3
Akaki sat, smoked and brooded as we helped Nana lug the camera and lighting gear over to the bench. Several AK muzzles tracked our every move.
The barn roof was no longer being pelted with rain, and the big red puddle around Koba’s head was almost still. The sudden silence inside the barn only seemed to make it harder for Nana to ignore the bodies of Eduard and Nato. Her eyes kept straying back to them. I knew she felt responsible.
I glanced at them once or twice myself. They looked as though they’d been crucified. If the Georgian Times had thought Baz’s body was grisly cargo, I couldn’t wait to see what their headline writers would make of this.
I was pretty much resigned to the fact that, at this rate, we’d be joining them on the inside pages, dangling by the bollocks from a barn door. But there was still a chance. There was always a chance. When Nana’s cavalry arrived, so would the mother of all gangf*cks.
It wasn’t long before everything was rigged, even with two of us on the job not really knowing what we were doing. It couldn’t be helped. There’s a limit to how much you can tear the arse out of a task before it’s obvious you’re doing f*ck all, and on that front, at least, I was an expert. I’d been an infantryman for ten years.
Akaki groomed his beard with a gap-toothed plastic comb, preparing himself for TV stardom. There was a light either side of him and the camera right in front. He liked what he saw.
Nana fiddled about with the lens for a bit and altered the height of the tripod, but she knew as well as we did that she wouldn’t be able to put this off for much longer. She stuck in an earpiece and plugged it into the camera.
Akaki handed his comb to one of his minions. It looked as though it had recently been dipped in goose fat. The expression on his face said he was ready, and ready right now.
But Nana wasn’t, not quite yet, anyway. She moved to his side and murmured quietly in his ear. He looked at her and tugged thoughtfully at a handful of beard.
After a few more tugs, he started bellowing again, but this time Nana wasn’t his target. Ponchos were going back on. AKs were being shouldered.
Charlie and I were busy looking busy, making needless adjustments to the kit. Nana came back over to us, pointing at the lights and conveying a series of highly technical instructions with her outstretched arms.
‘I’ve told him that if this is to go out live to the US, I need to do a series of links to camera in English. These will be used as trails, to guarantee the biggest possible audience . . . I’ve also suggested he send some men to scout exterior locations, and round up enough locals for a crowd scene. He understands it’s very important we get this right. We’re going to meet them at the village hall once we’ve closed down the link.’
Three of the Taliwagons were already firing up as the guys clambered aboard.
Akaki was keeping just the two arse-lickers behind. They stood a few metres away, AKs trained on Charlie and me.
I watched the Taliwagons charge up the track, towards the houses nestled among the trees.
‘Well done, lass.’ Charlie put an avuncular hand on Nana’s shoulder.
She smiled briefly then was back in control. She waved us away from the kit so Akaki could see what was happening. ‘Nick, Charlie, go get in the van. I don’t want him to see your faces when I go live. Go, please.’
She fired some more waffle at Akaki, and he was lapping it up. By the look on his face, he wasn’t too far from suggesting the two of them got a slot together as Georgia’s answer to Richard and Judy.
The lights burst into life as we made our way to the van, and the corner of the barn became Akaki’s little slice of Hollywood.