Star of Africa

Chapter 54

Before the test, came the preparations. Sizwe, Uwase, Ntwali, Gasimba, Mugabo and Rusanganwa were each given a loaded semiautomatic pistol, as well as a set of pressed tin dog tags on thin chains to hang around their necks. Many of Khosa’s men wore them like jewellery to show how big they were, and were happy to lend them for the occasion.

Another three sets of tags were allocated to Ben, Jeff and Tuesday, along with three machetes wrapped up in a sackcloth bag from one of the soldiers’ packs.

‘You three men are the superior warriors,’ Khosa told them in a booming, grandstanding voice for all to hear. ‘So it is right that you must have the lesser weapons. To pass the test, you will bring me all six sets of tags and the head of Sizwe inside this bag. Do you understand?’

‘Six sets of tags and the head,’ Ben said. ‘If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. And when it’s over, you let these people go back to what you’ve left them of their lives. And you let Jude and my friends go. You can keep me, if you want. I don’t care.’

‘Are you trying to negotiate with me, soldier?’ Khosa asked with a smile. ‘I do not remember offering these terms. Now, there has been enough talking. You, you, you, you and you,’ he said, waving his arm at a group of his soldiers and jabbing a finger at the big hut overlooking the village square, ‘will make sure that all of these female cockroaches and the little cockroaches are closed inside this hut. Guard them closely. Any man who allows a cockroach to escape will pay the price of one hand.’ Then he waved his arm towards another group of soldiers, which included the nose picker. ‘You, you, you, you, you and also you, will escort the fighters to the trees where the contest is to take place. Release the three warriors first. They will have one minute to take their positions and prepare, before you release the six hunters. You will stand guard and kill any man who tries to run away. Do you understand this duty that I have placed on you?’

The nose picker and his comrades enthusiastically chorused that they understood this duty very clearly. They’d just been given a ringside seat and couldn’t wait for the games to begin.

‘And I will stay here, and rest my feet for a while, and finish this very good cigar all the way from Havana, Cuba,’ Khosa said, rolling the Cohiba Gran Corona lovingly between his fingers. ‘While I keep both my eyes on this boy and make sure he does not try any more of his tricks. Come, White Meat. You will stay beside me as your father fights for your life, and tell me some of your white man jokes.’ He roared with laughter. The soldiers thought it was deliriously funny, too.

And so it began.

The combatants were escorted out of the village in two groups, Ben, Jeff and Tuesday in front and the six village men some way behind. The nose picker and the skinny soldier were in charge of the lead group. Two against three. Theoretically pretty good odds, and under normal circumstances there was no question that Ben would have gone for it. Even unarmed, against a pair of trigger-happy killers who were weighed down with as much armament as they could carry. The nose picker had been helping himself to the munitions supplies since Somalia. In addition to his AK-47, a nine-millimetre Browning pistol and the machete he’d held to little Gatete’s throat, he was decked out in extra bandoliers and had a cluster of hand grenades rattling like a bunch of coconuts on his belt.

‘You must be a real hard guy,’ Jeff said to him. ‘The African Clint Eastwood. The way you handled yourself against that little kid back there. I mean, you’ve got me shaking in my boots, matey.’

‘I am Captain Terminator,’ the nose picker said. ‘So fuck you, asshole. And keep walking or I will shoot you in the back.’

‘That sounds about right,’ Jeff spat at him.

The soldiers stopped them at the edge of the thicket. The nose picker grunted to the skinny guy, who was carrying the bag and at his comrade’s command tossed it deep into the bushes. It landed out of sight with a rustle and a clatter. Then, leering, the nose picker pulled out his nine-millimetre and fired a single shot in the air, like a starting pistol being fired to announce the beginning of a race. Pointing the pistol at the three men, he said, ‘Go.’

Now the clock was ticking. Just sixty seconds before Sizwe and the others were released into the thicket after them, armed with much more than an armful of machetes.

Ben, Jeff and Tuesday went ploughing into the dense vegetation. The grass was eye-high to an elephant in places, making it hard to see beyond a few yards in any direction. Ben spotted the bag and snatched it up, drew out one of the three machetes inside for himself and tossed one each to Jeff and Tuesday.

Fifty seconds.

‘This is fucked,’ Jeff said.

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Ben replied.

‘He’s insane. He’s got every intention of killing us all anyway, no matter what, sooner or later. You know that, don’t you? This is all just a fucking game to him. Like a blood sport.’

‘I know,’ Ben said.

‘He’s lost his mind. He’s completely off his rocker.’

‘I know that too.’

‘What are we going to do, mate?’

Ben looked at his friend. They’d been through a lot together. Faced all kinds of dangers, all kinds of death, and they’d come through it. But he’d never seen such an expression of doubt and worry and fear in Jeff’s face before.

‘Whatever works,’ he replied. ‘That’s all we can do.’

Forty seconds.

Tuesday was scanning the bushes, eyes darting in all directions. ‘I hate to put a downer on this happy moment, guys, but did someone say something about a man-eating lion on the loose in here?’

‘Least of our worries, under the circumstances,’ Ben said. ‘A rogue male isn’t like a normal lion. He doesn’t have his pack to hunt with any longer, and he won’t go after herds. He’s become a solitary predator who goes for solitary prey. One-on-one kills, easy meat. He sees a crowd of us, he’ll leave us alone. As long as we stay together, we should be okay.’

‘That’s so reassuring,’ Tuesday said with a shudder.

‘Enjoy it. In about half a minute, we really will have something to worry about.’

‘How do you want to handle this?’ Jeff asked.

‘You heard the man,’ Ben said. ‘Six sets of tags and a head in a bag. That’s what he asked for, and I aim to deliver it.’

‘It’s not right. They’re just trying to protect their families.’

‘So am I,’ Ben said.

The seconds pounded by. Tuesday wiped sweat from his eyes. Jeff moistened his lips with his tongue. Ben stood completely immobile, listening, watching, merging with the stillness of their surroundings. He felt his heart slow. Forty-five beats a minute. Forty. He held the handle of the machete loosely in his right fist and thought about the six men who were being sent to kill them. He thought about the soldiers fanning out to encircle the thicket, surrounding them with watchful eyes and sharp ears and fingers on triggers. He thought about heads in bags, and wondered whose it would be.

Ben bent down and picked up a stone that was lying at his feet. He clenched it in his left hand.

‘They’ll be on us any moment,’ Tuesday whispered.

‘They’re already here,’ Ben replied.