There is nowhere to go. Even if there was, Jacob is too stunned to move. One of the soldiers goes behind him, grabs his arms and pulls them behind his back. Jacob does not resist as his wrists are handcuffed. All he can do is grunt with disbelief. Beside him Veronica too is shackled. Both are grabbed by their throats and dragged to their feet. The snack-bar girl watches with appalled fascination.

The world goes dark and Jacob feels fabric against his face. A hood, his head has been covered. Blind and handcuffed and helpless, he is dragged along the airport's smooth marble floors, then out into the open air again.

"Up," a soft voice commands, pushing him forwards. Jacob barks his shin against the vehicle in front of him before he understands and steps upwards. Once inside he is shoved down into some kind of bench. A van, he guesses, with facing benches in the back. The engine is already running. He doesn't know where Veronica is. The doors clank shut and the van begins to move. They don't go far. Jacob's handcuffs are very tight and by the time the van comes to a halt his hands and fingers are already beginning to p.r.i.c.kle.

"Veronica," he gasps.

"I'm here." Her voice too is weak and quavering "No talking!" someone orders.

Jacob doesn't doubt that rule will be brutally enforced. He remains silent as the van doors open. A soldier grabs a fistful of his shirt and drags him outside, down onto concrete again. He is walked for a short distance to a wobbly set of steps. Jacob nearly overbalanced and falls as he climbs them. He smells oil and metal. Then he is shoved onto another bench and straps are fastened around his waist and belt.

"Now you are mine," Athanase croons into Jacob's ear. "This time we will not let you go."

An engine starts up, a very loud engine, and the bench he sat on begins to shake and vibrate as the noise around him grows to earsplitting levels, and a huge wind begins to blow. He understands what is happening, it has happened to him before, to him and Veronica both, in the Congo. They are on a helicopter. His stomach lurches as they lift off.

Then a strong and wiry hand is on Jacob's throat, squeezing it shut. He fights for air, struggles to escape the fingers that grip like a vice, but he can't move, the handcuffs and safety straps hold him securely. His lungs sour and burn until it feels like they are filled with acid, he needs to breathe more than he has ever needed anything before, but it is still impossible. Jacob feels himself beginning to slip away from the world. Then the hand releases and Jacob begins to suck in air again, in long, choking, rattling gasps.

"Only imagine imagine what we will do to you now," Athanase shouts into Jacob's ear. "Only what we will do to you now," Athanase shouts into Jacob's ear. "Only antic.i.p.ate antic.i.p.ate."

Jacob breathes deeply, tries to steady himself, tries to seal off all his fear, all emotion, and cage it deep inside his skull, bury it like radioactive waste and face their coming doom with cold resolve. It doesn't work. He's so frightened he's nauseous. He finds himself hoping for the helicopter to crash. A fiery death would surely be miles better than whatever awaits them at their destination. At least it would be quick and painless, and would consume Athanase and the man who killed Derek as well.

The tone of the helicopter's engine changes. Jacob's stomach lurches with trepidation, and then with sickening motion, as the helicopter sinks from the sky. Its skids suddenly re-encounter the ground, and after a few dancing thumps they are earthbound again.

The engine is switched off. Someone undoes Jacob's safety straps and pulls off his hood. The sudden light is blinding and Jacob has to squint. At first all he can see is the black interior of the aircraft, and Veronica's pale face as she steps off it into the gra.s.s that surrounds them. Then he registers the building looming above the gra.s.sy helipad.

It's no military base: it is some kind of elegant hotel, reminiscent of the one in Victoria Falls. The main building, two wings in the shape of a shallow V with a circular hub between, nestles in the shadow of a huge overhanging cliff. The circular driveway leading up to the main entrance encompa.s.ses a swimming pool and croquet field. A few other buildings are scattered around like satellites.

Jacob expected some kind of secret military prison, not a luxury hotel. Maybe Gorokwe can't be sure of his support on a base. Meaning he doesn't have much popular support among the military, which in turn explains why he is shooting down Mugabe rather than storming his presidential abode. But it doesn't really matter where they have been taken. The outcome will be the same. Jacob can't imagine any plausible future in which he escapes Gorokwe's custody alive.

He is pulled from the bench and propelled out of the helicopter, onto the gra.s.s, towards the hotel. His hands, constricted by the too-tight handcuffs, have gone almost completely numb, are little more than dead lumps of flesh attached to the rest of his body. Athanase and Veronica climb to a stone-floored patio, and then inside through a set of double gla.s.s doors, to wide red-carpeted stairs. Jacob follows, pushed along by the man who killed Derek. The uniformed soldiers stay by the helipad.

He feels like a death row prisoner marching towards the electric chair. Every step, every sight is a major event as they climb the stairs and walk along a plushly decorated hallway, to a doorway with a plaque that announces, surreally, that the Queen Mother once stayed in this room.

When Jacob sees who is waiting for them within he wonders for a moment if he is dreaming.

The high-ceilinged room is decorated with spindly wooden furniture, expensive but old. A huge window opens onto a stone balcony, beyond which lies a glorious view of a golf course nestled amid rolling hills and shining rivers. Jacob doesn't know the big, powerfully built black man in a suit standing restless by the window, nor the short, barrel-chested white man with thinning hair lounging uncomfortably on the sofa in khaki slacks and vest. But he knows the young, pretty blonde woman in jeans sitting between them.

"Susan?" he blurts, startled out of paralyzing fear by sheer amazement.

She looks sadly at him and Veronica, and slowly, Jacob begins to understand.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Susan says. "None of it was. I'm sorry." She pauses. "No, I'm not. I regret regret it. n.o.body was supposed to get hurt except Michael and Diane, and they deserved it. I regret anybody else got hurt. But I'm not sorry. We're trying to save lives here, millions of lives, two whole countries. I regret that people like you keep getting in the way. But we can't let you stop us." it. n.o.body was supposed to get hurt except Michael and Diane, and they deserved it. I regret anybody else got hurt. But I'm not sorry. We're trying to save lives here, millions of lives, two whole countries. I regret that people like you keep getting in the way. But we can't let you stop us."

Jacob looks over to Veronica. She does not even seem to be listening. Instead her gaze is fixed on the man on the couch. Jacob deduces that must be her ex-husband. Danton DeWitt. And the man by the window who looks like a heavyweight boxer - "General Gorokwe, I presume?" Jacob guesses.

He smiles absently, as if addressed by a child. "Very good."

Jacob shakes his head, as if to dislodge loose pieces of thought within. He looks back to Susan. "What did Michael and Diane do?"

"The so-called philanthropists?" Her voice drips sarcastic rage. "Where to begin? Those orphanages orphanages they funded were like fundamentalist slave camps. They were such good Christians that they bribed officials to destroy whole shipping containers of condoms that had already gone to Uganda. G.o.d knows how many thousand people got AIDS as a result. What happened to them was too good for them." they funded were like fundamentalist slave camps. They were such good Christians that they bribed officials to destroy whole shipping containers of condoms that had already gone to Uganda. G.o.d knows how many thousand people got AIDS as a result. What happened to them was too good for them."

"Right. And how about what happened to Derek?" Jacob feels a futile fury begin to burn within him. "Let me guess. He came to you at the camp and started asking questions about the smuggling going on there. Not knowing you were part of it, because who would ever guess that looking at a pretty blonde girl like you, right? And then, what, you invited him to come to Bwindi? Or just planted the idea? And you made sure there were slots available in Michael and Diane's gorilla group. Then when you grabbed us you made it look like they were going to rape you, just so we wouldn't suspect anything."

Susan smiles thinly. "Actually Patrice was taking me outside to give me better food. I was quite annoyed with you all for saving me."

"Yeah? You hid it well. But of course you're an actress, aren't you. And a lot better than you admitted. s.h.i.t, you deserve an Oscar. No wonder we got out so easy, with you to lead the way. Then we show up at the refugee camp and say hi, we take a few pictures of buddy here," he indicates Derek's muscled killer Casimir, "taking custody of your shiny new missiles, and the very next day, Prester is tortured to death and we're fugitives from justice. I should have f.u.c.king known."

"Like she says, we regret it," Danton says. He sounds angry. "But you were warned often enough to leave well enough alone."

"Listen to yourself," Veronica spits out. "'Leave well enough alone.' How many people have you killed already? How many? Elijah and the guards, Michael, Diane, Derek, Prester. How many more we don't know about? How many murdered?"

Danton shakes his head. "Wrong question. How many more will die here if Mugabe doesn't go? Haven't you seen what's happened to this country? It's starving. It's dying. We're saving it. And I'm sorry, but you can't change the world without hurting someone. I wish you could, but that's the choice you have to make, to make a real difference. Someone always suffers from change. You have to choose to shed a little blood in order to save a lot."

"Right," Jacob says. He nods at Athanase and Casimir. "And that's why you're working with these two. Because they're the experts on blood. On f.u.c.king genocide."

"What would you rather have?" Susan asks. "Them in the Congo, killing and destabilizing, where there's already four million dead in the civil war, or in quiet exile here in Zimbabwe after Gorokwe takes over?"

"Oh. Oh, I see. Of course. That's what's in it for them. You're their retirement package. Athanase here is wanted for crimes against humanity crimes against humanity and you're his f.u.c.king pension plan. You have to play nice with him or he'll tell the whole world everything about you, so if you win, you'll put him and his people up in a nice little villa here for as long as he wants. He committed a f.u.c.king holocaust and you're putting him out to pasture." and you're his f.u.c.king pension plan. You have to play nice with him or he'll tell the whole world everything about you, so if you win, you'll put him and his people up in a nice little villa here for as long as he wants. He committed a f.u.c.king holocaust and you're putting him out to pasture."

"What now?" Veronica asks, looking directly at Danton. "What are you going to do to us?"

A long silence hangs over the room; long enough for Jacob's rage to begin to dissipate.

"n.o.body's going to touch you. I promise you that," Danton says to Veronica. "But I can't say the same about your boyfriend."

Jacob swallows. He feels very cold.

Danton stands and walks over to Jacob. "You need to tell us where your evidence is."

"I don't have any."

"Not on you, no. You gave your CD to Lysander, and he gave it to us." Jacob winces. "But you have more, don't you? Backed up online. I'm sure you do, you must, you're a technical professional. Ready to be sent out automatically if you don't log in to a certain web site, maybe? A dead man's switch?"

"No," Jacob lies. "Nothing like that."

"You really need to tell us the truth now," Danton warns. "We're not playing games. We can't afford to. You're going to tell us. The easy way or the hard. Up to you."

Jacob stares into Danton's face, then looks at their other enemies, at Gorokwe, Susan, Athanase, Casimir. He thinks of the little girl at the ruined farm. He thinks of Derek on that airstrip in the Congo, remembers how his best friend's head rolled forward from his body after Casimir's third and final stroke of the panga. panga. He remembers holding Veronica close in the Ruwenzori Traveller's Inn. He remembers holding Veronica close in the Ruwenzori Traveller's Inn.

Jacob makes a decision, takes a deep breath. "There's nothing to tell."

Danton and Susan look dismayed. Gorokwe and Casimir look indifferent.

Athanase smiles, showing his teeth, and croons, "On va voir." Meaning, we shall see we shall see.

The last Jacob sees of Veronica is her stricken, alarmed face as Athanase and Casimir drag him out of the room where the Queen Mother once slept.

Jacob is shivering as if with malaria, he feels like he is about to lose control of all his body, too weak from fear to struggle as they half-drag him to the end of a long corridor. He knows what's going to happen. But he also knows that the result will be the same regardless. They will kill him. Probably Veronica too, but definitely him. He knows too much. He will die here in this hotel. The only thing left is to not tell them anything - because Danton is right about his dead man's switch.

He tries to tell himself it doesn't matter how he dies.

The room at the end of the hall smells vile. There is something big and b.l.o.o.d.y hanging from its ceiling. It takes Jacob a moment to recognize it as a human form. The man's wrists are tied to a rope dangling from a hook in the ceiling originally intended for a light. The ankles are attached so a similar but longer rope, so that the man hangs diagonally over the bed, at something like a forty-five degree angle. Blood oozes from burn-blackened flesh all over the body, a Rorschach-like stain has formed on the beige carpet beneath. The man's face and genitals have been almost entirely burnt away. Jacob can see the bone of the eyesockets.

Athanase picks up a bloodstained steak knife from the bed and sticks it into the body, as if impaling a piece of meat on his plate. It is not until the man wriggles a little, and a rattling breath emerges from his throat, that Jacob realizes he is still alive. Then he sees, and recognizes, the clothes piled in the corner of the room. Jacob wants to scream but can't breathe, can't move, can barely stand.

"Tu lui connais, je crois," Athanase says conversationally. "Ici c'est Lysander."

"No," Jacob moans.

Athanase produces a Zippo lighter much like Veronica's, idly flicks open and ignites it, then claps it shut again. He smiles. "He was a strong man, but he told me everything. You are not strong. Perhaps you would like now to reconsider your silence."

Jacob closes his eyes. "There's nothing to tell."

"Bon," Athanase says. He sounds genuinely pleased. "Casimir, tue-le et descend-le. On va recommencer avec le Canadien."

Jacob opens his eyes and watches Casimir strangle Lysander, or what is left of Lysander, with his own belt. It seems a mercy. The dead man is lowered to the ground, and removed from his bonds. Then Casimir turns to Jacob.

He tries to fight, but he is weak and handcuffed, and Casimir is incredibly strong. One punch to his solar plexus, followed by a kick to his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, and by the time Jacob can think of anything other than breath and agony, he is bound to the same ropes that held Lysander, and Casimir is hoisting him up. The hook that holds him doesn't even wobble as his feet leave the ground. Casimir ties the rope off around the leg of the bed, anchoring Jacob, leaving him hanging diagonally in midair.

Athanase takes the steak knife and begins to cut Jacob's clothes away. Jacob closes his eyes and tries to pretend he isn't there. As Athanase works he makes a point of cutting his victim, the knife rips into Jacob's skin, tearing into his ankles, the insides of his legs, his stomach, his armpits, and despite his best attempts he jerks and moans. Soon he is dangling naked and bleeding from the ceiling.

Then he hears the Zippo flick open again.

"Please," Jacob begs, opening his eyes, abandoning all hope and all stoicism. He begins to weep. It is hard to breathe, his voice is so weak he can hardly hear himself. His shoulders already feel like they're slowly being pulled out of their sockets, and blood drips from a dozen shallow but agonizing cuts onto the floor below him. "Please, no, please."

"Tell me everything."

"Please. There's nothing to tell. Please, G.o.d, no, please." He is no longer addressing Athanase, but there is no G.o.d, no merciful G.o.d would allow a life to come to this, would ever have created beings capable of suffering so much physical pain. It already feels like almost more than he can bear, just from his shoulders and the cuts, and he knows it has really not yet even begun.

"Alors." Athanase smiles and ignites the Zippo. "On va voir."

Chapter 35

"And what do you intend to do with her?" General Gorokwe asks.

His voice is low, powerful, accustomed to command. Veronica looks at Danton, wide-eyed, awaiting the answer, trying to look as pitiful as possible. She hates him with every cell of her being, but right now her only hope is his forbearance.

"n.o.body touches her," Danton orders. "She was my wife."

Susan says, "We can't let her go."

"I'm not talking about letting her go."

"We can't ever ever let her go. Even after it's over." let her go. Even after it's over."

Danton says, "We'll worry about that when it's over. She won't be a problem until then."

"She doesn't have to be a problem at all," Gorokwe says.

"No. She was my wife. You're not giving her to those monsters."

"It doesn't have to be Athanase. It can be quick and painless. Only say the word and you will never see her again, it is as simple as that."

But Veronica isn't worried. She knows what Danton is like when someone tries to argue with him after he has made up his mind.

"I said no no," he repeats, in a tone of voice all to familiar to her, petulance more than anger, as if perhaps the problem is just that he has not been heard correctly until now.

"We don't even know what she knows," Susan says.

"Rockel will tell us." Danton considers Veronica. "But I'll talk to her."

Veronica looks meekly at the floor rather than aim her venomous gaze at him.

"In private," Danton says archly.

Susan and Gorokwe look at one another. Eventually Gorokwe nods. Both of them stand and depart the room. As they reach the door Veronica sees Susan put a familiar hand on Gorokwe's back. It is the touch of an intimate, a lover. She remembers Susan saying that she lived in Zimbabwe before she came to Uganda.

"I told you to go home," Danton says, when there is no one in the room but the two of them. "I gave you a second chance."

Veronica looks around for a weapon. He is a strong man and her arms are cuffed behind her, but this is the only chance she has. Maybe he has handcuff keys on him. Maybe she can kill him, free herself, burn down the hotel or something, liberate Jacob and escape. It doesn't seem particularly likely but it seems like all the hope she's got.

"Who else did you talk to?" Danton asks. "We know Prester. Who else? Who got you to the Uganda border?"

"What are you doing?" she bursts out. "You stupid a.s.shole. What the f.u.c.k are you doing? Trying to prove yourself? Trying to show the world you're not just some useless rich kid, you're as good as your daddy? What the f.u.c.k are you doing, doing, Danton?" Danton?"

He is so taken aback by her unexpected verbal a.s.sault that he actually recoils. Then he says, "Don't you understand? Do you still not understand? We're saving Zimbabwe. And half the Congo. We're doing a great thing here. You're getting in the way of something wonderful."

"Something wonderful. Murder, civil war, you're in bed with man who committed genocide. What's going to happen to Jacob? What are they doing to him right now?"

"I'd worry about yourself, if I were you, not your new boyfriend."

"I'd worry about yourself if I were you too. You think I'm the only one who knows too much? You really think you're going to get out of this country alive after they shoot down Mugabe? Don't you see? Once they've gone and spent your daddy's money you'll be totally f.u.c.king expendable."

Danton's face flickers, and she realizes she has just given away how much she knows - but she almost doesn't care, it's worth it to have scored a point.