EBOLOWA 13

13

Niamey, Niger

 

     “Give me the case,” said Benet, unlocking the tailgate.

     Inside there was a concealed space big enough to take Luc’s new-fangled attaché case. 

     “That’s not going to fool anyone - - “

     Benet slammed the door.  “They’re interested in what’s coming over the border, not what’s hidden in here.”

     “How can I pose as a crazy crocodile hunter when my gun is buried back here?”    

“Just take your cue from me.”

     “I shouldn’t have been bounced into this without authorization.“

“You have mine.“

“Yours - - ” he sneered before he could stop himself.

“It’s all you’ve got.”

Luc smashed his fist into the seat and turned sideways, his head resting on the window.  It was all he could do to doze as the Toyota followed the road to Malanville.  He put on a show of waking up as they pulled up at the customs post at Gaya.

“Stretch your legs,” Benet said as he got out.  “You’ll need to be alert.”

Luc delayed just to spite the bastard but then got out to smoke a cigarette.  He watched the door of the Customs Office and kicked at the ground under his feet.  The smoke calmed his nerves and he wandered along the rough sidewalk and looked up at the star-studded sky.  He’d never seen anything like it, even in the High Atlas or Colorado, and it should’ve been memorable, something else to brag about, but instead he turned back to the customs post and wished the job was done.

The door swung open and Benet appeared.

“We won’t need the cognac after all,” he said.

“Why not?”

“The corporal doesn’t drink.“

“But you said - - ”

“He’s a Moslem.“

“You said everything was covered - - “

“Bad luck.  You can’t plan for it.“

“Jesus Christ!” he exploded.  “We should postpone.“

“It’s coming over tonight.”

Luc’s stomach seized up. “How far is it?”

     “Just up here.”

     At the top of an incline Benet pulled over and cut the engine and took a pair of binoculars out of the glove box. The bank rose sharply from the roadside and a clump of trees cut a dark profile against the starlit sky.  They walked to the edge and looked down at the moonlit river and the bridge visible as a chain of faint lights linking the shores.  On the distant bank were barriers and guard huts and a flickering of miniature figures moving to and fro. 

Luc stared down at the scene.  The bored sentries, the barbed wire, the barriers and searchlights were straight out of a cold war spy movie but they were real and he was in the middle of it.  Fear closed on his heart.  Benet was leaning against a tree trunk with the binoculars.  He grunted and passed them over and Luc raised them to his eyes.

“See the truck?” Benet asked.

“Yeah.”  A lumbering shadow with dim headlights was approaching the barrier. It ground to a halt and a figure dropped to the ground.  “Your man has just got out.”

“Right on time.”

They returned to the Toyota and Luc watched the toy buildings and miniature figures become life like.  Within twenty metres of the barrier Benet cut the engine and picked up his stick and the official papers. Luc lit another cigarette and trudged towards the bridge.  A sentry came out of the hut but Luc kept going towards the river. 

“I’m looking for crocodiles,” he called.

The silver surface of the water stretched away flat and undisturbed.  Soft murmuring croaks floated up and the stiff river grass crunched under his feet.  Suddenly so close that his heart leapt, a long log shape got up and slithered into the water before gliding out of sight.  At the same moment the truck’s engine coughed into life and the bridge above him began to shake and rumble - - Colonel Foccart’s consignment of arms was on the move.  He watched the metal and canvass monster heave and hiss its way across the bridge and was momentarily mesmerised by the thought that he was witness to history in the making.  The truck above him might be no less momentous than the little biplane that had carried General de Gaulle to London in 1940 or the train that had taken Lenin to the Finland Station in 1917.  He took in a deep breath and squared his shoulders: this was what he’d signed up for.

He met Benet coming out of the customs shed.

“What about the Moslem?”

Benet shrugged, “he’s in a bad mood.“

“Fucking hell - - “

“Keep calm.  Play your part, that’s all you have to do.“

“That’s all - - “ he hissed but Benet was already on his way to meet the truck.  The driver leant out of the cab and shouted something and a couple of youths emerged from the hut and climbed up inside.

“What’s going on now?” Luc asked, catching up.

“Cus       Relief flooded through him.  “You mean we’re okay?”

             "Yes."

             “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re here for the crocodiles.  Why would you be interested in the consignment getting through?”

“But that’s just my cover - - “

“So just play it.”

Benet started back towards the Toyota and Luc had to stifle the urge to kick the old bastard’s stick from under him.  He’d just caught up when a siren cut through the night.  Over the rise came a fast moving vehicle with flashing lights, followed by another.  Benet thumped his stick into the ground and swore.

“What’s going on now?” Luc asked, panic jumping at him again.

“Gaddafi’s men.“

The youths leapt out of the truck and the Moslem corporal came out of the customs shed.  They all watched the leading car skid to a halt.  The doors flew open and officers in laundered uniforms with ribbons and epaulettes spilled out.  Luc’s heart hammered against his ribs as Benet’s official papers were dismissed with a wave of a baton and a swarm of men got into the back and started to unload the crates.  Luc was transfixed.  A hand gripped his arm from behind. 

“You are Collis Blake?” The name rang out like a roll call.

“Oui, c’est ca - - that’s right, that’s me.” His stomach turned over.  “Moi - - American - - Yankee!“  He pointed at himself like an imbecile and took his passport out.  The soldier took it and steered him towards the shed.  At the door Luc glanced back: the crates were lined up on the ground like a row of coffins with Gaddafi’s men attacking them with crowbars and jemmies.  As the soldier pushed him inside he heard the first lid cracking open.

     Luc answered the man’s questions with the sound of splintering wood filling his ears.  He pictured guns and ammunition being spilled onto the ground and fear gripped at his stomach.  He looked over his shoulder but all he could see were paddles for Benet’s steamer strewn across the ground.  The scene unfolded in front of him, split wood and mounting tension as each of the opened crates yielded yet more paddles. There were no guns or ammunition, nothing. 

     Relief overtook him as the men reached the last crate and scattered more paddles across the road.  Benet was standing with the senior officer clearly expressing i confusion as to why his legal consignment had been subjected to such a furious assault?  He appeared bemused and wished the senior officer a cordial good night.  The men kicked their way furiously through the paddles and got back into the truck. 

     It was only as the convoy disappeared over the horizon that Luc’s relief turned into rage.  He’d been made a fool of.  He stomped down to the ruined crates, which Benet and the guards were packing with paddles.

     Benet handed him a hammer.  “Make yourself useful.”

     He shook with fury as he hammered the lids in place, pounding away so hard that sweat soaked his shirt and dripped into his eyes.  When he’d finished he flung the hammer into the back of the truck and a chorus of laughter broke out behind him.

     “They say you work like a crazy man M. Blake, better than a gang of Hausa.”

     Luc rounded on them with clenched fists.  The oldest sentry, Benet’s inside man, offered him the bottle of cheap cognac, half empty now, and he took it with a nod and took a long swig, letting the coarse alcohol burn deep into his throat.  The driver got back into the cab and the truck spluttered into life and pulled out of the bay, and the little cluster of guards broke up to let it through. The customs detail went back to the shed, leaving the two of them finally alone.

     “Fuck you Benet,” Luc exploded and slammed his fist down on the hood of the Toyota, “was that your idea of a joke?” 

     Benet got in without a word and put his stick on the back seat.  He started the engine and waited for Luc before driving off.  “It wasn’t a joke.”

     “What the hell was it then?  You had no right - - “

     “I had every right.  In this business, all that matters is the result.”

     “Result!  A stack of fucking paddles!  We were supposed to be meeting a shipment of arms.”

     As if in reply, Benet braked and Luc was pitched forwards as the Toyota pulled off the road and bounced down a hidden track.  Bushes caught at the wing mirrors and slapped at the windows. 

     “Where we going now?” he yelled.

But Benet didn’t answer.  He steadied the Toyota and sped along a sandy piste. 

     “You should count yourself lucky,” he said at last, “everyone has a first time to taste fear and normally the danger is real.“

     “You should’ve told me!”

     Benet just drove, leaving him to seethe.  The undergrowth was thinning out and in the distance he could see the river glinting in the moonlight. 

     “You should’ve told me - - “ he said again.  

     “I told you what I needed to.  That’s how to stay safe on the front line.  They should’ve taught you that at the Piscine.”

     “They taught us about trust and team-work.“

     Benet face took on a long-suffering look.  “You can only earn trust,” he said, “and it takes time.”

     “I bet Guy Martin had time.“

     “Yes, as a matter of fact he did.  We worked together.  I saw him deal with pressure and fear.”

     “Well he’s not trusted in the Piscine any longer, not after Biafra!”

     Benet ignored him and slowed up to bump through a ditch.  They were closer to the river.

     “What’re we doing now, or don’t you need to tell me that either?”

     “We’re going to pick up the guns.”

     “What?“    

     Benet glanced at him.   “They’re coming across down here.  You’re going to help me load up.”

     “So I’m just muscle - -“

     “Nothing wrong with that.” 

     Benet eased down a steep slope onto a strand of shingle.  Downstream Luc could see the outline of an island.  In front of them was a sandbank.  Benet drove across it and reversed up to an inlet.  He cut the engine and climbed out.

    “Somebody’s used this before,” muttered Luc, his hand on a mooring post. “How big is the boat?”

    “You’ll see.”

They crossed the shingle and Benet seemed to need his stick more. They stood and looked out across the river, a vast uninterrupted shimmer of moonlight.  A couple of crocodiles flopped into the water and glided away and a flock of waders fluttered into the air and resettled at a safe distance.  Benet raised a hand. 

    “Listen - - “ From far out there came the faint throb of a diesel engine. “Dayak.”

    “Somebody else you trust?” Luc said and then wished he hadn’t.

Benet ignored him and took a hand-held searchlight from the Toyota.  Its powerful beam leapt out at the riverbank, picking out the yellow eyes of a crocodile.

    “Yes.”

Benet looked at his watch.  Thick cloud threw a dark shadow across the water.  The thudding tremor of the engine was louder and Luc swallowed.  His heart was racing again.  A light flicked on and off.  In reply Benet switched on the beam - - two long flashes and two short, followed by another long.  The engine slowed as if it’d been throttled back and a return signal lanced through the night: three short, one long, and one short.    Luc strained his eyes.  A shadowy shape was just visible and the steady beat of the engine grew clearer, and then suddenly there were two splashes.

The blurred outline sharpened into a boat and Benet guided it into the inlet with his torch.  It bobbed and churned up dirty white foam and bumped against the bank.  The engine died and a substantial figure appeared and threw a rope ashore.  Benet wrapped it around the post.  In the murky moonlight Luc could see crates lying in the bottom of the boat, identical to those on the truck.  The big man steadied himself and Luc reached out to take his hand but the man barged past knocking him sideways.  He was still staggering when Benet’s quiet voice broke the silence.

    “Where’s Dayak?”

Instead of answering the man took a gun from his belt and pointed it at them.