Chapter 4

Ludwig was sweating profoundly, slowly packing small boxes of essential medicine onto one of the Rovers. The sun had begun its descent beyond the surrounding hills, but the heat and moisture was intolerably unabated. Ethan was helping Nicole load the wounded Red Cross people in two of the Rovers.

The patients from the infirmary would ride in the open-top Rovers the bandits had left behind. Two of them needed a stretcher, bad cases of malaria. The rest were mostly kids, left to fend on their own.

Though bullet-ridden and shoddy-looking the Rovers worked fine; they would have to do. Ethan needed to keep just one of the Red Cross Rovers. Ludwig had indulged him without pausing to think about it; for all it mattered, he had saved their lives.

The sisters, fourteen souls left in all, would ride along with the caravan carrying their meagre belongings. They were leaving little of real value behind them. As they climbed inside the back of the Rovers, Ethan took a moment to watch them intently. Nicole had just stopped for a smoke. He turned and told her then with a flat, calculating expression:

"Look at them. Three of them dead. Vacant stares, hollow gazes. Still, they keep their rosemaries in hand, muttering prayers. Will that make them feel better about it?"

She let a small cloud of smoke hazily drift away from her as she sat with her back against the Rover's door, legs crossed at her ankles, one hand in her apron's pocket. She smiled thinly before she replied:

"Maybe they're thankful for being alive. Maybe they're mourning. Leave the poor women be. Does everything have to make sense to you?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and cast a thoughtful gaze towards the small graveyard where only a couple of hours ago they had buried the three sisters, alongside the bandits. The surviving nuns had insisted on it. He shook his head absent-mindedly then and said:

"It never really does. I'm only saying, how can they go on after what's happened?"

She laughed with a bitter crease around her lips and replied:

"It's people just like them that do go on. Faith, remember? I've talked to their new superior. She's decided to dissolve the order. I'm not sure she can really do that on her own, but she seemed quite resolved. Each will have to go her own way. She probably thinks it'll help them heal over time."

Ethan was looking at the nuns' faces; they were too pale for the likes of the Nigerian sun anyway, he thought to himself.

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't. But just going on pretending they're stronger than they really are..."

He let his voice trail off, shaking his head in disbelief. Nicole was about to say something when they both saw Ludwig approaching them, wiping his forehead and arms from the sweat in vain; in a minute he'd be sweating once more. He nodded to Nicole and smiled, but turned to talk to Ethan, slightly out of breath:

"We're ready. We should be at Lagos by morning. Once we do get back on the tarmac, we'll notify the Lagos office about what happened, head straight for the hospital."

"How's everyone?"

"The wounded are stable. Everyone's shaken, closed to themselves mostly. Some are still scared. Even needed sedation," said the doctor and shrugged somehow apologetically. Ethan simply nodded. The doctor continued:

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done really. We could actually hear the gunfight, but we kept running, just like you said. The sisters said you had some help."

He looked at Nicole sideways then but he was smiling gently, his eyes gleaming softly. Nicole shuffled as if feeling uncomfortable and said to the doctor without looking back:

"Not that much there, really."

Ethan placed a kind hand on the doctor's shoulder but before he could speak, Ludwig let out a snort of a laugh and said:

"I get it Ethan. When we get back, I'll need to file a report; an enquiry will ensue. Perhaps I'll be charged. Then I expect there'll be some uproar from the embassies, the press. People will hear about this, certainly."

Ethan's gaze for a moment turned sour while Nicole shot a worried glance at Ludwig but he went on, this time with a somber look on his face:

"I know what you're thinking. The minefield, the bandits. The sisters getting killed. People's memories do become jarred from experiences like these. Frankly, some genuinely don't recall there even was a journalist along. And the sisters, well ... Poor souls have a lot on their minds now. Not to mention there's a war going on."

Ethan nodded, grinning shamelessly. Though the cloak and dagger routine had largely lost its meaning now that the caravan was turning back, the doctor had turned out to be a welcome though strange and unlikely ally. He extended a hand, which the doctor promptly gripped. Ethan then said:

"I take it you'll cover for me," he said before turning to look at Nicole and adding "For us, anyway. Thanks, Ludwig."

Nicole nodded half-heartedly, while the doctor replied:

"The way things turned out I should be thanking you, Ethan. I'm convinced that without you, we'd be dead or maybe worse."

The doctor shook Ethan's hand and looked him in the eye with a sobering, stone-hard gaze. The lifeless mangled bodies of the three dead nuns came unbidden to his mind then and he was unable to meet Ludwig's stare. He nodded limply and the doctor caught him by the arm, telling him reassuringly:

"Look, you saved lives. That's what matters in my line of business. Save as many as you can."

"I know Ludwig. It's just that..."

Ethan hesitated; he felt unable to find the right words. Nicole jumped in, a dull expression on her face, her voice a gritty affair:

"You feel sorry for them?"

He turned to look at her with bewildered puzzlement. He asked her with evident confusion:

"You mean the sisters? Of course, I mean -"

"Saving the world now?" she said with a vicious stare that marred her features. She almost spat out the words.

Ethan blinked furiously while Ludwig simply stood there. They felt something they had said had ticked off Nicole.

"Listen, Nicole, I understand you -" he managed to blurt before she cut him mid-sentence and said "I don't need your understanding!" before leaving them flabbergasted to watch her briskly pace towards her guestroom. Ethan made a motion to follow her but Ludwig reached an arm and blocked his path:

"It won't help. She's grieving. Try not to make it harder," said Ludwig, rearranging his glasses slowly. Ethan turned to say something as if in protest, but he simply stood there, facing her way. He said to the doctor then:

"That's not at all like her. I mean, I barely know her, but I wouldn't think she'd take all this that hard."

Ludwig shook his head and looked Ethan straight in the eye; despite their height difference he managed to sound like a teacher scolding a schoolboy:

"People died here today! Did you expect everyone to move along as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened? Business as usual?"

The doctor was almost glaring at Ethan, who cooly replied in a low, calm voice:

"There is a war going on. I wouldn't exepct that from everyone, but she's seen war. She knows what it's like and I believe that. It's just ... odd. I mean, she's acting odd. She killed maybe half or more of the bandits."

Ludwig frowned and his forehead wrinkled, beads of sweat trailing his temples. He opened his mouth to speak, and almost stuttered the words:

"She killed?"

Ethan simply nodded and fixed his gaze at Nicole's guestroom, his face a pensive, blank wall. The doctor spoke again:

"How?"

"Does it matter to you?"

"No, not really."

"I thought so as well. Though I think I need to know wherever we're going."

"You're planning to take her with you?"

Ethan nodded, hands on his waist. Ludwig asked with some reluctance:

"Then you two are..." he said, letting his voice trail rather uncomfortably. Ethan blinked and smiled somewhat lamely with a frown upon his face before shaking his head furiously. He told the doctor then:

"Good God, no. That kind of woman would be the death of me. Besides..."

"Not the time?"

Ethan shrugged and said:

"She's taken."

"Ah. I wouldn't think you'd draw such a line."

Ethan grinned despite himself and asked with a mocking tone:

"I'd say! A gentleman like meself, getting frisky with a lady in wedlock! Absurd!"

Ludwig shook his head with no hint of good humor other than a slight curl of his lip. He then wiped the sweat on his forehead with one sleeve, while he said to Ethan rather flatly:

"How can you joke about anything after all this?"

Ethan thought about it for a moment and then said rather mirthlessly:

"Won't kill us now, will it?"

Ludwig looked at him with a pondering expression. Before he could reply, one of his staff shouted out for his attention. He gave a thumbs up; the engines of the Rovers roared into life one after the other. They were heading back. He then simply said to Ethan with a shrug:

"Well, thanks again. And good luck. Maybe we'll meet again in a better place and time."

"There's always Heaven, doctor," said Ethan with a shallow grin. The doctor shook his head, backtracked a few steps and then started jogging towards the open door of a waiting Rover. When he climbed aboard, he had one last glimpse of Ethan lighting a cigarette, and waving them goodbye.

The moon was waxing low on the night sky. Its white sheen sometimes came through muddied through the wispy clouds that toiled lazily past it. And when the cool wind blew the murky clouds away, the shapeless shadows that covered everything below vanished within a swath of summer moonlight that could easily lure a man into thinking all was well in the world.

Such trappings of the mind were not new to Ethan; he'd seen first hand what such a serene, beguiling night could do to a man. Guards stabbed from behind inside their trenches, patrolmen lying dead on the ground, their throats slit open - their still warm blood misting in the chilly night air. The sudden feeling of a hand on his shoulder electrified him at first, and then sent a numbing sensation that grew all along his right side down to his hip.

He looked around as if in a dream, half-waiting for the thrust of a bayonet through his jugular. It was Nicole; the thought of how the hell she'd slipped behind him unnoticed sprang inside his mind. It was unnerving, more so for a soldier and doubly so for a Scout of the Royal Marines. 'Damn her!', he thought while he saw her grinning as if she'd had intended to catch him off-guard. Her voice sounded rather casual, but there was the barest glint of mischievous success about it:

"Did I startle you?"

There was a small moment of uncomfortable silence, before Ethan managed to answer:

"Well, yes. Yes, you did. Have you packed? We should set out now, if we want to reach LALA in the morning. Are you sure about these people you mentioned?"

She looked at him with a frown. The light of the oil lamp inside the room flickered around her face as if it danced to a rhythm of its own. She replied with a hurt tone, as if taken aback:

"Are you suggesting that they can't be trusted?"

He got up from his chair and moved away from the way, his back resting against the dimly lit wall. He crossed his arms as if feeling threatened and said flatly:

"I'm suggesting something's off. I'm suggesting this is all too much."

Her face grew distant suddenly. She tilted her head and bit her lip before saying with a clear, hearty voice:

"You were the one who insisted on going back there for Andy. And I should thank you for that. It's just that ... I'm doing all I can!"

Her face became contorted and it looked as if she was about to break down into sobs and cries for barely a moment. But she held on and said sharply:

"I risked my life back there. I could've left, I could've run away. I did for the sisters, I tried. But I did it for Andy, and you as well."

"Now that's what's bugging me," replied Andy, stabbing a pointing finger her way. He went on with an even, accusing tone of voice:

"You're not just good with a rifle: you're an excellent shot. You didn't hesitate, you actually went inside and picked up that M1903. And by the way, that's not exactly a Derringer. Neither is that Beretta. I mean, I'm not ungrateful or anything, but just how the fuck did you get hold of those? And since when does one become such a pro with a couple of weeks of fighting? Who the hell are you, really now?"

Nicole looked at him sternly at first for an itchy moment that faintly smelled of danger, but then her face dissolved in a small, tight smile abruptly. As if she could relax now, she sat down on the cot across the small table and the oil lamp and said to Ethan with a weird, all too american accent:

"I guess you're not the only one playing in the shadows here, Ethan. My real name is Nicole Heurgot; but I'm Agency."

Ethan eyes fluttered violently of their own volition. His hand went instinctively to the Colt laying reassuringly behind his back, but Nicole urged him:

"No, no. I mean I'm CIA. Please, that's not necessary. Really, we're in this together. I really am Andy's wife. It's just too darn complicated. He doesn't really know who I work for. Never did. In a way, I am to blame for what's happened to him."

She looked downcast, glancing at Andy, waiting for some kind of explosion on his side, some kind of reproach or exclamation that never came. Instead, he sat back down on the chair and looked at Nicole as if she was barely there.

"CIA?"

She nodded slowly. Ethan took a small liquor bottle out of a chest pocket, opened it and had a swig. He barely grimaced while the Littlemill ran down his throat, and asked tersely:

"Some kind of mission, then?"

She nodded with some reluctance this time. Her face was withdrawn, almost expressionless but for the small, wordless movements of her mouth. Ethan gulped down a mouthful of Littlemill and almost yelled incredulously:

"A yank? A bloody yank? You're telling me my brother's married to a bloody yank spy?"

Nicole was staring at him without really knowing what to say. She half-smiled as if out of politeness and pressed the question somehow lamely:

"Maybe it's a lot, but why not?"

Then Ethan broke into a fit of laughter that completely surprised Nicole, adding:

"He's going to ask for a divorce when he finds out, you know. I'm not one for breaking up a marriage, but when I do tell him - and I will, mind you - the poor fellow will be demolished. Does he at least know you're a yank?"

"He does. We were married in Louisiana, actually."

"That's were you're from then?"

She nodded briskly and added: "Close by. Trois Rivieres."

"Kind of makes sense. What about Algiers? Horseshit?" he asked avidly. She replied with a nod and added:

"Mostly. I was simply posted there when it went down."

"So where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"You know, it does feel kind of liberating to talk about all this like we're having a dinner party around Langley, but I'd have to say I'm not at liberty to discuss it."

"So now what, you're trying to be professional for a change? You could've killed me back there and I'd be still thinking the night's just the thing. Your mission involved Andy?"

She raised an eyebrow at that and said nothing. Instead, she got up from the cot and said to Ethan, her hands in her pockets:

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that either."

Ethan's grin was replaced by a taut line over his pursed lips. He sat straight on his chair and said with a hint of vehemence:

"Horseshit. This isn't about the job; any job. It's about Andy. You said it might've been your fault he's missing now. Was he part of the mission?"

She gripped her elbows as if a sudden chill had emptied her body of any warmth. She couldn't hide the fact she felt uncomfortable. He told him then with some reticence:

"He ... He was my cover. The caravan, was my cover. I know, the irony?" she said raising a hand dismissively and went on: "But half the world knows the Red Cross is just another part of the deal. Andy thought he'd convinced me we were doing the right thing. In a way, I didn't need much convincing."

Ethan let out a long breath, and stared at Nicole for an uncomfortable, long moment. She didn't seem eager to challenge his mood. At length, he asked her:

"What happened? I mean, what really happened?"

"It really was bandits. More like, the FPLB."

"The what?"

"The Frontiere Populaire pour la Liberation de Biafra."

"Secessionists?"

"Formerly. They'd been convinced to turn their interests in more lucrative affairs."

"Running guns. Information. A little mercenary work."

Ethan's eyes trailed Nicole's face. There was a strange glitter about them, an icy glow that rendered his gaze keen like a knife. He seemed to scrutinise her features one by one, when he finally said:

"You were their handler. The middleman."

She stared blankly at the wall for a moment before bowing her head and sighing. She clasped her hands together and said softly, almost indelibly:

"Yes."

"And Andy knew shit."

She nodded with closed eyes. Ethan went for his pack of cigarettes, shaking his head furtively. She then cleared her throat and added very business-like:

"There's more to it. The guns."

"You mean the rifle and the Beretta?"

She nodded shallowly. Her face suddenly grew darker than the ill lamplight could account for:

"There's more where that came from."

"Sure. You've got connections, right? You must have had some form of backup."

"There's a small net. But that's not where I got the guns."

Ethan's eyes became narrow at first. When the fear of realisation began to hit home, his eyes bulged even as he lit his cigarette. The tip of the cigarette grew glowing red-hot and he asked through a small fog of smoke:

"Not here."

She nodded hesitantly before adding:

"That's what Yuembe came for."

Ethan's face became flush suddenly, barely contained anger in his voice with just the slightest hint of worry:

"They're still here then? The guns are still here. Fuckall!"

With a rather glum attempt at sounding sheepish, Nicole added flatly:

"We should get going. There might be more groups interested in the cace."

Ethan grabbed his knapsack and cocked his Colt, before darting outside the door towards the Rover and saying rather furiously mostly to himself:

"What a fucking catch, Andy! What a brilliant fucking catch!"

Ethaan had driven for the better part of the night mostly in silence. What little words they had exchanged were about directions, miles, maps and compasses. Ethan had tried to make their journey shorter, sometimes picking a dirt road or trail, and some times ploughing through the savannah head on.

They'd seen pin-pricks of light in the distance blinking on and off in their path; the creatures of the night cleared a path in their wake. It was mostly hyenas they saw, as well as owls. Each time the hyenas saw the Rover's headlights they paused in the feast of the carcass and gazed with eyes like gems; then they carried on, the instinct of fear quite outdone by hunger.

Had it been any other time Ethan thought, that improvised journey through the plains and the hills of Nigeria might've been quite fascinating; a proper night safari, a peek at the pure, wild Africa, untouched by man. But that was just a passing idea; so much had happened in so little time, that Ethan found it at times difficult to focus on simply driving, his mind racing in all sorts of different directions.

At some point he had felt the need to sleep but carried on for an hour or so as if his life dependent on it. Nicole had kept silent all along. She sometimes dozed off even as the Rover rocked and rumbled over crests and gutters, hilly sides and gravel trails. She didn't seem to share the same fatigue as Ethan, who kept straightening himself up, breathing sharply in an effort to tay awake no matter what. At length, while on a small dirt road beset with tall savvanah grass, she asked him:

"Let me drive."

Ethan rolled his eyes before settling them on her face while his mouth widened slowly into a grin:

"I think not," he said, and yawned.

"You'll fall asleep on the wheel if you go on like this. You need to get some rest," she said, looking worried. Ethan glanced at her sideways and kept driving, seemingly about to pass out in any moment. He shook his head drowsily without replying. Nicole insisted:

"Look, if you won't let me drive at least pull over and get some sleep. For God's sake."

Ethan drew a deep breath and shook himself trying to stay alert. He told her then without taking his eyes off the road, his voice shallow, almost resigned:

"Fine. Remember, check your compass and clock; stick to the zig-zag on the map and we should be fine. Give me one hour, then wake me up. Understood?"

Nicole's eyes rolled ever so slightly; that had sounded like an order. She replied with a raised eyebrow with evident irritation:

"I understand you don't trust me yet, and that's clearly wrong because we're doing this together whether you planned it, like it or not. It's about Andy, remember?"

Ethan braked gently then and brought the rover to a stop. He closed his eyes and sat with fists clenched on the wheel, breathing shallowly. "I remember," he said and went on looking at Nicole through bloodshot eyes:

"Just don't bloody fuck this up. We need to reach the outskirts of Onitsha very much alive and completely unseen if at all possible. If you see or hear something just -"

"Look, I'm not a hapless bitch you can just work around, alright? Jesus, you think you're so hot stuff don't you? Please shut up, and sleep," she said loudly but without screeching or yelling. Her somewhat pale face was flush with a red tint of anger, locks of her hair stuck on her temples. Ethan strangely thought about how menacingly beautiful she looked then.

He smiled thinly, nodded to himself and got out of the Rover as sharp as he could, straining himself to get to the co-driver's seat as fast as possible. When they crossed each other in front of the Rover, they exchanged a strange look, and almost halted their stride for the barest second. A few moments later, Nicole was behind the wheel while Ethan lay in the seat next to her, arms crossed and legs drawn together, snoring like a hog.

They'd been carving a criss-cross path towards Onitsha, the gateway to the Biafran territory east of the Niger. The small city had been swapping hands for the past few months between the federal government and the Biafrans. For the past couple of months, it lay in government hands, considered marginally safer. Still, the frontline was in an almost constant flux; units from both sides would occasionally try and force their passage over the Niger. It would come as no big surprise to Ethan if they suddenly encountered Biafran patrols instead of government troops.