Two figures sat on a pair of chairs outside the presidential suite. One of the guys was slender with close-cropped hair, a pencil moustache and a pair of dark tinted sunglasses. His mate was thickset and lighter-skinned, with a wide nose and a round head shaped like a bowling ball. They were both dressed in the same plain suits as Jallow. Both of them had the same peculiar scars on their cheeks. The other members of the president’s BG team, Bowman assumed. At the sight of their colleagues they rose slowly to their feet and nodded greetings at Jallow. The latter exchanged a few words in his mother tongue with the bodyguards. Then he turned to the soldiers.

‘This is Isaac Deka,’ he said, gesturing the guy with the pencil moustache. Then he pointed to the guy with the bowling-ball face. ‘And this is Patrick Okello. My colleagues.’

Jallow addressed the bodyguards and gestured towards Bowman and Kember, making the introductions. Okello, the guy with the bowling-ball face, slanted his eyes towards the soldiers, slowly. Stared at them with naked hostility.

Kember said, ‘What’s the craic with them scars?’

‘Tribal marks,’ Jallow explained. ‘Every man in our tribe is scarred on his twelfth birthday.’

‘Lots of tribes, are there?’

‘Hundreds. But ours is the most warlike in Karatandu. Only men from our tribe are trusted to guard the life of the president.’

There was a clear note of pride in his voice. Which was understandable, Bowman thought. Personal bodyguard to the president was a position of great trust. Their appointments would have had less to do with their capabilities than their absolute loyalty to the boss. Now they were reaping the rewards. Foreign travel, the chance to line their own pockets. The perks of the job. Probably an honorary leadership role in their tribe as well.

Lungu said, ‘Wait here. We have some business to discuss with Mr Seguma first.’

‘How long is that gonna take?’ Kember asked.

‘Not long. We’ll call you when Mr Seguma is ready.’

She tapped her smart card against a reader above the lock, waited for the light to blink green, then wrenched the handle and disappeared inside. Jallow and Deka and Okello shuffled in after her. The door clicked shut.

Bowman took the chair Deka had just vacated. Kember sank into the chair next to him and scowled.

‘Can you believe this shit? Here we are doing them a favour, and they’re treating us as if we’re a pair of turds they’ve trodden in.’

‘Leave it, Geordie,’ Bowman replied.

Kember shook his head. ‘We’re Regiment. We shouldn’t have to put up with this crap.’

‘We don’t have a choice.’

‘Yeah, we do. We could tell Mr T and his mate to go fuck themselves.’

Bowman glanced sidelong at his colleague. ‘That’s not a good idea,’ he said. ‘It’s not worth the hassle, mate.’