On the riverside of promise (24 page)

“For God’s sake, just stand up and let me
unlock the shackles.”

“I thought these were meant for me,” said
Ethan with an expression of mock naivety, shaking his head and
raising his brow.

“That was just protocol,” replied Nicole as
she bent down with the key in hand.

“So I’m not a prisoner?”

“That will depend,” said Nicole standing
upright again and tossing the shackles away.

“On what exactly?”

“On your answer,” she replied flatly. The
cold, calculating stare on her eyes was hint enough that she was
dead serious about whatever the question was. Ethan stood on his
heels and stretched. He felt his blood circulating more freely and
flexed his arms and legs. The guard then made a sudden motion
towards him that was only interrupted by Nicole’s outstretched
palm. The look on the Igbo guard told Ethan that he should stick to
simply walking for the time being.

“What is the question?”

“Let’s have dinner first, shall we? We need
to talk some things over.”

“What about Andy? Are we talking about him?”
he asked, rather miffed. Nicole’s answer came with a thin, gracious
smile.

“Him too, I assure you. Your boots are right
outside,” she said and nodded while the guard cast his eyes on
Ethan like a bird of prey.

Ethan went outside to put on his boots. There
he saw another two men standing guard on a small corridor to the
left. One was having a smoke, while the other one was chewing on
some leaves. Both wore a mix and match of fatigues and loose
shirts, green-hued and quite appropriate for the jungle. These men
looked like irregulars but they had the air of a trained
soldier.

While Ethan put on his boots, Nicole gave the
men a nod and made a hand signal. They both nodded, took a last
look on Ethan, turned the other way and left. Behind Ethan stood
the Igbo, safely a couple of paces away.

None of Nicole’s men had spoken a word or
asked a question. That meant they’d been together for some time.
Whatever these people were, they didn’t seem like a rag-tag crew of
rebels on the run, looking for some quick, hard exchange. They
looked like a unit; a cohesive, well-disciplined military unit.

“After you,” said Nicole and pushed him
gently down the corridor. Ethan started walking towards what
appeared to be daylight coming down through a shaft. It seemed like
they were inside a small underground complex. He walked past two
corridors that seemed to turn after a few yards. He knew that every
piece of detail might save his life later on, even if Nicole was
trying to convince him all this looked like some sort of terrible
misunderstanding.

She didn’t seem to care though about using a
mask or hood so as not to divulge sensitive info about their
facility. Whether or not they knew he was trying to put every
detail in memory, they were either too sloppy or just
overconfident. And these were both qualities that never paid
off.

The corridor had a low ceiling and was wide
enough for three, maybe even four people. They passed through a
part of the corridor that was littered with mechanical equipment,
tools, rods, and all sorts of metal boxes with screens and dials.
Electronics equipment from the looks of it, probably communications
but not some sort of radio he was familiar with.

As they came closer to the open hatch that
led to the ground he could feel a waft of fresh air. Warm though it
was against his face, it was a welcome change. As he stepped on to
the ladder, he could see the guards waiting for them outside, one
rifle aimed straight at Ethan and the other one searching for a
threat from their perimeter.

Once he was outside and on his feet, he saw
nothing other than a wide, frothing river with small isles dotted
in its flow. There was an old-looking fishing hut build right on
the sandy estuary and a couple of sand-blasted boats. Right behind
him he heard Nicole’s feet tousle the thick grass. She had taken
off her shoes, holding them in one hand.

“It’s this way,” she said and Ethan turned to
see a small two-story mansion sitting nicely between a hillock of
mangroves and a small farm of oil palms. Built in early French
colonial style, it looked impressively well-maintained and almost
picturesque.

He noticed more guards, two on the first
floor and two more on patrol around the farm. These were dressed in
plain, simple peasant clothes, practical for the heat and
unassuming. They didn’t carry rifles, but he noticed they all had a
machete sheathed across their backs. One of them carried a handgun,
its large grip protruding from one of his pockets.

“Don’t be shy,” said Nicole and this time led
the way through the front yard, where various bushes had been
planted but left to grow wildly. Ethan could identify some; wild
strawberries and something that looked very similar to
cranberries.

A gentle breeze carried an obnoxious smell
that reminded Ethan of the Obofia forest. They must’ve been close
then, he realised.

“The Orashi,” said Ethan who stopped and
pointed towards the river.

“No, that’s the Otamiri,” said Nicole
half-way on the steps leading to the front porch.

“Another stream?” asked Ethan with
curiosity.

“No, that’s the Niger alright,” she replied
with the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Why do they call it that?” asked Ethan and
then heard a strange sounding voice that he hadn’t heard in a long
time and thought he might never hear again.

“That’s Igbo for `great water’,” said the
voice and when Ethan turned around he saw a tall man wearing
glasses, his hair greyed out. He hadn’t seen him in years, but
Ethan knew it was him alright. It was Andy.

* * *

“I don’t understand,” said Ethan with a
strange, quietly disconcerted voice. He was staring at a delicious
looking sliced melon and nothing around him seemed even remotely
possible a few minutes ago. Andy exchanged a few looks with Nicole
who kept her own council. Her eyes remained fixed on every little
nuance on Ethan’s face. Andy smiled and sipped some of his Earl
Gray tea as if he’d been saying nothing out of the ordinary.

“I don’t think I can understand,” continued
Ethan while his gaze wandered for a few moments to the peaceful
river, the lush mangroves and the thick bushes surrounding the
little mansion. It was almost idyllic, aside from the fact that the
single largest store of ammunition and weaponry on Biafran soil was
comfortably hidden away beneath. Andy took a slice of melon in hand
and bit into the ripe insides, juices running down his well-trimmed
beard. He talked with his mouth full. He was trying to chew,
swallow and wipe his mouth at the same time:

“You see… It’s easy if you do think about it…
It’s all about, well… Money, really.”

Ethan had his arms crossed and sported an
incredulous-looking face when he pointed at Andy and asked, near
the point of laughter: “You’re telling me, you’re working for the
French?”

“Have been for some time, actually,” replied
Andy and had another sip of tea. Nicole was laying back on her
chair, barely making a noise but looking at both men intently,
having a cigarette. Ethan’s eyes widened and he sat upright,
agitated. He sounded urgent and troubled when he asked Andy:

“How? I mean… Since bloody when?”

“Ever since medical school,” he replied
flatly, looking at his brother with a peremptory glance. Ethan
erupted into shouts and struck the table with one hand.

“Fucking hell! For God’s sake Andy, money?
That’s it?”

Andy shook his head and told Ethan before
cracking a smile: “Not really, no. A shitload of money. Makes all
the difference, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t bloody well believe my ears! My own
little brother, a fucking spy for the Frenchies. I can’t see why it
happened, but I’m damn sure that cunt was involved right from the
start. And I do mean involved. Right, love?” said Ethan staring
Nicole with an angry, hard disdain. She shot him a cool, neutral
look and simply went on smoking.

“She did recruit me, true enough. But not in
bed Ethan,” Andy replied with a hint of exasperation.

“Street corner then?” said Ethan with sharp
vehemence. Andy waved a finger at Ethan and got up. He started to
pace about and talk vibrantly, making excited hand gestures.

“This isn’t at all about us, Ethan. There’s a
big picture here that you’re simply failing to see.”

Ethan’s reply sounded morose. His eyes looked
sad beyond doubt. He told Andy: “Aye. All I see is my brother has
pissed on everything I thought he stood for ’cause of a French cunt
and a bag full of promises.”

Andy closed his eyes and barely cocked his
head sideways. It took some effort to maintain his coolness, but
there was strain in his voice when he told Ethan:

“Please stop calling my wife - whom I may
remind you is your sister-in-law - a cunt.”

Ethan put on a mocking smile and said with an
unusually mellow, low-keyed voice, “Well I’m not all that happy
about the two of you, don’t mind me saying.”

He paused to look at Nicole and Andy who were
focused on his words, before adding with mounding aggravation,
“This isn’t exactly a gentleman’s club, so let’s dispense with the
fucking pleasantries already! Why the fuck are you telling me all
this now?”

Andy shot him an accusing glance before
telling him sternly:

“I thought you might want to know. If you
had, you might not have dragged your ass alongside hers all through
the stupid war, the bloody jungle and the dead bodies now, would
you?”

“I thought you might still be alive! And
bugger me, I was too bloody right for comfort!”

“Jesus Christ Ethan, you could’ve buried me
and walked away without having to step into this fucking
operation!”

“You could’ve told me for fuck’s sake! We’re
brothers!” shouted Ethan, causing a few of the guards to
momentarily focus their attention to the three of them. Nicole
waved at them to not take notice, but her face gave her away; she
was glued to every word, her cigarette having turned into
ashes.

“Could I now? Just pick up a phone and tell
you I’m a French spy? That’s plain stupid in so many ways,” said
Andy, shaking his head.

“You’d think the difficult part was breaking
it to me,” replied Ethan, a rare look of hurt in his eyes. Andy sat
down once more, took a few breaths and told his brother in
earnest:

“You haven’t written or called ever since the
funeral, Ethan. And that was a long time ago, or were you too
bloody drunk to care?”

Ethan’s face twisted into a weird grin,
before he put his palms on his face and sighed. He then told Andy,
even though he was looking at the floor between the two of
them:

“You don’t know what it’s like, Andy. You
don’t fucking know.”

“You’d be surprised, chum,” replied Andy in
all seriousness.

“I bloody well am already, mate,” said Ethan
as he looked up to face his brother.

“You should’ve stuck to your ideals, Ethan;
don’t give a flying fuck. And I gave you chances mate, I bloody
well did,” he said as he shook his head. Ethan’s voice became
suddenly inquisitive:

“You mean that poor bastard’s body?”

“The body. Adu as well. The fucking priest,
for crying out loud!” said Andy angrily as he tried to cut another
piece of melon.

Nicole then suddenly looked at Andy as if
she’d been shocked by electricity. She didn’t bother to keep her
voice calm when she spoke next:

“Adu? You told Adu to flip the bargain
without telling me about it?”

“Well I’d thought you’d improvise!” said Andy
in an equally high-toned fashion.

“Improvise? I had to put a hole in his head!
All this for what, Andy? A family reunion?” she said, leaning
forward from her chair and gesturing at all three of them. Her eyes
though remained fixed on Ethan who was wearing a surprised
frown.

“Well I had to stop him now, didn’t I?” said
Andy almost apologetically.

“Why not just let him be then? Get lost in
the jungle, mugged, get shot at? Why did I have to baby-sit your
older brother?”

“It was part of the contingency planning.
He’s not as daft as you make it look, actually.”

“Well he’s certainly not a shining example
either,” she said and lit another cigarette.

“It’s good to feel appreciated, really,”
interrupted Ethan with a look that could stab a man in the
heart.

“The point I’m trying to make is you’re a
persistent bastard and you wouldn’t give up,” Andy said while he
turned and looked at Nicole before telling her, waving his arms
about him:

“With all this bad timing, I thought it was a
blessing in disguise that you simply ran onto him.”

“Until I had to shoot Adu,” she said with a
look of ice cold anger in her eyes, openly using her French
accent.

“The situation is still salvageable,” said
Andy and exchanged a few knowing glances with Nicole. After some
quiet deliberation she finally yielded and nodded, throwing her
hands in the air. Andy looked at Ethan with a frowned, sombre
gaze.