Ghost Flight Read Free Page A

for him pretty soon, that was for certain.
    ‘Teaching kids.’ Raff smiled, knowingly. ‘So what were you really up to?’
    ‘I was teaching kids.’
    ‘Right. Teaching kids. You got nothing whatsoever to do with the coup?’
    ‘President Chugga kept asking me the same question. In between the beatings. He could use a man like you.’
    ‘Okay, you were teaching kids. English. In a fishing village.’
    ‘I was teaching kids.’ Jaeger stared out the window; the smile had fallen from his face completely. ‘Plus, if you’ve got to know, I needed somewhere to hide. To think. Bioko – the asshole at the end of the universe. I never thought anyone would find me.’ He paused. ‘You proved me wrong.’
     
    The hotel pit stop had done Jaeger a world of good. He’d showered. Three times. By the third, the water that swirled down the plughole was just about clean.
    He’d forced a dose of rehydration salts down him. He’d sliced off his beard – a five-week growth – but stopped short of shaving. There hadn’t been the time.
    He’d checked himself over for breaks; miraculously, there didn’t seem to be many. He was thirty-eight years old, and he’d kept himself fit on the island. A decade in the military elite prior to that – he’d been pretty much at the peak of physical condition when they’d thrown him into his cell. Maybe that was why he’d emerged from Black Beach comparatively unscathed.
    He figured he had a couple of broken fingers; ditto his toes.
    Nothing that wouldn’t heal.
    A quick change of clothes and Raff had them back in the SUV, heading east out of Malabo into the thick tropical bush. At first he drove hunched over the wheel like an old granny – 30 mph top speed. He did so to check for a tail. The few who were lucky enough to own a car in Bioko all seemed to drive like the proverbial bat out of hell.
    If a vehicle had stuck to their backside, it would have stood out a mile.
    By the time they turned on to the tiny dirt track threading towards the north-east coast, it was clear that no one was following.
    Major Mojo had to be banking on them leaving via the airport. In theory, there was no other way off the island – not unless you wanted to take your chances amongst the tropical storms and the sharks that circled Bioko, ravenously.
    And there were precious few who ever did that.

 
    3
    Chief Ibrahim gestured towards the Fernao village beach. It was close enough for the sound of the surf to echo through the thin mud walls of his hut.
    ‘We have readied a canoe. It is provisioned with water and food.’ The chief paused and touched Jaeger’s shoulder. ‘We will never forget, especially the children.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Jaeger replied. ‘I won’t, either. You’ve all saved me in more ways than I can explain.’
    The chief glanced at a figure standing at his side – a young, finely muscled man. ‘My son is one of the best seamen in all Bioko . . . You are sure you will not let the men ferry you across? You know they would gladly do so.’
    Jaeger shook his head. ‘When President Chambara finds out I’m gone, he’ll take revenge any way he can. Any excuse. We say our goodbyes here. It’s the only way.’
    The chief rose to his feet. ‘It has been three fine years, William. Insh’Allah you will make it across the Gulf and from there to your home. And one day, when the curse of Chambara finally is lifted, insh’Allah you will come back and visit.’
    ‘Insh’Allah,’ Jaeger echoed. He and the chief shook hands. ‘I’d like that.’
    Jaeger glanced momentarily at a line of faces that ringed the hut. Kids. Dusty, scuffed up, semi-naked – but happy. Maybe that was what the children here had taught him – the meaning of happiness.
    His eyes returned to the chief. ‘Tell them why for me, but only when we’re good and gone.’
    The chief smiled. ‘I will. Now go. You have done here many good things. Go with that knowledge, and with lightness in your heart.’
    Jaeger and