Crocodile Tears

crocodiles would get a second feed.
    “ Now!” The man couldn’t shout. They were too close to the lodge. His voice was an urgent whisper.

    Alex did as he was told, stretching as far as he could, using every muscle to propel his body away from the handles. The man was leaning out. And somehow, just when Alex was certain he would fall, they managed to lock together, wrist in hand and hand over wrist.
    “ Okay. I’ve got you. I’ll take your weight.”
    Alex let go of the handle. He felt the man pull him toward the platform. Even so, there was one dreadful moment when he was sure they had overbalanced and they would fall together. He came crashing down. But he was right on the edge of the platform. He clawed at the wooden planks and managed to find some purchase. His legs were dangling below him, but then he pulled himself forward and rolled over on his side. He was lying next to the man who had just rescued him. He was safe.
    For a few seconds he lay in silence, recovering his breath and waiting for his jangling nerves to calm down. Then he looked up. “Who are you?” he asked.
    “ Not now.” The man was Asian, young, with very dark skin and close-cropped hair, dressed in camouflage khakis with a harness for three knives slanting across his chest. One knife was missing.
    Alex knew him at once. With a sense of astonishment he remembered where they had met before. It was the man from Loch Arkaig, the driver of the white van who had appeared from nowhere when he had crawled out of the freezing water. He had driven Alex, Sabina, and Edward Pleasure to the hospital.
    And now he was here! What sort of guardian angel was he, operating on two sides of the world?
    “ My name is Rahim,” the man said. “But now we must leave. When they find the woman is missing, they will come looking for her. Here … give me your shirt.”

    Alex didn’t know what the man was thinking, but this was no time for an argument. He stripped off his school shirt and handed it over. Rahim took out a second knife and cut the shirt to shreds, then tossed it down to the crocodiles. There were only two of them down there, fighting over what was left of the woman. The other had returned to the river, dragging part of her with it.
    The pieces of Alex’s shirt fluttered down onto the riverbank. “It may fool them,” Rahim said. “It may not. Let’s go.”
    “ Go where?”
    “ I have a camp.”
    Alex followed Rahim off the observation platform and away from the river, heading into the bush. He was alarmed to see that Rahim was limping badly and that the back of his jacket was covered in sweat.
    The man had a fever. Alex had also seen it in his eyes. He was a soldier of some sort, extremely fit. But he was also hurt. It was only willpower that was keeping him going.
    Even so, they kept up a fast pace for the next fifteen minutes, finally arriving at a clearing dominated by a huge Kigelia africana, or sausage tree, with its strange black pods hanging underneath the branches. This was where Rahim had set up a makeshift camp. Alex saw a backpack, a few tins of food, and—at least this answered one of his questions—a parachute made of black silk, bunched up and tucked under a bush. A very sophisticated-looking gun was leaning against the trunk of the tree. It was a Dragunov SVD99 gas-operated sniper rifle, built in Russia but used extensively by the Indian army.
    Rahim went over to the backpack and took out a spare T-shirt. He threw it over to Alex. “Here. You can wear this.” He opened a water bottle and drank, then offered it to Alex. Alex took a swig. The water was warm and tasted of chemicals.

    “ You were in Scotland,” Alex said.
    “ Yes.” Rahim had obviously been drained by what he had just been through. The sweat was pouring down his face and he was breathing heavily, fighting against the fever. Now Alex saw that one of his legs was bleeding. It was probably bandaged underneath his pants, but the blood was seeping through.
    He sat down and began to untie his shoelaces. He was wearing heavy combat boots.
    “ How safe are we here?” Alex asked.
    “ Not safe. The Kikuyu will be able to track us. Maybe McCain will think you are dead. But he is already nervous. He will not take any chances.”
    “ You’re hurt.” Alex handed back the water bottle. “What can I do to help you?”
    “ I was unlucky.” Rahim drank a second time. “I parachuted in last night.” Alex remembered hearing a plane. It had passed over the