Ark Angel

the track in the direction of Drevin’s house. He thought briefly of Paul. Presumably he would have been told that Alex had drowned … a terrible accident. He wondered what Paul would be thinking, and he was sorry that Tamara hadn’t seen him when she’d gone back to the house to fetch him some clothes.
    But he couldn’t worry about that now. It was time. The track was still empty; there was no sign of any electric buggies coming either way. Tamara nudged him and he crept forward, keeping close to the undergrowth, making his way to the first of the three cabins. Very carefully he opened the door. There had been no sound or movement for twenty minutes, but even so there could still be someone asleep in there.
    The cabin was empty. Alex slipped inside and found himself in a small, rectangular space. There were a couple of old sofas, a fridge and a table with empty beer bottles, some pornographic magazines and a deck of playing cards strewn across the surface. A fan stood in one corner but it was switched off. The room reeked of stale cigarette smoke, and the air was sluggish and still.
    He passed through this cabin and into the next, an even smaller one with four shower cubicles and a row of wooden benches. The floor was tiled. Damp towels hung on hooks. Again, there was nobody in sight.
    It was in the third cabin that he found what he was looking for. This was where the guards got changed for work. Uniforms, freshly ironed, hung in metal lockers; polished boots were neatly lined up against the wall. Exactly as Tamara had described.
    Alex couldn’t help smiling to himself as he reached into his pocket and took out the bottle that Smithers had given him. He glanced at the name on the label—STINGO—then opened it and sprinkled the contents over the guards’ uniforms. The liquid was colourless and didn’t smell of anything. The guards wouldn’t have any idea what was about to hit them.
    He heard a low whistle from outside: a warning from Tamara. There was a second door leading out of the cabin and Alex slipped through it into the darkness. Outside, he heard an approaching buggy. Perfect timing.
    It was the changing of the guard. As Alex rejoined Tamara, a buggy drew up and three men dressed in baggy shorts and T-shirts got out. Alex recognized one of them. It was Kolo, the diver who had left him to die. He was pleased. If anyone deserved to suffer, it was Kolo.
    “Is this going to work?” Tamara whispered as the three men disappeared into the changing room.
    “Don’t worry,” Alex replied. “Smithers has never let me down.”
    About five minutes later, the three men reappeared, now dressed in their grey overalls. Alex and Tamara watched as they approached the checkpoint to swap places with the three guards there. They exchanged a few words in low voices, then took up their positions. The three who had been relieved went back into the cabin to change and drove off in the buggy a few minutes later.
    “Let’s get closer,” Alex whispered. He was keen to see whatever was going to happen.
    Kolo was sitting in the control box, in front of a bank of telephones and monitors. The window was open so that he could communicate with the other two, who were now armed and standing together in front of the fence. It was a thankless task, Alex thought, hanging around all night, waiting for something to happen.
    And although none of them knew it, it was about to get worse.
    Alex noticed it first. The cloud of insects visible in the beams of the arc lamps had thickened. Before there had been hundreds of them. Now there were thousands. It was impossible to tell what kind of bugs they were: beetles, flies, cockroaches or mosquitoes. They were just black specks made up of frantically beating wings, antennae and dangling legs. There were so many that the light was almost obliterated.
    Kolo slapped his face. The sound was surprisingly loud in the thick heat of the night. One of the other guards muttered something and scratched under his arm. Kolo slapped his face a second time, then the back of his neck. The other men were beginning to shuffle around edgily, as if performing a weird dance.
    One ran the stock of his machine gun down his chest, then reached over his shoulder, using it to scratch his back. Inside the control box, Kolo was swatting at the air in front of his face. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, and Alex could see why. The air all around him had been invaded by thousands and thousands of insects. Kolo