The Devil’s Kingdom

Chapter 21

Back at the city, the dusty trucks lined up outside the barracks building, which would soon need to expand into neighbouring buildings to house Khosa’s rapidly growing forces. As Ben disembarked from the lead truck, soldiers grabbed him and put him in the back of a Jeep with Xulu up front and his lieutenant at the wheel. Umutese sped recklessly through the empty streets to the hotel, where a belligerent and fuming Xulu led the way to Khosa’s administrative office on the ground floor.

Khosa’s secretary informed them that the General had not yet returned from his business meeting. Xulu looked bitter. Ben couldn’t tell which upset the captain more, the disappointment of not being lauded by his beloved commander over the successful mission, or the frustration at not seeing the white troublemaker get what was coming to him.

‘This is not the end of the matter,’ Xulu warned him as they returned to the Jeep. ‘But first we have work to do. Hurry! Hurry!’

Ben felt like hitting him again, just for the pleasure of parting him from a few more of his gold teeth. In for a penny, he thought. Then he thought of Jude, and kept his fists to himself.

The Jeep hustled back to the barracks building, which was swarming with soldiers inside and out. But not every face there was hostile. ‘Ben!’ called a familiar voice as his guards walked him inside, and he turned to see Jeff and Tuesday standing there under the suspicious eye of their own trio of guards. Gerber was with them, the first time since their arrival in the city that Ben had seen the old sailor on his feet and looking less than cadaverous. As pleased as he was to see them all again, Ben was barely able to manage a smile.

Jeff caught his expression. His eyes dropped a few inches and he frowned at the damage on Ben’s face. ‘You look like you’ve taken a couple of knocks, mate. What happened out there? You’ve been gone hours. We were worried.’

Ben touched his bruised jaw. ‘Others had it worse,’ was all he could bring himself to say.

‘Any news about Jude?’ Jeff seemed almost too nervous to ask.

Ben shook his head. Jeff’s lips tightened and his brow furrowed into deep lines.

‘Look who’s back in the land of the living,’ Tuesday said, clapping Gerber on the shoulder.

‘I wanted to say I’m sorry,’ Gerber said, ‘for letting you guys down. Things just got too much for me, Condor and Hercules and all. I needed some time to myself. Feel a damn sight better if we could get out of this mess, though. And I’m worried as hell about Jude. I love that kid like he was my own, you know?’

Ben felt a surge of sadness and warmth. ‘I appreciate that, Lou. Thanks. It’s good to see you on your feet.’

‘Old Marines never die,’ Jeff said. ‘They just get tougher. Right?’

‘Yeah, right,’ Gerber said. ‘I guess.’

‘Hurry! Hurry!’ Xulu barked at them, a man on a mission. The guards prodded and shoved the four through a maze of plywood-sheet corridors that led all the way through the building and back outside to a wide concrete courtyard shaded on three sides with awnings. Some thirty or forty more soldiers were gathered there, standing haphazardly to attention in the presence of Colonel Raphael Dizolele. In full regalia with a peaked cap and gold braid plastered all over, Dizolele was proudly admiring the large crowd of children assembled at the far side of the courtyard: some fifty boys, about half of the orphans harvested that day. A number of the children bore the visible marks from Xulu’s whip. All of them had had their heads shaved. They shuffled uncertainly, gazing around in bewilderment at their new surroundings. Most of them had probably never seen a city before, let alone one occupied solely by armed troops.

‘Who are all these kids?’ Tuesday asked in astonishment.

‘There are more,’ Ben said quietly, and Tuesday just looked at him.

‘They are our new conscripts,’ Dizolele proudly announced. ‘Now you will begin their training.’

‘We’re not primary-school teachers,’ Jeff said. ‘What kind of a joke is this?’

‘Silence!’ Xulu yelled. ‘You will show respect!’

Jeff snorted. ‘To who? Him? You? Now that’s a joke.’

Xulu shot Jeff a look of contempt, but he had more important things on his mind. He stepped up to Dizolele with an accusing finger pointed Ben’s way. ‘Colonel, I have a serious matter to report. It concerns that man. He is a dangerous traitor who causes nothing but trouble. I do not believe he can be trusted to train our troops. Today he attempted to divert the operation. He severely injured a number of my men.’

Jeff grinned at Ben, as if to say, Nice job.

‘This is very bad,’ Dizolele said, looking sternly at Ben. ‘But we will consider the matter later, when the General returns. Captain, you will carry on with the initiation of the new recruits.’

‘Yes, sir!’

Xulu had never looked as happy as he did strutting up and down in front of the crowd of children. His lapdog Umutese hovered nearby, standing beside a folding metal table on which some items had been laid out. There was a small zippered bag, a basketball, and a short-barrelled Smith & Wesson revolver. After what he’d already seen that day, Ben didn’t even like to imagine what their purpose was.

He soon found out. At a snap of Xulu’s fingers, Umutese scuttled over to him with the bag. Xulu reached inside it like a magician about to pull a rabbit from a hat, and with a flourish produced a cutthroat razor and a sachet of white powder.

Jeff stared at Ben with raised eyebrows. Tuesday’s eyes were boggling in alarm.

Next, Xulu pointed to a lanky boy of about eleven at the front of the crowd. ‘You, boy,’ he yelled. ‘Come here. Do not be frightened.’ The boy glanced at his friends and then stepped forward, looking deeply apprehensive. Xulu laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘What is your name?’

‘Asikiwe,’ the boy replied in a small voice.

‘Asikiwe, you will be a brave and fierce soldier.’ Xulu quickly slashed a two-inch-long cut in the boy’s temple with the razor. Asikiwe yelped in pain. Umutese held him tight as the blood trickled down his face. Xulu razored open the sachet, licked a finger, dipped it into the white powder and then dabbed a generous quantity into the cut with his moist fingertip.

What in hell’s name are they doing? said Jeff’s speechless expression.

The effect on the boy was so rapid that there was no doubt in Ben’s mind that the white powder could be anything but pure cocaine. Within moments, Asikiwe was reeling and his eyes were floating out of focus. Xulu let him go and pointed to another boy in the crowd. ‘You are next! Come here!’

And on, and on. By the time the last boy had been cut, the first few to receive the treatment were well under the influence of the drug. It was a deeply disturbing sight.

Xulu was beaming. ‘If you are to become soldiers, I want to see how well you can fight! Attack whoever is nearest to you! Hit hard! Anyone who does not fight with all his heart will be whipped!’

The change in these placid, frightened children was startling and horrifying. The first blow landed quickly and produced a ripple effect that soon had all the boys pummelling one another like a feral pack, out of their minds and completely uninhibited in their ferocity. Their yells filled the courtyard. Bloody noses and burst lips started breaking out everywhere. Several boys fell and were trampled by the bare feet of their comrades.

‘I can’t watch this,’ Gerber muttered.

‘STOP!’ Xulu screamed, and the fighting petered out almost as quickly as it had started. He snapped his fingers again, and this time Umutese brought him the basketball from the nearby table. ‘We have played this game before,’ Xulu said to the children, holding the ball up. ‘But you did not play it well. Let us try again. This ball is the head of your enemy. Whoever brings it back to me will be spared a beating. The rest of you will be punished for your failure!’ He tossed the ball among them.

Ben could only be thankful that it wasn’t a real head this time. But that was all that was good about the game. The wildest rugby match ever played by big, powerful men couldn’t have compared with the brutality that ensued. Eventually, the victorious boy emerged with bloody knuckles and one eye swollen shut.

‘This boy will have food tonight!’ Xulu yelled, grasping the winner’s shoulder. ‘The rest will go hungry! Then you will learn the importance of victory!’

Just then, the thud of a passing helicopter made them all look up. Xulu shot a glance in Ben’s direction and grinned a nasty grin to himself. Khosa was back. Unfinished business would soon be attended to.

But the bizarre hazing of the child recruits wasn’t over yet. ‘You!’ Xulu shouted, pointing at a younger boy of about eight. His grimy white vest was spotted with blood and his eyes were rolling. ‘What is your name?’ Xulu demanded. The boy took a few seconds to register the question and remember the answer. ‘Mani.’

‘Tell me, Mani. Do you want to eat tomorrow?’

A nod.

‘Then you must pass this test,’ Xulu said.

Ben and Jeff exchanged another worried glance. Ben was prepared for the worst. The crowd of children, intoxicated with blood and violence, was ready for anything.

‘Who are your enemies?’ Xulu shouted at Mani. The boy looked blank.

‘Your enemies are who we tell you they are! Say it!’

Mani mumbled incoherently.

‘What do we do with our enemies?’ Xulu yelled, his nose an inch from the boy’s. ‘Spill their blood! Say it! All of you! SPILL THEIR BLOOD!’

Slowly at first, quickly building in volume, the children all began to chant it. ‘SPILL THEIR BLOOD! SPILL THEIR BLOOD!’ The same awful chorus that was still ringing in Ben’s ears from the massacre of the village during their journey to the Congo.

‘This is sick,’ Tuesday said loudly.

And it was about to get sicker.