The Watchman

Thirty-Three

There was no noise coming from the villa and no lights. I laid low for ten minutes, tuning in to the night sounds, and eventually picked up the scuff of footsteps as a guard appeared at one corner of the building. Satisfied that nobody was lying in wait further out, I waited for him to disappear and made my way back to my OP.

Before sliding in under the branches, I used a stick to prod around the hollow in case a friendly puff adder had taken up residence. All clear.

I checked the building and surrounding area through the scope. The SUV was parked out front and two men were visible wandering around outside. No sign of the man in the generator shed.

I gave it fifteen minutes to see if Madar had changed his mind about telling the men about me. If he did, they’d soon come boiling out armed to the teeth. But the house remained silent.

I decided it was time to take the hi-tech approach to find out what was going on inside. For that I would need the third package acquired for me by Khaban in Mombasa.

It consisted of a black handset, little bigger than a pack of cigarettes, with a small antenna and tuning dial. With it came a round disk, like a hockey puck. This was the listening bug, fitted with a short wire antenna. The third component was a simple ear bud with a jack plug to fit into the handset. Put together, it was a device for covert audio surveillance of conversations through solid walls. I was well within the maximum operating range of a hundred metres, and with no obstacles in the way to block transmissions, I should be able to pick up on what was being said. First, though, I had to place the bug on the outside wall of the structure.

And that meant getting past the guards.

I monitored and timed their movements, but it didn’t help much. They were operating at random, with no fixed patrol times. One would stay by the door while the other would hoof off round the villa at his own pace. Then they would change places, sometimes stopping for a brief chat before the other would do his thing. I tried getting an average time, but it was all too casual to draw any firm conclusions. I would have to play it by ear.

I checked the lithium batteries were working correctly, then gathered the various parts together and got ready to move out. I lifted the overhead branches and slid out on my belly, moving slowly down the slope and ready to freeze. The listening device was in my pocket and a Ka-Bar knife in my hand.

I left the ghillie net over my head as a precaution and I headed at an angle away from the front door. I was aiming at a point just outside the route taken by the two guards.

I came to the crumbling ruins of the garden wall, which were little more than knee height, and waited. Moments later, one of the guards came shuffling round the corner dragging his feet. He had his rifle over his shoulder, held by the barrel, and was humming softly, eyes on the ground. It took him thirty seconds from the time he appeared to the time he vanished again. I waited some more. Two minutes later the second guard appeared. This one was even less attentive, and seemed more interested in chewing on something and spitting out whatever he didn’t like.

I took out the bug which came fitted with an adhesive strip. All I had to do was find a suitable spot on the wall, rip off the cover and slap it in place. Then it was back to my hide.

I waited for the other guard to do his thing. He came and went, and the moment he was out of sight, I was up and over the ruined wall and heading for the front side of the building.

I’d gone no more than three paces when I slammed into a low obstacle in the dark. It felt like another section of wall, and I instinctively fell sideways. I hit the ground hard and lay still, listening and sweating, feeling bruised. I wasn’t on the path used by the guards, but I was close enough to be seen if one of them chose to take a slightly different route.

As I lifted my head, sub-consciously counting off seconds for the next man to appear, I became aware of a strong smell close by. It carried the stench of rotting matter and human waste, with the telltale buzz of a few late flies.

I’d nearly stumbled into some kind of waste pit.

I felt around in front of me. The wall was about a foot high, and I was thankful I’d instinctively chosen to go down sideways. I was trying to figure out how extensive the pit was when I heard a cough from a few metres away.

It was the other guard — and he was early.

I hugged the rim of the pit, stuffing the bug inside my shirt and grasping the knife. I had nowhere else to go and not enough time to hop back over the garden wall. I held my breath, ready to surge up and take the guard out before he raised the alarm.

I ran the scenario through my head, going over each move automatically. Up, attack, strike, away. I’d have only seconds after silencing him to get out of here.

He approached my position, but instead of continuing on by, he stopped. I heard the rustle of clothing, then the patter of water followed by an echo, and a sigh of relief.

He was taking a leak in the pit.

He finished after what seemed like an age and moved away. As soon as he was gone, I was up again and flat against the wall of the villa, searching for a section of cinder block that was free of plaster. A relatively clean surface would make attaching the bug easier, and picking up voices a lot clearer.

Thirty seconds gone.

I found a section of bare block and rubbed away the dust of the old plaster. I could taste the grit on my tongue, acid and tainted with years of salt spray off the ocean.

Forty seconds.

I ripped off the adhesive cover and clamped the bug hard against the wall, low down behind a clump of dried grass where it would stand less chance of being seen by the guards.

It refused to hold. Damn. I moved it over and tried another spot.

Fifty seconds.

I tried again, this time grinding it hard to get some traction on the rough surface.

It held.

Sixty seconds.

I started back.

‘Amiir?’

Jesus — I swung round, reaching for the Ka-Bar.

It was the other guard. He must have got worried by his pal’s delay for a comfort stop and come looking for him. He hadn’t seen me yet, but was moving out towards the waste pit. Two more steps and there was no way he could miss me.

I launched myself at him.

He heard me coming and tried to step back, but too late. I slammed into him and used my bodyweight to force him to the ground, slapping my hand across his mouth. He was strong, and struggled like a wildcat, trying to wrench his head away and call for help. I could feel his saliva coating my fingers, threatening to lose my hold on him, so I changed my grip and jammed my forearm down hard across his throat to cut off any sound. Then I thrust the Ka-bar in under his ribs, towards the heart.

He struggled briefly for a few seconds, the life draining out of him. Then he went limp and lay still.

It had taken only seconds but I knew my time was up. The other guard would be back soon. I tipped the body over the wall of the waste pit. He was all skin and sinew and weighed very little, and I lowered him as far as I could, then let him go. He dropped into whatever lay at the bottom with barely a sound.

I dropped his rifle in after him. Hopefully, if they found him, it would look as if he’d stumbled in the dark and fallen in.