‘I’ve done what I can. What he urgently requires is antibiotics. I’ll go and have a word with Kaboro about sending the chopper for some. That was the tender we heard a while ago, wasn’t it?’

Nash frowned. ‘Yeah, I thought he would have got down here by now.’

Suddenly, the tools on the tray rattled and sprang into life. A glass smashed on the deck, and the whole cabin began to shudder as the Albany’s engines started up.

‘High tide?’ Mia stared at Nash.

‘Yes, but we were going to stay put to preserve the crime scene –’

Nash broke off as an appalling smell filled their nostrils. Through the porthole, a huge column of oily black smoke could be seen climbing into the sky.

The PNGDF men had dug the pit in the soft and charred ground behind the riverbank. There had been little conversation, and resentment filled the air almost as thickly as the stench of charred flesh. Singkepe had dug with a vengeance. The men had a right to be angry. Kept in the dark over the purpose of the expedition, they’d been treated like shit from the start, and now they’d lost three good friends whom they were disposing of like rubbish.

Carefully, they’d placed the bodies of Faiwalati, Wirake and Moses in the bottom of the deep pit. Standing at attention, they’d sung the national anthem and wept tears of shame. Singkepe had led them in the Lord’s Prayer, and then they got on with the gruesome task of collecting the mangled bodies of the villagers.

‘That blond faka is a devil,’ young Willy Makua had spat, holding the charred legs of a man whose upper body was indistinguishable from roadkill. He’d thrown the remains into the pit and wiped his hands on his combat fatigues.

‘Is Kaboro really letting him go, sarge?’

‘It’s not his decision, Makua. He takes orders, just like you and me.’

‘Yes, but –’

‘Shut up, Makua!’

Singkepe had pretended not to notice the finger raised at his back. Getting shafted was part of service life. It was pointless to question it.

When every trace of the men and their primitive weapons was in the pit, he’d unscrewed the caps on a 200-litre drum of petrol and tipped it over. Petrol gushed over the macabre heap of legs, arms, bared teeth and staring eyes, distorting the air in a shimmering, fumey haze.

Lighting the match, Singkepe asked God to forgive him.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

‘Kaboro, why are you burning the bodies?’

Nash stood in the doorway of the bridge, breathing shallowly through his mouth to block out the ghastly smell as the thick smoke filled the air.

‘Please, I must concentrate on the ship.’