Solo

‘Can’t you get another fetish priest?’
    ‘You must be joking. He’s the only one they believe in.’
    It was enough of a sign for Bond – equilibrium had gone – or was going fast. That evening he drove out to Janjaville and paid Hulbert Linck $100 to fly out on a Super Constellation the following night.
    Linck looked at him shrewdly.
    ‘Do you know something we don’t, Mr Bond?’
    ‘I’ve been summoned home,’ Bond said, resignedly. ‘Personally, I’d love to stay on. See your famous running of the blockade. See your ship come in. I’m missing the big story.’
    ‘The sooner the better,’ Linck said, looking worried. ‘There’s a big Zanza Force push coming. We’ve got eight flights due in tonight.’
    He turned and looked at the Constellation as it was being unloaded. As a truck backed away the wash of its headlights momentarily illuminated the nose of the plane. Bond peered closer – and was astonished to see, stencilled just below the cockpit, a sign that he had last observed in Bayswater, London: AfricaKIN.
    He glanced at Linck but he was giving nothing away. What was this all about, Bond asked himself? And then thought – perhaps it was a former AfricaKIN charter; someone had simply forgotten to remove the logo. But it was another coincidence – and here in Dahum Bond was very suspicious of coincidences. What connection could Gabriel Adeka have with Linck and his blockade-running? Some sort of subterfuge? Were they using AfricaKIN funds? Exploiting its good name . . . ?
    ‘Well, good luck to you,’ Bond said, his mind still turning with the implications. ‘See you tomorrow night.’
    Bond slept badly. He kept hearing, in his half-sleep, urgent knocking on his door. Convinced it was Blessing he went to open it twice. Of course it was all in his troubled imagination. At dawn he woke to hear the distant sound of explosions and again the air-raid siren went off. This time a solitary MiG streaked low over the city, just above the rooftops, shattering the morning peace – too low and too fast to loose off a SAM.
    Another indication, Bond thought, as he packed up his few belongings and emptied the remains of his coma-inducing drugs down the toilet. He had lunch with Breadalbane who told him that Dupree, Haas and Letham had gone up to the front to see if this news of a Zanza Force thrust was genuine or not.
    Bond told him he was booked out on a flight that night and he could see the news disturbed Breadalbane.
    ‘But why?’ he asked, uncomprehendingly. ‘You’re going to miss everything.’
    ‘I just think it’s time to go,’ Bond said and offered him the loan of $100 if he wanted to leave also.
    ‘Can’t do that,’ Breadalbane said. ‘No, no. I have to stick it out. Have to. Otherwise why have I spent all these months here?’ He thought for a while. ‘Actually, the loan would be very handy, all the same – if you could spare the cash.’
    Dupree and Haas came back in the afternoon in a state of shock. There had been a massive breakthrough on the transnational highway – Centurion tanks crossing rivers on improvised bridges had outflanked Dahumian defences. More worryingly, there was panic and mass desertion by the normally steadfast Dahum troops – all resistance, all morale suddenly gone.
    ‘No juju man,’ Haas said. ‘Breed is going insane. He shot three of his own men for deserting. Even the mercenaries are talking of leaving now.’
    By late afternoon the heavy detonation of artillery shells was audible in central Port Dunbar and columns of black smoke were rising from the northern outskirts. The streets of the city emptied as if in response to some silent order. Sunday drove Bond out to the airport in sombre mood.
    ‘We done lose this war, Mr Bond. It finish. We don’t want fight no more.’
    They motored out to Janjaville past columns of dishevelled soldiers retreating on the airstrip, where some sort of final defensive ring was being formed. Bond noted the new trenches, barbed wire and gun emplacements but there seemed little sign of martial spirit among the troops. He saw officers striking men with bamboo batons and the soldiers looked frightened and resentful. No one wants to be the doomed rearguard, Bond realised. In the distance the sound of gunfire and explosions grew ever louder as the Zanzarim army advanced into Port Dunbar.
    Janjaville airstrip had never been busier. Two DC-3s and a Fokker Friendship were parked in front of the hangar and, as Bond