EPILOGUE

Two weeks later.

The private hospital room in Kinshasa was stark and white, and the sun shone brightly in through a small window. Russell Tracey was covered in a sheet, his head propped up on three plump pillows as he slept lightly. His breathing was heavy and measured, but it carried none of the frightening rasp of a couple of weeks ago.

At his bedside were two people, a boy and a woman. Ben Tracey had not been in the same room as his mother and father for years. It was weird, the three of them being there together now. Weird but nice – it was just a shame it had taken all this to make it happen. Bel had flown over the moment news of her son and ex-husband had reached her ears, and since she arrived, she and Russell hadn't even argued. Well, not much, anyway. Bel hadn't been able to resist a few arch 'I told you so's; but even she, with all her prophecies of doom, could never have predicted how their trip to the Democratic Republic of the Congo would end.

Most of the time, they all sat quietly, waiting for Russell's strength to return. Both Ben and his dad had been interviewed by the Kinshasa police, and there was quiet satisfaction to be had from the knowledge that Kruger and his associates were being dealt with by the authorities. But he had seen the corruption of this country first-hand – justice had a different way of working out here, and Ben didn't know if they would end up paying for what they had done. At least they would no longer be able to make money out of the suffering of the poor villagers, but he had no idea how well they had covered their tracks. He hoped they would be brought to book; but now, more than anything, he just wanted to go home.

Today, as Russell slept, Ben kept noticing the way his mum looked at her ex-husband. It's amazing how being close to death changes the way you look at the world, he thought to himself, and he began fantasizing whether this might be the beginning of something. Maybe he'd have a family once again.

He was interrupted from his daydream by a knock at the door – another nurse, no doubt. 'Come in,' Bel called – just like her to take charge, Ben thought with a smile. And his smile broadened when he saw who came through the door.

When he had last seen Halima, she had been dirty and bedraggled after everything they had been through. Before being given permission to leave the village, he had tried to persuade the UN doctors to let him see her, but that permission was flatly denied. He had been in isolation for days, and they weren't about to let him go back into infected areas. They wouldn't tell him what the result of her antibody test was; they wouldn't even tell him if she was dead or alive.

Now her hair was clean and her skin shining. Ben shot up from his seat. 'Halima!'

'They told me you would be here,' she replied with a grin.

'How are you? I mean, I didn't know if you-'

'They say I will not fall ill,' Halima said seriously. 'One of the men from the United Nations allowed me to travel back in a helicopter with him. I am staying with my sister.' She looked at Russell. 'How is your father?'

'He's OK. He's going to get better. Um… this is my mum.'

Bel stood up and politely shook Halima's hand. There was a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes. 'I've heard a lot about you, Halima,' she said mischievously.

Halima's eyes lowered and Ben found himself wanting to change the conversation. 'You heard about Abele?' he blurted out. He had no wish to upset Halima, but poor Abele had been on his mind ever since he left Udok.

Halima looked up, directly at him, and sadness shadowed her face. 'He was a strong man, but not strong enough.'

Ben shuddered as the image of the canvas-covered corridor leading to the incinerator slipped into his mind. Even now, weeks after his death, it didn't seem right that such a strong person should be laid low by a mere illness. It was wrong. 'He saved my life,' Ben said humbly. 'More than once. I can't believe he's…' Ben couldn't bring himself to say the word 'dead'.

'He is one of many,' Halima murmured. 'It will take many years for Udok to recover from this. Perhaps it never will.'

'I'm sorry, Halima.'

'You have nothing to be sorry about. I did not know Abele, though I will mourn him, more than I can say. But remember this: in saving your life, Abele saved the lives of many more. If it were not for you' – she looked over at Russell – 'and your father, of course, this evil virus might have spread. Then it would not only have been one village destroyed, but many.'

Ben looked sharply at her. 'So you believe it was a virus now?' he asked. 'Not a curse of the ancestors?'

Halima's face was inscrutable as she walked over to the window and looked out. 'Do you remember when we were in the forest? I told you that if a snake bites you, you may go to a doctor for a cure. But a doctor will not tell you why the snake bit you in the first place, or what it was doing in your house.'

Ben nodded silently, where a few weeks ago he might have scoffed.

'I believe that the ancestors punished us for disturbing their resting place. The manner in which they did it was up to them.'

Ben said nothing, but he felt inside his pocket. His fingers brushed against a small metal amulet that he had found round his father's neck. He had recognized it immediately. It was Abele's. Ben had intended to keep it as a memento but now, he thought, he had a better idea. He pulled it from his pocket and offered it to Halima. 'This was Abele's,' he said. 'He put it around my dad's neck when he was ill. I think you should have it.'

Halima looked at the token in Ben's outstretched palm, her face unreadable. Then she lifted her own hand and gently closed Ben's fingers back around the amulet. 'No, Ben. It brought your father great luck; maybe it will do the same for you. I have my own.' She touched her hand to her chest.

For a guilty moment, Ben found himself feeling glad that his father was asleep – no doubt he would have had a comment to make about such superstition. Come to think of it, he was surprised that his mum was keeping quiet and staring at him with an unknowable look on her face. Somewhere deep down, he was glad Halima had let him keep the token. Maybe it had had nothing to do with his dad's recovery, but then again…

Suddenly Halima's face grew less intense. 'My people have much to thank you for, Ben Tracey,' she told him seriously. 'And yet, perhaps, they do not know it. There are hard times ahead for Udok. Our livestock have been slaughtered, the mine is closed. Now there is no work for the men who remain, and little food. My village's problems, I think, are just beginning.'

Ben stared at her. 'But surely there will be help. The government, the United Nations…'

Halima smiled patiently. 'Humanitarian aid?' she said with irony in her voice. 'Yes, there will be some of that, for a while. But Udok's difficulties will soon be forgotten by the powerful people. Life in my village will be extremely difficult for many years to come.'

A cloud seemed to have descended on the room. 'Being a hero is not always easy, Ben Tracey.' Halima glanced apologetically at his mum. 'And now, you are with your family. I will not intrude any longer. But perhaps I will see you again one day?'

Ben stood up. 'I hope so,' he said sincerely.

Halima smiled modestly. She stepped up to Ben, put one hand on his arm, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

'Goodbye, Ben,' she said.

Then she turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Ben stared at the shut door for a few moments, strange emotions running through him. He touched his fingers to his cheek where Halima had kissed him. When he turned, his mum was watching him, one eyebrow raised and an amused look on her face.