s edge, framing a shallow gorge, through which the stream tumbled in rapids. The mine was on the far bank at the bottom of that run, where the land levelled out again and the river reverted to a smooth flow. The sun, coming in low from our left, lit up ugly, corrugated-iron buildings clustered on flat ground above the water, with a long, covered gantry reaching out over the centre of the channel and down to river level. A rectangular central block with a pitched roof had been extended piecemeal by having sections of different shapes and sizes bolted on to it. The whole structure looked as though it had expanded bit by bit. Rising above it was a slender tower, square in section, topped by an open gallery under a flat roof. From the top of the roof rose a high, lattice-work radio mast.
Beyond that central assembly lay a compound surrounded by a security fence. Another large building, with two storeys of windows, stood apart, to the right as we looked – the accommodation, perhaps. There was also a dump of red forty-five-gallon fuel drums stacked inside a retaining wall built with concrete blocks. Further off, a low, white-washed bungalow range ran along inside the far perimeter.
Outside the fence a dirt airstrip stretched away into the bush downstream, to the south-east. The only road we could see left the compound in the opposite direction and followed the far bank of the river upstream before swinging off to the south. Transport didn’t seem to be the outfit’s strong suit: we could make out two old Gaz-type jeeps, a bulldozer and a couple of dump-trucks, and that was all. I guessed that because the place was so remote, most personnel and supplies came in by air.
The country beyond the compound was rockier than the terrain we’d come through: everywhere stony outcrops poked up out of the scrub and tall grass. There were also numerous black, burnt-out patches, and the vast, mottled plain faded off to a hazy horizon. The mine itself was particularly graceless: all vegetation had been scraped away to create a level, dusty, stony platform, without a single tree to soften its harsh outlines.
Looking down on the airstrip, I had a sudden idea.
‘Eh,’ I went. ‘I don’t suppose the Beechcraft came from here.’
‘It was going in the opposite direction,’ said Phil. ‘When we first saw it, it was flying westwards,
towards
here.’
towards
here.’
‘True. In that case, was it
heading
for the mine?’
heading
for the mine?’
‘Can’t have been,’ said Pav. ‘I don’t reckon the pilot knew this place existed. He was on the wrong side of the hills. If he
had
known about it, he’d have made straight for the strip when his engines started to fail.’
had
known about it, he’d have made straight for the strip when his engines started to fail.’
‘True again. Bin that one, then. We’ll have to wait on Inge to find out.’
Continuous noise rose from the plant. Even from a range of half a mile, the drumming of heavy machinery reached us loudly, augmented every now and then by violent outbursts of clattering, which sounded like rocks coming up the suction pipe from the river bed. I imagined a torrent of water, sand, rock and gravel pouring out on to a moving belt and being transferred automatically to a series of sieves or screens. From what I’d heard of the process, the whole lot got progressively washed and refined until diamonds were left glittering among the residue. From earlier briefings we knew that there was a secure area somewhere in the heart of the mine, where the diamonds were sorted and stored; now I made a mental note to take a supply of det cord and PE in my Bergen, in case we needed to blast our way in.
‘Interesting,’ I said, as we lay and watched. ‘This whole flank’s naturally protected by the river. No need for any defence on this side.’
‘Yeah,’ went Phil. ‘But we can take some of the bastards out from this side.’ He stuck an arm forward, and added, ‘If we get guys on to that last little ridge down there below us, they can fire over the water and put rounds down anywhere in the compound, no bother. From that point the range can’t be more than three hundred metres.’
‘Sure,’ I agreed. ‘But the assault force is going to have to cross the river. How deep d’you think it is?’
‘Up where the hippos are, not deep at all,’ said Joss. ‘You know they can’t swim?’ Seeing my look of surprise, he gave his high-pitched giggle. ‘That’s right – they just tip-toe along the bottom.’
‘We could wade it, then,’ I suggested.
‘Never!’ Joss was emphatic. ‘Crocs. The water’s full of them. When the sun gets higher, they’ll come out on the sandbanks. You’ll see.’
‘Maybe we could drive them off with a few grenades.’
‘Then you’d compromise us – tell everyone we’re here to join the party.’
‘Show the crocs your arse, Pav,’ went Phil. ‘That’ll put the frighteners on them.’
‘
Zikomo
, mate.’
Zikomo
, mate.’
Joss was looking at Pav in consternation.
‘He’s got eyes tattoed on his backside,’ I explained. ‘One either cheek.’
‘Oh, wah!’ Joss grinned. Then his face turned serious, and he said, ‘You know, my father was taken by a croc.’
‘Never,’ I went.
‘He was.’
‘How come?’
‘He was a ranger in the park. Some old white settler guy used to hang about the river bank and go for a swim. One day he disappeared – all they found was his shoes. My father, he had to organise a hunt, and somehow he got snatched too. Eventually they shot the killer. It was a monster, twenty-two feet long. And when they cut it open, what d’you think they discovered in its stomach? Two hands, one white and one black.’
‘Phworrh!’ went Phil. ‘How old were you then?’
‘Five or six. If they hadn’t got that croc, he might still be alive today. You know they can live to be a hundred? They go on growing all their lives.’
For a couple of minutes he went on chatting as he swept his glasses back and forth over the mine. He reckoned that after a croc hit you’d be temporarily anaesthetised by shock; he didn’t think you’d feel anything when the teeth crunched through your bones. I knew that was true of being hit by a high-velocity round, but a croc bite? I wasn’t so sure.
‘Leave the crossing for a moment,’ I said. ‘We’ll get over somehow. What then?’
‘Wait a minute.’ Joss was eyeballing the straw hut settlement upstream. ‘You know what that is? A pontoon station. You can see the boat in the water, down by the bank.’
‘Oh aye,’ I said. ‘Great!’ I could just make out a flat-bottomed wooden craft, like a wide punt.
‘There must be a wire across the stream,’ said Joss. ‘Two men pull the boat across, back and forth, along the cable.’
‘All right, then, we cross on the pontoon.’
‘Got to get the fucker across to this side first,’ said Phil.
‘There’ll be a rope that you can pull,’ Joss told him. ‘No problem.’
‘We’re across, then,’ said Pav. ‘Several trips, by the look of it. How many are you taking in the assault group, Joss?’
‘Thirty? Could be more. Depends what we see in the next hour or two.’
‘Sure,’ I agreed. ‘You’ll need to get down there early – cross in time to attack at first light.’
‘That’s right!’ Joss was becoming animated, talking fast and gesturing as he spoke. ‘The assault group goes in left-handed, round the back of those mounds. See? We get them to within a hundred metres of the fence, in dead ground. Creep up to that ridge. We’ll be slightly above the camp, looking down.’
‘Good,’ I went. ‘Then what?’
‘We wait there, in firing positions. The covering group stays this side, on that ridge you just pointed out below us.’
‘What about the mortars?’ I asked. ‘They could stay right here, where we are, and crack things off with bombs into the main complex—’
‘Hey!’ Joss interrupted. ‘We’re not here to bomb anything. We don’t want to destroy the plant. Don’t want to damage it, even. We want to take it over in full working order. Same goes for any outside equipment. That bulldozer, for instance. That’s going to be needed.’
‘Okay, then,’ said Pav evenly. ‘Use the mortars as a distraction. If your guys start by putting bombs right over the top and landing them near the airstrip, the defenders may think you’re coming in from that direction.’
‘Yeah,’ went Phil enthusiastically. ‘They run out into the compound like headless fucking chickens, and the assault group drops them –
bom! bom! bom!
– just like that.’
bom! bom! bom!
– just like that.’
‘Just like that,’ I said. ‘That’s the basis of it, anyway. Another thing you’d better put off-limits is the fuel dump, Joss. See it out the back there, that stack of drums with the wall round it?’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it.’
‘You don’t want that going up in smoke. You’ll need all the fuel you can muster to keep the mine going. Now, let’s get down on this ridge beneath us and take a look from there.’
We spent the whole morning in that lower OP, getting baked and bitten, but also picking up an idea of the mine’s routine. As we’d expected, the guard system was perfunctory. There were always two armed sentries on the main gate, but no patrol on the perimeter wire, and, except for the odd man walking around inside the compound, no other visible evidence of any military presence. The guys were wearing peaked DPM caps, so from a distance we couldn’t see much of their faces. What we
could
tell, though, was that they were black as soot.
could
tell, though, was that they were black as soot.
‘So these are Afundis,’ I said.
‘That’s right,’ Joss confirmed. ‘Our friends from the south.’
‘They wouldn’t show up much at night,’ said Pav. ‘That’s for sure.’
‘AK47s,’ said Phil. ‘They’ll have gympis somewhere, as well.’
‘Look at the tower,’ I said. ‘That open gallery, where the sandbags are. There’s something nasty in there. Looks like a five-oh.’
‘It is,’ Phil confirmed. ‘That’ll need taking out right away.’
‘Hear that, Joss?’ I went. ‘Put a good man on the RPG, and tell him to spray the tower.’
I began studying the fence with binoculars, looking for signs of an alarm system, but saw none.
‘How many d’you suppose there are?’ I asked.
‘Guards?’ said Joss. ‘Can’t tell. They’ll be on a shift system, so half of them are probably asleep. Twenty altogether? And maybe the same number of workers.’
‘What about
them
?’ Phil asked. ‘Are they Afundis as well?’
them
?’ Phil asked. ‘Are they Afundis as well?’
‘Expect so. By now they’ll have replaced any outsiders that used to work here.’
‘They must have weapons as well – for an emergency.’
‘Yeah,’ said Joss scornfully. ‘But we’re going to hit them by surprise.’
‘You reckon to drop any civilians as well?’ I asked.
‘Why not? They’re only Afundis, and anyway, how do we tell which is which?’
I shot Phil a look, and said, ‘Well, it’s up to you.’
Joss didn’t seem to hear that, or if he did, he paid no attention. All he said was, ‘It’s going to be easy!’
‘Don’t bank on it,’ I told him. ‘Lots of things can go wrong. But I tell you what. If you guys capture this place, you’re going to have to strengthen the defences. Sooner or later, the Afundis are going to come looking to kick the crap out of
you
.’
you
.’
‘Sure, sure,’ he went. ‘First things first, though.’
‘That blockhouse’ll need sorting, too,’ said Phil.
Beside the main gates a small building had been fitted into the perimeter fence, in the position the guardroom would occupy in a normal barracks. From far out it had looked like a tin shack, but from closer in we could see it was more solid, with an outer cladding of corrugated iron, inside which were walls of sandbags.
The big, free-standing building was obviously the cookhouse-cum-accommodation block. We deduced that from the way a trickle of blacks went in and out carrying their eating irons, mugs and so on. Because the far side of the main complex was out of our view, we couldn’t tell exactly what everyone was doing, but Joss was obviously right: men were working shifts, for production to continue round the clock.
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