Burning Angels

‘Here. Take it. Video tapes. All filmed inside the BV222. Several dozen of them. I expect there is not an inch of that aircraft that has not been covered.’ Konig raised one shoulder apologetically. ‘You gave me a film to die for. This is the best I can offer in return.’ He paused, then glanced at Narov with a tortured look. ‘But please — one thing. Do not watch them until you are gone.’

Narov held his gaze. Jaeger could see that there was real compassion in her eyes. ‘Fine, Falk. But why?’

‘They are… somehow personal, as well as being of the seaplane.’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t watch until you leave. That is all I ask.’

Jaeger and Narov nodded their consent. Jaeger didn’t doubt Konig’s honesty, and he was dying to see what was on those tapes. They’d stop somewhere on the drive out and spin through a few of them.

Either way, they knew now what lay beneath the mountain. They could always return, parachuting in there in force if need be, and fight their way on to that warplane.

But first, sleep. He craved rest. As his body came down from the massive rush — the buzz of the assault — he felt waves of deadening fatigue wash over him.

Tonight, doubtless, he’d sleep like the dead.

58

It was Narov who woke first. In an instant she’d grabbed her P228 from beneath the cushions. She could hear a desperate hammering on the door.

It was 3.30 a.m. — not the best of times to have been dragged out of such a deep and leaden sleep. She stepped across the room and wrenched the door open, thrusting her gun into the face of… Falk Konig.

Narov brewed coffee as a visibly distressed Konig went about explaining why he was there. Apparently, when he’d reported their trespassing into the caves, Kammler had asked to see some of the video surveillance footage. Konig had thought nothing of it; he’d emailed over some clips. He’d just received a call.

‘The old man seemed very agitated; overwrought. He wants you detained for twenty-four hours, minimum. He said that after what you achieved with the poachers, you were the kind of people he could use. He said he wants to recruit you. He told me to use all means necessary to make sure you do not leave. If necessary, to disable your vehicle.’

Jaeger didn’t doubt that Kammler had somehow recognised him. The blonde makeover seemingly wasn’t as foolproof as its Falkenhagen creators had intended it to be.

‘I just don’t know what to do. I had to tell you.’ Konig hunched over his knees, as if in severe pain. Jaeger figured it was the tension and nerves twisting up his guts. He lifted his head slightly and gazed at the two of them. ‘I do not think he wants you kept here for any good reason. I fear he is lying. There was something in his voice… Something… predatory almost.’

‘So, Falk, what do you suggest?’ Narov asked.

‘You must leave. At times Mr Kammler has been known to have a… long reach. Leave. But take one of the Katavi Lodge Toyotas. I will send two of my men in a different direction, driving your Land Rover. That way, we will have a decoy vehicle.’

‘Surely those guys will be bait?’ Jaeger queried. ‘Bait in a trap.’

Falk shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But you see, not all of our workers here are what they seem. Almost all of us have been offered bribes by the poaching gangs, and not all have stayed strong. For some the temptation proves too much. The men I will send have sold many of our secrets. They have much innocent blood on their hands. So if something happens, it is…’

‘Divine retribution?’ Narov suggested, finishing the sentence for him.

He smiled weakly. ‘Something like that, yes.’

‘There is a lot you’re not telling us, isn’t there, Falk?’ Narov probed. ‘This Kammler; his warplane beneath the mountain; your fear of him.’ She paused. ‘You know, it always makes it easier to share a burden. And maybe we can help.’

‘Some things can never be altered,’ Falk muttered, ‘or helped.’

‘Okay, but why not start with your fears?’ Narov pressed.

Konig glanced around nervously. ‘All right. But not here. I will be waiting by your vehicle.’ He got up to leave. ‘And do not ask for help when you leave. No one to carry your bags. Who we can trust — I do not know. The story I will tell is that you stole away secretly, in the night. Please — make it convincing.’

Fifteen minutes later, Jaeger and Narov were packed. They’d travelled light, and they’d already given Falk all the kit and weaponry they’d used to execute the assault. He was going to drive it out to Lake Tanganyika shortly, where he would dump it, never to be discovered.

They made their way to the lodge’s vehicle park. Konig was waiting, a figure at his side. It was Urio, the co-pilot.

‘Urio you know,’ Konig announced. ‘I trust him absolutely. He will drive you south, towards Makongolosi — no one ever leaves that way. Once he’s got you on to a flight, he’ll return with the vehicle.’

Urio helped them to load their kit into the Toyota’s rear, then grabbed Jaeger’s arm. ‘I owe you. My life. I will get you out of here. Nothing will happen with me at the wheel.’