Thunderbolt by Wilbur Smith (reading strategies book .txt) 📕

the camp and took a load away. And just yesterday he consigned my good friend Mo, together with all the rest of the kids who tried to escape with us, back to that hellhole. What do you think will happen to them now he’s done that?!’

‘Jack, you were my concern. You and Amelia and Xander.’

Even as she insisted this, I knew she was thinking of the kids she’d not been able to help, and was wishing she’d been able to do more, so I let up. ‘Thanks for paying him to rescue us at least,’ I said.

‘I didn’t pay him.’

Now she was making no sense at all. ‘Mercenaries do stuff – bad stuff – for money. They’re not charities, Mum. Don’t expect me to believe he did it for free.’

‘Not for free, no. But for something more significant than money.’

An electric pulse went through me as she said that. It connected the dots, just for a second, and I did not like the shape they made one bit. Mum, seeing the pained realisation in my face, started talking quickly, wanting to head it off no doubt, but in fact making everything worse.

‘Jonny and I go way back. He was in the army when we first met, Special Forces, and now he’s in Intelligence. He was out here working. In fact, he’s the real reason we came to Zanzibar. I wanted you to meet him. Not in the way you did, of course. We were trying to organise a simple face-to-face on neutral ground when you were abducted.’

‘The guy buys and sells child soldiers,’ I said. ‘Why would I want to meet somebody like that?’

‘It may have seemed that way, but trust me, he does the exact opposite. And I wanted you to meet him because of who he is. You asked the question. He is the answer.’

I knew what she was going to say – that this Jonny guy was my actual father – but I managed to blot it out somehow, and here’s what I was thinking: Mum had been conned by a bad man before. No matter what she said now, she was wrong to think Jonny, Leopold, whoever, was a good person. I’d seen him be the opposite of good. I said nothing, just sat there as she went on.

‘But listen. Why don’t you let him explain what he actually does in person? He wants to talk to you. Now that you’re out of that hellhole, as you put it, he can drop the cover persona and be himself. Not today, but soon, when you’ve got more of your strength back, talk to him. Let me arrange that.’

I’d seen the guy hand over money for child recruits; I’d watched him condemn Mo and his friends to near certain death. Now, as I lay back against the cool hospital pillow and shut my eyes, I saw the hopeless fear etched on poor Mo’s face as he was led away. With my eyes still closed I answered Mum in a whisper. ‘I’m pleased we’re safe. I’m sorry I put us in danger in the first place. Thank you for getting us out, for organising a rescue. I’m grateful for that guy’s help. But whoever he is he’s not my father and no, I don’t want to meet him today, tomorrow, or next week. In fact, I never want to see his face again for as long as I live.’

Epilogue

A few months later, after what passed for a return to normality – or the drudgery of school, at least – Xander, Amelia and I met up during the autumn half term to go mountain biking. It was a crisp day with a bright blue sky full of contrails. The bracken had already turned brown but most of the trees still had their leaves. We were close to where I live in the Surrey Hills, about to drop into Captain Clunk, one of my favourite trails, and Xander had paused to let some air out of his front tyre. He’d pumped it up too hard that morning before we started. Or at least that was his excuse for washing out in a flat corner on the last run.

Amelia was looking at her phone. I checked mine too and discovered I had a voicemail from a number I didn’t recognise. I reckoned it was probably spam, but Xander was still fiddling with his tyre so I pressed play and held the phone to my ear.

‘Hey,’ said an instantly familiar voice. ‘It’s me, Mo.’

‘No way!’ I shouted, hitting pause.

‘No way what?’ asked Amelia. ‘We’re going to need some context.’

Xander had stood up from his bike and was looking at me closely. I put the phone on speaker and started the message again. Even the birds seemed to quieten down as it played.

‘Hey, it’s me, Mo. I hope you guys are safely home. I thought you might want to know I made it out too, thanks to you. A few of us did. Your treasure worked. Remember that very tall guard the Leopard turned us over to? Well, he saw the sense in trading: a boy for a ring was his best offer. For all seven pieces he’d let seven of us run for it, while he took the rest back to General Sir. We made it to the river and across the border eventually; it wasn’t actually that far but our pace was very slow. In Kenya we split up. Long story short, I reached the capital and found work as a fixer for a travel agent. It doesn’t pay much but I’m allowed to sleep in the storeroom behind the shop and the owner’s wife makes great fried chicken. So, I have a roof over my head and enough to eat and that’s a start. Without those rings I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Thanks again. Who knows what’s coming next? When I find out I’ll let you know!’

The three of us looked at one another. I bit my