The Watchman

Twenty-Six

I was already awake when dawn came in a rush of cold air off the sea. It was tangy with salt and carried the smell of wood smoke from the villa.

I’d managed to cat-nap throughout the night, waking regularly by instinct to check my surroundings. But there was nothing to see or hear save for the background swish of the sea and the occasional rustle of a night creature.

In the thin light available I made double sure my cover was the best I could get. It had to stand up to more than just a casual survey, although the choices along here were limited. The terrain was low scrub and sandstone, with clumps of dry vegetation and prickly bush, the soft ground pushed into dips and hollows by the elements. I was in one of the dips.

Satisfied my position was good, I ran a quick eye over my weapons before taking a drink of water and chewing on an energy bar. It was too sweet for my tastes, and made me thirsty, but it would keep me going for the hours ahead.

My first sighting of the villa after crossing the Mogadishu road had been a single yellow light flickering in the dark. Beyond it I could hear the sea, a gentle hiss in the darkness. I’d homed in on the light and made my way forward with care, checking the ground every few steps for traps, wires and other man-made obstacles. I’d already seen enough trash lying around to know that the locals weren’t too eco-friendly. Old tyres, plastic bottles, coiled clumps of rotting fishing nets, discarded fragments of cork floats and bits of metal too small, thick or rusted to be used for anything else. Any of these were enough to trip an unwary person. The closer I got to the coast, the more I saw.

I’d eventually come to a slight dip in the ground on a slope overlooking the villa. It was little more than a couple of feet deep, but big enough for an observation post. All I needed was some cover to go over the top.

I moved back a ways and gathered a collection of dried branches, then slid into my new home and spread them over me, twisting them together to stop them flying away if a sea breeze sprang up. With the ghillie net over me I was pretty certain I’d be invisible unless somebody actually fell in on top of me.

Next I dug out some of the sand beneath me with a small trowel, then took out a couple of small plastic bags from my backpack. Disposing of waste in a hot zone observation post can be a problem. Flies will soon zoom in on any fresh matter and attract attention.

I carefully scraped away at the earth in front of me to give me a better field of observation and to avoid breaking the skyline. Anybody looking up from the building would notice even a slight movement against the sky, but if I had some soil behind me, I would just about blend in. Once I was happy with my field of fire, I sat back and allowed the sun to do its bit drying the upturned spoil to the same colour as everywhere else.

I checked my surroundings every fifteen minutes, including the villa. The smell of wood smoke was enough to tell me that there were people down there and they were up and about. I had no idea how many, but I’d soon find out if I made the wrong move.

I used the sniper scope to give the building the once-over. It was a simple villa, vaguely European by design and single level, with a flat roof. The walls had once been plastered but were now showing the inner lining of cinder blocks, some crumbling under the combination of neglect and the elements. Tacked to the back was a small outhouse which I guessed had been used in better times to hold a generator.

An attempt had been made to build a wall around the property, but any decent blocks had been taken away once the property had been abandoned. The grounds had no discernible border, but ran into the interior beyond where I was hiding, and extended out on to the beach a hundred metres on either side. And there was no cover anywhere. It put a serious dent in any plans I might have had of getting closer, unless I got lucky under cover of dark. But that was a problem to deal with later.

My sat phone gave a soft buzz. It was Piet.

‘Can you talk?’ His voice sounded low and gruff. I couldn’t hear any engine noise, so I figured he was on the ground somewhere.

‘For now. I’m inside the target area.’

‘You better get ready for company. I took an early dawn flight, to keep up appearances.’

‘And?’

‘There’s a stretch of track outside Kamboni. You probably crossed it last night. It runs out of the town, then veers directly north, following the border. About four clicks from there I saw a pickup and a group of guys clearing the track. It’s been used as a landing strip before, but not for a while.’

‘Somebody’s flying in.’

‘Yeah. I hope you got good cover, man; they’ll probably make a fly over first to check it out. These guys are suspicious, believe me.’

‘I hear you.’

It made sense. Fly the SIS personnel in by small plane and truck them to the villa. Anyone else moving in the area, especially in vehicles, would stand out like a camel on a sand dune.

‘Where are you?’ I asked.

‘Running the fence, like always. It’s what they expect. At most I’ll be twenty minutes out from your position.’

‘I thought you didn’t want to get involved.’

‘I don’t. But if things go balls-up you’ll be needing a lift. You call and I’ll come pick you up.’

I thanked him and switched off. It was good to know I had help out there. As I settled down again, I heard the sounds of an engine.

It was a white 4WD. It came overland from the north-east, drawing a dust cloud behind it, and skidded to a stop close by the villa. Three men got out of the vehicle, and others came boiling out of the building, rifles at the ready and primed for action. When they saw who it was, they waved greetings as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. Another man popped his head out of the generator shed at the rear of the villa to see what the noise was about, and I breathed a sigh of relief. If I’d ventured out of my hide I’d have tripped right over him.

I counted nine men, all armed. They were dressed in traditional wrap-around skirts and a variety of western T-shirts or the lightweight kameez. With the likelihood of more men on the plane with the SIS negotiators and others on call in Kamboni, it made for a substantial force if anything went wrong.

An hour later, three of the men came outside and stood talking. One of them checked a big gold watch on his wrist, then climbed behind the wheel and took off in a dust cloud. He passed my position two hundred metres away, heading towards the border.

Back to where Piet had seen the track being prepared.

I checked my position and overhead cover. The men in the villa must have got word that the negotiators were on their way in. Time to buckle down and stay still.

I checked through the scope as the remaining men stood chatting. One of them pointed and said something, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck move.

He was looking right at me.