We overtook the struggling column within fifty yards and pushed on together, finally leaving the swamps behind and beginning the long, slow ascent towards the mountain.
I moved up alongside Rudi as he scanned the open hillside beyond the last of the trees. There was no one in sight, nothing moving on the whole expanse of hillside but, hampered by Njama’s wounds, I knew that we would be exposed in the open for at least two hours before we could reach the landslip where the helicopter was hidden.
Rudi took a last look around, then turned to me. ‘You go on with the others,’ he said. ‘We’ll loop the track and make sure we’re not being followed. If they catch us in the open out there, they’ll cut us to pieces.’
I had the feeling that his words concealed more than they revealed.
He stood for a moment and touched his pistol, his ration pack and the grenades attached to his webbing, as if he were carrying out a mental checklist. Then he turned and hurried away. He hissed an order to the other two and they followed him back into the forest.
The rest of us moved out of the trees and we laboured up the hillside, slipping and stumbling over the loose rock and scree.
Njama’s head lolled on his shoulders and his mouth hung open. He was exhausted. I handed Layla the rifle and hoisted the old man on to my back. As I stumbled slowly upwards, my head pounded from dehydration. We were still creeping up the dry stream bed and had another fifty yards or so to go to reach the contour line that would take us round to the mouth of the landslip. Then there was an explosion from the forest behind us, a single blast, followed by a burst of gunfire. I urged the others on and redoubled my own efforts.
I climbed until I thought my lungs would burst, then set Njama down for a moment and turned to look back down the hillside.
Rudi was just beginning to climb the stream bed behind us. He was alone and climbing fast, never once turning to look behind him.
He overtook us just as we reached the landslip. ‘Where are the others?’ I said.
‘We were followed. They threw a grenade. They killed Raz and Reuben. I shot those rebels, but there’ll be others. We have to get out of here fast.’
I stared at him.
‘What’s up with you?’ he said. ‘Let’s go. Let’s go.’
I kept staring at him. There was a gap on his webbing where a grenade had been hanging when he’d gone back into the forest.
‘I only heard one grenade and one gun firing, Rudi,’ I said.
He looked down, following my gaze. When he raised his eyes again, there was a cold murderous look in his eye and I now found myself staring down the barrel of his rifle.
He studied me for a moment, chewing his lip as he pondered his options. Then he shrugged. ‘Less people to share the diamonds with, Jack. That’s all you need to worry about. Just fly this heli over the frontier, ditch it in the jungle near a city and we walk out with a few million in diamonds each.’
I shook my head. ‘No way.’
‘You don’t have a choice, Kaffir-lover,’ he said.
I glanced towards the others and he laughed at me. ‘You think that coloured whore or those Kaffirs will help you? If it means saving their own necks, they’ll stand there and watch you die.’
Just the same, he moved slightly, trying to keep them in his sight as he confronted me. Njama’s son just stood there blank-faced, but I saw Kaba slink away from Rudi towards the rocks. I didn’t blame him. I’d have run for it too, if I could.
‘Kill me and you’re trapped,’ I said. ‘You can’t fly the helicopter.’
‘I don’t need it. You think in twenty years’ Kaffir-killing I haven’t learned how to survive in the bush?’
‘Then you’d better go ahead and shoot me,’ I said. ‘Because I’m not going anywhere without these people.’
His jaw worked and I saw his knuckles whiten as he tightened his grip on the trigger. The crack of a rifle shot reverberated from the rock walls around me. A bullet smashed into my shoulder, hurling me to the ground. I tried to push myself upright, then collapsed again as my shattered shoulder gave way beneath me. I stared stupidly at the blood soaking my right sleeve.
I looked up. Rudi’s mouth hung open in a silent scream of pain and rage. His head was tilted to one side, and his right arm hung at a strange angle. A dark stain was spreading over his fatigues. I saw his fingers spread and his hand fall limp at his side. The rifle dropped to the ground, its butt streaked with blood.
Rudi turned to face his assailant, but as he did so Kaba struck again, reaching up on tiptoe like a kid stretching for a sweet jar, except that in his hand he held a bloodstained panga. Rudi let out a bellow and aimed a punch at the boy’s head with his one good arm, but Kaba ducked underneath it and swung the panga again at the back of Rudi’s knees. His hamstrings snapped like guitar strings and he collapsed to the ground.
Rudi and I stared at each other, both sprawled in the dirt, as Kaba advanced and stood over Rudi, his face devoid of expression.
‘Kaba! No!’ I shouted, but it was too late. The panga was already rising again. He held it two-handed, high over his head for a moment, then brought it whistling down with all his force across Rudi’s neck, hacking his head from his body.
Kaba stood motionless, his face impassive as he stared at the dead man. No one moved until Layla got to her feet, walked over to the boy and laid a hand on his arm. He started, but made no resistance as she gently eased the panga from his fingers, and turned him away from the dead body, cradling his head against her chest.
One of the old women led him away as Layla ran to my side. I stifled a yell of pain as her fingers probed the wound. ‘It’s badly broken,’ she said. ‘I’ll tie off the bleeders and then I’ll have to set it and strap it up. I’ll give you some morphine. It’s going to hurt.’
‘No morphine,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to fly the heli.’
‘With a broken shoulder? You can’t.’
‘I have to. And you’ll have to help me.’
‘But I can’t fly a helicopter.’
‘You can if I tell you how to. If we don’t get out of here we’ll die, Layla. Either the rebels will kill us, or we’ll starve to death. Now patch up my shoulder so I don’t bleed to death on the way back and then let’s get out of here. But, Layla,’ I held her gaze. ‘No morphine. I need to be alert or we’re all dead.’
‘You can’t imagine how painful this is going to be.’
‘Just do it,’ I said.
She gave me a twisted piece of cloth to bite on and then began to clean the wound, picking out fragments of bone and tying off the severed veins. I kept my eyes averted most of the time, but it hurt like hell and I felt waves of hot nausea sweeping over me.
She paused for a moment and our eyes met. She kissed my forehead. ‘Hold on,’ she said. ‘This is the really painful bit. I have to move your arm to set the bone, then I’ll strap it across your chest.’ She called to Kaba and one of the women. They knelt either side of me and held me down as Layla straddled my chest and took hold of my arm. Electric stabs of agonising pain shot through me. I heard the dry scrape of bone on bone. The pain built and built until I thought my head would explode. Then I blacked out.
When I came round, Layla was still crouching over me, watching my face. The worry lines etched into her forehead faded as my eyes flickered open and she gave a gentle smile. ‘Are you all right?’
My shoulder throbbed with a dull ache. I glanced down. My right arm was strapped across my chest. ‘I think so. Help me up.’ She and Kaba supported me as I struggled to my feet. The effort sent more hot waves of pain coursing through me and I had to steady myself against Layla and close my eyes until it subsided.
‘It’s too soon,’ she said.
I shook my head. ‘Help me get this net off the helicopter.’
We hauled at the camouflage net and I sent Kaba up to wipe the thick layer of dust off the canopy.
Layla and Kaba then helped Njama to climb into the cab and laid him on the floor. The other villagers clustered around him.
I led Kaba over to Rudi’s body. ‘We need that case he’s carrying,’ I said. ‘Can you break the chain with the panga?’
He studied it for a moment, then nodded. ‘I can get it for you.’ He raised the panga above his head and brought it down. There were no sparks and no sound of metal on metal, just a noise that was now all too familiar to me – a dull, wet thud like an axe chopping sodden wood. I looked down. Rudi’s left foot had been severed at the ankle. Kaba reached down and pulled the bloodied chain over the stump and offered me the case.
‘Just put it in the cockpit of the helicopter,’ I said. I turned to Layla. ‘Let’s get airborne. I can still do most of the work, but you’ll have to operate the cyclic for me.’
She stared at me. ‘This is madness. I can’t help you fly this. We’ll crash and be killed. We can walk out instead.’
I shook my head. ‘We’d be dead long before we reached the frontier. How long would I or Njama last? Or the old women? Or you? Even Kaba would struggle to make it. It’s the only way, Layla.
‘I told you all this once before, remember? I can still operate the rudders, the throttle and the collective, all you’ve got to worry about is the cyclic. The controls are duplicated for the pilot and the co-pilot. All you have to do is move your cyclic when I tell you. The movements required are very small, absolutely minimal. If I see you do anything wrong, or feel, by the other controls, that you’ve overcooked it, I’ll get you to correct it. We may fly like a drunk on a rollercoaster, but we will keep airborne. Trust me?’
She studied my face, then gave a slow, reluctant nod.
I smiled with a bravado I was far from feeling. ‘Then let’s do it, before either of us realises what fools we’re being.’
Layla slid the cab door closed, then helped me up into the cockpit. I couldn’t get my flight harness over my injured arm, so I remained unstrapped. She put on her own harness, then sat back in the seat as far as possible and closed her eyes.
I settled my feet on the rudder pedals and gripped the collective with my left hand. The pain in my shoulder had subsided a little, but it was still bad enough to make the sweat stand out on my brow, and any movement sent a fresh stab of pain searing through my body.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Get the feel of the cyclic before we do anything else.’
She opened her eyes and took hold of it in a tentative grip, her forearm resting across her thigh.
‘You have to hold the cyclic more firmly than that,’ I said. ‘When we fire up the engines it’ll start to shake around.’
She took a firmer grip on it.
‘That’s better,’ I said. ‘Now practise moving it around. Go left… right… forward… back… That’s fine, except that you’re moving it too far. Try again, but no more than a quarter-inch in any direction. Better to have to nudge it further than ram it over and then drag it back again.’ I paused. ‘Right, helmets on.’
She helped me fasten the strap under my chin, then fixed her own. I turned a little in my seat to look back into the crowded cab and it caused an agonising stab of pain to shoot down my arm. I gasped.
Layla shot me an anxious look. ‘All right?’
I nodded. ‘Let’s get this thing airborne.’ Reaching awkwardly across my body with my left hand, I stretched up and pushed the levers into ground idle. I waited until the fresh jolt of pain in my shoulder had subsided a little, then pressed the starter. There was an electric whine over our heads and the left engine began to turn over.
I stared at the RPM gauge, waiting for it to reach double figures, then pushed the fuel switch. The engine roared and I repeated the process for the right engine. When both were running, I checked the gauges and warning panels, then pushed the control into flight idle. I raised the collective gently until the heli lifted on its springs, poised to take flight. I looked at Layla. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. Just don’t panic and keep listening to what I’m telling you. Even if we seem to be out of control, we can pull it all back together as long as neither of us panics.’
I could see her hand shaking with the mechanical vibrations through the cyclic, and her knuckles whitened as she grasped it still more tightly.
‘Now, our first problem is to get out of this landslip without touching the sides. If we can do that, the rest should be a doddle. All we’ll have to worry about then is landing at Freetown. So, in a moment I’m going to raise the collective, and as I do so I want you to ease the cyclic forward a touch. Don’t move it to either side, just forward. There’s a fractional time lag before the heli responds, so don’t think it isn’t working and give it some more, or we’ll be heading down again rather quickly.’
I turned my head to call into the back. Even that slight movement caused another wave of pain. ‘All right back there? Hold tight to the sides, we’re taking off in a second and it’s bound to be a rough flight.’ I heard the frail voice of Njama translating what I had said.
‘Right, this is it,’ I said, and raised the collective. ‘Cyclic forward a touch.’ As the heli began to lift, sluggish under its heavy burden, Layla moved the control forward. She hesitated and then nudged it forward again. ‘That’s too much,’ I said. ‘Wait for the response.’
She corrected it, but the Huey clattered down again and bounced back into the air. Unrestrained by any harness, I was thrown up with it, and then crashed down again on to the seat, jerking the controls around in my hands. I bit my lip as a fresh burst of pain hit me.
The Huey was airborne again, but beginning to drift left. ‘Ease it right a fraction,’ I said.
‘It’s not responding.’ Again she moved the cyclic further.
‘Give it time,’ I snapped. ‘Move it left.’ I saw the rock wall looming beyond her. ‘Left now!’
She responded, but overcorrected and we began to drift towards the left-hand rock face. ‘Forward,’ I said, raising the collective again. The engine note and the beat of the rotors picked up, but we were now both dipping towards the rocky floor of the landslip and drifting dangerously close to its wall. ‘Now back and right again. Right!’
We lurched away from the rocks and shot up into the air. I raised the collective to stop us from stalling, but Layla was already making a semi-instinctive correction, pushing the cyclic forward again. We hurtled down, caught the lip of the landslip with a thud that sent us bouncing back high into the air. The disc of the rotors scythed through the air by the right-hand rock wall, shredding the parched shrubs clinging to its face.
‘Left, left!’ I shouted. ‘Forward!’
I raised the collective again and we lurched out of the mouth of the landslip. I heard Layla’s indrawn breath as she saw the land falling away below us. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘You’re doing great.’
I risked a glance at her. Through the Perspex of her visor I could see her hair matted with sweat against her forehead. ‘Now we need to pick up some speed,’ I said, ‘and climb to clear the ridge. Just hold it steady and give it a little forward nudge.’
This time I waited a fraction of a second before raising the collective, realising – not before time – that it was easier for me to adjust to her movement of the cyclic than the other way round.
As I moved the controls, even above the thunder of the rotors, I heard the crack of gunfire. I looked down. ‘Shit!’ I said. ‘Rebels.’ The mountainside below us was black with soldiers. Bullets chipped fragments from the rocks around the mouth of the landslip and a moment later there was a whoosh, a crash and a starburst of smoke and flame as a round from an RPG streaked inches past the Huey.
‘Climb!’ I shouted. ‘Back and left on the cyclic. Back and left!’
I yanked the collective upwards, twisting the throttle viciously as I stamped on the rudder pedal, swinging us round to face the cliff. There were cries and groans from the cab as the villagers were thrown around by the manoeuvre.
Rounds continued to clang against the armoured underside of the heli. If the soldier with the RPG got his next shot on target, it would pierce the armour as if it were paper and blast us out of the sky.
We had to put the ridgeline between us and the rebel gunner before he could get off another shot, but an even more immediate danger was now threatening us. Taking me at my word, Layla had made the most minimal movement of the cyclic. It was not enough. The rock face just below the ridge loomed in front of the cockpit, filling my vision. ‘Back on the cyclic! Back! Back! Give it more!’
Slowly, ponderously, the Huey responded and the nose began to come up. Weighed down by the people in the cab, the engines were screaming as they strained to deliver the power I was demanding through the controls.
Although we were climbing slowly, the ridgeline was rushing to meet us. Blue sky showed in the top half of the canopy, but the rest of my vision was filled with black, unforgiving rock. ‘We’re not going to make it,’ I yelled, trying to brace myself for the impact.
There was a crash and a sickening lurch as the skids hit the rock just below the summit. More cries came from the back and I almost passed out with pain. As the heli tipped forward, and even before I had time to speak, Layla had begun to correct, forcing the cyclic back to counter the dip of the nose.
There was another crash and a terrible scraping, gouging sound as the skids bit into the solid rock. The turbines climbed the octaves, shrieking at the strain imposed on them, then the Huey spun to the right and its momentum threw it clear.
At once we were climbing almost vertically, still with the sound of bullets smacking against the metal skin of the heli. The screaming engines faltered at stalling point. ‘Forward, now!’ I said.
The engines picked up again and we began to level, but rounds were still puncturing the fuselage. ‘Forward again. More.’
The sounds of gunfire faded and stopped as we plummeted down the far side of the ridge, out of sight of our pursuers. I fought for control of the Huey and, as soon as we levelled, I piled on the power again, putting as much distance as possible between us and the ridgeline before any rebel soldiers reached it.
I glanced at Layla. ‘You were fantastic,’ I said, as soon as I had got my breath back. ‘A natural pilot. Now let’s get out of here.’