He left the room and hurried upstairs to fetch the others. A short time later there was an urgent patter of footsteps in the corridor. Mallet and Mavinda entered the room, stepping awkwardly around the guard with the missing jaw. Loader followed them inside with Casey and Webb. The major took in the scene, then knelt down and examined the bodies. He inspected each of them quickly, stretched to his full height and gave a slow shake of his head.

‘These are not members of Mr Seguma’s family,’ he announced.

Loader’s brow dropped. ‘Who are they, then?’

Mavinda gently tapped his foot against the nearest body. ‘This one is the education minister. This one, over here, is the minister for agriculture,’ he added, indicating the guy with the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. ‘Or was, I should say.’

‘And the others?’

‘Two others are cabinet ministers. The rest are staffers. Administrators. Nobodies.’

His voice was callous, cold.

‘What about the first floor?’ Bowman asked. ‘Anyone up there?’

‘All clear,’ Webb replied.

‘The barracks?’

Mavinda said, ‘Some of my guys are searching it as we speak. But it looks like they’re empty.’

Loader stared at the major. ‘So where the fuck is the family?’

‘Maybe the KUF has taken them hostage,’ Bowman said, thinking fast.

‘Why would they do that?’

‘General Kakuba could use them as bargaining chips. He could threaten to execute the president’s wife and kids immediately unless he agrees to step aside.’

Webb made a pained face. ‘If that’s true, we’re finished.’

‘We’ve got a live one here!’ Casey called out.

The others ran over. She was kneeling beside one of the guards. A skinny hollow-cheeked guy with long bony hands and eyes set deep in their sockets. He had the drowsy, comatose look of the almost-dead. Waiting for the light to appear at the end of the tunnel. His lips were cracked. His breath escaped his lungs in shallow, erratic rasps. Bowman glanced down at the man’s wound. The man had been drilled through the guts. The lifeblood was oozing out of him, drenching his shirt and groin.

His lips moved slightly, making a feeble sound. He repeated the same word over and over.

‘What’s he saying?’ Loader asked.

‘He is asking for water,’ Mavinda said.

Mallet turned to him. ‘Give him your canteen, Major.’

‘This man is dying. It is pointless.’

‘Do it.’

Mavinda reluctantly unhooked his bottle from his belt and pressed it to the guard’s lips. The man drank greedily, water dribbling down his chin. He swallowed another mouthful and groaned in pain. Then he said a few words to Mavinda in a tongue Bowman didn’t understand. It sounded similar to the language the president’s bodyguards had used when speaking to each other, back at the royal wedding.

‘Ask him what happened here,’ said Mallet.