65.

I didn’t know where to begin, started talking in a frenzy, gabbling on about Innocent and the mines and Langdon and the safari and Caleb and motorbikes and canoes and child slaves and national parks and photographs and evidence all in a great rush. Were they all right? Had they been here all this time? Did they know what day it was? Had they any clue who had done this to them and why? They wouldn’t believe it! Did they know what I meant about the evidence, and chairman Mukwege, and –

Amelia put one finger on my forearm and said, ‘What Jack’s trying to tell you is this. Our safari ended in disaster. We returned to find you missing, reported it to the police and eventually paid the kidnappers’ ransom. When that didn’t work, we went looking for you ourselves at Langdon’s mine and beyond, worked out his business is corrupt, that he was responsible for your kidnapping – presumably to stop you finding out the truth and presenting it at the summit – and followed him here. We had no luck getting in last night, but we delivered evidence to the chairman of the Mining and Conservation Committee on your behalf ahead of today’s vote and returned just now to find the guards gone. You’re free. I think that’s the bones of it.’ Turning to me, she asked, ‘Anything to add?’

I just wanted to know they were OK. Scanning the room, I saw two camp beds, a fridge, a sink, and an open door leading to a little bathroom. They both looked healthy enough, if a bit pale.

‘Langdon responsible?’ Dad said with a laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

I looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘Believe me, he is.’

‘You’ve done fantastically finding us,’ Dad said. ‘I’m in awe. So grateful. Proud. Come here.’

I went to him and put my head on his shoulder. He hugged me stiffly. Behind him, on the floor next to the fridge, stood the cool box, its lid ajar.

‘That’s his cool box,’ I said.

‘Langdon’s?’ Dad released me.

‘Yes. He delivered it to the guards last night. I saw him.’

Dad smiled and shook his head and said, ‘This must be some kind of mistake.’

I felt sorry for him. Though they didn’t exactly see eye to eye, this was his brother we were accusing. Perhaps we shouldn’t have hit him with the truth straight away. Who knew what state he and mum were actually in after all this time cooped up? Best not to press the point, not now, I thought.

But Amelia said, ‘It’s no mistake. The proof is incontrovertible, I’m afraid. He kidnapped you, his brother. And he also hits his son.’

‘Ease up with the allegations,’ said Dad evenly.

‘Nicholas …’ said Mum.

‘The thing to do,’ said Amelia, ‘is confront Langdon immediately. You’ll see then.’

Dad gave her a hard stare.

‘Fresh air,’ I said. ‘Let’s get you outside.’

We all traipsed out through the yawning roller door and stood blinking in what was left of the sun. Mum held my hand. Quite tightly. She looked older in the light, tiny crow’s feet crowding her eyes. What had she been through in there? The atmosphere was strange, strained. I noticed neither Mum nor Dad had comforted the other yet, or reassured each other the ordeal was now over. Mark swam up within me for some reason. Why, in a moment that should have been happy, was I full of such aching sadness?

A car pulled onto the forecourt, stately and slow, silver and long. Martin Mukwege’s limo. He stepped out of it, unfolding himself to his full size. ‘Mr and Mrs Courtney,’ he said, presenting a hand, which they both shook automatically.

‘Who are you?’ asked Dad.

‘This is Mr Mukwege,’ Amelia answered, as if that should have been obvious. ‘He’s the chairman of the Mining and Conservation Committee, and he’s who we gave Jack’s evidence to.’

‘I told these … children to wait for me,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘Possibly I should have guessed that, having demonstrated such resourcefulness, they might find it hard to wait around for help freeing you. So here I am, too late.’ To me he said, ‘You mentioned guards. What have you done with them?’

‘They’d gone.’ I shrugged.

‘How strange.’

‘Not really,’ said Amelia. ‘If the motive was to keep Nicholas and Janine away from the environmental summit until the conservation vote had passed, it makes sense to abandon the kidnapping about now.’

Mum was looking at Mukwege in open awe, while Dad’s face was closed, apparently in distaste. ‘This evidence of Jack’s,’ Mum said, ‘was it any help?’

Mukwege chose his words carefully, delivering them from on high: ‘It was profoundly influential, yes. I came as much to offer thanks as I did to help.’

‘So,’ said Mum tentatively, ‘the vote went the right way?’

‘It did.’

Mum gasped and took a little step sideways. I put an arm around her shoulders. She looked up at me.

‘By which you mean …?’ said Dad.

His voice molasses, Mukwege replied, ‘There will be a crackdown on mining in the country’s national parks, and a full investigation will be undertaken into the use of child labour in the industry.’

We stood in silence for a moment. A noiseless plane, high above us, drew a pencil line across the fading sky.

At length Amelia, who’d been looking at Mukwege’s limo, said, ‘To Langdon’s then. Any chance of a lift?’