Page 104 of Never
‘I recognize the aircraft,’ Susan said. ‘It’s the General’s personal transport.’
That was ominous, Tamara thought. ‘I wonder why he’s leaving.’
Speaking to the pilot, Susan said: ‘Gain enough height for us to survey the surroundings.’
The aircraft rose up.
It was a clear day. To the east they could see an army approaching, trailing a cloud of dust: the Sudanese.
Susan said: ‘Fuck.’
Tamara said: ‘How far away are they – a mile?’
‘Less.’
‘And how far in the other direction is the Chadian force?’
‘Three miles. On these unpaved desert tracks they’re moving at about ten miles an hour. They’ll be here in twenty minutes.’
‘That’s how long we’ve got to rescue our people – and get the refugees out of the way of the battle.’
‘Yes.’
‘I was hoping we’d get in and out before the Sudanese arrived.’
‘That was the plan. Now for the new plan.’
Susan ordered the pilot to land near the buses, then spoke to the troops as the chopper was descending. ‘Squads One and Two, deploy to the east ridge immediately. Fire as soon as the enemy is within range. Try to look like ten times the number you are. Squad Three, go through the camp telling the media to gather by the buses and the refugees to run into the desert. Hold on.’ She asked Tamara what the Arabic was forThe Sudanese are coming, run away!and Tamara said it over the radio so they all could hear. Susan finished: ‘We’ll hover so that I can see everything. I’ll tell you when to fall back and where to regroup.’
The helicopter touched down, and a ramp was lowered at the rear.
Susan said: ‘Go, go!’
The soldiers ran down the ramp. As ordered, most of them turned east, up the slope, and hit the ground near the ridge. The rest fanned out around the camp. Tamara went looking for Tab.
As the soldiers gave their message a few refugees began leaving the camp at a desultory pace, apparently sceptical of the urgency.
Most of the visitors were wandering around and conducting interviews and they, too, responded sluggishly to the orders. Others had gathered around a hospitality table, where people from the government press office were handing out drinks from an icebox and snacks in plastic containers.
‘There’s going to be trouble,’ Tamara yelled at the government people. ‘We’re here to pull you out. Tell everyone to get ready to board that chopper.’
She recognized one of the reporters, Bashir Fakhoury, with a bottle of beer in his hand. He said: ‘What’s going on, Tamara?’
She did not have time to brief the press. Ignoring the question, she said: ‘Have you seen Tabdar Sadoul?’
‘Just a minute,’ said Bashir. ‘You can’t just order us around. Tell us what’s happening!’
Tamara said: ‘Fuck you, Bashir.’ She hurried away.
She had seen from the air that there were two long, fairly straight paths through the camp, one going roughly north–south and the other east–west, and she now decided the best way to search for Tab was to run the length of both. She would not be able to stop and look inside buildings: that would take too long, and she would still be searching when the Sudanese got here.
Running east, towards the soldiers on the ridge, she heard a single rifle shot.
There was a silence like a stunned pause. Then she heard a crackle as the rest of the American soldiers began shooting. Finally, more distant gunfire told Tamara that the surprised Sudanese had begun shooting back. Her heart thudded with fear, but she ran on.
The noise galvanized the people in the camp. Everyone came out of the tents to see what was going on. The sound of shooting was more effective than spoken instructions: refugees began running away from the camp, many carrying children or other precious possessions – a goat, an iron cooking pot, a rifle, a sack of flour. The journalists abandoned their interviews and ran for the buses, clutching cameras and trailing microphone leads.
Tamara scanned the faces without seeing Tab.
