The Outlaw (18 page)

"But
monsieur,
he might be armed."

"Mr. Dexter, please ascertain whether our guest is carrying a weapon."

Yakuuba stared with loathing at the man who had killed his best friend. But he submitted to the search without saying a word.

"He's carrying, all right," said Dexter, having frisked the outlaw thoroughly.

"That's a slingshot," said Jake. "He takes it with him everywhere."

"Hardly a rocket launcher," his father agreed. "All the same, Dexter, perhaps you should hang on to it until we are finished."

"Finished with what?" asked the lieutenant.

"With our discussions," said Mr. Knight. "My family and I will go into the embassy residence now. Mr. Dexter and Yakuuba Sor will accompany us. The rest of you will wait outside and protect the compound from any disturbance of its peace or impairment of its dignity."

"This is an outrage!" cried the lieutenant. "I am going to call Commissioner Beogo this instant."

"You do that," said Mr. Knight. He turned on his heel and led the way up the steps and into the house.

Wait
in my study, Mr. Dexter," said the ambassador. "Sir, this man is a wanted terrorist."

"I am aware of his reputation."

"If he gets violent—"

"I shall call you if I need you."

They went into the living room.

"Can I use the computer?" asked Jake. "There's something I need to show you."

Jake sat down at the computer desk; the others took the sofas. Mr. and Mrs. Knight were regarding Yakuuba with a mixture of interest and terror, as if an unknown species of rattlesnake had suddenly poked its head up in their bath.

"You've got a nerve coming here," said Mr. Knight in French.

Yakuuba inclined his head. "I had no choice," he said. "If I had not come, you would not have believed my innocence."

"Why should you care what we believe?"

"Because where your beliefs go, planes and guns follow close behind."

"I see. You came here to save your own skin."

The outlaw stared in disbelief. He stood up without a word and walked toward the door.

"Wait," said Mr. Knight. "Forgive me—I spoke rashly."

Yakuuba stopped, his hand on the door handle. He turned around, and his eyes blazed with anger. "I came here to save many skins,
monsieur,
my own included."

"I apologize," said Mr. Knight.

"
Your children's included.
"

"I know. Come and sit down."

"I wish to stand."

"Very well. What do you believe is going on here?"

"It's obvious," said the outlaw. "Someone is playing a trick on you. It is a very old trick. Here in Africa we call it the elephant dance."

"Go on."

"One day, Al Hajji Lion decided to rid his forest of mice. He was far too old and slow to chase after them himself, so instead he invited all the elephants in his forest to a dance. Al Hajji Lion was a very cunning cat,
monsieur.
He knew that when elephants dance, mice get trampled."

There was a long silence in the room, broken eventually by Jake. "Come and have a look at this," he said. "I just downloaded it from Facebook. It's the video I took at the gold banquet the other night. Look, that's one of the men who kidnapped us. In this clip he's dressed as a waiter, but we saw him yesterday in Djibo, and he's actually a
gendarme.
"

"And look who he's talking to," said Kas.

"That clip proves nothing," said Mr. Knight. "People talk to waiters about all sorts of things. He was probably ordering a cocktail."

"Yeah, right," said Jake. "A cocktail with a really long name."

The ambassador tutted and raked a hand through his graying hair. "I refuse to believe that Beogo is behind all this. He was very upset by your abduction."

"I'll bet he was even more upset by our rescue," muttered Jake.

There was a knock on the front door. "Ambassador Knight," boomed a voice. "Open up,
s'il vous plaît!

"Here we go," muttered Kas. "It's Al Hajji Lion himself."

Mr. Knight went into the hall and opened the front door. "
Bonjour,
Commissioner Beogo! Come and celebrate with us. Our children are free." He ushered the policeman into the living room.

Beogo forced a smile, but his eyes were cold. "
Salut,
children," he said in French. "Good to see you again. Sunburned but unharmed, I see."

The ambassador smiled and rubbed his hands. "Commissioner, would you like a cup of Darjeeling?"

"No, thank you. I would like that man over there." The police commissioner pointed at Sor, and there was undisguised hatred in his eyes.

The ambassador nodded vaguely. "I was just telling Yakuuba how grateful I am to him. It was he who brought the children back, you see."

"He is a bandit."

"He is our guest."

"Not anymore." Beogo opened a pair of handcuffs.

The ambassador glided in between the police commissioner and the outlaw. "Commissioner, I beg you not to be hasty."

"
Désolé, Ambassadeur.
I have pursued this man for many years, and now at last I intend to arrest him."

"I forbid it."

"
Forbid?
" The police commissioner curled his lip.

"You forget that this embassy is sovereign British territory. Yakuuba Sor has claimed temporary refuge, and I have granted it."

"Stand aside, Ambassador. I'm warning you."

Mr. Knight placed a hand on the policeman's arm and smiled amiably. "Commissioner, we have a fascinating new lead on the identity of the kidnapper. We have a video clip from Tuesday night's banquet, and it clearly shows one of the waiters—"

"We already know the identity of the kidnapper," said Beogo, shaking off the ambassador's hand. "And kidnapping is the
least
serious of the charges that we shall be bringing against him."

"The courts will decide," said Mr. Knight stiffly. "In the meantime, Commissioner, perhaps you should leave."

"Do you realize who you are talking to?" said the police commissioner. "With a single phone call I could have this embassy shut down. I could have you declared persona non grata, and you would be on the next plane back to England with your career in tatters."

The ambassador emitted a nervous laugh. "I trust that will not be necessary," he said. "We have always been led to believe that our diplomatic presence here is mutually benefi—"

"Quiet!" Beogo waved a hand. "Listen to me carefully, Ambassador, while I tell you what is going to happen. I am going to step outside for five minutes, and you are going to consider your position. If you are wise, you will say your goodbyes to this bandit and you will send him out to us. But if the five minutes elapse and you have still not sent him out, you will force us to violate the dignity of your residence. My men will storm the building and shoot the bandit on sight. We will do our best to ensure the safety of your family, but we cannot guarantee it. Stun grenades can be unpredictable, I find."

So saying, the police commissioner saluted, turned on his heel, and marched out, slamming the front door behind him.

The ambassador sat down heavily on a sofa and clasped his hands between his knees to stop their shaking. No one spoke. The tension in the room was palpable.

It was Jake's mother who broke the silence, and she reverted to English so that Yakuuba would not understand. "On balance," she said, "I think we should send him out."

"No!" cried Jake and Kas in unison.

Mrs. Knight raised a hand. "Quentin," she said, "you heard what that odious man said. If we don't give them the boy, he's going to storm the building. He wasn't bluffing."

"I know." Mr. Knight picked at a loose stitch on the arm of the sofa. "Is there nowhere we can hide him?"

Jake had once gone on a school trip to Baddesley Clinton, an Elizabethan manor house containing several "priest holes" for fleeing Catholics. With hidden doors in the paneling, secret passageways in the ceiling, and a panic room under the toilet, it was a wonderful place. But even if the embassy house in Ouagadougou had been full of hidey-holes, Jake was sure that Yakuuba would not use them. It was not his style.

Yakuuba strolled to the back window and looked out at the mango tree and the beehives. As he stood there, a black shadow flitted past the window. A shadow with an automatic handgun.

"Did you see that?" said Mrs. Knight. "I don't want to sound hysterical, Quentin, but we have only four minutes left."

Sor turned around and smiled at the Knight family. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said. "I should go now. I have to be back at my camp by morning."

In the silence that followed, Jake had a wild urge to laugh. How could Yakuuba be so cool while this tornado was raging around him? How could he talk about going back to his camp when it was obvious he would not get as far as the front gate?

"Before I go," said Yakuuba, "I will take my reward."

"What do you mean?" said Mr. Knight.

"The reward for the safe return of your children. The reward you announced on the radio."

The ambassador wrung his hands. "Surely you would rather we kept your reward here for you," he said. "If I give it to you now, the police will simply take it off you when they—"

"Nevertheless," interrupted Sor, "I will take it now."

"Three minutes left," said Mrs. Knight. "For goodness' sake, just give the boy what he wants. It's worth every penny just to get rid of him."

"Very well." The ambassador hurried out of the room.

Kas rounded on her mother, white with fury. "
Just to get rid of him!
Am I going mad or did you actually
say
that? This boy risked his life for me and Jake, but you couldn't give a monkey's. You just want to give him his money and throw him to the wolves. Much easier."

"Kirsty Knight, how dare you! It's you I'm trying to protect."

"Me and the living-room carpet, right? If the police storm the building, they might get carried away in the excitement and forget to take their boots off at the door."

"Kirsty, hold your tongue! This is police business, and if Beogo intends to arrest your friend, then we have no power to stop him."

"You're wrong." Kas laughed bitterly. "You're so wrong it stinks. Open up the windows, quick, and let some of the wrong out."

"Kirsty Knight, go to your room this minute."

"No chance. If you're sending Yakuuba out there, I'm going with him."

Mr. Knight came back in clutching a bulging envelope, followed by an angry-looking Dexter.

"You're not seriously going to give him that, are you?" the spy asked. "The boy will be dead in five minutes, and any money on his person will be confiscated by the police."

"We don't know that," said Mr. Knight, handing the envelope to Yakuuba. "All we know is he brought Jake and Kirsty back to us, and this is his reward."

Yakuuba took the envelope and counted it. "Thank you," he said. "May I take your bee suit as well, Madame Knight?"

"Pardon?"

"The bee suit in the corner there."

"They won't fall for that," said Jake anxiously. "They'll know it's you as soon as they see you."

"Take it," said Mrs. Knight. "Take whatever you want. Just get out!"

"
Merci
" Yakuuba put on the overalls, the boots, the gloves, and the face protector. "I need my slingshot, too," he said. "You took it off me in the yard."

Dexter threw it to him. "One slingshot versus thirty automatic handguns," he sneered. "I don't fancy your chances, boyo."

Sor scooped up a handful of pebbles from a potted plant in the corner of the room. "
Au revoir,
Jake," he said.

"Goodbye," said Jake.

"
Au revoir, princesse
"

Kas tried to reply but was too choked up.

"Your time is up!" shouted Beogo, pounding on the front door with a sledgehammer fist. "Is the outlaw coming out, or are my men coming in?"

"He's coming out!" shouted Mr. Knight.

Yakuuba swaggered toward the front door, swinging his shoulders like a cowboy. Then he turned and ran up the stairs.

Dexter chased after him, taking the steps three at a time. "Come back here, you coward!"

"Where's he going?" asked Mrs. Knight. "There's nowhere to hide upstairs."

"I have no idea," the ambassador replied. "He's blinking terrified, poor lad."

Jake shook his head. "He's not trying to hide. He's going back to his camp, just like he said he would."

"But how?" said Mrs. Knight. "There are thirty armed policemen in the compound."

Jake shrugged. "You don't know Yakuuba."

The
young outlaw sprinted into the back bedroom and over to the window. He opened the window, punched the mosquito screen out of its frame, and climbed out onto the ledge. There below him was a line of policemen. Some of them wore blue berets, marking them out as FIMO, Burkina Faso special forces.

The mango tree was right in the middle of the backyard, and its outermost branches were three horse lengths from the window. Yakuuba took a deep breath and coiled himself for the leap of his life.

"You'll never make that jump!" The voice belonged to Dexter. "It's too far away. You'll splatter yourself all over the—"

Dexter was silenced midsneer by his enemy's slingshot, a single stone that split his lip and broke two front teeth.

The outlaw turned and jumped, pushing off the window ledge as hard as he could. He sailed through the air, reached out for a branch, missed it, and grabbed the next. The branch swayed violently, sending a heavy rain of mangoes pattering onto the ground. There were shouts below and the crack of a pistol. Game on.

Yakuuba swung from branch to branch: forward, down, forward, down, forward, and down again into the fork of the tree, where the branches were thick and the leaves dense. As soon as he was sure of his footing, he splayed his arms like a tightrope walker and half walked, half ran along the opposite branch. Bullets shredded the leaves around him and spattered against the tree trunk. Sor dropped to the ground and rolled to break his fall.