Page 53

CHAPTER 52

Democratic Republic of the Congo, 10 a.m.

CAPTAIN RUPERT GURNEY stood with a bullhorn at the top of the mine pit. A dozen of his men were gathered around him. It was the bulk of the unit. The men looked edgy and hollow-eyed. Not much sleep the past few nights.

The rest of his team were down in the pit with the workers.

The day after Hemple’s body had been found, two more men were crushed by a deadfall on their way back from the latrine. The next morning, another man was found at the bottom of a pit not far from the compound, impaled on a wooden stake.

Word about the killings had spread to the mine workers, and most of them were terrified, especially the children. They called the killer shetani . Swahili for devil.

Now Gurney was out of patience. The gossip in the pit was starting to affect production, which affected profit. And he was tired of losing men in the middle of the night. It had been a small unit to start with. Now he was actually shorthanded. And he wasn’t about to risk losing more men in jungle searches.

Gurney put the bullhorn to his mouth and pressed the Talk button.

“You all know about the devil in the jungle.” He spoke in his crisp British accent, knowing that the assorted English speakers among the workers would translate for the others. His men circulated through the workers, rifles ready. “We’re tired of letting him run loose,” Gurney continued. “Tired of seeing fine men die at his hands.” He paused for a moment to let the translators catch up. “So I’ve decided that he will be caught, and killed—by you .”

As the word spread through the pit, the soldiers worked their way through the crowd, pulling out the hardiest-looking males. A few of the men pushed back, but after a few pokes with a rifle barrel, they stopped resisting. Soon ten of them were being marched up the ramp toward the rim of the mine.

Gurney held up the bullhorn again as the rest of the workers stared up at him. Some of the wives and children were wailing. “Tonight, these men will hunt the killer—the shetani . If they fail, tomorrow, ten more will go. Then ten more. Until the devil is dead at my feet.”

The ten men had reached the top of the mine, rifles at their backs. They were doing their best not to look terrified in front of their families.

“Are we giving them guns, boss?” asked one of the soldiers.

“Just knives and spears,” said Gurney. “What they’re used to.”

He walked up and down the row of ten men, as if he were reviewing the troops. “First squad goes out tonight. And if we lose a few, no worries.” He clapped the tallest worker on the shoulder. “Plenty more where they came from.”