It was day now, and the light seemed to pierce his eyes right through to the very centre of his skull. His body was shaking violently, and his stomach was knotted with nausea. He had no idea how long he had been lying there, nor did he feel in any state to move.

Then it all came flooding back: Russell Tracey, Suliman, the fire. People were in danger. He had to do something.

He struggled weakly to push himself up from the ground, wincing as his burned hands scraped against some jagged stones. Once he was on his feet, he had to grab hold of a nearby sapling to steady himself. The world seemed to spin and he nearly collapsed into a shivering pile; but somehow, something kept him going and he staggered back onto the road. The rain was falling heavily now, so heavily that it seemed to bruise the top of his head, and as he stood there, soaked to the skin, he became aware of his heavy breathing, rasping and gasping. His mind was disorientated and he looked in confusion around him, unable to work out which direction led to the village and which back to the mine. He chose a direction at random – minewards – and staggered along the road. Occasionally he fell and had to push himself back up again, his face grimacing and muscles straining. It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

Both the rain and the illness blurred Abele's vision, so he could not be sure, once he had covered the short distance to the mine area, that his eyes were not deceiving him. He blinked and looked again: it certainly seemed like them. Ben and Halima were rushing across the empty ground, their hands covering their heads to protect them from the pelting rain. They headed towards Suliman's office, then looked furtively around before sneaking inside. What were they doing? Abele tried to make his brain work, but it was spinning and confused. He tried to call out to them, but his voice failed him and he merely doubled over in a fit of coughing. As he straightened up, he lost his balance and fell to the ground, facing the opposite way, back towards the village.

Again he blinked. There was a Land Rover on the road, travelling slowly because of the rain, with its headlights on full beam. It was heading straight for Abele who, rather than move out of the way, simply sat there staring, unable to force his body into action.

The sound of the rain blotted out the noise of the vehicle's engine until it was nearly upon Abele; by the time it was that close, he became aware of the fact that the horn was beeping loudly. The Land Rover stopped a few metres away, waiting for him to shift out of the way, the horn continuing to honk; but Abele just stayed where he was, unable to move. The windscreen wipers swished furiously, but still the heavy rain made it impossible to tell who was in the vehicle, and no doubt the driver had just as much difficulty seeing out.

Eventually the door opened and someone emerged. He was tall and lanky with a pronounced Adam's apple and a shaved head. Abele looked up at him in distaste. 'Suliman,' he spat with difficulty.

Suliman gave a nasty sneer and spoke to Abele in Kikongo. 'So that's where you've got to after last night's heroics. It looks to me like you'd have been better off where you were.'

But Abele wasn't really listening to him. The image of Ben and Halima rushing into Suliman's office flitted once more through the confused jumble of his mind. He didn't know what they were doing, but he was sure it would go badly for them if Suliman discovered the two youngsters in his office. He had to stall him. Give them time. If it was the last thing he did.

'Get out of the way,' Suliman was saying.

Abele just stared at him, unable even to shake his head. He didn't move.

'I told you to get out of my way,' Suliman insisted, his voice threatening.

Abele stayed right where he was. He didn't know what Suliman would do, but he just kept his mind focused on one objective: to make sure Ben and Halima had enough time.

The rain continued to fall on the two men.

When it became clear to Suliman that Abele would not budge, he nodded firmly to himself, then disappeared back into the car, returning a few seconds later with his assault rifle. Grim-faced, he pointed it at the kneeling Abele. 'Get out of the way,' he ordered for the third time.

Abele slowly raised his eyes, looked into Suliman's face, and shook his head.

Instantly, Suliman whacked Abele on the side of his face with the rifle. It was a vicious blow, and it caused Abele to topple heavily onto his side, a deep gash across his face. The rain washed the blood onto the ground below him, and Abele's eyes flickered closed. Then he heard Suliman's voice. 'I could kill you now if I wanted,' he boasted. 'Nobody would know, and nobody would care. But I choose not to, because you're going to die anyway, and it will be far more horrible than the easy way out of a bullet in your skull. That's what has happened to your friends, by the way – the girl and the young English boy.'

The rain pounded on the side of Abele's face, stinging his cut.

Suddenly he felt his ankles being grabbed and he was dragged unceremoniously to the side of the road and into a ditch. The wet dust scraped along his face, yet he still couldn't find the energy to open his eyes, let alone fight back. All he could do was hope he had stalled Suliman for long enough.

Suliman himself looked down at the prostrate figure with distaste. He spat at him, then kicked him hard in the stomach before turning back, sodden and scowling, to his truck, leaving Abele in the ditch to die.

The noise of the rain against the corrugated-iron roof of Suliman's office was almost deafening.

The moment they were inside, Ben looked around for the satellite phone. He found it soon enough, on a table in the corner. It sat in a hard, black flight case with a separate, bulky battery on the floor and a wire leading up the wall and through the roof – to the antenna, Ben assumed. The rest of the table was a mess of wires and plugs, and Ben realized he had absolutely no idea how the thing worked. 'Keep watch out of the window,' he told Halima. 'Let me know if anyone comes.' Then he turned his attention back to the phone.

The handset was large and bulky, with a small LCD screen at the top. It was attached to the main body of the apparatus with a curling black wire, but there was no response from the buttons when Ben pushed them. He directed his attention to the battery and saw a red switch. He flicked it and the LCD screen burst into life.

The number. With a sinking feeling, Ben realized he had put it in his back pocket, and since then he had not only been swimming but had also been totally soaked in the rains. Gingerly he felt for the card his dad had given him. It was still wet, so he pulled it out as gently as he could for fear of ripping it. Ben could hardly bear to look at the thing, so sure was he that it would be unreadable. He breathed out explosively when he realized that the phone number of his dad's office in Macclesfield was still legible. Sam Garner was the name of the guy Dad had told him to call, and when he spoke to him, he knew he would have to sound convincing. Very convincing.

'There is a car coming up the road,' Halima told him, her voice tense. 'Hurry up.'

Ben nodded efficiently, then dialled the number. He strained his ears to listen to the ringing tone; it wasn't easy above the pounding of the rain on the rooftop, and even when the tone arrived, it was weak and crackly, occasionally cutting out. Ben listened, silently praying for his call to be answered.

Ring-ring.

Ring-ring.

It seemed interminable.

Ring-ring.

Ring-ring.

'Pick up, pick up, pick up,' Ben whispered to himself.

Ring-ring.

'Sam Garner.'

The man's voice sounded distant and distracted.