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pilot had the right idea: why risk your life when it's none of your
business."
"He was wounded," Bruce guessed. "I think we hit him on his first run."
Then they were silent, with the rain driving into their faces, slitting
their eyes to peer ahead along the tracks. The men at the Brens huddled
into their brown and green camouflage groundsheets, all their jubilation
of ten minutes earlier completely gone. They are like cats, thought
Bruce as he noticed their dejection, they can't stand being wet.
"It's half past five already." Mike spoke at last. "Do you think we'll
make Msapa junction before nightfall?"
"With this weather it will be dark by six." Bruce looked up at the low
cloud that was prematurely bringing on the night. "I'm not going to risk
travelling in the dark.
This is the edge of Baluba country and we can't use the headlights
oftheloco."
"You going to stop then?" Bruce nodded. What a stupid bloody question,
he thought irritably. Then he recognized his irritation as reaction from
the danger they had just experienced, and he spoke to make amends.
"We can't be far now - if we start again at first light we'll reach
Msapa before sun-up."
"My God, it's cold," complained Mike and he shivered briefly.
"Either too hot or too cold," Bruce agreed; he knew that it was also
reaction that was making him garrulous. But he did not attempt to stop
himself. "That's one of the things about this happy little planet of
ours: nothing is in moderation. Too hot or too cold, either you are
hungry or you've overeaten, you are in love or you hate the world-"
"Like you?" asked Mike.
"Dammit, Mike, you're as bad as a woman. Can't you conduct an objective
discussion without introducing personalities?" Bruce demanded. He could
feel his temper rising to the surface, he was cold and edgy, and he
wanted a smoke.
"Objective theories must have subjective application to prove
their worth," Mike pointed out. There was just a trace of an amused
smile on his broad ravaged old face.
"Let's forget it then. I don't want to talk personalities," snapped
Bruce; then immediately went on to do so.
"Humanity sickens me if I think about it too much. De Surrier puking his
heart out with fear, that animal Hendry, you trying to keep off the
liquor, Joan-" He stopped himself abruptly.
"Who is Joan?"
"Do I ask you your business?" Bruce flashed the standard reply to all
personal questions in the mercenary army of
Katanga.
"No. But I'm asking you yours - who is Joan?" All right. I'll tell him.
If he wants to know, I'll tell him.
Anger had made Bruce reckless.
"Joan was the bitch I married."
"So, that's it then!"
"Yes -
that's it! Now you know. So you can leave me alone."
"Kids?"
"Two - a boy and a girl." The anger was gone from Bruce's voice, and the
raw naked pain was back for an instant. Then he rallied and his voice
was neutral once more.
"And none of it matters a damn. As far as I'm concerned the whole human
race - all of it - can go and lose itself. I don't want any part of it."
"How old are you, Bruce?"
"Leave me alone, damn you!"
"How old are you?"
"I'm thirty."
"You talk like a teenager."
"And I feel like an
old, old man." The amusement was no longer on Mike's face as he asked.
"What did you do before this?"
"I slept and breathed and ate - and got trodden on."
"What did you do for a living?"
"Lawyer."
"Were you successful?"
"How do you measure success? If you mean, did I make money, the answer
is yes." I made enough to pay off the house and the car, he thought
bitterly, and to contest custody of my children, and finally to meet the
divorce settlement. I had enough for that, but, of course, I had to sell
my partnership.
"Then you'll be all right," Mike told him. "If you've succeeded once
you'll be able to do it again when you've recovered from the shock; when
you've rearranged your life and taken other people into it
to make you strong again."
"I'm strong now, Haig. I'm strong because there is no one in my life.
That's the only way you can be secure, on your own. Completely free and
on your own."
"Strong!" Anger flared in
Mike's voice for the first time.
"On your own you're nothing, Curry. On your own you're so weak I
could piss on you and wash you away!" Then the anger evaporated and
Mike went on softly, "But you'll find out - you're one of the lucky
ones. You attract people to you. You don't have to be alone."
"Well, that's the way I'm going to be from now on."
"We'll see," murmured Mike.
"Yes, we'll see," Bruce agreed, and lifted the tarpaulin over the radio.
Driver, we are going to halt for the night. It's too dark to proceed
with safety." Brazzaville Radio came through weakly on the set and the
static was bad, for outside the rain still fell and thunder rolled
around the sky like an unsecured cargo at sea.
Our Elisabethville correspondent reports that elements of the
Kantangese Army in the South Kasai province today violated the ceasefire
agreement by firing upon a low-flying aircraft of the United
Nations command. The aircraft, a Vampire jet fighter of the Indian Air
Force, returned safely to its base at Kamina airfield. The pilot,
however, was wounded by small arms fire. His condition is satisfactory.
"The United Nations Commander in Katanga, General Rhee, has lodged a
strong protest with the Kantange se government-" The a
was overlaid by the electric crackle of static.
we winged him!" rejoiced Wally Hendry. The scab on his cheek had dried
black, with angry red edges.
"Shut up," snapped Bruce, "we're trying to hear what's happening."
"You can't hear a bloody thing now. Andre, there's a bottle in my pack.
Get it! I'm going to drink to that coolie with a bullet up his-" Then
the radio cleared and the a
at Senwati Mission fifty miles from the river harbour of Port
Reprieve. A spokesman for the Central Congolese Government denied that
the Congolese troops were operating in this area, and it is feared that
a large body of armed bandits is taking advantage of the unsettled
conditions to-" Again the static drowned it out.
"Damn this set muttered Bruce as he tried to tune it.
stated today that the removal of missile equipment from the
Russian bases in Cuba had been confirmed by aerial reco
"That's all that we are interested in." Bruce switched off the radio.
"What a shambles! Ruffy, where is Senwati Mission?"
"Top end of the swamp, near the Rhodesian border."
"Fifty miles from Port Reprieve," muttered Bruce, not attempting to
conceal his anxiety.
"It's more than that by road, boss, more like a hundred."
"That should take them three or four days in this weather, with time off
for looting along the way," Bruce calculated.