Chris Ryan - Outbreak

And yet he knew that these were peaceful creatures, as long as you let them be. He instantly suspected that these were eastern lowland gorillas, the endangered animals he had read so much about before coming. They were only to be found in these parts of the Democratic Republic of Congo, and were herbivores, living mainly off leaves. As if to confirm this information, the gorilla started chewing slowly, all the while keeping his eyes on Ben and Halima. You would be a fool, however, to assume that just because they were endangered herbivores they were not dangerous. These were the largest known primates – the males reaching a weight of up to two hundred and fifty kilograms – and they tended to live in small groups. These normally consisted of a silverback male, a couple of less dominant males and a number of females. With a squint, Ben saw the telltale white markings on the back of this huge mammal that indicated it was indeed the silverback. He would do whatever was necessary to protect the group.

There was a rustling in the bushes. Appearing with a surprising amount of grace for such enormous creatures, two other gorillas appeared, flanking the silverback on either side. Their huge domed heads and flat noses made them look terrifyingly aggressive, and they even seemed to jut their chins out pugnaciously.

Ben knew that he was privileged to be seeing what he was seeing; but somehow it just didn't seem that way at the moment.

As though joined at the hip, Ben and Halima took a step backwards. The silverback continued to chew, seemingly unconcerned by the movement given that it was in the right direction, but keeping his eyes on the duo nonetheless. 'He's letting us go,' Ben breathed to Halima.

'We must move slowly,' Halima whispered. 'If we startle him, he will attack.'

Ben felt distinctly uncomfortable walking backwards, unable to see what was behind him, and acutely aware that he could be treading on anything – the image of the black mamba rearing above him was still fresh in his mind. But there was something about the magnetic gaze of the impressive creature in front of him that kept his eyes locked ahead. He almost felt a pang of regret as the gorilla slipped from his sight.

As soon as they were alone, Ben and Halima turned to look at each other. Halima made a circular gesture with her arm which Ben understood as meaning they should make their way around the group, if possible. He nodded his agreement and they quietly set off. As they skirted round where they believed the gorillas to be, Ben found himself almost breathless with excitement. Surely hardly anyone got as close as that to such magnificent creatures. He felt fortunate; he also felt as though the jungle had set them a test, and they had passed. What was it Halima had said? That there was only one way to survive in the jungle, and that was to accept its ways. If that was true, what had just happened was a good omen.

The thought made Ben smile. Omens? He was beginning to sound like Halima.

He put such ideas from his mind and continued to follow his companion through the forest.

Abele ran from the compound, ignoring the stares from passers-by as he did so. Perhaps Suliman would still be in his office, alone. That was just how Abele wanted him – unable to escape, unable to do anything except give him answers. His exertions, along with the increasing heat and the humidity, soon doused him in sweat, but he kept running, determined to find out what was going on, and to find it out fast.

He left the village and started on the long straight road that led to the mine. In the distance he saw the shimmering apparition of people coming the other way. They seemed to wobble and flicker in the haze of the heat, and at first Abele could not establish how many of them there were. Not that it matters, he thought to himself. There's only one person I'm interested in, and I know where he is.

Soon enough, though, the apparition became more distinct. There were three men: two of them well built, the one in the middle tall but more slight. His head was shaved and his nose was long.

Suliman.

Abele soon saw that he was standing still, as though waiting for him in the road. The two men on either side of him stood slightly to the front. Unlike the man who had been guarding the Englishmen's compound, however, these two were armed – heavily. Kalashnikovs were strapped round their necks and ammunition belts hung loosely about their waists. Abele ignored them. His business was with Suliman himself, and he didn't intend to be intimidated by his crew. His broad brow furrowed and his shoulders hunched in anticipation of a confrontation, he headed straight for the unsmiling mine manager. 'Suliman!' he roared.

The men showed no flicker of acknowledgement, though they continued to stare at Abele, who marched inexorably towards them, violence on his face.

As he approached, however, Suliman's guards closed ranks. They aimed their weapons at Abele's torso, and barked at him in Kikongo to stop right where he was. Abele had no option but to comply. 'I am not afraid of your guns,' he said darkly.

'I can see that, Abele,' Suliman rasped. 'You are obviously even more stupid than you look. Mr Kruger was right about you.'

Abele's face became filled with fury. 'What's going on?' he demanded harshly in the African dialect. 'What idiotic things have you been doing? Where is Mr Ben?'

'Why are you so concerned?' Suliman asked with a sneer.

'They are my responsibility,' Abele replied. 'I haven't seen Mr Ben for two days now, and I think you know what has happened to him.'

'You think too much,' Suliman snapped, his patience wearing thin, 'and you are not very good at it.' Then he smiled. 'You have sided with the wrong team,' he said smoothly. 'Your precious Mr Tracey is at death's door; his idiotic son will be waiting for him on the other side when he gets there. As for you' – his face crumpled up into a look of the utmost distaste – 'you seem to be little more than a slave to these white men. It would give me great pleasure to kill you now, so that you are waiting for them when their miserable lives come to an end. Fortunately for you, Mr Kruger wants to keep the unnatural deaths to a minimum.'

'Kruger.' Abele repeated the name with distaste, then spat at Suliman's feet. The bald man's eyes narrowed. 'It sounds to me,' Abele growled, 'as if the only slave round here is you. Kruger has you in the palm of his hand, eh?'

Suliman smiled. 'I'm being well paid for what I'm doing. That's the difference between you and me. And make no mistake, I have no qualms about silencing you if you force me to do so, no matter what Mr Kruger says.'

As he spoke, one of the guards threw him a questioning look. Suliman seemed to consider the unspoken query. 'No,' he said finally, his voice tinged with regret. 'Not here. Anyway, he might be useful. If by any chance the young people do make it back to the village, they will no doubt try to find this fool.' He sneered. 'They seem to have an adventurous streak. When they come looking for him, we'll just round them up.'

Suliman went over to one of his guards and gestured at him to hand over his Kalashnikov. The guard did as he was told while his colleague kept his own gun firmly trained on Abele. Suliman held the rifle carelessly and approached Abele. He poked the barrel of the gun firmly into the burly man's ribs. Abele stood tall, refusing to give Suliman the reaction he so clearly craved, so Suliman tried a bit harder, whipping the edge of the gun fiercely across the side of Abele's face. His head was knocked to the side, but he immediately turned it back to look straight at Suliman, displaying a thin streak of blood along the middle of his cheek. He stared balefully at his attacker, who could not stand that look for long and turned his back, handing the weapon back to his guard.