Rosedale had taken Maddie with him to bring the Toyota down to the village via a small track they’d missed earlier, and Cooper, trying not to feel too sorry for himself, made his way round the village.
He watched fascinated as a group of women finished off building a mud and stick wall for one of the huts, pressing and filling in wet mud balls between the horizontal poles which ran down from one side of the wooden frame to the other, giving the wall a solid appearance.
At that moment the place seemed so tranquil but Cooper knew only too well that weekly attacks including rape, looting and kidnapping were still part of the country’s fabric. On the drive from Kinshasa they’d seen many villages burnt and empty and barely any evidence of civilian life was visible.
The village they were at was located near a high plateau of grassland which before the conflicts had held a wealth of grazing livestock. Now all that remained was a carpet of antipersonnel landmines. Ordinary life seemed impossible but he couldn’t help, for all its troubles, still loving the country.
Moving away from the women, Cooper noticed the most notable feature about the small village were the rat cages outside the majority of huts. Some were crammed with large rodents, pushing and trying to claw their way out, whilst other cages were just being used to store various household objects.
He was hoping to speak to someone about the young boy, but so far he’d been unsuccessful. Each time he’d approached anyone they’d hurried away. Wary. At odds with how they’d been when he and Rosedale had first arrived in the village. Not that he blamed them. The argument he’d with Rosedale in public view certainly hadn’t helped matters. And most certainly hadn’t put the two of them in the best light.
He sighed. Pulled out the two Xanax and the one opioid he had hidden in his sock. Popped them, then slid a cigarette into his mouth. Decided not to light it quite yet and wanted his thoughts not to stray but to focus on the investigation and especially on Papa Bemba. The whereabouts of the plane. Anything, anything at all rather than think about how he was feeling. He was done with all that.
He followed the tiny stream running behind the small brick and mud huts, which from a distance looked like giant ant hills. Felt the nip of an insect on his neck. Slapped himself hard. Hoped to kill whatever it was which had bitten him. A moment later, he felt another bite on his leg. Bending down to scratch he noticed lots of dead tiny insects. The area seemed to be a breeding place for the things.
Knowing smoke was a great insect repellent, Cooper lit his cigarette. Dragged on it intensely. Was bitten a dozen times more.
He started to walk towards the hut of the dead child to speak to the woman he’d seen earlier. He knew it wasn’t ideal to ask a grieving relative questions, though he had to admit, in the past amidst the intolerable pain of grief, in the immediate aftermath of death, the truth did prevail. Things which normally would be kept unspoken, were revealed.
He’d never been comfortable getting a lead that way. Intruding on a final goodbye. Infringing on a realization of never being able to hold or see a person again and somehow having to cope with being left in a life without them. He didn’t want to encroach on that. That was their moment. One he didn’t want to shatter or steal.
Continuing to walk as the sun began to set, giving way to the greed of the evening sky of blushing colors, Cooper stopped just behind the small brick hut, seeing something in the long grass.
He frowned. Bent down to take a closer look. It was charcoal. Perfectly piled. Built up like a pyramid with a circle of large black glossy berries around it. Exactly the same as he’d seen outside Emmanuel’s aunt’s house. Exactly like the charcoal and berries Marvin had talked about.
Taking out one of the semi-filled evidence bags, he dropped a piece of the coal in it, before letting his gaze wander around as he started to think. And then it suddenly hit him. Like a goddam steam train. And as it did, he began to run.
Chasing up and around and through and along and to the path and to the front of the hut and without knocking, Cooper barged inside.
A few of the old lady’s clothes were scattered around and he hurriedly picked them up as he charged through to the next room, where the grief-stricken woman stood in the middle of the far doorway. Terror on her face. Fear in her eyes as she stared at Cooper.
‘Laissez-moi tranquille! Get out!’
‘It’s okay… it’s okay. Se il vous plaît, je suis là pour vous aider.’
The woman began to back away into the shadows of the room, next to where the reeking corpse of the child lay. And Cooper put his hand out to her, causing her to retreat further. And back towards the bed with the fly-covered body.
‘Please, you’ve got to come with me. I’m here to help. Just trust me… You got to trust me.’
He left his hand stretched out, but the woman just continued to stare.
‘Look… Jesus… It’s not safe for you to be here. Please.’
Cooper’s words implored. They didn’t make a damn bit of difference. She was going nowhere fast. But he had to do something. He had to get her out. He thought about some of the things Maddie had explained to him and tried another tack. ‘I’ve been sent here… by the spirits… By the spirits of the ancestors. They told me you were a good person. They know you are, so they sent me to keep you safe. Please come with me, you need to… I know it’s their wish.’
Cooper was willing her to come but he decided not to say another word. He just watched without moving. She turned her head to the side looking like she was reviewing words. Then with the whispered agony of loss filtering into her voice, she said, ‘What about my grandson? I can’t leave him.’
Cooper glanced at the rotting body. At the child. Who seemed like he was almost moving from the sea of flies.
Maddie had told him about the strength of belief and importance of burial rites, but he also knew there was nothing he could do.
‘Please.’
‘I can’t leave him. Non. C’est impossible.’
Cooper took the chance to step closer to her.
‘You have to. I don’t think we’ve got much time. I don’t know if you want to take anything else, but here, I just grabbed these.’
He passed her the clothes he’d picked up from the room, which she took. Dropping them into the bag on the floor. Though uncertainty still remained.
From far in the distance Cooper heard noises. Voices. And with the front of the hut having no windows, he ran to the door, peering out to see a procession of people fronted by one of the men from the revivalist church back in Kinshasa, walking slowly up the hill towards them.
He turned to the woman. Gave a quick smile and said, ‘I’m sorry, you’ve given me no other choice’
And without a moment of hesitation. He picked her up. Threw her gently over his shoulder before running out into the twilight.