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They were taken off the plane and led, some of them still blinking and complaining, to a shack by the side of the runway. Even in the dead of night the air throbbed with either the memory of yesterday's heat or the promise of tomorrow's. Farrant tried to work out what was going on, looked at his watch, wrestled with the elapsed flying time in his head. He'd been asleep during the landing, had woken to find himself being shaken, virtually dragged to his feet by one of the soldiers. He tried to work out the time difference in his head, failed, but knew deep down that something had gone wrong. They were still somewhere south of the Sahara. The shack had concrete walls and a corrugated iron roof and it stank. Their luggage had been piled up at one end, while down the other hard wooden benches had been set around the walls. There was a desk somewhere in the middle. Farrant sank onto a bench and glanced at the other passengers. There were five of them, four men and a woman. She and the man who was presumably her husband sat quietly, holding hands and occasionally murmuring to each other. He was in his fifties, she a few years younger, both fairly conservatively dressed. She was attractive and had a good figure for her age. Farrant was by no means an old Africa hand but the obvious conclusion came to him at once - the crucifix she wore, the fish pin in his lapel made it virtually certain. Crazy. The missionaries kept coming despite the wars and the plague and the indiscriminate slaughter that had consumed the continent in the last few years, smiling politely at the facts but not wanting to get too involved with them. Then again, what right did he have to criticise? His own motives for being here were hardly pure. There was at least one other Brit here, anyway, a heavy-set man with thinning black hair. The fingers of one hand drummed restlessly against his thigh as he glanced around the room, occasionally muttering under his breath. Farrant had heard the man introduce himself to the missionaries as Dallow, but knew nothing else about him. He was difficult to read. Slightly easier was the youngest man here, an American like the couple. He had short hair and glasses, but his clothes were practical and well worn. He was a long way off the regular backpacking trail here, wherever here turned out to be. Seeming to sense Farrant's scrutiny of him, the American rose to his feet, spoke to one of the soldiers lounging inside the doorway. 'Excuse me? I want to get in touch with the nearest US embassy -' The soldiers - guards, Farrant now realised - stared at him with cold hostility. One of them flapped his hand down, hard. 'Asseyez-vous! Maintenant!' The young man glanced around with a grin creeping onto his face. 'What'd he say?' Farrant resisted the urge to roll his eyes: his own French was only schoolboy standard but the meaning had been obvious. The guard was still staring at the American youth. 'He said sit down, now.' The other man from their group had spoken. He was in his late thirties, perhaps a little older, receding hair shaved almost bald and with a thin greying goatee. He spoke quietly, without looking up, his English precise enough to sound a little unnatural. 'I recommend you do as you're told.' 'Uh, right.' The American sat down next to the European, held out a hand. 'Owen Querry.' The man shook it brusquely. 'My name is Krogh.' 'You don't sound French,' Querry said with a grin. 'You don't have to come from a place to learn the language,' Krogh said dryly. 'As the popularity of English shows.' 'You can't learn 'em all,' Owen Querry said with a shrug. 'English, German, some Russian - thought that'd get me by. Oh, and Church Slavonic.' 'Very useful,' Dallow said, half-stifling a chortle. 'What are you, a missionary?' 'No, just travelling,' Querry said. 'You picked an interesting part of the world,' Farrant said. 'Liberia seemed safe enough,' Querry said. 'Same goes for Tunisia. I never planned on ending up in... where the hell are we, anyway?' The woman missionary pursed her lips in obvious disapproval at this outrageous profanity. 'Too far south-east for comfort,' Krogh said. 'This isn't a matter of engine trouble or anything technical, we were deliberately diverted.' 'What?' Dallow stared at him. 'Why didn't you say anything? Do something?' 'Such as what? Overpower the pilots? I can't fly a plane. In any case, one of them was carrying a gun.' 'I - I didn't notice,' Dallow said. He pulled out a foul-looking hankie and mopped his face. 'He didn't advertise it.' 'So where do you think we are?' Farrant asked Krogh. Krogh shrugged. 'Near the front line. Benin, Togo, maybe Burkina Faso. Close enough for us to think about what we're going to say when the Soldiers of God roll into town.' 'I'm sure there's just been some mistake,' the male missionary said. 'I hope you're right, Mister -' 'Smith,' said the man. 'In any case, we've heard that the Soldiers' reputation is largely undeserved...' 'Maybe,' Krogh said. 'I've no particular desire to find myself living in a theocracy unless it's on my own terms, however.' Owen Querry let out a deep breath. 'Look, let's stop panicking ourselves. We're American citizens. American or Brit, anyway. They're not going to do anything to us, are they? Why would they -' The guards shifted into a semblance of attention as a man in an officer's uniform came into the shack. He sat down behind the desk and spoke in good English. 'I will need to interview all of you, one at a time.' The Smiths went up first. They spoke good French and the interview was carried out in that language. If Krogh or Dallow were listening in they didn't show it. After a few minutes the Smiths returned and Krogh went and spoke quietly with the officer, also in excellent French. Then it was Querry's turn. Farrant heard him repeat his request to be put in touch with the US embassy, didn't quite catch the officer's soft reply. Querry replied to the questions about his nationality and profession, but his voice was becoming increasingly shrill and strident. Farrant remembered a line from a book - the main problem with Americans trying to deal with the rest of the world is that they subconsciously expect to be loved wherever they go. Suddenly the dispute reached such intensity that one of the guards came over to stand by Querry's shoulder. Querry rose and slapped something down on the desk, stalked back to the benches. 'All right, fuck you, take it. People know where we are,' he snapped over his shoulder. 'What - ?' Farrant said. 'Took my god damn passport off me,' Querry said, scowling. 'They said it's only -' Mrs Smith began. 'Next.' The officer's voice cut across them. Farrant got up and went over to the desk. The officer looked at him with no discernible emotion. 'Sit, please.' Farrant obeyed. 'My name is Akueson. I apologise for this inconvenience. Do you speak French?' 'I'd prefer English,' Farrant said with a weak smile. 'Very well.' Akueson turned a new page in his notebook. 'Name, please.' 'John Farrant.' 'Nationality?' 'British.' 'Occupation?' 'Architect.' Akueson frowned slightly. 'What would a British architect be doing in Liberia?' 'I was in talks with some people wanting to build a hotel there. I didn't do too well in the last financial crash, I couldn't turn it down without at least talking to them, seeing the site...' 'I understand. Once again I apologise, Mr Farrant, but as you know there is some instability in this region. Travel can be dangerous and I'm afraid we can't permit you to continue your journey at this time -' 'Why not? Where are we?' Akueson continued heedlessly. 'However, you will be made comfortable as a guest of our government until such time as it's safe for you to leave - ' 'Do I even get a choice?' Akueson shook his head silently. 'For your own safety I must also ask that you allow us to look after your passport while you are here.' Something suddenly occurred to Farrant. 'How long are we going to be here for?' 'I don't know.' Something in Farrant's demeanour seemed to catch the soldier's interest. 'Is it important?' Farrant recovered himself, realised he had to stonewall. 'Well, only inasmuch as I have a life back in London...' 'As I said, I apologise for the inconvenience. Your passport, please.' It was a meaningless document now, Farrant was beginning to realise that. His lack of options was also becoming wholly self-evident. He took it out carefully and passed it to Akueson, who put it with the others he had taken. Farrant went back to the others and Dallow took his place. He sat next to Krogh and said quietly, 'What do you think is really happening here?' Krogh touched a finger to his lips. 'Best not to look too smart for now. I suspect we will have plenty of time alone later.' Dallow came back and they sat in silence for a while. Farrant dully realised that they still had no idea even what country they were in, but the fact was weirdly irrelevant. So much of life - borders, politics, emotion and imagination - just went on inside people's heads with no physical component whatsoever, and one always relied on everyone else playing by the same set of rules... but here it seemed that normality was suspended. The rules of at least part of reality were physical, though, and the buzzing of Farrant's pocket alarm disturbed the whole hut. He glanced around apologetically, silenced the alarm. Carefully he found the dispenser inside his pocket, clicked the stud and felt the little plastic capsule drop into his palm. As surreptitiously as he could he drew his hand from his pocket, feigned a cough and brought his hand up to his mouth - And one of the guards was there, dragging him to his feet and swatting Farrant's hand away from his mouth. The capsule flew off into the shadows of the shack. He was hauled away from the bench and shoved up against the wall. The others were making outraged noises but quietened down in a hurry when the other soldier unslung his assault rifle and covered them with it. 'Reposez-le,' Akueson said, and Farrant found himself back in the chair in front of the desk. The officer had drawn his handgun and laid it in front of him. His stare was still cold. After a moment the guard found the capsule and handed it to the officer. Akueson turned the little red-and-white object over between his fingers. 'What is this?' 'Medicine. I - I need it,' Farrant said. 'You don't look very sick to me, Mr Farrant,' Akueson said mildly. 'Is it serious?' 'Yes. Please - ' 'Are you - ah, contagiuex?' Farrant felt the guards stiffen at the word and felt the hairs on his spine prickling. 'No. I'm not contagious at all, but if I don't get my medicine -' 'You will die?' Farrant avoided the man's level gaze, looked at the desk, the walls. 'Ah -' 'Mr Farrant, we have our own doctors here. I can't allow you to bring drugs into our country this way unless they are absolutely vital -' 'But this *is* absolutely vital -' 'I think you are lying to me. Empty your pockets, please.' They stared at each other for a long moment then Akueson nodded to the guard, who moved forward. 'All right, all right.' Farrant fumbled in his pocket for as long as he dared, then pulled out the plastic dispenser and handed it to Akueson. The officer clicked the stud a few times and more of the red and white pills pattered onto the table. 'What exactly is your illness?' 'It doesn't matter,' Farrant said numbly, staring at the object in Akueson's hand. 'If it's money you want, I have dollars, but I need those pills -' Akueson placed the dispenser on the table. 'We have had a drugs problem here in the past. Always people demanding drugs for money. I have no time for addicts, especially ones who think their money can buy anyone. You are in our country now, Mr Farrant.' Sharply he picked up the handgun, barrel first, and smashed the butt down onto the dispenser. It shattered and pills skittered across the table. Farrant made to grab at them but found his arms pinioned by one of the guards. Akueson assembled the pills inside a folded sheet of paper and smashed at them again with the butt of his pistol until only a fragmented slime remained within. 'If you do get sick, Mr Farrant, we will get you a doctor, I promise,' Akueson said. Farrant was put back on the bench. The others were staring at him, clearly curious. The Smiths obviously couldn't decide whether the pills had been medicinal or narcotic. 'Should've put it in the luggage,' Dallow murmured. 'The luggage will also be searched. Don't expect to keep your valuables,' Krogh said. He glanced at Farrant. 'That was quite foolish of you, Farrant.' 'I didn't have a choice,' Farrant said, his eyes drawn to the bin where the remains of his medication had been tossed. 'It's too late now, anyway.' He sat back and forced himself to wait twenty minutes before surreptitiously checking his pocket for the pills he'd got out of the dispenser while fumbling with it. Eight of them, maybe a week's worth if he took his time between doses. Only a week, and then... he shuddered. * After an hour's wait they were led out to a battered land rover and told to get on board. The horizon was beginning to glow a fierce, rich orange as dawn approached, and the heat was already rising. Farrant loosened his tie and took off his jacket. Mr Smith looked at Akueson, who was giving orders to the small group of soldiers who would be escorting them in a pair of battered and rusty jeeps. 'Where are we being taken, Captain?' 'A place of safety, Mr Smith, I assure you. You will be staying with another foreigner.' Farrant could tell Smith wasn't completely happy with that, but he helped his wife aboard the land rover anyway. They all squeezed into the back, with two soldiers in the front. Akueson was in the leading jeep, the second followed them. After a moment the little convoy pulled out through the gates of the airstrip and set off. Scrubby trees lined both sides of the road. 'Excuse me. Excuse me,' Krogh said to the soldiers. They glanced at him but said nothing. 'Excuse me,' Krogh murmured to Mrs Smith. He tapped one of the soldiers on the shoulder and smiled. 'You have a very small cock, and your friend here buggers you up the ass.' He nodded and grinned. The soldier nodded and indicated for Krogh to sit back in his seat. 'What on Earth -?' Mr Smith looked startled. 'They don't speak English. I didn't think they would. We can talk,' Krogh said in a low voice. 'We're going to escape?' Owen Querry looked at the older man hopefully. Krogh rolled his eyes. 'Don't be stupid. We are in the power of these people. I don't think we are any immediate danger, though.' 'Well, that's a relief,' said Dallow. 'I still don't understand,' Farrant said, almost reluctantly, the words coming one at a time as he forced them past the numb awareness of his own situation that threatened to monopolise his brain. 'What's happened to us?' 'Politics,' Krogh said. 'These people are desperate for help and they think keeping us as hostages will force our own governments to assist them.' 'That's ridiculous,' Dallow said. 'As I said, they are desperate. We are near the front line of the war down here, and I don't think our hosts are faring any better against the Soldiers of God than the Cameroonians or the Chadians did.' 'Mr Krogh, I wish you wouldn't talk like that,' said Mrs Smith. 'For all we know -' Krogh shrugged. 'The army of the Central African Alliance is effectively the instrument of the Church of the Soldiers of God. The alliance is a theocracy. If you want to sit here and debate semantics - ' Abruptly he laughed, sharply. 'Well, I suppose we'll have plenty of time for that, come to think of it.' 'So they want military aid to fight the alliance,' Owen Querry said slowly. 'And they -' 'The pilot of our flight was either bribed or replaced in order for our plane to detour south-east into their territory, yes,' Krogh said. 'Now they have us. No doubt our governments will be being informed of our status.' 'I'm not sure I like being used as political leverage like this,' Mr Smith said. 'You don't get a choice,' Dallow said, laughing. 'Oh, God, this would be priceless if...' He shook his head, looked at Krogh. 'You seem very well informed about all of this, Krogh.' 'Yes,' said Krogh. 'I am.' He met Dallow's gaze in silence for a few long seconds until the big man looked away. 'So what happens now?' Farrant asked after a few moment's silence. 'What do you think? Mr Smith, do you think your government will be sending in the aircraft carriers in order to secure your release?' Smith shook his head. 'And I'm not sure I'm sorry about that. The alliance is a Christian state, after all -' 'Yeah, and the Christian right in the States would kick up a hell of a fuss if we went to war with them even by proxy,' Owen Querry said, sounding weary. 'Nobody back home wants to get into another war, anyway,' Mr Smith concluded. 'The same is true of Europe, of course,' Krogh said, sounding almost like he wasn't involved in any of this. 'Except perhaps for the religious element. All the developed countries have their own problems at the moment, they're all introspective. That's partly why Africa and Asia are in such upheaval. Their leaders have realised that all the old rich and powerful nations aren't as rich or powerful as they once seemed to be.' 'This is all very interesting, Krogh,' Dallow said, 'but what's going to happen to us?' 'I don't know. It's not in our hosts' interests to kill us, and once they realise we've been abandoned by our governments they'll have no reason to keep us hostage.' 'So they'll let us go,' Farrant said, grabbing eagerly at the thought. If it was resolved quickly enough... 'Possibly. But a bullet is always cheaper than airfare, and this is a war zone,' Krogh said placidly. 'It all depends on... well, the politics of the situation.' 'Who was it who said politics is the art of the possible?' Dallow said, looking grim. 'Butler,' Owen Querry put in brightly. 'Actually, it was Bismarck,' Krogh said. He shut his eyes and leaned back in his seat and seemed to go to sleep almost at once. * The cars bumped on for hours through a landscape that varied only when they passed through a village, shabby houses and scrawny animals sliding past on each side. Farrant managed to take one of his pills without the soldiers or anyone else noticing; the man not driving seemed to be asleep. So were Krogh, Dallow, and Mr Smith. He was exhausted himself and let himself slide off into a doze regularly interrupted by the jolting of the land rover. When he properly awoke he found four hours had passed since they had left the airfield. As far as he could tell they were heading northwest, roughly. Where were they going? If this was one of the countries on the coast the capital city would be in the south, by a port. Then again, he had no reason to think they were heading for the capital. The sheer lack of information beyond Krogh's surmisings was frustrating. The front jeep abruptly slowed and turned off to the left. The trees had thinned out considerably while he'd been sleeping and the landscape was now really more one of dusty scrub. The convoy was heading more slowly down a narrow lane. Up ahead was, well, the largest building they'd seen for a bit, a big old house, two stories, with other smaller buildings set around it, all of them browned and peeling as if suffering from sun burn. Akueson's jeep stopped in front of the main house and the others pulled up behind him. Querry opened the door and got out before being told to. Farrant clambered out after him, stiff from the journey and needing the bathroom badly. One of the guards leaned on the horn and the blare of it seemed to hand in the air around them. It was the middle of the day and Farrant felt his shirt slowly adhering to his shoulders, sweat running freely down his sides. The front door of the house opened and a woman emerged. She looked old, but then living in this climate must do that to people, Farrant thought. Long silvery hair trailed out from under the broad-brimmed hat she wore. She was staring at Akueson with undisguised annoyance. 'Don't you know the time, Captain?' 'I'm sorry, Miss Scobie. My orders were - ' 'Yes, I can imagine.' Miss Scobie surveyed the little group of travellers. 'Well, I expect you must be hungry and thirsty.' 'Well... yes we are, ma'am,' Mr Smith said with a thin smile. 'I could use a...' 'Yes, yes. First thing is to get you out of the sun.' Miss Scobie was ignoring the captain completely, Farrant thought, bleakly amused. Akueson was tolerating it impassively, of course. 'How many are you?' 'Six,' Krogh said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 'Four single men, and Mr and Mrs Smith here.' 'Plenty of room here for you all,' Miss Scobie said. 'Three bedrooms in the house and four in the bungalows. Your men will be staying in the village, Captain?' 'My men will be around,' Akueson said, noncommittally. 'We don't require the same level of comfort as you Europeans.' 'I'm American,' Owen Querry muttered to the ground. 'I'm prepared to leave you here with Miss Scobie,' Akueson said. 'Do not attempt to leave, my government can't guarantee your safety if you do. If you're found off Miss Scobie's land you will be escorted back here. Is that understood?' They mumbled or nodded their assent. Farrant thought they must share his mild surprise at being, seemingly, abandoned here. Maybe no greater security was necessary now. Where were they, after all? Where could they go with scarcely any money or food? Akueson and all but two of his men piled into the vehicles, which turned around and left. The two men left ambled into the shade of one of the trees and sank onto the ground, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. 'Come along,' Miss Scobie said briskly, leading them inside. Owen was eyeing up the two soldiers, but Krogh put his hand on the younger man's shoulder and steered him indoors. 'At least have a drink before you get yourself killed.' Inside the house was a jug of water and too many glasses; she must not have known how many of them to expect. They all drank deep, perhaps a bit too deep, Farrant thought as his bladder continued to complain. One of Miss Scobie's African servants, a young boy who answered to Centime, showed him to one of the privies. When he returned the others were just beginning to look refreshed. 'So, is this your house, Miss Scobie?' Mrs Smith asked. 'Yes, my family has lived here for over a century. Grandfather came over from France at the end of the Great War and started building this house.' 'Forgive me, but your name is not very French,' Krogh said, smiling. 'My grandparents only had one daughter. She married an Englishman who ended up out here after Hitler's war, they stayed on after independence. As did I. I haven't been to Europe in over forty years. No desire to, now,' Miss Scobie said. 'What do you know about the situation here?' Dallow asked. 'We're assuming our being here is something to do with the war - ' 'Yes, I think so too,' Miss Scobie said. 'I know the Army of God or whatever it's called is coming this way. Well, we were here under the French, we were here under several nasty dictators, and we're still here now. The alliance can shoot me if it wants to, but I'm not leaving.' Farrant couldn't help smiling at the old woman's matter-of-fact resilience. 'How do you get on with the current regime?' he asked. 'We avert our gaze from each other. Until you lot came onto the agenda.' 'Yes, this isn't quite the accommodation I was anticipating,' Krogh said, glancing around the large colonial living room. 'They want to know where you are, but they don't want you mixed up with the common people too much - the alliance has people sniffing around, apparently. A place like this is about the best they can hope for.' 'We're not exactly under guard, though,' Querry said hopefully. 'Young man, don't be foolish. You wouldn't get ten miles. The best you could hope for would to be caught straight away and dragged back here.' 'That's as maybe, but if you could just give me a little food and point me north-west - ' 'No. I'm responsible for you and I'm not going to help you get shot,' Miss Scobie said, looking hard at the young American. 'So we should just sit around here until the government realises we're useless? That's your plan?' Owen Querry looked around at the others, searching for support. Farrant thought of the seven pills he had left, the time limit that must mean. Reluctantly he said, 'I can see Querry's point. Staying here - ' 'Is our only option right now,' Krogh said. 'Akueson hasn't evaporated. He and his men are still in the area. In this part of the world we are somewhat - conspicuous. Getting to the border is one thing, maybe we could manage that. Doing it without being seen? I don't think so. If the government didn't spot us then no doubt a group working for the alliance would.' 'Word gets around. I think that other westerners have been, er, 'persuaded' to enjoy the government's hospitality,' Miss Scobie said. 'The alliance may be searching for you, just in case the government's plan looks like working.' 'The alliance doesn't need to use us as hostages, though,' Farrant said, sudden hope springing in his chest. 'Wouldn't they want the goodwill releasing us would earn them?' 'Frankly, I doubt they'd care much either way,' Dallow said with a mirthless smile. 'Besides, do you really want to take the chance?' Farrant felt his spirits sink again. 'No. Maybe not,' he said. 'So that's settled then,' Miss Scobie said. 'No-one leaves. I have plenty of food and a good water supply here, so nobody's going to starve. There's a few jobs around the place that you gentlemen might want to look at, too - once you've settled in. I'll show you to your rooms now, if you like.' It seemed obvious that the Smiths should take one of the spare bedrooms in the house, and Dallow claimed the other one without even asking the other men. He seemed quite unselfconscious when it came to his selfishness. Farrant wondered who the man was, why he had been flying out of Liberia in the first place. The expat community there were viewing the inexorable advance of the alliance up into West Africa with an indifference born of several thousand miles' distance. No doubt they would be clamouring for seats on any plane out of there if the alliance looked like taking Mali or the Ivory Coast. Miss Scobie showed Farrant, Querry and Krogh to the low buildings outside. Each one contained a small but airy bedroom and an equally spacious living room. They were wired for electricity and running water, but neither was currently working. 'Father had an idea about taking in paying guests at one point, had these built,' Miss Scobie said with a wry smile. 'But we were too far off the safari trail and they just ended up being used by our friends when they used to visit.' 'Where did your electric power come from?' Krogh was idly flicking the switch on and off. 'A generator, but we can't get the petrol to run it. I don't really miss it, to be honest. I'd like to get the water running again, though.' Krogh treated her to his sardonic smile. 'Maybe we could look at that for you while we're here.' 'I'd be very grateful. I'll leave you to rest now, gentlemen. Dinner will be on the verandah around six.' Miss Scobie withdrew. When she was well out of sight and earshot, Querry whistled incredulously. 'Reality check for table two, please...' 'What do you mean?' Krogh asked. 'It's like some kind of time warp. Here we are in the twenty-twenties and she's still behaving like a character from a Somerset Maugham story. The sun still hasn't set on the British Empire here.' 'I suspect Miss Scobie may consider herself French, if she claims any nationality,' Krogh said. 'I'll say one thing for the British Empire, though - the British may have been imperialists, but at least they did it moderately tastefully - eh, Farrant?' Farrant allowed himself a smile. 'No empire builders from your country, then, Krogh?' Krogh returned the smile. 'Only one, a magnificent lunatic who invaded Russia and ended up fighting the Turks in Turkey. We learned our lesson early. My people are perhaps too sensible that way.' 'You seem like your head's screwed on okay, though,' Querry said. Krogh acknowledged the compliment but seemed dubious about it. 'Not what they would say back home.' 'Anyway... you two guys seem sensible,' Owen Querry said. 'Are we really going to just sit here and do nothing?' Krogh shook his head. 'Absolutely not. As I just said, I intend to look at the plumbing.' 'Don't make fun of me, man. I'm talking about escaping.' 'Don't be a fool, Querry, we've discussed this already. Where would you go? How would you travel, what would you eat? This is a hard country, there is a war here.' Querry looked at Farrant. 'You're very quiet. Earlier you seemed up for the idea...' Farrant shook his head. 'I don't know, Owen...' 'What about your stuff? You said you needed more or you'd get sick,' Querry pressed. 'You think Miss Scobie's got some in her medicine chest? You think -' 'I don't know! Leave it, will you?' Panic suddenly threatened to overthrow Farrant. Instinctively he patted his pocket, felt for the seven capsules still there. 'I need to think about it.' 'I need to get some sleep,' Querry said. He nodded to them, went out. Farrant and Krogh were alone together. 'What exactly is your condition, Farrant?' 'Why do you ask?' 'The six of us - seven, if you include Miss Scobie - are a group, whether we like it or not. What affects you may impact on us. I think we ought to know if you're going to become seriously ill, or - how is it? - strung out, or...' Krogh shrugged. 'Are you simply another addict as the captain thinks?' 'No, I'm not. I - look, it's, it's personal.' He dipped his hand into his pocket, produced the handful of capsules. 'It's not immediately urgent. I managed to save a few.' Krogh nodded. 'I thought you had. How long will they last you?' 'Maybe a week.' 'And what happens then?' Farrant didn't trust himself to reply. 'I'll worry about that when the time comes,' he said. 'I can't make you talk if you don't want to,' Krogh said. 'I'll see you at dinner, then.' Farrant found himself left alone in the bungalow. He looked again at the capsules. One week. Very wearily he went into the bedroom and started to peel off his clothing. * He slept like a log and when he woke the darkness was already beginning to gather outside. In the main room he found his luggage, along with a jug of water and a large bowl. He washed himself as well as he could in the circumstances and pulled on a clean shirt and pair of trousers, then went outside. The verandah was round the back of the Scobie house, illuminated by hurricane lanterns. Miss Scobie, Dallow, and the Smiths were already there enjoying a drink before the meal. Maybe Querry had a point, Farrant thought - it was like a scene from a costume drama. He made his hellos and took a seat. Gin had never been his favourite drink but Miss Scobie's drinks cabinet was not especially extensive. 'Mr Dallow says you're an architect,' Miss Scobie said. Farrant glanced at the big man. 'Yes, I am. On paper, anyway. I always say it's a bit like being a novelist, half the work is selling the idea.' 'What do you think of the house?' 'Very impressive, seems to be standing up well, if you see what I mean. I imagine termites must be a concern around here, with so much wood in the building?' 'Well, we have to be a bit careful,' Miss Scobie nodded. Farrant looked at Dallow. 'I never caught what your line was, Dallow.' 'Call me Jim,' Dallow said with an expansive gesture. He grinned as Farrant continued to wait for an answer. 'I do a bit of everything, Farrant. Go where the money goes.' Farrant smiled. 'So what were you doing in Liberia, of all places?' 'Think I heard about that hotel deal of yours, the other end of it, maybe. Is it going to happen?' 'I got a bad whiff off it, that's why I'm - why I *was* - heading back to the UK. Even if it does go ahead, some other poor guy'll be doing the designs for it, especially now I'm, well, here.' 'Personally I'm not that fussed either way,' Dallow said. 'Nothing for me back there. Not much even in Tunisia, to tell the truth. I'll quite happily sit it out here for a few months - with Miss Scobie's consent, of course - until things calm down a bit.' 'Unless one side or the other shoots you, of course,' Farrant said. 'I'm a businessman, sort of, anyway,' Dallow said. 'I don't think we're seriously in danger of being topped - not unless we do something stupid. There's no percentage for the government or the alliance in killing us, is there? Doesn't make sense.' 'I hope they consider it as rationally as you do, Mr Dallow,' Miss Scobie said. 'You're all quite welcome to stay for as long as you need to. What about you, Mr Smith? Have you a pressing need to be somewhere else?' 'No, we can do our work here as well as anywhere,' Mr Smith said with a smile. 'Is there a church in the area?' 'Er, yes, but I believe it's currently lacking a preacher,' Miss Scobie said. 'I remember that people used to go there mainly because they didn't want to upset the last man we had. The villagers around here are still fairly unreconstructed in their beliefs.' 'Poor creatures,' said Mrs Smith, but Farrant saw the happy little look that flashed between them at the news. At that point Krogh and Querry, in a fresh shirt and t-shirt respectively, appeared and Miss Scobie decided there was no reason to wait any longer for dinner. It was chicken with rice - rather more of the latter than the former - well spiced, and well prepared. It made a very welcome change from the fast food Farrant had grown accustomed to and he realised he was ravenous: they all were. They ate solidly for a while and then started to discuss the situation again, in a very abstract and rather detached fashion. Farrant found himself fighting down the urge to burst out laughing. Drinks before dinner! Prepare the guest bungalows, Centime! And meanwhile, not too far away, child soldiers were loading their rifles, the government - not realising how small its problems were in the world today - was desperately trying to hold them to ransom, the Soldiers of God were marching onwards, ever onwards, and in his bloodstream the chemicals he'd taken were slowly frothing away and becoming inert, his cells preparing to contort themselves unless another dose came along. He was being held to ransom doubly over, he realised, his body demanding the drugs in order for it to remain his body in any meaningful way. He found his hands were shaking, all pressure to laugh was gone. He excused himself from the dessert course, went round to the courtyard between house and bungalows to get his breath back. He was sitting on the steps staring into the darkness when someone quietly sat down next to him. It was Owen Querry. 'You see what I mean. They're all nuts, right?' 'It's not without a surreal element,' Farrant said. He glanced at Querry. 'But I don't see we have any choice. Trust me, if I thought we'd have even one chance in a thousand, I'd be leading the escape committee. With my condition, I wouldn't be sitting around here if there was anything I could do.' 'Yeah. Your condition.' Querry sounded dubious, clearly had him pegged as someone with a chemical dependency. 'Well, I'm sorry, man, but I'm going to give it a try.' He slapped his thighs and stood up. 'Querry, don't be stupid,' Farrant said. 'You can't just - ' 'Watch me.' The young man quickly darted into his cabin and emerged with his small backpack. Farrant was still wondering whether to alert Krogh and the others to Querry's intentions. Maybe the kid was right, maybe if he did get away it would bring rescue closer for the rest of them... and he objected to being forced into the kind of co-dependent group Krogh had talked about. 'All right.' Farrant held out his hand. 'Good luck, Owen.' 'You too, John.' They shook, and the young American loped quickly out of the courtyard and off into the darkness. Farrant sat down again and watched the great bow of the Milky Way as it shimmered overhead. There seemed to be little else to do. 'Looks like I picked a hell of a year to quit smoking,' he muttered, half-smiling to himself as he did so. Even half a smile did not last long. After a while he heard distant farewells and the sound of people, presumably Miss Scobie, Dallow and the Smiths, going into the house. Krogh came round the corner from the verandah, hands in pockets. 'Beautiful night,' the older man said, looking up at the arch of the galaxy. 'It is,' Farrant said. 'We will have to get used to waiting, I think,' Krogh said, apropos of nothing. 'It's just a question of how we fill our time until...' He shrugged, smiled suddenly. 'Is Querry in his room?' 'I saw him go in,' Farrant said carefully. Secrets and half-truths, the world they were all now in. 'Good. I think he will bear watching, maybe even more than Dallow.' The fact that Krogh saw him as some kind of ally surprised Farrant nearly as much as Krogh's assumption of whatever authority he seemed to think he possessed. 'He's a grown adult, isn't he?' 'Don't you think that's rather naive, Farrant? We don't need him to antagonise our hosts by doing something stupid.' 'Maybe you overestimate our hosts.' Krogh did not reply. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' he eventually said and went into his bungalow. Farrant sat stargazing for another ten minutes before turning in himself. * Pounding on the cabin door. Farrant woke, confused, looked at his watch. It was an hour past midnight. He groaned as the battering continued, rolled out from under the mosquito net and stood up. He staggered to the door and threw it open. He found himself face to face with Akueson. The captain took a step back, and Farrant saw two of his soldiers behind him, something on the decking in front of them, something loose and awkward - Jesus! It was Querry! 'He was warned,' Akueson said. 'The next person who tries to leave without permission will be shot.' 'Christ...!' Farrant crouched over Querry. He was still breathing, but he was out cold and there was blood on his face. 'We're no use to your government if you kill us, Captain.' 'Personally I don't think you are much use to us in any condition, Mr Farrant, but I obey my orders,' Akueson said. 'I doubt a bullet through the kneecap would be fatal.' There was movement from one of the other cabins and Krogh emerged from the shadows, took in the scene in an instant. 'Dumbom!' he said, staring at Querry. 'I think I can guess what that means,' Farrant said. 'Krogh, give me a hand getting him inside, will you?' They picked up the American and carried him through into Krogh's cabin, laid him on the small sofa there. Farrant mopped some of the blood off his face while Krogh went outside and spoke urgently with Akueson in French. After a moment he returned and Farrant heard the soldiers trudging off into the night. 'It's not as bad as it looks. Bump on the head and a few scrapes but he just seems to be unconscious,' Farrant said. 'Luckier than he deserves.' Krogh said. He sat back. 'All right, you can leave him here. Get some sleep. I'll talk to him when he wakes up.' Farrant nodded and went out. Querry had a splitting headache and a bollocking off Krogh to look forward to when he awoke. He'd only known the man for about a day but he wasn't sure he wouldn't choose the sore head, given the choice. * 'They let me get to the edge of the estate, then bam,' Querry said, a touch ruefully, when he appeared the next day at lunchtime. He seemed thoroughly crestfallen, beginning to realise that even youthful energy and enterprise were not universal panaceas. Farrant noticed he was avoiding Krogh's gaze, for all that Krogh didn't seem to be treating him any differently. 'The captain said he'd shoot you if you try again. Not to kill, but somewhere painful,' Farrant said. 'I heard. Don't worry. I'm with the program now. A good little guest of the government... what exactly is there to do around here, anyway?' The answer was, not much. The almost torpid pace of life on Miss Scobie's estate took most of them by surprise. Krogh, as they were starting to realise, never appeared to be surprised by anything, and if he was as restless as they he didn't show it. After only a day or two Farrant found himself sliding into an easy routine - sleeping relatively late, rising, attempting one or other of the odd jobs around the house beyond the expertise of the servants until the heat of midday made any exertion impossible, a siesta, then late in the afternoon either a walk around the estate or a game of cards with one of the others. Finally dinner, and more often than not an early night. It was the same for Dallow, and Querry, and Krogh, but the Smiths were always up early for a pre- breakfast walk. After a day or two they arranged a meeting for themselves with Captain Akueson, and to the astonishment of the others the officer allowed them to go into the nearest villages, under escort of course, so they could continue their good works even here. It was one way of passing the time, Farrant supposed. He had his own preoccupation, counting down the hours and then the minutes to his next pill, and beyond that the inexorably dropping number of capsules he had left. Tension started knotting in his stomach. Mr Smith said Akueson had heard nothing from the government concerning them. If the Foreign Office in London did their research and learned of his condition, then maybe... no, it was an impossibly long shot. Above all else, he had flown out here with a two-month supply of medication, much more than he needed - they would have no way of knowing it had been destroyed. He was going to run out of his drugs. And then what? He'd never even asked what would happen, and how quickly, should he ever stop his medication. Why would he? He'd been so grateful that the drugs worked in his case it probably hadn't even occurred to him. The others, even Querry, seemed to be relaxing into their odd new lifestyle of enforced leisure, but he couldn't. It was impossible. Three days worth of capsules left. Two. His mood was constantly dark now, his nerves on edge. He found himself avoiding the others, keeping to himself, obsessively checking his appearance in the mirror as if trying to commit it to memory in its original form... Late in the afternoon there was a knocking at his door. It was Krogh; he had a box and a small square sheet of wood under his arm. 'Hello. What can I do for you?' 'I wondered if you played chess, Farrant,' Krogh said with a pleasant smile. 'I've grown a little tired of Dallow and his games of poker.' 'I play a bit,' Farrant said carefully. 'Did you ask the others?' 'Dallow only plays game of chance. I did play Querry a few times but he is really only a novice. I thought I would ask Mr Smith once he returned from the village, but seeing as you are here now... am I disturbing you?' 'No. All right then, I can't promise to be any good.' The distraction would, he supposed, be welcome. They set up the board in the shade of the courtyard and began. Krogh played a solidly traditional Ruy Lopez style which he clearly knew backwards; Farrant was soon uncomfortably aware that he was out of his depth, bogged down in his own territory. 'Sorry I'm taking so long.' 'It's not a problem,' Krogh said. A pause. 'You've been keeping to yourself this last couple of days.' 'It's nothing personal.' 'Your medication issues, I expect.' Farrant did not reply. He shuffled a bishop a square back towards his own board edge, more as a stopgap than anything else. 'Are you sure you're going to be all right, Farrant? I'm sure Akueson has been ordered to do everything he can to keep you alive -' 'Which would be why he smashed my pills up, I suppose.' He glanced sharply at Krogh. 'Relax, Krogh. I'm not going to die or go crazy or do anything to upset our hosts, although quite why that's so important to you I can't understand.' Krogh's pawn advance rolled inexorably on. He had a material advantage and was looking to exchange off as much as he could, to free up the board for the kill. 'Let us do a deal. We can be friends as long as we respect each other's privacy. Is it agreed?' 'Do you really want to be friends, Krogh? I can never tell...' 'Want is...' Krogh made a dismissive, ethereal gesture. 'Need is what matters. We all need friends in our current situation, I think perhaps you more than most.' 'Whatever you say.' Farrant toppled his king in disgust. 'You're too good for me.' 'You had your chances, John,' Krogh said. 'Another?' This time Farrant was white. From the depths of his memory he dredged up an obscure opening called the Spike and deployed it against the older man. Opponents usually either became overconfident against it and fell into any one of a number of traps, or became wholly defensive. It was effective in formal games, he recalled, because its unfamiliarity put one's opponent under severe time pressure. Informally it just meant games tended to drag on forever provided both players were competent. Krogh was at least competent. They were still in a deadlock when the gong was struck for dinner. * They played at least once a day after that, but Farrant could only hold Krogh off when the other man was tired or distracted. Wins for him were very rare. It wasn't his main concern, of course. The last of his medication was gone now, and it was surely only a matter of time until - well, something happened. Checking his reflection, morning, noon, and night, became a ritual for him. He wasn't sure, he was imagining seeing tiny changes where there were perhaps none... but, only a couple of days after his drugs finished, his shoes suddenly began to feel half a size too large for his feet. He knew the metamorphosis had begun. He played badly that night, unable to concentrate. Krogh's demolitions were even quicker and more comprehensive than usual. Farrant spent half his time leaning over the board, cursing quietly to himself, constantly running his hand through the sweaty mass of his hair, pulling it out of his eyes. 'May I ask you a question, John?' Farrant glanced up at him. 'You're not usually so reticent.' 'I think this is a personal question.' When Farrant did not reply he pressed on. 'I imagine your medication is all gone now, has been for a few days. Am I correct?' He had no desire to get into this at all. 'Yes,' he said. 'So whatever you were afraid of must be starting to happen,' Krogh went on. 'What's your point?' 'I don't think the others have noticed yet, but they don't spend a few hours a day sitting a metre away from you,' Krogh said. 'Your hair has grown three or four centimetres since this time yesterday. There's something strange about the bones in your hands and wrists, too, and the hairs are falling out on your arms. Is this the problem you anticipated?' Damn it! Farrant stared down at his hands, realised Krogh was right. It made sense, given the dwindling of his feet. 'Yes,' he said blankly. 'Yes it is.' 'So you have one of the changing diseases. I understand your reluctance to discuss it,' Krogh said. 'How long -?' 'About six years now. I was lucky, I spotted it early - flu out of season, no one else I knew had had it - and they put me on the drugs before I really changed significantly at all. I just forgot about it, took a pill every twelve hours, got on with my life,' Farrant said. It was almost a struggle to talk about it to someone he still didn't really know. He put his hands to his face. 'This was never supposed to happen. Why - oh, fuck it. Why me,' he whined with ferocious self-mockery. 'Just my bad luck. As usual.' 'You are becoming more feminised?' Krogh was being so damned forensic about it as usual. 'I'm turning into a fucking woman, Krogh. In three weeks or a month none of the doctors in this country will be able to tell I was ever a man.' 'I'm sorry, John. When were you going to tell us?' 'I thought it would become self-evident sooner or later,' Farrant said heavily. 'I think you ought to be discreet about it -' 'What did you think I was going to do?' 'They have APFS in this continent, too, and no drugs to stave off the change, even for the lucky few that they might help.' Krogh paused. 'Here they think it's witchcraft or something supernatural - hell, they may be right, our science can't explain it. Why do you think groups like the Soldiers of God are taking over throughout the developing world?' 'I - I hadn't thought about it -' 'Famine, plague, poverty, and now miracles like this - men inexplicably spontaneously changing sex. Do you know how the people here think? How it seems to them when a preacher declares these are the signs of the last days? They are ready to believe.' Krogh paused, sat back. 'You have a more pressing concern. There is a widespread superstition here that men who become women through APFS are magically pure and healthy, they have been touched by God and can catch no other diseases.' 'If only,' Farrant said. 'The men also believe that if one has sex with one of these 'magic women' one acquires some of this immunity. I'm sure you can appreciate how important that would seem to a young uneducated African man, like one of Akueson's soldiers.' Farrant felt nauseous. 'Oh God,' he said weakly. 'We'll protect you,' Krogh said. 'If the time comes.' 'I - thank you,' Farrant said. He looked urgently at Krogh. 'Don't tell the others yet. Please.' 'It's your choice,' Krogh said with a touch of reluctance. He looked down at the board. 'I think we should abandon the game,' he said quietly, and Farrant did not object. * Conversation at dinner that night went on as normal. He supposed it was a miracle that anyone apart from the Smiths found anything to talk about day after day, because all their days seemed to be smearing together into one baked and sweaty mass. He gathered that Querry was now theoretically two hundred dollars in debt to Dallow as a result of all their card playing; if Dallow was annoyed that the debt would likely never be honoured he did not show it. 'I've always thought -' began Mr Smith carefully, but they were never to learn exactly what. Somewhere out in the darkness sounded the percussive rattle of automatic weapon fire. A long way off, but not too far not to silence the conversation. It was answered by another burst, sounding slightly different. The call-and-response continued sporadically. 'Could that be Akueson or his men - shooting for fun, or something?' Dallow asked. He was looking at Krogh: they had all come to take it for granted that he seemed to know just about everything. Krogh shook his head. 'Too far away. I would imagine they're under orders to save ammunition, with the war going the way it is. Was, ten days ago, anyway.' 'You mean that could be the Soldiers shooting?' Querry stared out into the encompassing black. 'The war's here?' 'I don't know. From what I understand, the alliance tends to send elements ahead of its main advance to disrupt the country they're moving into. The front line, such as it, may still be a long way off.' Dallow nodded. 'The main fighting'll be down south around the capital. Up here we're more likely to have trouble with deserters and chancers trying to exploit the power vacuum. There could be a while between the government falling and the alliance imposing law and order out in the countryside.' 'We should see about securing the house,' Miss Scobie announced. 'Some of the shutters have probably rusted open, they'll need looking at.' 'We'll start first thing,' Krogh said. A rattle of gunfire from out in the night seemed like a strange echo. * They considered all moving into the main house, but it was decided for comfort's sake to leave that until there was a definite need for it. Farrant hoped they'd get enough warning in the event of that happening. The other shacks and outhouses were emptied of food and valuables, though, and they set about doing what they could to make the house a little more defensible. Their only weapons were scissors and kitchen knives, which Farrant supposed made the whole thing slightly farcical, given the assault rifles, hand grenades and machine guns any assailants would doubtless be armed with, but it was something to do. They couldn't just sit here and do nothing with the war finally sidling up to their doorstep. Farrant found himself looking at some of the rusted shutters in the company of Miss Scobie. The hinges were heavily corroded, but the damage seemed to be mostly superficial. It would take some work with the old tools they'd found to get the shutters to close. He looked at them ruefully. 'You're thinking they won't keep anyone out for long, aren't you?' Miss Scobie said with a smile. 'Frankly, yes.' Farrant pulled his hair back out of his face. It was starting to curl slightly but had kept its black colour; it would be pony-tail length in another day or two. 'It's the message it sends, do you see. Anyone coming to this house and seeing the doors and windows closed and shuttered will know it is occupied by people who will not give it up easily.' An unaccustomed flush had come to Miss Scobie's face. 'Maybe.' He poked at one of the hinges with a blunt chisel. Flakes of rust scraped away, but the shutter still barely moved. He grabbed for a hammer. 'What would you have done had you been alone here?' he asked, but suspecting he already knew the answer. No answer came anyway. He glanced up and saw Miss Scobie with her eyes shut, fists clenched, obviously struggling to stay on her feet. Her face had drained to a strange yellowy-grey colour and he could hear the quick gasping of her breath. He dropped the tools and went to her; she practically swooned against him. He helped her into the shade, sat her down on a bench. Slowly her colour returned a bit and her breathing eased. 'Miss Scobie? Are you all right?' She smiled feebly at him, squeezed his hand. 'It's just my age. The excitement of having so many new people in the house. Everything else that's happening. I'll be fine, my dear.' 'You should rest. We can do all the work on the house,' Farrant said. 'You're very kind.' Her smile became stronger. 'You're a very good actor, you know. I wasn't going to say anything, but -' 'What, what do you mean?' 'When your hair was shorter I really thought you were male. I'd heard that men and women had equally opportunities now, but that can't be true if you needed to pretend to be a man... Did you want to come and see Africa, a bit of an adventure?' Her gaze was still slightly unfocussed. 'Miss Scobie... it's not like that...' Farrant struggled to put it into words she would understand, but suddenly realised she was as much a stranger to the modern world as he was to living in the backcountry here. 'It's all right, my dear, I admire your spirit. I won't tell anyone.' He helped her inside and vented his emotions on the rusted metal until it became too hot to work. * He felt obliged to tell somebody what he had seen, and Krogh was the obvious, perhaps the only candidate. He doubted Miss Scobie would appreciate being fussed over, and Krogh definitely didn't seem the type to do that. They sat down for their daily chess session a little later than usual, having made at least some progress on making the house more secure. The Smiths hadn't helped, not that they could have done much: they just went off into the village as usual to do whatever they did there under the watchful eye of Akueson's men. 'I don't think Miss Scobie is quite as redoubtable as she likes to make out,' Farrant said after a while. 'Why do you say that?' 'I was working on the windows today and she was watching me. She had some kind of... I don't know, a seizure. Maybe that's too strong a word for it. She nearly fainted, struggled to breathe.' 'Mmm. Sounds like it might be her heart,' Krogh said neutrally. 'There's not much we can do for her except to keep her from working too hard and avoid stressful situations.' 'Will you send a memo to Akueson and the Soldiers of God? ''Please fight as discreetly as possible.'' ' Krogh acknowledged the difficulty of the situation. 'Out here one realises how little one is really in charge of events.' 'You don't have to remind me,' Farrant said sourly. He was having to pad his shoes in order for his feet not to rattle around in them and his clothes were beginning to feel loose across the shoulders and long in the legs. He didn't tell Krogh about the mistake Miss Scobie had made - if it really was a mistake, and not a confused kind of premonition. 'You still haven't told the others?' 'Maybe tomorrow,' he said reluctantly. * There was sporadic firing later in the afternoon and at intervals all through the night, along with one or two distant explosions. Farrant was sure he heard a helicopter go overhead at one point, but almost too faint to be heard. After they had finished preparing the house and had their siesta, Krogh went off to look for Akueson, intending to get some kind of solid information about the situation in their area. The Smiths were still in the village, Miss Scobie seemed to be asleep, and Farrant had only Dallow and Querry for company. They were playing cards on the verandah as usual, keeping score in a small notebook Dallow had produced. Farrant swallowed hard, sat down and watched the game. Maybe now was the time to tell them about his change. Querry was talking. '...no question about it, man. This is the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me and I can't get to my vlog or even use fucking email to tell people about it. The net, that's what I'm missing most. What about you?' Dallow let out a foul chuckle. 'Need you ask, son? If I hadn't been taking matters into my own hands I'd have balls the size of melons. Stuck out here with only Mrs Smith and Miss Scobie as examples of the fairer sex, can you credit it? Even if they were willing, how drunk would you need to get?' He cackled again. Owen Querry grinned. 'You could ask the soldiers, see if there's any action down in the village...' 'Ain't got johnnies with me,' Dallow said. 'Going with one of these local girls, God knows what they're carrying. It's like playing Russian roulette with a shotgun, I tell you. Anyway, there's something to be said for wanking, it's sex with someone you love - eh, Farrant?' Farrant forced himself to smile at the feeble old joke, did not trust himself to speak. 'You ever fucked an African girl, Owen? You should give it try before you leave,' Dallow said. 'Talk about uninhibited - it's the nearest thing to bestiality that's legal.' 'Had a girl in the old Czech Republic once,' Querry replied. 'That was pretty intense. Her name was Katya.' 'You remember all the names? Christ, you're still so young,' Dallow said, dealing the cards. Farrant felt more than vaguely sick as the big man mopped at his brow again then concentrated on his cards. He imagined what would run through Dallow's head once he became aware of Farrant's condition and suppressed a shudder. There was no way he was going to tell him any sooner than he absolutely had to. Querry seemed harmless enough but appeared to have fallen into Dallow's gross and seedy orbit. He would keep his silence for as long as he could. * That night Krogh told them the little Akueson had been willing to reveal. Though the exact circumstances were murky, alliance troops had crossed the border and heavy fighting was occurring as the army retreated towards the capital city in some disarray, most likely simply buying time for the president and other ministers to organise their escape. The rest of the country seemed to be sinking into chaos as deserters, bandits and opportunists made the most of the breakdown in authority. 'To be honest, I'm surprised Akueson and his men are still around,' Krogh concluded. 'Kidnapping us didn't achieve a thing,' Farrant said, trying to keep the sick bitterness out of his voice. He could have been back in the UK, back in his own life, still wholly male, and it would have made no difference whatsoever to anything that happened in this nightmare country. The skin around his chest and waist was beginning to feel stretched and itchy, but there were no visible changes there yet. 'Why don't they just let us go?' 'I think they have other things to worry about,' Dallow said. 'What's six people in the middle of a war zone?' 'I guess the best we can hope for is to be forgotten about until things calm down,' Owen said with a nervous grin. 'That's possibly the most sensible thing I've ever heard you say,' Krogh said, smiling. 'You are right; we need to be invisible here.' He looked at the Smiths. 'Could you stop leaving the estate? Maybe tell the villagers you are leaving.' Mr Smith smiled back. 'I appreciate your concern, Mr Krogh, but the people there need our help. Mrs Smith and I both feel it would be inexcusable to abandon them in a crisis like this -' 'You realise you may be endangering all of us, not just yourselves?' Krogh asked quietly. 'I'm very sorry, Mr Krogh,' Mrs Smith said seriously. 'But my husband and I have our calling and we cannot abandon it.' Dallow made a vague disgusted noise and looked away from the American couple. 'Well, as long as we've got our priorities straight,' he muttered. Krogh ignored him. 'As you wish,' he said. * The next afternoon Farrant discussed it with Krogh as they played. Farrant's hair was now past his collar and he wore it tied back. He could see little subtle alterations in his jaw and cheekbones beginning to manifest, his eyes appearing larger and rounder. There would be no more concealment in a few more days, maybe even sooner if the tightness across his chest delivered on its promise. 'What can we do? We can hardly lock them up against their will?' Krogh said. 'Maybe you're right. I just - ' he shook his head. 'It just seems kind of stupid and selfish.' 'They would probably see it in opposite terms. The lens of faith,' Krogh said, shaking his head. 'If the government does fall -' 'More of a when than an if, but go on.' ' - what should we do then?' Krogh shrugged. 'Wait for order to be restored. The alliance will probably put an intendent in charge of this district, and if you make your situation known to him he may be able to do something... though travel in and out of the alliance's territory is not noted for its ease or convenience, even with all the right documents.' 'You sound like you have other plans,' Farrant said. 'Do I?' Krogh smiled genially, made a move. Farrant couldn't help smiling back. 'You're going to have to come clean some time, Krogh, even if only to me. I told you my secret -' 'I guessed your secret, John,' Krogh reminded him. 'All right then. But you clearly know this situation backwards, you've not looked surprised by any of it, sometimes it's even as if everything that's happened is - I don't know - according to plan, or something. We don't know anything about you, why you were in Liberia, your job, where you're from - ' 'I'm from a little town called Kisa, seeing as you asked. Please be careful who you tell,' Krogh said, deadpan. 'Okay, so where's that? Finland? Denmark?' 'I'm from Sweden,' Krogh said. He smiled. 'Is that better?' Farrant got the distinct impression he was being made fun of, flapped his hand at Krogh in disgust. 'All right, all right. Forget I said anything.' 'As if I could,' Krogh said, the smile remaining. They both looked up as engines sounded on the driveway. Two jeeps were pulling in; Akueson in the first, the Smiths in the back of the s