back. He could turn on them with his panga and kill them both. Jacob supposes if Rukungu were going to do these things he already would have. Somehow this is unconvincing comfort.
He is beginning to wish he had declined Rukungu's offer. He hadn't quite realized it would mean marching for hours through barren African wilderness in the moonless dark. And now that it's actually happening, the idea of spying on a rendezvous between smugglers and Al-Qaeda on the very border of the Congo, with no recourse if something goes wrong, seems completely insane.
Well, you always wanted your big adventure, he thinks to himself. Adventure, noun. Long periods of tedium interspersed with brief moments of terror. Except Jacob has learned this Devil's Dictionary definition is incomplete: in real adventures, the tedium is usually coupled with total physical exhaustion, and the terror never really goes away, it's always there in the background, gnawing at him like sandpaper.
"Look," Rukungu says softly.
Jacob looks. Lights in the distance, headlights, bouncing up and down, the road is clearly as bad as that leading into the camp. Rukungu immediately switches off the Maglite. The vehicle rounds a gradual curve until it parallels the ridge they just crossed.
"We must hurry," Rukungu says. "This torch is too bright."
He gives Jacob back the flashlight, produces his Nokia phone, and uses its screen to light their way down the ridge. Veronica follows, with Jacob behind her, using his hiptop as light. They follow a narrow path that seems to have barely worn its way into the thick trees and bushes. Jacob twice sees footprints too small to be Rukungu's. Prints left by a child's feet. Or a pygmy's. The vegetation here is thin, Rukungu doesn't need to use his panga. Jacob wonders why he brought it, then. Maybe for self-defense. Maybe this isn't as safe as he promised.
As they descend, the vehicle pulls offroad and stops, almost directly beneath them. They are only a few hundred feet away now. Jacob's muscles are taut, almost cramping with fear and adrenalin. He has to force himself to breath slowly, quietly.
The vehicle's engine switches off, its doors open, and Rukungu stops so suddenly that Veronica almost collides with him.
"What is it?" Veronica whispers.
"You are very loud. We must wait for more noise."
"From where?" Jacob asks, low-voiced.
"The other vehicle."
"We're almost in range of the analyzer," Jacob says. "Just twenty metres closer."
"No."
Jacob doesn't argue. Ahead of him Veronica is breathing fast. Jacob reaches out and takes her hand. She squeezes back tightly. Then Jacob lets go, shrugs his backpack off as silently as he can, and kneels. He gently opens his pack, withdraws camera and lens, and begins to assemble them by touch, working slowly and gently. His heart is thumping but his hands are steady. He remembers soldering circuit boards together, back in university, he was always good at that. Twice he slips slightly, metal clicks against plastic and Veronica inhales sharply, but Jacob isn't worried, they're surely far enough away that the men in the vehicle can't hear anything. Those men are speaking, conversing in low voices, but he can't make out any words or even the language.
"They come," Rukungu mutters.
Jacob looks west and sees two more headlights in the distance.
Rukungu says, his voice so low Jacob can barely hear him, "You must be silent. Absolutely silent. No light."
He begins to move further downslope. Veronica takes a deep breath and begins feeling her away along the path too. Jacob follows, but he can't move quickly with the camera, and soon she and Rukungu have disappeared into the darkness ahead.
* * *
Veronica's outstretched hand touches something warm and she almost gasps before identifying it as Rukungu. He is crouched behind something, a rock outcrop. Beyond a dirt slope drops maybe twenty feet to the road, lit by the approaching headlights. Veronica huddles next to Rukungu. At least the outcrop, plus the low trees and bushes on this stony ridge, should screen them from view. She can smell cigarette smoke. They are almost directly above where the first vehicle is parked. The men there are smoking, she can see their incandescent red dots of their cigarettes. Veronica badly wants one herself.
The second set of headlights wash over the first vehicle, a matatu like any other. Four men loiter around it, standing or leaning against the vehicle, smoking and waiting. They could be the same men Veronica saw last night in the scrapyard, she can't be sure. Light reflects from the white matatu onto the second vehicle