King Solomon's Curse

22

Even hurrying, it took several minutes to make the ascent. There had been no gunfire, so the Insekt Posse hadn’t attempted an assault, but the documentary crew’s concerned expressions told them that something was going on.

‘Where’s Paris?’ said Eddie. ‘And Howie?’

‘They’re with Fortune, at the entrance,’ Fisher told him.

‘So what’s happening?’ asked Nina, breathless.

Rivero raised his camera to record her and Eddie as they headed for the passage. ‘Probably easiest if you see for yourself.’

‘This isn’t a movie,’ she sniped. ‘You don’t have to keep things from us for dramatic tension!’

Fortune and Paris were maintaining their watch over the ruins, Howie nervously holding the third Kalashnikov behind them. ‘What’ve we got?’ Eddie asked.

‘A visitor,’ the tall Congolese replied. ‘Your friend Mr Brice.’

‘And you haven’t shot the fucker?’

‘He has a white flag,’ Paris clarified.

‘So? He can use it as a bandage.’ The Yorkshireman peered into the daylight. There was indeed a white flag, a piece of material on a branch being waved from behind a broken wall.

Nina looked cautiously past her husband. ‘Somehow, I don’t think he’s here to surrender.’

‘Flag of truce,’ Eddie rumbled. ‘He wants to talk. It’s definitely him?’ he asked the defenders.

‘Yes. He came alone,’ Fortune confirmed.

‘Great, so the others could be anywhere…’ With their position set back inside the palace’s thick wall, there was no way to see if anyone was stealthily creeping up from either side — unless the defenders exposed themselves to fire from the jungle. ‘All right, better see what he wants.’ He took the AK from Howie. ‘Brice! I’m here!’

The other Englishman cautiously raised his head. ‘About time, Chase. I just want to talk to you.’

‘Go on, then.’

‘I meant talk, not shout. I’d rather do this face to face. Preferably not with a gun pointed at me.’

‘I’m sure you would,’ said Eddie, who had fixed the rifle’s sights unwaveringly upon the ex-MI6 officer. ‘Convince me. And start by convincing me not to blow your head off.’

‘I’m offering a deal,’ Brice replied. ‘One that will get all of you out of here safely. But it’s an offer I can only make to you, Chase — because you’re the only person there who’ll understand why I’m making it.’

The shouted exchange had drawn the attention of those in the first chamber, Fisher leading them to the entrance to hear more. ‘Wait, now you’re in charge of negotiations?’ the director asked Eddie. ‘You’re not even an official part of the team!’

‘You’re not making any deals behind closed doors,’ Lydia said forcefully. ‘We should all be there. It’s our lives you’re bargaining with!’

‘Dissent in the ranks?’ called Brice. ‘I’ll make this clear for everyone — your only chance of staying alive is by dealing with me, and the only person I’ll talk to is Chase. I’m not going to explain myself; that’s just how it will work. Either I deal with Chase, in private, or I leave and let the militia handle things their own way. Believe me, theirs will be a lot more bloody.’

Worried looks were exchanged. ‘So what do we do?’ asked Rivero. ‘Do we trust him?’

‘Course we bloody don’t,’ Eddie muttered, before addressing his countryman again. ‘Brice! I’m assuming you want Mukobo back.’

‘That should go without saying,’ Brice answered. ‘It’s why you should do it that I want to discuss. Other than the obvious incentive of not being brutally slaughtered by a group of drug-addled barbarians, of course.’

‘Hope they can’t hear you calling them that.’

‘I honestly don’t care. They know the LEC is relying on me to supply weapons, so they wouldn’t dare touch me even if they understood English. Which very few of them do.’ He rounded the wall into the open. ‘So what will it be, Chase? You should at least hear me out. I’m sure your friends would want to know that an offer was made, even if you didn’t accept it.’

All eyes turned to Eddie. ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Fortune.

‘We can’t let him make a deal on his own!’ protested Lydia. ‘For all we know, he might sell the rest of us out!’

‘Oh, shut up, for God’s sake,’ snapped Nina. ‘But we know we can’t trust Brice, Eddie. As soon as he gets Mukobo back, we’re all dead.’

‘We still have the Shamir,’ Ziff pointed out. ‘That could give us something to bargain with.’

Eddie made a decision. ‘Let’s find out what he’s offering.’ He shouted to Brice. ‘All right! Come over!’

‘You sure about this?’ asked Fisher.

‘Nope. Fortune, Paris, keep him covered. Howie, quick word.’ He took the young man aside and whispered to him. Howie looked surprised, then nodded and hurried back to the first chamber.

‘Where’s he going?’ asked Lydia.

‘I just want him to check something.’ He returned his attention to the entrance as Brice, hands raised, picked his way over the fallen rubble. ‘Right, everyone without a gun, get out of the way. Fortune, watch the ruins; Paris, watch him. I’ll frisk him.’

‘I’m not armed,’ said Brice as he arrived.

‘If you’ve got a fucking paper clip on you, I’d consider that armed. Hands high, against the wall.’

The former agent took up his awkward position as Eddie conducted a thorough search of his clothing. Apart from a cigarette pack and lighter, his pockets were empty. ‘Travelling light, aren’t you?’

‘I thought you might take a perverse pleasure in breaking anything valuable, so I left everything else outside,’ Brice replied. ‘I have every intention of returning to collect them, though.’

‘That depends on you, doesn’t it?’ Eddie finished the search. ‘He’s clean.’

‘As promised.’ Brice turned towards him. ‘My cigarettes?’

‘Filthy habit. You should give up.’ Eddie tossed the pack and lighter outside. ‘Maybe I’ve seen too many James Bond movies, but I just have a funny feeling about the lighter being a bomb or the fags shooting poison darts.’

‘James Bond isn’t real. If SIS had the budget for gadgets like that in real life, the British Empire would never have faltered.’

‘Yeah, I always thought Alderley having that crappy old Ford Capri instead of some fancy Aston Martin spy car was a bit of a giveaway.’

Brice gave him a half-smile. ‘Poor old Peter never did have the drive to reach the top, did he? Anyway, to business. First, I’d like to see Mukobo before we start negotiations.’

‘You can see him, sure,’ said Eddie flatly. ‘Okay, move.’ As Brice started down the passage, he spoke to Paris and Fortune. ‘Watch things here — if anything happens outside, shout. I’ll be up as quick as I can.’ He followed Brice. ‘If the militia try anything, this bell-end’ll be the first to get shot.’

‘I’m here in good faith,’ said Brice patronisingly. ‘I hope that when you hear me out, you won’t just accept my offer, you’ll do so willingly.’

‘We’ll see.’ They entered the first chamber. Eddie drew the revolver and handed the Kalashnikov to Ziff. ‘Doc, take this and help Fortune and Paris if they need you — or me if I do.’

‘Where are you going?’ asked Fisher.

‘He wants to see Mukobo, and he’s at the bottom of the mine, so we’re going down there. Howie, did you check the batteries like I asked?’

Howie held up one of the torches. ‘Fully charged, man.’

‘Thanks.’ Eddie took it. ‘Nina, I want you to come with me.’

She was surprised. ‘What? Why?’

Brice had his own objections. ‘That’s not the deal, Chase. I talk to you, and you alone.’

‘She’s my wife. What I know, she knows. I found out the hard way that it’s not good to keep secrets from her.’ He gave her a small but genuine smile, which she returned in kind. ‘That’s the deal. And you’re going to accept it.’ He twitched the revolver at the ex-spy for emphasis.

‘Very well,’ said Brice with clear displeasure. ‘Just take me to Mukobo, and let’s get started.’

Eddie indicated the booby-trapped tunnel. ‘You know the way. Lead on.’

Leaving the others behind, he and Nina escorted Brice through the palace and down into the chasm. They descended the last flight of steps to the Chamber of the Shamir. The lanterns were still lit within. ‘Philippe!’ called Brice. ‘It’s me, John. Are you okay?’ There was no answer. ‘What have you done to him?’ he demanded. ‘Did you knock him out?’

‘Ah… no,’ said Nina, truthfully.

‘He’s inside,’ Eddie told him. ‘Go on in.’

Brice strode into the ancient room — and halted at the sight of the warlord’s corpse. ‘What — oh. Really, Chase?’ He shook his head. ‘This complicates matters.’

‘You’re not kidding,’ Nina muttered.

‘You don’t know how much.’ He went to examine the body. ‘Six shots at close range — including one to the balls? Rather a case of overkill.’

‘Well, when someone says they’re going to rape and kill my little girl, I kind of take offence,’ Eddie told him thinly. He fixed the gun upon Brice’s back, thumbing the hammer. The other man froze at the click. ‘And he said you were going to help him do it. Any reason I shouldn’t put the next six into you?’

‘You’ll need the bullets, for a start.’ Brice very slowly and carefully turned to face the other Englishman. ‘If I’m not back within the hour, nothing will stop the Insekt Posse from making an all-out assault.’

‘It won’t go well for ’em.’

‘It will go even less well for you. And you know that, for all your bravado. You may not have been an SAS officer, but you’re fully capable of making a tactical assessment.’

Eddie scowled, but knew he was right: with their limited ammunition, the defenders would be unable to hold back a concerted attack. ‘Okay, then. What’s this deal of yours?’

Brice regarded the lead case. ‘I assume you put the Shamir back in there.’

‘It’s the safest place for it,’ said Nina.

‘Perhaps. But it’s not fully safe, is it? I can still feel that… vibration in the air.’ He tipped his head as if listening to the omnipresent hum. ‘Solomon may have built the palace to shield the Mother of the Shamir from whatever activates it, but even with an inch of lead inside every wall, something’s still getting through. I’d assume that only some kind of high-energy particle or radiation could penetrate this deeply.’

She nodded. ‘Whatever it is, exposure charges up the Shamir until it reaches a critical level. I’ve seen something similar before. Although this is much more destructive. It seems to produce ultra-low-frequency sound waves to shake apart — smash apart — solid objects.’

‘A sonic weapon,’ said Brice, almost admiringly. ‘The Horn of Joshua, for real. The Americans and Russians spent years working on similar ideas, but never managed to make them useable in the field. This, though? A man-portable weapon that can obliterate a building using nothing but focused sound, and do so from a distance — it’s an extremely valuable find.’ His expression became more calculating. ‘The perfect tool for regime change. Just wait for a country’s leaders to be in the same place at the same time, then open the box. Take them all out in one go, and make sure your preferred replacements are ready to step up in the ensuing state of emergency. And there’s no defence, because nobody even knows it exists…’

‘Is that your deal?’ Eddie asked, scathing. ‘You going to offer us a cut of what you get from selling the Shamir to the highest bidder?’

‘Actually, no. That wasn’t why I wanted to speak to you. My business here in the Congo is more important. Or rather, it was until you put a spanner and six Magnum rounds in the works.’ A small sigh. ‘And after everything I did to rescue him from the Yanks…’

‘How did you rescue him? He was on a bloody plane!’

‘A pilot with some large debts, and a mid-air interception and transfer,’ Brice told him, as if it was no big deal. ‘Members of GB63 — the Removal Men — pulled Mukobo out through the 747’s cockpit escape hatch and winched him up.’

‘But… then the plane crashed,’ said Nina. ‘What went wrong?’

There was no regret or apology in his reply. ‘Nothing. The plan went exactly as intended.’

‘You what?’ said Eddie in disbelief. ‘“As intended”? Over three hundred people fucking died!’

‘You crashed a plane full of civilians just to cover up that you’d rescued one man?’ she cried, appalled. ‘My God!’

‘Over half a million Iraqis died to secure American interests in the Middle East,’ Brice replied patronisingly. ‘A few hundred deaths to secure British interests in Africa is a rounding error by comparison.’

‘What do you mean, British interests?’ demanded Eddie. ‘What’s Britain got to do with the Congo?’

The other Englishman laughed. ‘Why do you think I’m here, Chase? I never really left SIS — that was all part of my cover. I’m here on a mission, a very important one.’

Eddie was stunned. ‘What — the British government knows you’re trying to start a civil war?’

‘They authorised it! Do you think I ended up in this hellhole on a whim? I’m working on the orders of C, and with complete immunity from prosecution for any and all actions I take in the course of my mission. We want secession for eastern Congo. My job is to make sure it happens. Although,’ he glanced at Mukobo’s body, ‘you’ve complicated things quite considerably.’

‘Oh no, I heartily fucking apologise,’ said Eddie, though his sarcasm was blunted by shock. His own country was behind everything?

‘You destroyed an airliner!’ Nina added. ‘You killed hundreds of civilians — how can you possibly have immunity?’

‘Section 7 of the 1994 Intelligence Services Act,’ Brice replied in a smug, lecturing tone. ‘Otherwise known as the “James Bond clause”. SIS officers are protected from prosecution for any actions taken in service of Her Majesty’s Government anywhere in the world, as long as they have written authorisation from the Secretary of State. And I assure you, I have full authorisation.’

‘You were ordered to take down a plane to rescue Mukobo?’ asked Eddie, horrified.

‘No, no. There are very few politicians willing to get their hands that dirty. I was simply given an objective — “to bring about the independence of eastern Congo and secure any and all British interests therein” was, I believe, the exact wording. How I achieved it was entirely my decision. Mukobo was by far the best strongman to unite the various political groups and militias, so I had to arrange his removal from American custody. Which,’ he gave Eddie a sharp look, ‘I would never have had to if you hadn’t turned him over to the police in Tenerife. If the Removal Men had bagged him as planned, we would have brought him back to DRC and set things in motion three years sooner. You cost us a lot of time, effort and money. And lives.’

‘Don’t you fucking try to put any of that on me!’ Eddie shouted. ‘You set up the plane crash, you let that fucking maniac Mukobo run loose and kill God knows how many people. You’re the one responsible, not me.’

‘And why are you doing all this?’ Nina demanded. ‘Why would Britain want to split this country in two? What’s in it for them?’

Again, Brice became distinctly lecturing. ‘The Democratic Republic of Congo has some of the world’s largest deposits of rare minerals. Unfortunately, the mining rights have been handed to other countries of late — China and even Russia have been taking control. I’m not saying the current government is utterly corrupt, but… money talks. However, if the east becomes an independent state—’

‘You get to negotiate new deals,’ she realised. ‘And the new rulers will be very grateful to the people who put them in power.’

He nodded. ‘You’re brighter than your husband. Although I never really doubted that.’

‘And you’re only as bright as Mukobo if you’re going to insult a man pointing a gun at your head,’ the Yorkshireman rumbled.

Brice ignored him. ‘But yes, you’re right,’ he told Nina. ‘We may have won our freedom with Brexit, but because it’s taken us out of the European Union, we’re losing out on a lot of deals that were signed with the EU as a bloc. This way, we get to secure vital access to rare minerals with exclusive mining concessions for Monardril — a British company.’

‘All this is about fucking mining?’ Eddie said with disgust. ‘MI6 has killed Christ-knows how many people, just so some silver-haired twat in a helicopter can make more money?’

‘It’s about securing the future of my country!’ Brice replied, for the first time revealing a hint of defensive anger. ‘Of your country too. Never forget that, Chase. We both took an oath to protect it against all enemies. And any nation that denies us a resource we need is an enemy. There are plenty who are rushing to sabotage us now that we’re going it alone.’

‘So your allies suddenly become your enemies because they’ve got a contract to mine coltan or whatever, and you haven’t?’ said Nina.

Eddie rolled his eyes. ‘Great, like we need more people who hate us. So is this how MI6 protects us from enemies — by making sure we’ve always got plenty of enemies we need protecting from?’

‘Oh, grow up, Chase!’ Brice snapped. ‘The job of SIS isn’t to chase spies or fight terrorists. We have far more important things to do. We were founded to help the British Empire play the Great Game against the other imperial powers of the day; the players may have changed since then, but the game is still going on. We’ve lost some pawns, but we still have powerful pieces on the board. Our purpose is to keep them there, and make the best use of them.’

‘But whenever you move your fucking chess pieces around, real people get killed. And it’s the poor buggers in the forces who take the brunt of it. Let me guess: if eastern Congo became independent, the army and SAS would be sent here to “help” Monardril take over from the mining companies who were already there?’

‘The armed forces exist to secure and maintain British interests by force, whether the threat thereof or actual. That’s their sole purpose.’

‘Bollocks!’ Eddie protested. ‘I didn’t join the army or the SAS to fight for some rich bastard’s business plan. Or to start coups that’ll leave a lot of innocent people dead. I did it to serve my country and make a difference to the world.’

To his anger, his heartfelt assertion produced only a mocking smirk from Brice. ‘If you really believe that the SAS and our other special forces are there to preserve world peace and protect the innocent, you’re even more naive and stupid than I thought. You know, you were actually lucky to join the SAS when you did, just as there was a genuine war against a clear enemy.’

Eddie snorted. ‘Yeah, I felt really lucky while I was being shot at by the Taliban and al-Qaeda.’

‘I mean that you had the fortuitous timing to be able to take the moral high ground and be a soldier with a good cause: a rescuer, a hero,’ the MI6 officer went on. ‘Rather than being an enforcer, muscle for Britain’s friendly despots and warlords. A few years earlier, and you would have been in the islands of the Far East burning farmers’ villages and shooting their livestock to clear their land for rubber plantations, or executing dissidents who challenged the authority of our allies.’

‘That’s bullshit. That’s not what we do.’

‘You do what you’re told to do! Your purpose was to kill whoever we pointed you at, Chase. Nothing more, nothing less. SIS determines the targets, and you eliminate them. It doesn’t matter if they’re ISIS or the IRA, or civilians in some backwater country most people back home couldn’t even find on a map. If we decide their deaths serve British interests, then you make them dead.’ Another dismissive laugh. ‘Don’t give me any airy-fairy nonsense about making the world a better place.’

‘So it’s “My country, right or wrong?”’ Eddie said, appalled. ‘Wrong is wrong, whichever fucking side it is!’

‘You serve your country by putting it first, above everything else,’ Brice replied. ‘Your own opinions, your own morals, even your own family — and your own life.’

Nina regarded him contemptuously. ‘Sorry, but you don’t seem the kind to sacrifice your own life for your country. Everyone else’s lives, maybe—’

‘You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed for my country, Dr Wilde,’ Brice cut in, again with a flash of anger. ‘But you, Chase — I said once that your country had given you everything, and you repaid her by walking away. Well, now it’s time to settle your debts. Your turning Mukobo into Swiss cheese affects things, but I didn’t intend to let him stay around after independence anyway.’

‘You were going to kill him?’ Eddie asked.

‘He was far too unstable to allow to run a country, even by the standards of some of the despots we’ve supported in the past. Fabrice Kabanda is much more… civilised. And easier to control. Which brings me back to my offer, or at least an amended version.’ He straightened his clothing as if about to make a sales presentation. ‘With Mukobo dead, the chances of the secessionists winning have decreased considerably. Kabanda just doesn’t have the necessary capacity for violence. But that would redress the balance in their favour.’ He indicated the box containing the Shamir.

Nina was not impressed. ‘You want to give it to those lunatics outside?’

‘Since you murdered their leader, the only way you and your friends will get past the Insekt Posse alive is under my protection. The Shamir for your lives seems like quite a good deal.’

‘At the cost of a lot more lives.’

‘Obviously they wouldn’t get to keep it. A weapon that powerful needs to be held by the right hands.’

She cocked her head. ‘By which you mean yours.’

‘It would absolutely be in Britain’s best interests to control it, so yes. And you’re going to help me do so, Chase. You took the oath of allegiance when you joined the army, and I don’t believe that a man like you would let it slide after you left.’

Eddie frowned at him. ‘What’s my oath got to do with this?’

‘The last clause, specifically. Your promise to “obey all orders of Her Majesty, her heirs and successors and of the generals and officers set over me.” As a senior officer of the Secret Intelligence Service on an operation fully authorised by Her Majesty’s Government, I am such an officer. Whether you dislike me personally or consider what I’m doing repugnant is irrelevant. My mission has been deemed vital to the national interest — so you will help me accomplish it. That’s an order, Chase.’

Eddie was still and silent for a moment… then brought up his free hand in a mocking salute. ‘Yes sir, sir, lickety-split, sir!’ he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, before snorting. ‘Fuck off, Brice. I’m not a soldier any more.’

‘Nor was your friend Colonel McCrimmon after he retired from the SAS. But he still served his country by working for us — and obeying our orders.’

The mention of Mac served only to anger Eddie still further. ‘Mac would never have followed orders to do what you’re doing here. And you’re not a real officer, whatever MI6 calls you. I’m not going to help you start a war.’

The spy narrowed his eyes. ‘Then you’re a traitor,’ he said, the words oozing venom. ‘An enemy of the state. And I can assure you that if by some miracle you get out of this place alive, you’ll be treated as such. You’ll never see your daughter again.’

Eddie snapped up the gun, his face turning to stone. ‘Last time someone threatened my little girl, I killed him.’

‘I’m not threatening her. I’m making a promise to you. Obviously I’ll deny everything I’ve told you both, but I still have no intention of letting you spread any rumours about SIS’s involvement in DR Congo. The Removal Men will be called in — and their targets will be you. I doubt you’d even make it past the border.’

The Yorkshireman’s expression remained cold… then, to both Nina’s and Brice’s surprise, he smiled. ‘Funny thing about rumours. They stop being rumours if they become fact.’

‘Meaning what?’ the agent asked suspiciously.

‘Meaning… smile! You’re on Candid Camera.’ Eddie tipped his head towards one of the windows.

Brice and Nina turned to look. Nothing was visible in the darkness — until a small red light flashed. Brice stiffened as he realised what it was. ‘You little shit,’ he muttered.

‘While you were droning on,’ Eddie continued, his grin widening, ‘we were just drone-ing. I thought it’d be a good idea to get whatever dodgy crap you had to say on tape, and I was right.’

The other man whirled back to him. ‘You’re bluffing. That thing won’t have a microphone.’

‘Howie? If you can hear me, come a bit closer and give us a dance.’

A pale shape took on form outside as it approached the spill of illumination from the lanterns. Rotors whispering, the quadcopter stopped outside the chamber, wagging from side to side before retreating again. ‘Modern technology,’ said Eddie. ‘Innit great? Everything you said’s been recorded on a laptop. Soon as we get somewhere with an internet connection, boop — it’ll be in the inbox of every news service in the world. It’s not the first time I’ve done something like this.’

‘That recording would be a hell of a thing to show to the United Nations,’ said Nina. ‘Or the US! You just confessed to destroying an American airliner, with the approval of the British government. That’s an act of terrorism — an act of war.’

Brice tried to conceal his concern, eyes flicking upwards as if seeking help from on high. ‘They wouldn’t believe it,’ he said. ‘And even if they did, they wouldn’t act upon it. It would wreck the special relationship between Britain and the US.’

‘I think you already did that when you wrecked a fucking plane,’ Eddie told him sarcastically. ‘But anyway, how about we make you an offer? You said you could get us out of here without the militia killing us. Do that, for all of us, and we’ll make sure that video doesn’t pop up on everyone’s Facebook feed. Obviously we’ll keep a copy, or twenty. Just in case anyone really does think about sending some boys from the Increment after us.’

‘The what?’ asked Nina.

‘MI6 crossed with SAS. You don’t want to meet ’em if you’re not on their side. But we’re not going to meet ’em. Are we, Brice?’

‘The Increment are the least of your worries at the moment,’ said the other Englishman. He now seemed tense, almost anxious, again glancing up at the ceiling. ‘I may not be able to hold the Insekt Posse back once they find out you killed Mukobo.’

‘Well, you’d better try, hadn’t you? ’Cause I doubt they’d be too happy to see the guy who let their leader get shot by another Brit. They might even think we were working together.’

‘I highly doubt that.’

‘Oh, I’ll make sure to tell ’em.’

Brice said nothing for several seconds, thinking. ‘Okay. There’s another option,’ he said at last. ‘Even with Mukobo gone, the secession still has a chance of success as long as they have a supply of weapons. The militia outside know I was going to provide them. I can use that as leverage to keep us all alive long enough to get out of the jungle. Once we’re clear, I’ll arrange for my contacts to extract us on the sly.’

Nina had stood back while the two men had their discussion, but now started to feel uneasy. It wasn’t until Brice yet again flicked his gaze upwards — unconsciously, it seemed — that she realised why. ‘Eddie, something’s wrong,’ she said. ‘He’s waiting for something.’

‘The only thing I’m waiting for is your accepting the one chance we all have of escaping from here,’ said Brice curtly.

She shook her head. ‘No, there’s something else. I mean, you know you’re still being filmed, right?’ She waved at the windows. Beyond them, the drone dipped in response. ‘You just said you’re going to screw over the militia the first chance you get. Why would you do that if you know they might find out? For that matter…’ She paused, worried.

Eddie stepped back to join his wife, keeping the revolver fixed upon Brice. ‘Uh-oh. What is it?’

‘He’s a spy. More than that, he’s deep undercover to give his bosses plausible deniability. So… why would he tell us anything about the true nature of his mission? I mean, isn’t the first rule of spy craft that you never talk about what you’re doing?’

‘I think that’s Fight Club.’

‘Yeah, you just keep on quippin’, Roger Moore,’ she snipped. ‘But either everything he’s told us is another lie, or…’ Dread rose as the only other possibility became clear. ‘Or he felt safe telling us the truth, because he doesn’t think we’ll live long enough to pass it on.’

‘I’m here to offer a deal that’s mutually beneficial, that’s all,’ insisted Brice. ‘I want to get away as much as you do.’

‘No, she’s right,’ said Eddie. ‘All you care about is completing your mission — which means we have to be dead so we can’t fuck it up by telling anyone.’ He glanced at the drone. ‘And everyone else with us has to be dead too, so that recording can’t ever get out. What’re you waiting for, then? You keeping us occupied so the militia can set up an attack?’

‘Your men are in a well-defended position with a clear line of fire. A direct assault on that entrance would be suicide without grenades and explosives — which the rabble who came with me don’t have.’

Eddie knew Brice was right — but was now as convinced as Nina that he had come to them as a distraction from some larger plan. ‘I think we should get back to the others,’ he told her. ‘Brice, get moving.’

The spy’s hesitation told him that Brice was exactly where he wanted to be. ‘I’m telling you, the only way out of here is with my help. I—’

The Yorkshireman stepped closer. ‘Move. Now. Or you can stay down here with Mukobo, permanently.’

‘All right, all right.’ Brice raised his hands higher and started towards the exit. ‘But you really should take my offer.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Because if it expires, then so will you—’

A thunderous explosion shook the chasm — and daylight streamed in from above.