The Dark of the Sun
Wilbur A. Smith
The Congo. Situated at the heart of sub-Saharan Africa, it is a place where men die for diamonds. For love. And for the unholy pleasure of others...
Bruce Curry is the leader of a mercenary band with the dubious support of three officers. His mission: To relieve a diamond-mining town cut off by the fighting and retrieve a priceless consignment of diamonds. Along the way, he meets a beautiful Belgian woman. Shermaine is a dream come true. But the rest of Curry's journey is about to become a living nightmare.
Ranged against his ill-disciplined unit are bandits, guerrillas, and hostile tribes that infest the land. In a sinister atmosphere of omnipotent evil, Curry fights to stay alive—and protect Shermaine, his one true love. But to do so, he must face another, even deadlier enemy: one of his own men...
‘Objective theories must have subjective application to prove their worth,’ Mike pointed out. There was just a trace of an amused smile on his broad ravaged old face. ‘Let’s forget it then. I don’t want to talk personalities,’ snapped Bruce; then immediately went on to do so. ‘Humanity sickens me if I think about it too much. De Surrier puking his heart out with fear, that animal Hendry, you trying to keep off the liquor, Joan—’ He stopped himself abruptly. ‘Who is Joan?’ ‘Do I ask you your
‘Get me that field gun – start shooting.’ They fired a ragged volley, then the Bren guns joined in. With every burst André’s helmet slipped forward over his eyes and he had to stop and push it back. Lying on the roof of the leading coach, Wally Hendry was firing short businesslike bursts. The shufta round the field gun scattered, leaving one of their number lying in the road, but there were men behind the armour shield – Bruce could see the tops of their helmets. Suddenly there was a long gush
am rating you acting second cook without pay.’ ‘You are too kind,’ and she put her tongue out at him. It was a pink pointed little tongue like a cat’s. Bruce felt the old familiar tightening of his legs and the dryness in his throat as he looked at it. ‘Shermaine, the locomotive is damaged beyond repair. It is of no further use.’ He spoke in English. ‘It makes a passable kitchen,’ she demurred. ‘Be serious.’ Bruce’s anxiety made him irritable. ‘We’re stranded here until we think of
him, much too fast to be intelligible and the roll of paper in the repeater was exhausted. Bruce took off his helmet and laboriously spelled out, ‘Transmit slower.’ It was a long business with requests for repetition. ‘Not understood’ was made nearly every second signal, but finally Bruce got the operator to understand that he had an urgent message for Colonel Franklyn of President Tshombe’s staff. ‘Wait,’ came back the laconic signal. And they waited. They waited an hour, then two. ‘That mad
dozen jobs, had pushed him, laughed at him, gaoled him twice – They, all of them (and Bruce Curry who was their figurehead), they were going to win again. Not even this once, not even ever. ‘Goddam it,’ he cursed in hopeless, wordless anger against them all. ‘Goddam it, goddam it to hell,’ and he fired at the dark blob in his sights. – 33 – As he ran Bruce looked across a hundred yards of open ground to the edge of the forest. He felt the wind of the next bullet as it cracked past him.