The camera cut to a short, stout figure dressed in army fatigues, aviator sunglasses and a purple beret. A chinstrap beard accented the officer’s strong jawline. He sat on a mountainside, flanked by a couple of tough-looking soldiers, their massive arms crossed in front of them. The caption at the bottom of the screen identified the guy in the middle as General Moses Kakuba, leader of the main rebel opposition. He smiled at a question asked by a journalist off-camera, revealing a pair of golden front teeth.

‘We will not be cowed into surrender,’ Kakuba was saying. ‘If Seguma thinks we are afraid, he is badly mistaken. We are ready to fight . . . even if it means death. Our lands have been ransacked. Our people have been tortured and murdered in the thousands. We have nothing to lose. We will not stop fighting until we have achieved a new dawn for Karatandu, for our people. A new socialist dawn.’

The camera cut again to a shot of President Seguma waving at his supporters as he boarded a plane. Kember shook his head in disgust. ‘I still can’t believe we’re having to protect this twat.’

Bowman said, ‘We’ve protected worse, mate.’

‘The guy is nicknamed the Viper, for fuck’s sake. He tied up one of his political opponents and tossed them into a pit of poisonous snakes.’

‘Come off it, mate. That story isn’t true.’

‘How would you know?’

Bowman shrugged. He was on the verge of an opioid withdrawal. He didn’t want to get dragged into a debate on ethics with Kember.

‘What about all those other stories about him personally torturing victims?’ said Kember. ‘Cutting off fingers and ears and toes, burying people alive, crucifying protestors and putting their heads on stakes? Are you saying it’s all bullshit?’

‘It doesn’t make any difference. We’re here now.’

‘You’re telling me you’re OK with this?’

‘We’ve got a job to do,’ Bowman replied tersely. ‘That’s it. Whatever you personally feel about the bloke, it doesn’t matter.’

Kember shook his head. ‘He’s a world-class psychopath. He’s slaughtering his own people. We shouldn’t be protecting him.’

‘It’s not that simple,’ Bowman said quietly.

‘Yeah, it bloody is.’ Kember nodded at the news report. ‘We’re putting our balls on the line for some tinpot dictator committing atrocities.’

‘This isn’t about Seguma. His country’s sitting on a load of gas and oil. It’s in our interests to keep him onside. If he gets plugged, the next bloke might not be so friendly.’

Kember sneered. ‘I don’t care if the country’s paved with gold. Doesn’t mean we should let the prick get away with murder.’

‘Your feelings about Seguma are the least of our problems.’ Bowman nodded at the screen. ‘Those protests are getting hot.’

‘What’s that got to do with our op?’