The shadows deepened as the last of the daylight dwindled quickly away. Philippe’s body, laid out on the bed, was just a black shape, his features no longer visible. Eliza sat on a chair at his side staring down at him. Her shoulders were hunched and her hands were clasped in her lap.
The three soldiers were a little distance away, perched on wooden packing crates. Henning sat bolt upright. He was motionless, like a carnivore preserving energy between bouts of action. Bailey lounged beside him. He was rolling a cigarette, the paper hanging from his lip as he selected tobacco from a pouch. His foot tapped an impatient beat against the floor. Dan rested his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. His eyes ranged around the room, but always returned to Eliza. She’d tied back her blood-matted hair, exposing her face. The shadows emphasised her cheekbones and the curve of her forehead. Her eyes were dark hollows against the pallor of her skin.
Almost an hour had passed since Philippe’s death. After the initial outpouring of grief, Eliza had been calm and quiet. She had replaced the bandage to cover Philippe’s wound and then buttoned his shirt, smoothing the cloth over his chest. She’d dipped a piece of torn towel in water and washed his face. Then she’d used the same cloth to wipe away her tears. Now she was cloaked in stillness, as if her thoughts were turned deep inside. Dan recognised that she was consciously adapting to what had just happened, and preparing for what was coming next. It was a process familiar to any soldier. Like an artist reworking a painting, strengthening tone and form, she was rebuilding her armour.
Dan’s own emotions were shifting as well. He was still touched by Eliza’s pain; if anything, her bravery made it all the more poignant. And he felt the tragedy of Philippe’s death – he’d never become inured to the experience of seeing a strong, healthy man die from his wounds. But now he began to think about the meaning of Eliza being here with the Okapi. She must be a supporter of the Simbas – or even an actual member of their army. A surge of outrage ran through him as he remembered the scene at the ambush: the slaughter of the Jeunesse. That was just one of the atrocities for which Simba Command was responsible. Philippe had been one of their leaders. Who knew what role Eliza might have played? The couple may have distanced themselves from the Simbas recently, but that didn’t change the past.
Leaving aside the actions of the Simbas – and Dan knew well enough that in an armed conflict virtually no one ended up with clean hands – there was also the puzzle of why someone like Eliza would even consider supporting the rebellion. The Lindenbaums owned assets in the Congo; they were the sort of people who had the most to lose from Communism taking root here. And although the family had a long association with this place, they were still Americans – and their country was supporting the current government. It didn’t make any sense.
He began to wonder if Eliza could have been drawn to the rebel cause solely through a love affair with Philippe. Perhaps her emotions had blinded her to any other reality. But that didn’t fit with what he’d already seen of her. She had confronted the soldiers so boldly – even after all she’d gone through during these last few days. Dan had never encountered a woman who displayed such resilience. She just didn’t come across as someone who would be led helplessly by her feelings.
As he watched her from his seat on the wooden crate, he remembered how she had captured his attention the time he first caught sight of her. Now, he was only more intrigued. He had to keep reminding himself that Eliza was guilty – at the very least – of supporting the enemy. The fact was, Dan shouldn’t be sitting here with her in this abandoned factory; he should be taking her into custody.
Dan wondered what Henning and Bailey were thinking about the situation they’d all found themselves in. He suspected they were as uneasy about Eliza’s allegiances as he was. Yet he could see in their eyes the same respect for her that he felt.
Standing up, he crossed to the windows. The top of a tree was visible across the street; birds were already roosting in its branches. It would be dark very soon. Philippe’s body needed to be removed from here and buried. It wouldn’t last long in the heat. Dan couldn’t imagine just walking off and leaving Eliza alone here to deal with the situation. Nor was he intending to take her – or the body – to Swain. Regardless of who Eliza was, or what she may have done, he was going to help her.
He considered his next step; there weren’t many options to choose from. Philippe’s grave had to be in a secret location. Otherwise there was a good chance his body would be dug up and desecrated – by the ordinary people of Uvira who had suffered at the hands of the Simbas; or Tabati’s policemen; or even members of the commando force, now that Swain was in charge. Dan remembered the scene at the riverside when Dupont had shown off his grisly souvenir. Whoever the Okapi had been – whatever he was responsible for – he deserved for his remains to be treated with basic respect.
Dan went to crouch beside Eliza. ‘We can’t stay here any longer,’ he told her. ‘We need to move Philippe’s body.’
Eliza turned to face him. Her eyes were red and swollen. ‘Where are you taking him?’
‘We’re going to bury him for you. Now.’
Her eyes narrowed as she processed his words. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘I want to help you.’
The answer was so simple she seemed to accept it at face value. ‘I’m coming too.’
‘Of course.’
Eliza met his gaze. ‘Am I a prisoner?’
Dan shook his head. ‘As far as I can tell, you are a civilian.’ He glanced over her tailor-made bush clothes, avoiding looking at her army boots.
‘I am,’ she confirmed. Dan didn’t know if that meant she had left the rebel army, or had never signed up.
‘There are some empty graves at the cemetery,’ he continued. ‘A whole row of them was prepared for unclaimed bodies brought in by the police. Nobody will notice if one gets filled in overnight.’ He searched Eliza’s face as he talked, reading her reaction. ‘We’d have to be quick. There won’t be a priest or anything like that.’
Eliza kept her eyes on the bed as she responded. ‘Philippe wouldn’t care where he was buried, or how it was done – as long as he was laid to rest on Congolese soil. He believed in the future of the Congo. That was his religion. This country meant everything to him.’
Dan heard the pain behind her words. He guessed she was not only mourning the loss of her future with Philippe, but all the losses of the past as well. It couldn’t have been easy for her, being in love with a rebel leader who constantly moved around the country. The cause would always have come first.
When Dan straightened up, Bailey and Henning jumped to their feet, eager for action. At a sign from him, they moved over to the bed. Bailey took hold of the dead man’s shoulders; Henning gripped him by the knees.
Crossing to the desk, Dan gathered up Eliza’s possessions for her. When he dropped the car keys into the shoulder bag, he saw a fat wad of American dollars, nestled alongside a hairbrush and a few rolls of Kodak film. There was a novel, too, but he couldn’t read the title in the dim light. He pushed the silk scarf in on top, the fabric snagging on the rough skin of his hands.
As he handed the bag to Eliza, she stood up, nodding her thanks. She watched Philippe’s body disappearing through the doorway. She took a few steps after him, but then turned around, going back to her place by the bed. She stood there, running her hands over the pieces of carpet where he had lain. The simple gesture seemed to express the pain of parting more strongly even than tears. Dan watched her helplessly. She needed someone to hold her, comfort her – but he was a complete stranger, not a friend.
After a few moments, Eliza lifted her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she turned and walked out of the room, pausing only to pick up her rifle, slinging it over her shoulder.
A near-full moon shone down over the cemetery, casting a cold light over the graves. The headstones marking the older burials, closest to the church, were tilted at odd angles; the newer ones were straight and level. Over by the far boundary the fresh graves stood side by side in a long row. Amid the piles of earth were several gaping holes. Dan chose the one closest to where the Land Rover was parked under a tree. Eliza’s Jaguar was there, too; she’d collected it from a street near the factory and driven here, tailing the Land Rover.
When Bailey and Henning had removed Philippe’s body from the back seat, Eliza helped wrap it in an African cloth she’d produced from her car boot. Then the men carried the shrouded figure to the grave. They moved as quickly as they could. Dan wasn’t keen to linger in the cemetery any longer than was necessary. There was a main road nearby, with sporadic traffic. He didn’t want to attract unwanted attention.
Dan helped Henning and Bailey lower the body into the hole. Then they stepped back, allowing Eliza to throw in the first handfuls of earth. She watched on as the soldiers took turns to shovel in soil, using the spade that was kept in the Land Rover for when the vehicle got bogged. They worked fast, their sleeves rolled up, their faces shining with sweat. Now and then they froze as a car drove along the road, headlights beaming into the night.
When the burial was finished, the four figures stood in silence around the heaped earth. A nightjar flitted past, chasing a moth. Eliza was the first to turn away. She walked over to where her car was parked. The men followed her. Lifting the boot, she brought out two bottles of whisky.
She passed one to Bailey and then opened the other. She took two long gulps, closing her eyes as she drank. In the moonlight the shadows of exhaustion under her eyes looked blue. Her fingers, wrapped around the bottle, were dusted with red dirt.
‘Here.’ She offered her whisky to Dan. He swallowed a mouthful, feeling its fire in his throat. As he handed the bottle back, his thoughts turned to the question of where Eliza would go now. If she had any friends here in Uvira, she’d not sought their help in the last few days, so he presumed she wouldn’t now. She could hardly turn up at a guesthouse in the state she was in. The hotel, with its new occupants, was out of the question, regardless of her appearance. Someone might recognise her – for all Dan knew, Becker had Intelligence on the Okapi’s girlfriend and had circulated a description of her. The Sergeant didn’t always communicate fully with his Commanding Officer; it was part of a power game he played. Dan couldn’t even take Eliza back with him to the cricket ground and pitch her a tent. She’d be no safer there, from Becker, than at the hotel.
‘Where are you going to spend the night?’ he asked.
‘I’ve got a tent in the car,’ Eliza replied. ‘I’ll get food from somewhere.’ She glanced in the direction of the lake. ‘I’ll find a spot to camp.’
Dan felt sure she was capable of taking care of herself, but tonight was not just any ordinary occasion. ‘Will you be all right on your own?’
Eliza sighed softly. ‘I’ve lived for years with the idea of losing Philippe. I was often in danger myself, but not as much as he was. I think I knew, deep down, that I’d end up alone. Now, it’s finally happened.’ She looked across at the grave for a moment, her eyes shiny with fresh tears. Then she put the lid back on the bottle, and turned to Dan. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done – all of you . . .’ She waved her hand towards the other men, who were still standing nearby. ‘I won’t be staying around here, so I’ll say goodbye.’
‘Where are you heading to?’ Dan couldn’t stop himself from asking. He felt responsible for her, but it was more complicated than that – after the experiences they’d just shared, he found it hard to accept that she was just going to drive away and he’d never see her again.
‘Back down south,’ she replied.
Dan looked at her in alarm. ‘You can’t do that. It’s not safe.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There are Simbas down there now. That’s where they retreated to.’
Eliza frowned at him in surprise.
‘They were cut off from the north by another commando unit. The government forces have come up from Albertville. The whole area is turning into a battlefield.’
She shook her head, as if she were struggling to keep up with what he was saying.
‘Air Support is dropping bombs all over the place,’ Dan continued. ‘There are reports of the rebels taking civilians hostage. It’s a nightmare.’
Eliza leaned closer to him, horror dawning over her face. ‘My friends live on a mission near Banya.’
‘They could be in serious trouble,’ Dan said, swapping looks with Henning and Bailey. ‘Apparently it all happened very quickly. There was no time for anyone to be evacuated. I don’t know all the details, though. Information is still coming in. Are your friends in radio contact?’
‘I only tried them once, from the place where I met up with Philippe. I wanted to let them know I was changing my plans. But I couldn’t raise them.’ Eliza looked stricken by remorse. ‘I didn’t keep trying. We came up here to Uvira. There was so much going on.’
‘Tell me exactly where they are. I’ll get the Signaller onto it.’
Eliza chewed tensely at her lip. ‘They’ve got three children there. And I left someone with them. An Australian girl who was staying with me in Albertville.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor Anna, she’s only been in the Congo a few weeks. If soldiers turn up – whoever they are – she’ll be terrified.’
Dan was no longer listening. The name, Anna, was reverberating through his mind. So was the fact that Marilyn was Australian, even though it was irrelevant.
‘I’ll have to take the risk and drive down there,’ Eliza said. ‘If you can try the radio first —’
Dan broke in, cutting her off. ‘Who is she? Anna . . .’
‘Anna?’ Eliza looked puzzled by the change of focus. ‘It’s a strange story. She came to Albertville to see her father. Only he turned out not to be her real father. She discovered he adopted her after he married her mother. So she wanted to go to Banya where she was born, to search for information.’
A tingle travelled through Dan’s body, lifting the hairs on his skin. ‘Who was he? The man she came to see?’
‘Karl Emerson. He owns a rubber plantation near Banya. He was married to her mother. But there was a divorce and Anna was taken back to Australia. She grew up there.’
Dan stared at her, motionless. His heart pounded; the air seemed to have been crushed from his lungs. ‘It’s her.’
Eliza eyed him in confusion. ‘Do you know them – the Emersons?’
Dan shook his head. It was impossible to believe – but what Eliza had just told him could only mean one thing. His daughter was here, in Africa. Anna was searching for him. He pushed himself away from the car, walking in a daze. He felt as if one of his daydreams had invaded the real world. Yet this was truly happening.
He looked back at Eliza. ‘I’m her father.’
The words seemed to fill the air, leaving no room for anything else to be said or even thought. Eliza’s lips parted in amazement.
Dan turned towards the south where clusters of stars patterned the night sky. He scoured the horizon, as if he might be able to see beyond it. But there was only darkness. Sudden urgency penetrated his other emotions. Anna might be safe in the company of Eliza’s missionary friends. But she might be in danger. She could already be in the hands of the Simbas.
‘Come on,’ he said to Eliza. ‘Let’s go.’
He spun on his heels, beckoning Henning and Bailey. Then he headed for the Land Rover at a run.