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happening?' he asked in a marked South African accent.
One of the black men spoke. He was short, with chubby features and a sing-song voice in which he spoke immaculately polite English. 'I think it would be best, my friend, if you filled us all in from the beginning.'
The South African nodded. 'Certainly, Mr Ngomo. As major shareholders, you will all be aware that the Eastern Congo Mining Corporation has been mining for tin in the east of the country for just over a year. Profits have been' - he shrugged - 'adequate.'
The men round the table nodded their heads.
'A little over six weeks ago, our mine manager there extended the excavations and believes he has come across a source of Coltan. Very plentiful, and on first examination of very high quality. I know a number of you have interests in other Coltan plants, so I needn't explain how lucrative it can be.'
'That rather depends,' one of the other white men interrupted, 'on the quality of the ore.'
'Indeed. As we speak, we have a British scientist flying out there to examine what we have found. He's one of the best.'
The men around the table nodded their approval.
'There is, however,' the South African continued, 'as you know, one small hitch.'
None of the men around the table looked at each other, and there was an oppressive silence before Mr Ngomo spoke. 'I assume you are referring to the unfortunate deaths of the mine-workers in recent weeks.'
The South African nodded almost serenely.
'Correct me if I'm wrong,' Ngomo continued, 'but the symptoms sound very much like those of extreme malaria.'
The South African inclined his head. 'Similar enough, I would say, for our purposes at least. Of course, there are rumours among the villagers . . .'
'Rumours are fine. They will keep people away. I understand that the village is extremely isolated, and that it seldom attracts visitors from the surrounding area. But if word gets out that we have discovered Coltan here, we can expect unwanted interest - you know how unstable that region is. I assume you have taken steps to stop word leaking out.'
'Of course,' the South African stated. 'Our mine manager controls all the transport in the village, and we have stopped any mail or deliveries from coming in or out. But I'm afraid there is an unforeseen problem.'
'What is that?'
'The workforce. They are dying more quickly than we anticipated. We don't have enough men or boys to work the mine.'
'Then you will need to bring in more personnel. Where is the nearest village?'
'Half a day's drive away.'
'We must import more workers from there. But we must keep it a secret, what we're doing.'
Suddenly one of the other white men spoke. 'If it's secrecy you want,' he observed, 'then I'm afraid it is already compromised.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean the scientist. He will return to the outside world soon enough; and what if he suspects what we suspect about the deaths among the mine-workers and their families?'
The South African smiled blandly. 'His work will be done in a matter of days,' he observed before standing up and looking out of the window into a neat courtyard below. 'Unfortunately he has his son with him.' The men around him looked troubled. 'He's an unprepossessing kid - I don't think he will cause us any trouble. But I caught him speaking to one of the villagers who works in our offices.'
'She told him the rumours?' Nkomo asked.
'I don't know. But it's OK - I have arranged for them to travel to Udok earlier than expected. That way, we don't risk anybody else filling their heads with ideas. And of course, people succumb to all sorts of things in that part of the Congo.'
He turned round and gave everyone in the room a knowing look, which they returned in unified silence.
'Then I suggest' - Nkomo spoke in a monotone voice - 'that once the scientist has done his job, he and his son are considered entirely dispensable.'
Everyone in the room nodded their heads slowly.
'Good,' Nkomo continued smoothly. 'Then I think that just about concludes our