Burning Angels

He approached the left bank and raised his head, inching it above the cover. He felt Narov tight beside him, her head practically on his shoulder. Together they emerged from the swamp, their hands gripping their pistols. Each covered one half of the terrain before them as they whispered details back and forth, building up a picture of the enemy encampment as rapidly as possible.

‘Campfire,’ Jaeger whispered. ‘Two guys sat beside it. Sentry.’

‘Direction of watch?’

‘South-east. Away from the waterhole.’

‘Lights?’

‘None that I can see.’

‘Weapons?’

‘AKs. Plus I see guys to left and right of the fire, sleeping. I count… eight.’

‘That’s ten accounted for. Two unseen.’

Narov swivelled her eyes this way and that, scanning her section of the terrain.

‘I see the tusks. One guy standing sentry over them.’

‘Weapon?’

‘Assault rifle slung across his shoulder.’

‘That leaves one unaccounted for. One missing.’

Both were aware of the passage of time, but it made sense to find that missing poacher. They kept watch for a few minutes longer, but still they couldn’t locate the last man.

‘Any sign of extra security measures? Tripwires? Booby traps? Motion sensors?’

Narov shook her head. ‘Nothing visible. Let’s move ahead thirty. Then we’ll be right beside the tusks.’

Jaeger slid back into the murk and pushed on. As he did so, he could hear the sounds of mystery beasts thrashing about in the thick darkness. His eyes were about level with the water, and he could sense vile movement to all sides. Worst of all, he could feel things slithering their way in.

Beneath his shirt, around his neck — on his inner thighs, even — he could detect the faintly stinging sensation, as a leech inserted its jaws under his skin and began sucking greedily, filling its gut with his blood.

It was sickening; revolting.

But there was nothing he could do about it right now.

For some reason — most likely the electrifying adrenalin buzz he was feeling — Jaeger was also dying for a pee. But he had to fight the urge. The golden rule of crossing such watery terrain was: never take a leak. If you did, you risked opening up your urethra and allowing a swampload of germs, bacteria and parasites to swim up your urine stream.

There was even a tiny fish — the candiru, or ‘toothpick fish’ — that liked to insert itself into your tube and extend its spines, so you couldn’t pull it out again. The very thought made Jaeger shudder. No way could he allow himself to take a leak. He’d hold it in until the mission was done.

Finally they stopped and did a second scan of the terrain. To their immediate left the four giant tusks gleamed eerily in the moonlight, maybe thirty yards away. The lone sentry had his back to them, facing out into the bush — where any obvious threat would come from.

Narov held up the tracker device. ‘I’m going in,’ she whispered.

For a moment Jaeger was tempted to argue. But this was not the time. And very possibly she could do this better than him. ‘I’ve got your back. You’re covered.’

Narov paused for an instant, then scooped up a handful of shitty gunk from the bank and smeared it all over her face and hair.

She turned to Jaeger. ‘How do I look?’

‘Ravishing.’

With that she slithered up the bank like a ghostly serpent and was gone.

52

Jaeger counted out the seconds. He figured seven minutes had passed, and still no sign of Narov. He was expecting her to reappear at any moment. He had his eyes glued to the sentries by the fire, but there was no sign yet of any trouble.

Still, the tension was unbearable.

Suddenly he detected a weird, strangled gurgling noise coming from the direction of the ivory pile. Momentarily he swivelled his eyes across to check. The lone watchman had disappeared from view.

He saw the sentries by the fire stiffen. His heart was beating like a machine gun, as he pinned them in the sights of his SIG.

‘Hussein?’ one of them cried. ‘Hussein!’

They’d clearly heard the noise too. There was no answer from the lone sentry, and Jaeger could make a good guess as to why.

One of the figures at the fireside got to his feet. His words — in Swahili — drifted across to Jaeger. ‘I’ll go take a look. Probably gone for a piss.’ He set off through the bush, moving in the direction of the ivory pile; in the direction of Narov.

Jaeger was about to raise himself over the lip and dash to her aid, when he spotted something. A figure was belly-crawling through the bush towards him. It was Narov all right, but there was something odd about the way she was moving.

As she got closer, he realised what it was: she was dragging a tusk behind her. Laden down like that, she was never going to make it. Jaeger broke cover, dashed across in a crouch, grabbed the heavy tusk and staggered back the way he’d come.

He lowered himself into the water, sliding the tusk in beside him. Narov joined him. He could barely believe they’d not been seen.