The Devil’s Kingdom

Chapter 27

At last, Khosa gave the signal to his men to stop the beating. He didn’t want Ben Hope to die just yet. For all his insubordinate ways, this man could still be useful to him, at least for the moment. He simply needed to be broken in, like taming a wild animal to the will of its new master. Khosa had allowed his soldiers to take the punishment to within an inch of killing the man, though in his not-inconsiderable experience there were very few who could have taken such a beating and still survive.

Just to make certain they hadn’t overplayed it, Khosa summoned the witch doctor, Pascal Wakenge, to come and check the unconscious white man’s vital signs. Wakenge arrived on the scene in his robes and monkey-skull necklace, gravely tested the pulse of the limp, bloodied form hanging at the end of the rope and offered his learned medical opinion that the white man wouldn’t die before dawn. As an additional temporary insurance, Wakenge rattled his skulls and softly chanted an incantation or two that would keep the evil spirits from stealing away his soul during the night, when it was most vulnerable.

Now that the fun was over, the soldiers reluctantly dispersed in search of something else to do, which amounted to little in a city with no bars or prostitutes. Most would return to their dormitories to sit up late, drinking Kotiko and smoking hashish or chewing khat and laughing about the fun they’d had with the white soldier. None of them thought it likely that there’d be any training taking place tomorrow.

‘Shall we cut him down, General?’ Umutese asked as Khosa was climbing back into the black Range Rover to be whisked back to the comfort of his suite.

‘Let him hang there until the morning,’ Khosa said. ‘He is protected now. Death cannot touch him until I say so.’

‘Very good, General.’

‘Cut him down at dawn and take him to the prison. There will be a surprise for him there.’ Khosa smiled. ‘His real punishment is still to come.’

Moments after the beating had come to a merciful end, Jeff and Tuesday had been put in a Jeep and driven back to the hotel, where they were locked inside their fourth-floor room that now had two empty bunks. Jeff slumped on the edge of his bunk with his head in his hands while Tuesday listened with his ear pressed against the door. ‘Sound like at least four guards out there,’ he said.

‘Or six, or ten, I’ll bet,’ Jeff muttered without looking up. ‘They’ve got us stitched up like a kipper.’

Tuesday moved away from the door and started pacing agitatedly up and down the width of the small bunk-room. ‘We have to do something. It can’t go on like this.’

‘What do you suggest?’ Jeff said, still not looking up. ‘We’re stuck, mate.’

Tuesday paused and looked at Jeff. A strange little smile came over his face and he patted the pocket of his combat jacket. ‘Maybe not that stuck,’ he said slyly.

Now Jeff did look up, and noticed the bulge in Tuesday’s pocket that hadn’t been there before. Tuesday reached inside and showed Jeff what he’d been hiding in there.

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Bloody hell. Where’d you get that?’

‘Lifted it off one of those clowns while they were all too busy gawking at our friend getting beaten half to death,’ Tuesday said. ‘It’s an old Russian F-1 frag grenade.’

‘No kidding. I might have seen one or two of those before.’

Tuesday weighed the grenade in his hand. ‘Now, the way I see it, we have a couple of choices open to us here. We can use this to blow the door down and take out the guards on the other side of it, in which case we’ll probably catch half the shrap when the bloody thing goes off in this tiny room. Which doesn’t strike me as a great plan. Alternatively, we can use it to stir things up a bit outside and create a diversion.’

Jeff stared as Tuesday went to the window and peered out at the bars bolted to the wall outside. ‘Just as I thought, it’ll fit between those bars no problem. We pop it out of the window, it goes bang in the street, all hell breaks loose, Khosa thinks there’s an attack kicking off or another assassination attempt or whatever, and in twenty seconds flat everyone’s running about like a headless chicken and we’re the last thing on their minds. In the meantime we bust out of here, take a Jeep, go and cut Ben down, pray he’s still breathing, and get the hell out of Dodge before anyone’s the wiser.’

‘Just like that,’ Jeff grunted.

‘Pretty much, yeah.’

‘You forgot one minor detail. Jude. Wherever they’re keeping him, he stays alive for exactly as long as we toe the line. We make a move, especially that kind of a move, they’ll cut his throat in a second.’

Tuesday nodded. ‘I agree, there’s that risk. But let’s be totally realistic here, Jeff. I hate to say it, but we don’t actually know for sure that Jude’s even still alive. These bastards will murder anyone at the drop of a hat, and they don’t exactly play by the rules. You trust them to keep a bargain?’

‘Of course I don’t. But what if he is alive, mate? We can’t be sure he isn’t.’

‘One thing we can be sure of,’ Tuesday said. ‘All three of us are leaving this place feet first if you and I don’t act, and soon. And nor is Jude. If he isn’t dead already, he will be the moment they decide he’s become surplus to requirements.’

Jeff shook his head. ‘I still don’t like it. It’s taking a big fucking chance. I got Jude into this whole mess. I’m not going to be responsible for him getting offed. Not when there’s still a choice.’

‘What choice is there? Jude’s best chance is that we get out of here and try and find him before they pull the plug on him. Maybe one of the guards will know where he’s being held.’

‘Doubtful.’

‘Okay, then, we could kidnap Khosa and take him with us as a hostage.’

‘Are you serious? They’d shoot us to pieces before we got within twenty feet of the bastard,’ Jeff said. He paused, and his eyes brightened as an idea came to him. ‘But, on the other hand…’

‘What?’

‘There’s Dizolele. A senior officer like him is more likely to know where Jude is. Gerber put him in the hospital, and with a hole that size in his leg he won’t be coming out anytime soon. I’ll bet we can find him easy enough.’

‘Can we get him to talk?’

‘Thirty seconds,’ Jeff said. ‘And he’ll tell us where he keeps his stash of ladies’ underwear. No problem there. But it’s still going to be awful tight.’

‘You know it’s our best bet, Jeff. What’s the alternative? I’d rather die trying than not try at all. And I’m pretty certain Ben would say the same thing.’

Jeff snorted. ‘You’re as mad as he is.’

‘Who dares wins,’ Tuesday said.

Jeff’s face was drawn and lined with worry. After a long pause he heaved a sigh and said, ‘I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.’

‘Course I am.’

‘Screw it, let’s do it. Not now, though. We wait until four in the morning. Best time for a surprise attack.’

They turned off the lights and sat in the darkened room, counting down the minutes as both thought about Ben out there, bleeding at the end of a rope. At exactly 4 a.m., Jeff said, ‘You still up for this?’

‘Eager beaver,’ Tuesday replied, his eyes shining in the darkness.

‘Then let’s give these bastards a wake-up call.’

Tuesday used his elbow to smash the window glass. He pulled the pin from the grenade, squeezed his arm through the bars outside the broken window and tossed the grenade as far as he could into the street below.

‘Show time,’ he said.