Jackal's Dance (42 page)

The soldiers were snacking on food taken from the lodge. Not from the hostages' backpacks but from their own. It made sense to lighten what they carried first. Nothing was offered to the captives.

James found himself sitting next to Chester and Kalila. He'd been on stretcher duty before the rest period was called and it had taken its toll. Never a very strong man, it took the American a good five minutes to get his breathing under control. Careful nobody was watching, he whispered to Chester, ‘I think my friend might have escaped.'

Chester suspected that the true relationship went further than friendship. James deserved to know the truth. ‘He didn't.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘For some reason, they killed him.'

‘How do you know?' James was helpless to prevent tears welling in his eyes.

‘I overheard one of them saying something about him not coming with us.'

James buried his face in his hands.

‘I'm sorry,' Chester said quietly. ‘You had to be told.'

The stricken man looked up, tears running down his face. ‘I loved him.'

Chester nodded. ‘I thought so.'

‘Oh God!' James choked. ‘I loved him so much.'

As much sympathy as he might have felt, Chester could not prevent a rising feeling of disgust. During his years with UNITA he'd seen relationships develop between men stuck in the bush for months on end. He'd also witnessed an almost casual indifference to whether the victim was male or female in the raping frenzy which usually accompanied a successful engagement against government troops and their inevitable camp
followers. That was one thing. Sex was sex. In difficult conditions you took it when you could. But to deliberately choose a same sex partner when you lived in a so-called civilised city, that was something else.

Chester had been regarded as something of an oddity, never joining in when his men went on a sexual rampage. He accepted that mindless violence was a by-product of ignorance and knew he could do nothing to prevent it. In the adrenalin-charged aftermath of action, the simple mind inevitably sought release. It was a factor that turned normally heterosexual men to unnatural relationships or, as someone once crudely commented, ‘A hole is a hole.' Not Chester, though. Even lengthy periods of time on active duty deep in the bush never tempted him to cross the sexual line. The distraught man next to him now felt as alien as a Martian to Chester. He found it impossible to understand his pain.

James was whispering to himself. ‘I came out, Blackie. I came out. Oh my God, if only you'd been here to hear it.' Grief settled like a cloak, blocking out thought of everything else. He knew only one thing. His father could go to hell. The last thing he could do for Mal would be to honour his memory with the truth.

When they set off again, Dan deliberately placed himself next to Gayle. Like everyone else, he was worried about Matt's condition. ‘I'll walk with you.'

The actress shot him a grateful look and took
his arm. ‘He defended me. He's hurt because of me. I'll never forgive myself.'

‘You weren't to know.'

‘I should have. Matt knew. He told me to be quiet and do as I was told but no, I had to open my big bloody mouth.' She took a shuddering breath. ‘He'll be okay, don't you think?'

Dan couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. Nor did he wish to deceive her. ‘Let's hope so, Gayle.'

‘He's such a sweet person. He really does love me. I never knew that.'

Dan grabbed the conversational opening. ‘And you? Do you love him?'

Gayle fell silent. Dan began to think she wasn't going to answer. He waited. She was searching inside herself for honesty and finally said, ‘Can a woman my age sincerely love someone his? Isn't it more likely to be a need for flattery? Or vanity? I don't know. All I ever wanted was to look good. Matt isn't my first younger man. The older I became, the younger they got. I never stopped to think that any might actually have been genuine.' She sighed. ‘My God, reality is a bitter pill to swallow. What a selfish bitch I've become. How did I get this way?'

‘It's understandable,' Dan murmured soothingly. ‘You've spent a long time as the centre of attention. I imagine Gayle Gaynor only has to raise an eyebrow and people fall over themselves to please you. That kind of thing has to rub off.'

‘You're trying to make me feel better.'

‘Maybe.'

She shook her head. ‘I don't know what I feel. I've always shut people out. It's become standard practice. Whatever you do, don't let anyone close. Don't give them a lever to use against you.' Gayle bit her lip. ‘The film industry is full of superficial people. It gets to a stage where you think their behaviour is perfectly normal. You don't even realise that what you hate most in others is a reflection of yourself. Matt knows. He's managed to keep his feet on the ground. But look at me. How does he put up with what I am?' Gayle shook her head. ‘Christ, so much for soul-searching. I hate it.'

‘How long have you and Matt been an item?'

‘About eighteen months. We've lived together for more than a year.'

‘That's a long time. And you've managed to keep him shut out?'

Gayle glanced down at Matt's near lifeless face. Tears fell again. ‘I think he knows me better than most if that's any kind of an answer.'

Dan patted her hand. His heart knew the pain she would have to suffer. Whether Gayle admitted it to herself or not, if after eighteen months the relationship remained good, love or at least affection would have to be strong. He suspected that when she finally had to confront life without Matt there'd be a lot of unwelcome self-examination to go with it. No point in forcing her to do it now. Dan changed the subject. ‘You're limping. What's wrong?'

‘Sore knee, it's an old injury, must have twisted
it somehow. And these damned shoes have rubbed blisters.'

‘Let me have a look at them when we stop. It might be possible to split the backs. That would ease the pressure.'

‘Sacrilege! The designer would have a fit,' Gayle said, showing a flash of spirit.

Dan just grunted.

‘How are you doing?' Sean asked Thea. Her face was pale but she seemed to be walking easily enough and breathing smoothly.

‘Can't complain. You? You lost quite a bit of blood.'

‘Head wounds always bleed worse than anywhere else. It's not as bad as it looks.'

‘Come here.' Thea took a handkerchief from her pocket, spat on it and wiped the dried blood from his forehead. ‘Cat wash.' She smiled a little. ‘Let me see the damage.'

He obediently bent forward, allowing her to examine the wound. Not looking where she was going, Thea stumbled sideways over a tuft of grass. Sean's hands quickly steadied her and, for a moment, their eyes locked. Then she looked away. ‘Where do you think they're taking us, Sean?'

‘Angola.'

‘Then what?'

‘They'll demand a ransom in exchange for our release.'

‘Will they let us go if it's paid?'

‘I don't know.'

Thea took a deep breath. ‘I'm so scared.'

‘I know you are. Everyone is.'

‘You don't understand. I've started to bleed. I'm losing the baby.'

Sean's heart sank. What else could go wrong? When his older sister miscarried about a year ago it had taken several weeks before her body and mind returned to normal. He seemed to recall their mother saying, ‘Bed and a few days' rest is what's needed.' If Thea lost her baby out here in the bush there'd be no chance of that. What would it do to her? Could she bleed to death? Strength, not fear, came through in his quiet voice. ‘Stay close to me. I'll help however I can.'

‘Thank you.'

But Sean was desperately worried. It wasn't only the state of Thea's health that concerned him. Their situation raised a very real possibility that some, if not all, of the women would be subjected to the most horrific sexual abuse. What if Thea were raped? These men wouldn't spare a thought for her condition.
Oh Jesus!
Sean thought.
She'd be better off dead. They all would.

Ace kept them walking until just before dusk. He allowed only one more rest period and no-one was offered food or water. Matt's breathing had become extremely laboured, his cheeks and mouth puffing with each outward breath. His colour had turned from an unhealthy grey to sallow yellow. He had not regained consciousness.

They stopped for the night near one of two main tributaries which, during the rainy season,
contributed to the pan's temporary water level. The Ekuma River rarely flooded. Its wide sandy bed with flat grassy banks was an ideal site. Recent rains had left several shallow pools. The soldiers drank from them but Dan warned the others against it. ‘Wash if you must but avoid any cuts. I know it's fresh water but we're very close to the pan. Anthrax bacteria could easily be present.'

The terrorists appeared relaxed about the hostages helping each other. Sean asked Felicity to assist him with Thea. She was losing a worrying amount of blood. For the past two hours there had also been increasingly painful cramps. Sean needed to clean her up. Not so much for comfort, although that was obviously of concern, but he worried about predators. If there were any in the area, they'd pick up her blood scent with no difficulty.

Followed by one soldier, Sean and Felicity helped Thea to the edge of one of the shallow pools. The spoor around it said zebra and wildebeest. Not too many at that. No sign of large cats. ‘We've got to wash her jeans and shoes. They're sodden with blood. I'll do it,' Felicity said. ‘You screen her from that man.'

Thea gasped as another cramp took hold.

‘Could it be a labour pain?' Sean asked.

Felicity looked worried. ‘I suppose so.'

‘Isn't there anything we can do?'

She shook her head helplessly. ‘I don't know. She certainly shouldn't be walking.'

‘I need the toilet,' Thea gritted. Rolling waves
of pain took away any embarrassment. She was in trouble and needed help, unaware that the desire to defecate had been caused by the foetus in the process of aborting.

Sean threw a look towards the soldier but the man appeared more interested in scanning their surroundings than watching Thea. ‘Let's get these trousers off. Lie back, Thea, just for a sec.' Working quickly, Sean removed her shoes, jeans and panties. ‘Can you sort of squat? I'll help.' Positioning himself in front and grasping her elbows he held and steadied while Felicity crouched behind, arms around her. Sean could feel Thea straining, her whole body trembling with effort. He felt completely inadequate. For how long would it go on? Could she take much more of this? What if the bleeding wouldn't stop? Suddenly, Thea gave a small cry, then shuddered and fell limply back against Felicity. Sean released a ragged, pent-up breath. ‘It's over, my darling.'

She nodded weakly and closed her eyes.

He looked down. He hadn't expected that the foetus would look quite so human. It would be best if Thea didn't see. Carefully Sean picked it up. Warm from her body, sticky with blood, he almost felt a kinship with the little being that didn't make it. ‘Can you clean her up?' he said to Felicity. ‘I'll wash these clothes.' Beyond the pool he dug to his elbows, before placing the tiny scrap of what might have been at the bottom and covering it. Bowing his head, Sean asked God to accept the soul of one innocent child and give it all the love it deserved.

When he returned with Thea's dripping things, Felicity produced a pair of dry panties. ‘I stuck spare knickers in my pocket. She can have them.'

‘Thanks.' Sean helped Thea into them. Removing his shirt, he tied it around her waist. ‘That'll have to do.'

‘Is she still bleeding?'

‘Not as much.' He rose and helped Thea to her feet. ‘Come on, love. Let's get back to the others. You need to rest.'

The soldier followed them with little interest. His job was to guard. What the hostages did among themselves was none of his concern. A woman in labour was nothing more than the female of the species doing what she was designed to do. In his culture, when it was a woman's time she would simply go into the bush on her own and return, several hours later, with a new baby. Sometimes, the child didn't make it. Whether it did or not, the mother was usually back in the fields the next day. Europeans had the annoying habit of making much of what was a perfectly normal event.

What differentiated the terrorist from the other three, what he could never experience or even wish to, was the bond which had formed between them. Thea, Sean and Felicity's futures didn't look too promising, but for however long they had left in this world, the incident by the pool of water in the bed of the Ekuma River bound the three of them as close as family.

Ace had been watching. The whole incident took no more than fifteen minutes and though he
had an idea of what was happening, asked Chester anyway. ‘What is wrong with that woman?'

‘She's pregnant,' Chester told him. ‘At least, she was.'

The rebel leader showed no sympathy. In terms of any value as a hostage, Thea remained borderline. Being British had swung the decision in her favour but he still had two others, an actress and the Scottish girl. In his mind, Ace had already written Matt off. His big prize was Gayle Gaynor. If the one who had lost her baby slowed them down she'd be taken care of.

Worried, Chester sought out Sean. ‘How is she?' Thea was sitting next to Felicity, eyes closed, face pale.

‘She lost the baby.'

‘Look after her. That bastard will shoot her if she lags behind.'

‘If I have to carry her myself, I will. She won't slow us down. I'll make damned sure of it.'

Chester nodded, then walked over to Billy. ‘In case you're interested, your wife has just miscarried. She might appreciate some help.'