This was a life-changing thought, and she played out its consequences in her mind. She was sure that Tab’s feelings were similar to her own. Despite her record of marrying men who were wrong for her, she thought she could not be mistaken about him. But there were a hundred questions for which she had no answers. Where would they go? How would they live? Did Tab want children? They had never talked about that. Did Tamara want children? She had never thought much about it. But I do, she realized; I do now. With other men I was lukewarm, but with him, yes.
She had so much to think about that the journey seemed too short, and she was surprised when they descended over Abéché. The distance they had covered had been close to the limit of the helicopter’s range, and they needed to refuel before they began to search for the media party.
Abéché had once been a great city, a stopping place on the trans-Saharan route used for centuries by Arab slave traders. Tamara imagined the camel trains plodding tirelessly across the vast desert, the great mosques with hundreds of kneeling worshippers, the opulent palaces with their harems of bored beauties, and the human misery of the teeming slave markets. After the French had colonized Chad, the population of Abéché was nearly wiped out by disease. Now it was a small town with a cattle market and some factories making blankets out of camel hair. Empires rise, she thought, and then they fall.
There was a small US army base at the airport, staffed on a revolving six-week rota, and the current shift had the refuelling truck ready on the runway. Within minutes the helicopter was lifting again.
It turned east, heading for the last-known location of the media group. Finally Tamara was getting near to Tab. Soon she would know if he was in trouble, and whether she could help him.
After a quarter of an hour they saw a grim encampment: rows of improvised dwellings; dusty, lethargic inhabitants; and dirty children playing with stones in the littered pathways. The pilot flew the length and breadth of the place three times: there was no sign of a media party.
Susan studied her map, identified the next nearest camp, and gave the co-pilot directions. The machine lifted fast and headed north-east.
A few minutes later they flew over a large military force moving east. ‘Troops of the Chadian National Army,’ said Susan over the headset. ‘Five or six thousand men. Your information was correct, Tamara. They’ve got the Sudanese outnumbered two to one.’
Hearing this, the soldiers looked at Tamara with new respect. Good intelligence could save their lives, and they valued anyone who provided it.
The next camp appeared similar to the first except that it was located in a shallow dip, with slight rises to the east and west. Tamara looked for signs of people from the city: western-style clothes, bare heads and dark glasses, camera lenses flashing in the sunlight. Then she spotted two buses, their paintwork layered with dust, parked in a row in the centre of the encampment. Nearby she noticed a purple blouse, then a blue shirt, then a baseball cap. ‘I think this is it,’ she said.
Susan said: ‘So do I.’
A small helicopter, which Tamara had previously not spotted, suddenly rose from the camp. It tilted and veered away from the Sikorsky, then headed west, going fast.
Tamara said: ‘My God, what’s that?’
‘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 for The 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.’