Juggernaut

Every now and then Sadiq's obviously broader than average education showed through. For a locally trained lower echelon officer of a somewhat backward country he was surprisingly well-read in military matters. It seemed a pity that he had been given so little room to do his own thinking, but was still tied by the bonds of discipline.

I saw a sign on a blackened but still standing shop front and a soldier who stood in front of the door, cradling a gun. 'Will you stop a minute, Captain? May I go in there?'

'It is off limits, Mister Mannix.' Again the flash of an unexpected phrase.

'Yes, and we both know why.'

I got out of the car without waiting for any more objections and gestured to the soldier to let me by. Sadiq entered the ruined premises behind me. I picked my way through a jumble of fallen stock, farm implements, clothing, magazines, household stuff, all the usual clutter of an upcountry store, to a locked glass-fronted cupboard towards the back. The glass was shattered now, and the doors buckled with heat. I took a hunting knife from a display rack, inserted the point just below the lock, and pushed smartly sideways. There was a dry snap and the doors sagged open. There wasn't much of a choice, just six shotguns; four of them double-barrelled which the British still favour, and two pump action. Four were fire-damaged.

I picked up a Mossberg Model 500, twelve-gauge with six shot capacity, and laid it on the counter. Then I started to attack the warped drawers below the gun rack, praying that I'd find what I wanted, and did so; two packs of double-o buckshot, magnum size. Each shell carried nine lead pellets, a third of an inch in diameter, and capable of dropping a 200-pound deer. And a deer is harder to kill than a man.

I dumped the shells next to the gun, added a can of gun oil, then as an afterthought searched for a scabbard for the hunting knife and put that with the rest. Sadiq watched without comment. Then I tore a piece of paper from a singed pad on the counter, scribbled a note, and dropped it into the open till. I slammed the till drawer shut and walked out of the store with my collection.

'Are you going to hang me for a looter, Captain?. That was an IOU I put in the cash till. The owner can claim from British Electric.'

'If he is still alive,' said Sadiq dryly.

He watched as I ripped open a packet of shells and started to load the gun. 'Are you expecting trouble at the hospital, Mister Mannix?'

'You're a soldier. You ought to know that an unloaded gun is just a piece of junk iron. Let's say I may be expecting trouble, period. And you may not be around to get me out of it.'

'Please do not wave it about, then. I will not ask you for a licence; I am not a policeman. I authorize you to hold it. I would feel the same, myself.'

He surprised me by his acquiescence. I had expected him to make it hard for me, but I was determined to go no further without any sort of personal weapon. I made sure the safety catch was on and then laid the gun down by the side of my seat. 'You have some pretty fine weapons yourself,' I said. 'One of my men was casting an envious eye on your Uzi. Keep a close check on all your guns, Captain; I don't want any of them to go missing.' It was Mick McGrath I was thinking of. Something had made me think quite a while back that I'd always be happier if he remained unarmed.

'I will take care. Take your own precautions, please,' Sadiq said, and we drove on to catch up with the rest of the convoy.

I suppose you could call the setup at Katabisirua's a field hospital. Everyone seemed to have been moved out of the buildings into a field, and nurses scurried about their business. To me it just looked like a lot of people dying in the open air. Last time I'd only seen the offices, and all this was pretty horrifying.

After a while I began to see order in the apparent chaos. Way over at one end were a lot of people, sitting or walking about, some supported by friends. Scattered cooking fires sent plumes of smoke into the air. In the field were rows of makeshift beds with friends or families in attendance. Hastily erected frond screens hid what I assumed to be the worst cases, or perhaps they were latrines. In the middle of the field were tables around which moved nurses in rumpled uniforms. A stretcher was being lifted onto a table presided over by Dr Katabisirua. At another Sister Mary, frail and leaning on a stick, was directing a nurse in a bandaging operation. I couldn't see Sister Ursula anywhere.

Away from this area were two newly filled in trenches and a third trench standing open. Slowly I walked across to look at it. It had been half filled with loose earth and stones and scattered with lime. A single naked foot protruded and I choked on the acridity of the chloride of lime which did not quite hide the stench of decay.

I turned away with sweat banding my forehead, and it had nothing to do with the morning sun.