‘You know a lot about the jungle, don’t you?’

  ‘Now’s not the time . . .’ Now wasn’t the time to talk about anything, even though I had some questions myself. I got up and looked past the ANFO for Crucial. ‘Go back to Sam. I’ll get someone up here to—’

  ‘I’m not going, Nick. I want to know that Tim is safe. Besides, you need me to interpret, don’t you?’

  She could see the cogs turning in my head. ‘You can waste your time arguing with me, or you can get back to whatever you were doing. I’ll help. I want to stay alive too, believe me.’

  She was right. Every second counted. I turned and offered my back once more. Then I grabbed my AK and we headed towards the first claymore.

  Crucial was in the valley, screaming at the miners, getting them to surrender their tools. He wasn’t going for the hearts-and-minds approach. A stream of them was snaking towards the dugout ahead of us, laden with picks, hammers, pots, pans, ladles, all sorts of shit.

  We got to the claymore. ‘OK, work for your ride. Tell them to start stacking the tools in the dugout. Tell them to pack them in tight, all the way up to the roof. And tell them not to touch the brown cord coming out of the mud.’

  ‘Brown cord?’

  ‘It’s the detonation cord. Just tell them not to touch it, OK?’

  She relayed my message. They still weren’t happy bunnies.

  ‘Tell them they’ll get new ones later on. Right now, every bit of metal counts.’

  We got down into cover. My head was tilted so I could see the dugout to my right. I didn’t bother checking the time because it really didn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter until it was last light. All I could do was get these things rigged up as soon as possible.

  She was just below me, by my feet, tucked well away. I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open.

  I lifted my sleeve to check the boil-like bite on my forearm. It was pussed up, with a hard disc round the base the size of a 50p piece. I was dying to squeeze it, scratch it, do any fucking thing to it. It would make me feel better if I lanced it, but I knew that was a shortcut to infection. Better to keep the seal intact. I rubbed my face gently, pleased the lump hadn’t become another pus-filled volcano, waiting to erupt.

  I lay on my front with my arms folded in front of me as a chin rest, and watched things take shape.

  Silky shouted directions as the guys arrived at the site; they couldn’t wait to dump their metal and get back to the safety of the valley.

  ‘Nick?’

  ‘What?’

  Her expression had changed. ‘Tell me about the jungle. Tell me about the bomb you were making. Tell me about you. I think I have a right to know, don’t you?’

  I kept my eyes on the dugout. ‘I was going to tell you in Lugano, but . . . Well, it never seemed the right time. Maybe I was scared you’d go off me.’

  ‘One thing is certain in this very crazy world.’ She smiled up at me. ‘That will never happen.’

  8

  I told her what it was like being a kid in a London housing estate with a stepdad who slapped me and my mother about. I told her about getting arrested and put in Borstal, and joining the army at sixteen as a way out. Then getting into the SAS, and eventually working for the Firm. How it’d fucked me over time and again, until I’d finally binned it – only to let the Americans take over where the Brits had left off.

  The words poured out of me like water from a hose that had just been unkinked. ‘I did all the shit jobs no one in their right mind would take on in the first place, or no one was willing to take responsibility for if they went wrong.’ I laughed at my own naïvety. ‘I was paid cash – I didn’t even have a bank account, let alone a life.’

  ‘Why let yourself be used like that, Nick?’ Her expression told me she didn’t understand. How could she? She’d always been lucky enough to see things through the correct end of the telescope.

  I looked back at the dugout as more shit was packed into it. ‘It was all I’d ever known, I guess.’ I shrugged. ‘It was the way things were – like the kids the other side of the river, waiting to be told to come and kill us. But finally – finally – I woke up and walked away.’

  ‘To Australia?’

  ‘Yes.’ When I looked down, her eyes were welling.

  ‘So we were both in Australia to run away?’ She gave me a sad smile.

  I slid down level with her.

  ‘This mine . . .’ A tear rolled down her cheek. ‘These poor people living like this. It’s because of Stefan.’

  I put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Tim told me.’ At that moment I didn’t care who the fuck owned what, where, or why. Being with her was all I cared about.

  She grabbed a small lump of red rock from the ground, and examined it as though she’d picked up a lump of dog shit by mistake.

  ‘I know what it is, Silky. I know what it’s for.’

  She let it drop to the ground. ‘I’ve had a life of luxury because Stefan feeds off these people’s nightmares . . . But coming here, not just sitting in an office and talking about it . . . I’ve realized I mustn’t run away. I have run to something for a change . . . I have to stay here, Nick.’

  ‘Do these guys know who you are?’

  She shook her head. ‘Only Tim. Even Stefan doesn’t know where I am. He probably thinks I’m surfing in Bali, or at a spa.’

  The miners were still dumping tools near the growing stockpile of ANFO for the second claymore. A few were even lugging oil drums, their bodies covered with mud and grime. Their lives were one long round of grit-filled rice and dragging lumps of rock out of the ground with their bare hands. And for what? So we all could enjoy the delights of 3G connectivity?

  She knew all too well what I was thinking. ‘Shitty, isn’t it?’

  Bursts of AK fire filled the air. They came from downstream, towards Nuka.

  9

  There was a third burst and a fourth. The miners screamed and shouted as they ran for cover. GPMGs rattled return fire into the treeline on the far side of the river.

  Crucial barked a command and the guns fell silent. There was probably nothing to fire at, and every round counted.

  Silky looked at me. ‘Tim!’

  I jumped up. ‘Wait here! Bury yourself – don’t move!’

  I checked the other side of the valley and along the riverbank. I saw movement on the ground, maybe thirty metres upstream.

  The body wasn’t crawling. It seemed to be floundering on its back, like an upturned turtle.

  ‘Can you see him, Nick? Is he OK?’

  ‘Can’t see anything. Just wait here, don’t leave cover.’ I grabbed my AK and ran at warp speed across the valley, my tired legs fuelled by adrenalin.

  Crucial was up ahead, sprinting along the left side of the valley wall towards the entrance.

  I screamed at him.

  He looked across and cupped a hand to his ear.

  ‘Covering fire! Man down! We’ve got a man down!’ I thrust my hand out towards the track as we linked up and took cover. ‘Man down!’

  Crucial brought the two gunners running towards him, link jangling round their necks. Sweat poured off their faces.

  I dived behind the mound. ‘I’ll get him,’ I shouted up at Crucial. ‘You make sure these two don’t kill me in the process, yeah?’

  I waited while Crucial took the two guns forward on the high ground, and positioned them to cover the track and across into the treeline.

  I took deep gulps of air to rev myself up for the run. In the movies, the hero never thinks twice about running into a hail of lead to save someone, but I was close to shitting myself.

  If I’d been stupid enough to run back for Yin, I’d certainly do it for someone Silky cared about. If it was Tim, how could I ever face her again if I didn’t? Besides, it might be me lying in the shit one day, needing to be dragged away.

  I shouted up at Crucial again. ‘Can you see him? He alive?’

  There was silence.

  Crucial’s eventual reply was as calm as if we were doing a spot of bird-watching. ‘It is the Mercy Flight guy. He’s moving, but not much. You know what? I think he’s screaming, but I can’t really hear above the sound of the river.’

  What the fuck did I want to know that for? ‘Are you ready? You got the guns ready?’

  His reply was simple. They opened fire.

  I hesitated a second or so, to check that the rounds weren’t hitting the track, then started running.

  Crucial had it under control. His boys were firing into the treeline. Chunks of ready-made firewood were being blasted off the front row opposite where Tim was lying.

  I got my head down, then slipped and slid my way through the mud towards him.

  10

  I was in a world of my own. My head was empty, my eyes focusing on the man in front of me, lying on his back, arched like he was attempting some weird yoga position. His right leg looked a mess.

  I slid the last few yards like a baseball player going for base. I hit him in the side and he cried out in agony. That was a good sign. He was still feeling pain, and could breathe.

  But he didn’t move after the initial jerk, and that was bad. The boy was in shit state. It would have been much better if he was kicking and screaming. At least he’d be getting some oxygen down him.

  I could see now why his back was arched. He had a large green sail bag strapped over his shoulders, with half a ton of contents.

  I lay flat behind him and made sure his body was between me and the treeline. He’d already been zapped.

  His right leg looked like freshly chopped burger. The sat phone in his map pocket didn’t look too healthy either, shattered by the same single round that had fucked him up. His eyes were shut tight, his face screwed up in a silent scream as he tried to take the pain. Then he mumbled, ‘I never thought . . . I never . . .’

  We weren’t talking walking wounded here. I pulled at the bag strap to see if there was a clip. I found it, some fancy karabiner arrangement, and undid the fastener. I pulled at his body and he rolled off the bag. He groaned loudly as he sank into the mud. I knelt next to his chest, tried to lift and turn him so I could get him on to my shoulders in a fireman’s lift. I needed his help. ‘Grab me. For fuck’s sake, grab hold and hang on.’

  I got down on my hands and knees with him slumped over my back and shoulders and tried to get up out of the mud so I could grab hold of his legs and start moving. But it wasn’t working. I didn’t have the strength to un-suck myself.

  The guns kicked long bursts into the treeline as I tried to crawl with him draped over me instead. But the mud was halfway up my arms and I couldn’t lift my knees. I started to drag myself, my chin less than a foot from the ground. I gulped air, my throat so dry it hurt. I could feel white foam round my mouth again, but fuck it – it would all be over soon. I just had to keep going.

  I heard mumbling on top of me. ‘Bag! The bag!’ He tried so hard to grab on to it that he almost fell off me.

  I half turned, pivoting as far as I could so he could get hold of the fucking thing by the strap. He wrapped it round his hand and I turned back.

  The sail bag was as heavy as a fully loaded bergen. I couldn’t budge their combined weight. I was getting disoriented. Dizzy. I tried again.

  I inched along with him draped over my back, his hand dragging the bag, his good leg trailing in the mud, the injured one dangling against my arse. He screamed each time we moved and the bones bounced against each other.

  I looked up to see a black figure bombing it alone down the track towards us. Moments later, Crucial’s boots planted themselves in front of me with a splash. He bent down, and I could hear his laboured breathing as he lifted the weight off my back.

  He turned and headed back the way he’d come. I got up out of the mud, grabbed the bag, redid the karabiner, and hoisted it over my shoulder as I ran.

  By the time I collapsed behind the mound, Crucial was already at work. He pulled his shirt down over his hands before he touched Tim. There was no panic from him, but there certainly was on the other side of the valley entrance. Silky was up on one leg, well out of cover. I couldn’t hear what she was screaming: the guns above us were too busy firing at fuck-all.

  Crucial was bent over the casualty. I didn’t need to ask him what condition Tim was in. I could see the gore for myself. Crucial didn’t turn, but I knew he heard me cough and puke some bile and a little rice. There was fuck-all else in there.

  I rolled on to my back to recover.

  ‘You OK, Nick? You hurt?’

  I waved at Silky to stay where she was.

  The guns above us gave another burst.

  ‘Stop! Stop! Save ammo!’ I kept doing the cut-throat sign at them, trying to get their attention. Sam was right – the LRA fucks were probably just probing patrols, assessing our defences, maybe drawing little sketch maps to make it easier for them to plan tonight’s big event. Maybe I was giving them too much cred, but I’d survived this far by assuming always that my enemy was better than me.

  I pulled out my kangaroo: 120 minutes till last light.

  I stayed on my back, still trying to get my breath, keeping one eye on Silky, holding up my hand to stop her moving.

  ‘Tim! Tim!’

  ‘Wait! Wait there!’

  We were never going to hold a long and meaningful conversation across the chasm of the valley entrance.

  Crucial straightened the rag-doll leg and brought it in line with the good one. Tim howled like a dog. They could probably hear him on the other side of the river. He gasped short, sharp breaths as he tried to fight the pain.

  Crucial spoke soothingly. ‘It’s OK, it’s all right, take it. There’s nothing we can do here. Just take the pain.’

  There was something Tim was more concerned about than pain. ‘The bag . . . the bag . . .’

  I moved my hand behind me, feeling for the strap. ‘Crucial, we’ve got medic kit here.’

  Crucial didn’t turn. ‘I need surgical gloves – find some.’

  Tim’s screams had been too much for Silky. She was well out of cover, hobbling across the valley floor. ‘No! Stay there! Stay there!’

  She wasn’t listening.

  There was no time for a debate. I got up and started running as fast as she could with her bad foot trailing.

  ‘Fire! Fire!’ I screamed at the guns.

  My head was going at a hundred miles an hour but my legs were only doing fifty.

  I held a hand out as I ran. ‘Come on! Come on!’

  She was nearly halfway before they worked out what I wanted and the rounds started hitting the treeline again.

  I stopped with my hand outstretched, like a relay runner waiting for the baton. I got hold of her hand, pulled it towards me, bent down and hoisted her cleanly over my shoulder.

  I staggered back to Crucial on adrenalin power.

  11

  ‘You think this is a game?’ I dumped her behind Crucial, who was still kneeling over Tim. He now had the gloves on and was getting stuck in.

  Silky crawled round him, and looked horrified at the mess of blood and bone that confronted her. She burst into tears. ‘Oh, my God . . .’

  She needed to get a grip on herself.

  ‘God can’t do anything for him,’ I muttered.

  Crucial glared up at me: maybe he didn’t like his boss being given a hard time. ‘She’s a doctor. She can take over.’ He stepped aside and pulled off the gloves. ‘You and I have things to do, Nick.’

  Silky knelt the other side of Tim, taking deep breaths to regain control. He tried to comfort her, smiling up at her through the pain, mumbling that everything was OK. Was it fuck . . .

  I dived into the bag. ‘We got any fluids in there, Crucial? Any giving sets?’

  ‘Nothing like that. Just medicines and dressings.’

  Silky got to work. ‘Tim, I’ve got to arrest the bleeding, OK?’

  His femoral artery wasn’t severed or litres of the stuff would have been pouring out of his leg, but if he kept leaking like this he would eventually go into shock and die.

  Crucial had already stopped the worst of the fluid loss by wrapping bandages tightly round the wound. The binding would also help immobilize the fracture. Tim could have done with a few plates of chips to get a bit of lard on him, something for Crucial to apply pressure to. There was too much bone and not enough meat.

  ‘Nick, we have to go. You have a claymore to make, I have to get more ANFO, man.’

  Silky had already made a bandage tourniquet and fixed it round Tim’s thigh. She fed a bit of stick through the loop and started to twist.

  I looked around. All the sangars were now stood-to, the guys inside hyped up and eager for anything to shoot at.

  ‘We’ve got to get him up to the tents.’

  Silky gave a last twist. They should only be applied for fifteen minutes max, then you have to let some blood through or all the good tissue below the tourniquet will be at risk. Oxygen starvation can cause the death of the limb. What you get then is a very bad smell, followed by amputation – if you’re lucky.

  Tim was out of it. His face was screwed up, eyes shut tight, teeth clenched. He could only take so much; now and again he’d let out a whimper, and claw at the mud with his fingers.

  Crucial rattled off another set of instructions. His orders were relayed round the valley and sangars stood down. The squaddies sat back and lit up.

  He turned to me. ‘You need to finish the claymores.’

  ‘These two need to get up to the tents.’

  ‘I’ll see to it – but until I get back, you’ll have to shift the bags yourself. No one will want to go out there.’

  ‘Apart from you?’

  He turned and ran back into the valley.

  Silky was in the process of easing Tim’s good leg towards the bad one. It obviously hurt like fuck, but that wasn’t his main priority right now: his patients were. He gripped her arm. ‘We need to get to them, and soon . . .’

  She stroked the sweat from his face. ‘Soon.’