The Congo Affair. Norman Shakespeare

held a red, nylon mesh bag containing two huge mangoes, indicating to James that he should take it.

      James smiled as he admired the fruit. He enjoyed the mature sweet taste of the giant mangoes.

      First they discussed the weather, then Kenneth’s family; he had twelve children. Kenneth was a staunch adherent of the old custom that ‘there is no hurry in Africa’ so it was nearly half an hour before they got down to the serious business of the civil war. Kenneth said a group of twenty rebels had passed through his village last night. They were very aggressive and beat one of the elders.

      They were armed with machine guns which, by the description of the forward curving magazines, were AK 47s.

      He said they had threatened to come back and burn the village unless the people undertook to provide them with women and food whenever they passed by. He looked very unhappy as two of his daughters were over thirteen, ‘of age’ in rural Africa.

      James could offer little advice, but said he would to speak to the Director about accommodating the village people within the base.

      Kenneth said there was no need; the rebels would destroy their village and livestock and eventually attack the base anyway.

      James thought he was probably right. They parted with forlorn good-byes. James resolved to talk to Kenneth every day from now on, an important part of his intelligence-gathering campaign.

      A motorbike came roaring along the road from the direction of the administration buildings. John Gilmore, too important to walk, stopped next to James. He had become quite friendly since the incident at his office and seemed to realize that James could be an ally, and that he was the only person who had practical military experience. He probably also knew he couldn’t intimidate James like some of the others.

      “Hi James. Good session at the range yesterday eh?”

      “Yes, very important and the ladies enjoyed it too. Nothing like some tail in short pants to brighten up the drudgery.”

      John Gilmore laughed loudly. “Very true. We must arrange a party for all trainees sometime. I quite like the looks of that Jane Willis.”

      They discussed strategic priorities. Although John Gilmore was able to canvass advice when out of range of his lackeys, he still found it difficult to accept. He felt the Director was endangering the population by minimizing the threat, and even went so far as to suggest that he should stand down until the situation normalized and the need for boosted security declined.

      “I’m not sure he’d agree to that,” James ventured.

      “If the position worsens he might have no choice,” John Gilmore muttered, kick-starting his bike and speeding off in a noisy, acrid cloud.

      Shelly was daydreaming about going for a swim after work when the phone rang.

      “Hi Shelly, its Alison,” said a cheerful voice. “How is everything going?”

      “Fine thanks Alison.” She wondered why Alison was calling, “I’m not missing the solitude of the hospital at all. How are you and Clive getting along?”

      “Much the same, hot and bored. Would you like to join us for supper tomorrow? It’ll be nice to catch up on some news.”

      “I’d love to,” Shelly agreed. “What should I bring?”

      “Maybe some wine, it’s simple and casual. Seven OK?” Alison didn’t mention that James was coming, not sure how Shelly would respond. “It’s two roads away from you, nearer the fence. There is a shortcut between lanes ‘I’ and ‘J’ if you don’t want to walk around the main road.”

      “OK great! See you tomorrow,” Shelly rang off, glad to have something to do. She liked Alison; they’d got on well at the hospital.

      Thursday morning started badly. James was trying to maintain code written by someone who assumed it would never need maintenance. There were no comments or instructions, making the program very difficult to understand. What should have taken him an hour eventually became four.

      To complicate things, he found himself thinking of Shelly. After losing concentration for the fourth time, he decided to go and chat to her.

      She saw him approaching, his intentions obvious from the friendly expression on his face. A cold feeling gripped her heart and she looked down, disturbed at the thought of conversation with a man so obviously attracted to her.

      She wondered how long it would take to get over her phobia, shivering at the memories of her terrible ordeal.

      “Hi, Shelly,” he started congenially. “How’s it going?”

      “Very busy, thanks.” She didn’t look up, hoping he would go away.

      “Have you settled in all right?”

      “Yes, thank you,” she answered levelly, still not looking up.

      After a pregnant silence, he tried once more. “Have you been to one of the gymnasiums yet?”

      She looked up bleakly. “No, I’ve been too busy.”

      James got the hint, “OK, I’ll leave you to your work. Call if you want me to show you the ropes.”

      She noticed the disappointment in his voice, feeling guilty about her rudeness but not wanting to start something. “Even with such a hunk,” she mused before shivering visibly, rattled that such a phrase could even venture into her shattered world.

      He returned to his desk, dejected, but not hopeless. “One day I will make contact with that girl,” he mumbled. He wished he knew what was troubling her; the thought of such a lovely young girl, all alone at Orion with problems that she couldn’t share troubled his chivalrous nature.