Jungle Kill by Jim Eldridge

with one hand, he slid the lockpick in and started to turn it. For one awful second the lock-pick stopped, jammed, and Gaz felt the door handle kicking against his hand as the person on the other side tried to pull the door open. Determined, Gaz held on with the iron grip of one hand while he tried again to turn the lock-pick with the other, all the time aware that if it didn’t work soon he’d have to use a flash bang, putting the whole mission at risk.
    Once again, the lock-pick jammed, and Gaz cursed silently. If he tried to force it, there was a good chance it would break, making it impossible to lock the other doors too.
    Someone inside the room shouted angrily and Gaz felt the door being shaken violently. He gritted his teeth, tried to turn the lock-pick one last time, jiggling it slightly backwards and forwards, and this time he heard the cogs of the lock click into place.
    Meanwhile Nelson and Mitch had made it down the stairs to the basement. They stood and listenedin the darkness. There were no sounds from any of the rooms around them. Either they were empty, or their occupants fast asleep. In which case there should be no torches shining down here.
    They glanced around them at the weird world of black and grey through the night-vision goggles.
    Nelson indicated the two doors that opened on to the smallest rooms, according to the information Oba had given them. If their calculations were correct, they were pretty sure Mwanga would be in one of them. If they were wrong, then they had major problems.
    Nelson checked the first door. It was unlocked, which suggested it was unlikely to be where Mwanga was held. He moved to the second door. This door had two heavy bolts on it, top and bottom. Cautiously he tested the handle. It wasn’t locked. But it was bolted.
    That made sense. If Ngola needed to get Mwanga out of here in a hurry, the last thing he’d want was to find that someone had lost the key to the room.Nelson slipped both bolts back and pushed the door open, staying clear of the opening. A basic rule of survival. Never stand in an open doorway: all you do is make a perfect silhouetted target for any enemy waiting inside the room.
    No gunfire sounded.
    Nelson moved swiftly into the room, followed by Mitch, rifles ready.
    A man was sitting in one corner, chained by his ankle to a radiator. Even with the grey fuzz of the night vision, they could see that it was Mwanga and that he had been badly beaten. His face was bruised and swollen. There were cuts above his eyes, and dried blood crusted down the sides of his face and around his mouth.
    ‘Mr Mwanga?’ said Nelson.
    There was a muffled groan from the man.
    ‘Mr Mwanga, we are here to rescue you,’ said Nelson.
    Swiftly he pulled out a pair of bolt cutters and severed the chain holding Mwanga to the radiator.
    Mwanga struggled to get to his feet, but then fell back to the floor.
    ‘I’ll carry you,’ said Nelson.
    ‘No,’ said Mwanga, his voice still thick with pain but sounding firm. ‘I will walk.’
    Once more he pushed himself up and stood unsteadily. He lurched forward, swaying, but obviously determined to get out on his own feet. He made it to the door, and then collapsed again, crashing to the floor.
    ‘I’m sorry, Mr Mwanga, but we don’t have time for this,’ said Nelson.
    He grabbed Mwanga and hauled him over one shoulder, then he headed back to the stairs, Mitch covering him all the way.
    Just as they got there, the deafening sound of gunfire erupted from above them.

18
     
    ‘Situation?’ barked out Nelson as he and Mitch hurried up the stairs. Tug’s voice came to them through their helmet headphones.
    ‘They’re shooting at the doors to open them. We’re returning fire.’
    More bursts of gunfire echoed through the building.
    Nelson arrived at the top of the stairs first, Mwanga draped over his shoulders. Tug and Gaz fired at the now shattered doors to keep the bandits inside at bay, while Nelson ran for the main entrance.
    A