by Tony Park
The gunman jogged to Shadrack’s house. There was yelling from inside and the pair of them emerged, then ran to a battered red Isuzu bakkie and got in.
‘Sonja, are you there?’ Tema gasped into her phone.
‘Yes, was that gunfire?’
Tema related what had happened.
‘Stay where you are. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m calling the police.’
‘All right.’
Tema ended the call. As the Isuzu disappeared, dust in its wake, Tema took a deep breath, got up and ran to the fallen policemen. People were peeking from their doorways, but no one else was out on the street.
The first man she reached was dead, but the second officer was alive. He’d been wearing body armour and had taken two rounds there that had winded him, but he had another bullet hole in his leg and the side of his head had been creased by a bullet.
‘First aid kit, in the bakkie,’ he wheezed.
Tema found the kit and took out a pressure bandage which she wrapped around the man’s leg.
‘Get me to the radio, please.’
Tema helped the man up, with difficulty as he was overweight, and he leaned on her as they limped to the truck. He called in the shooting, but began slurring his words.
Tema checked his wound again. The bandage was already soaked.
‘You’re bleeding out. I’ve got to get you to a doctor. Get in.’
She settled him in the passenger seat of the police truck, got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. She’d never owned a car, but had learned to drive in preparation for her anti-poaching course.
The Toyota lurched and stalled as she took her foot off the clutch too quickly. Tema forced herself to calm down, remembered her instruction and started again. This time she moved forward smoothly then ground through the gears as she accelerated.
Her phone rang.
‘Tema, it’s Sonja. The national parks’ helicopter is grounded at Skukuza after being hit last night. I’m at Khaya Ngala and Julianne Clyde-Smith is readying her chopper. I’m coming to you. Where are the men now?’
‘Driving south, on the gravel road from Huntington back towards the R536. I’m going the same way, trying to get a wounded policeman to the doctor.’
‘Sheesh,’ Sonja said. ‘Don’t do anything silly.’
‘This man is a murderer. Shadrack is with him. We’re nearly at the tar road. He’s heading right, towards Mkhuhlu. They’re in a red Isuzu bakkie, gangster’s paradise plates,’ Tema said, using the common nickname for a vehicle registered in Johannesburg, Gauteng Province.
‘Get your policeman to hospital. We’ll keep track of the Isuzu until the cops arrive. I’ll call van Rensburg and tell her our man’s on the run, not far from the Kruger Park.’
Tema closed on the speeding vehicle, the needle on the speedometer climbing to a hundred. She looked at the officer next to her. ‘We’ll be at the doctor’s soon, hang in there.’
‘That man killed my partner.’
‘He killed two of my friends in the anti-poaching unit I was training to be a part of, as well.’
‘You’ve got guts, sisi. How bad do you want these guys?’
‘Very bad.’
‘Get me close enough to them and I’ll shoot the driver.’
Tema nodded. ‘All right.’
Chapter 5
Doug Pearse, Julianne’s personal pilot, flew the Gazelle helicopter, and James Paterson was sitting in the front passenger seat.
Sonja sat in the rear, the side door removed, her LM5 assault rifle across her lap. Julianne, who was barely able to contain her excitement, was next to her. Sonja had tried to tell Julianne that it might be safer for her to stay at the lodge, but it seemed that despite her talk of wanting to employ professional surveillance and anti-poaching teams to implement her strategy, she still wanted to see some action herself. Paterson’s quiet professionalism, however, was a nice counterbalance to his employer’s over enthusiasm.
‘I see the Isuzu now,’ Paterson said, his voice monotone. ‘Eleven o’clock. There’s a police bakkie in pursuit.’
Sonja shook her head. ‘Tema. The cops from Skukuza are only just getting out of the Kruger Park.’
‘I’m circling to the right, outflanking them,’ Doug said. ‘If I overfly them they’ll see us or our shadow.’ They swooped over the township below and Doug brought the chopper around.
Julianne spoke into the intercom: ‘If they turn off into Mkhuhlu we might lose them. They’ll ditch the car and do a runner.’
Sonja leaned out, the slipstream catching her ponytail. ‘Up ahead, the road narrows with steep banks on each side, just past a bend. Put down there.’
‘You want to use my helicopter as a roadblock?’ Julianne turned to look at her, eyes wide.
‘Ja.’
Paterson looked to his employer. Clyde-Smith nodded. ‘Do it,’ James said.
‘Well, this should be fun,’ Doug said.
He brought the helicopter around until he was hovering just above the surface of the road, at the end of the mini canyon Sonja had spotted.
‘Turn side-on to give me a clear shot. Be ready to lift off if he doesn’t stop.’
They couldn’t see the Isuzu now, but the driver would be in range soon, with enough time to brake, Sonja hoped. She brought the butt of the LM5 up to her shoulder.
As the truck closed on them she saw two faces through the windscreen. She aimed at the driver but held her fire.
‘They’re not slowing,’ Clyde-Smith said.
‘Steady,’ Sonja told Doug through the headset microphone.
The driver of the car reached out of the window and pointed a handgun at her. She saw the pistol buck his hand. That was her ‘go’ signal. She was officially defending herself and the others in the helicopter now. She squeezed the trigger repeatedly, wishing she had the fully-automatic military version of the rifle. Empty shells spat from the rifle’s ejection port as she stitched a line of holes across the windscreen.
Still the driver kept coming. Sonja fired another burst. ‘Up,’ she commanded.
Doug brought the chopper up, just in time for them to see the Isuzu flash under the skids, with not a metre to spare. ‘After him.’
As Doug banked, Sonja saw a police bakkie scream up the hill in pursuit. Sonja knew she must have hit the driver of the fleeing truck, as the Isuzu now started to swerve on the road.
Another vehicle was coming towards the Isuzu from the other direction, and the driver swung back into his own lane, hit the brakes and then overcorrected. He lost control and the truck left the road, went into a ditch and rolled.
‘Bloody hell, did you see that?’ Julianne said.
The other woman was almost gleeful, Sonja thought, but she herself was working. ‘Put us down, close.’
As Doug set up for landing in an improvised roadside soccer pitch, locals started converging on the crash scene. Sonja watched as the police truck pulled up. She saw a woman in camouflage get out. Tema strode towards the Isuzu, which had come to a stop, right side up. She had a pistol held up in two hands, the way Sonja had taught her to shoot.
The driver’s side door opened. A man crawled out, raised his right hand and pointed a pistol at Tema.
‘Shoot,’ Sonja urged her.
The man fired first.
Tema stopped and seemed to falter and for a moment Sonja feared she had been hit, but instead she dropped to one knee, to make herself a smaller target. As the helicopter touched down Tema fired twice. Through her fear for the younger woman Sonja felt a surge of pride; those long weeks of hard training had paid off. The gunman was down.
Sonja jumped from the chopper and, rifle still up, ran to the Isuzu. She circled around it, ready to fire. Inside, however, she saw that the passenger was immobile, an AK-47 lying across his lap and a bullet hole in his forehea
d. Sonja reached in and put her fingers to his neck.
‘One dead here,’ she called.
‘Same here,’ replied Tema.
Sonja went to her. ‘Nice shooting.’
‘Thank . . . thank you.’ Tema held the pistol loosely in her right hand.
‘Next time, don’t wait so long. Him pointing a gun at you is all the provocation you need.’
Tema stared at her and Sonja saw the tears well in her eyes and her shoulders start to shrug as the spasms overtook her. Slinging her rifle over her shoulder, Sonja went to her, wrapped her arms around Tema and hugged the young woman to her body.
‘You did well, my girl.’
*
Hudson Brand left his party of six American birdwatchers at the reception desk of the Protea Hotel, Kruger Gate. The thought of going back to the empty house in Hippo Rock was mildly depressing.
He’d lived alone, more or less, for years, and it had been surprising to him how quickly he’d become used to Sonja being around.
Hudson had lost his first true love in terrifyingly violent circumstances when he’d served in Angola during the border war in the 1980s, and he knew that had made him wary of settling down with a woman. Also, in truth, he liked being single.
Yet after little more than a week he’d found himself looking forward to sharing his life with Sonja. The house had felt, well, homey, for the first time, and they had settled into a nice mini routine. She would leave early, conduct her training for the Leopards during the day and get home around four thirty. They’d have a drink on the deck overlooking the river then kiss, make love, and he would cook.
He remembered the smell of her hair, the feel of her toned body against his, the warmth of her when he woke in the middle of the night. A couple of nights she’d had nightmares, and he’d held her, damp with sweat, in his arms until she had stilled. In the mornings afterwards she had been unwilling to discuss her dreams. He hadn’t pushed it.
Hudson needed a drink.
The Protea had a nice safari feel to it. The reception area was open plan under a high thatched roof. He walked along the dark-timbered deck past the main bar and restaurant then followed the elevated walkway towards the Sabie River. Spread out along the bank, overlooking the Kruger National Park, was a terrace bar with a few thatched cabanas on stilts.
Hudson saw that the regular barman, Mishack, was on duty.
‘Howzit, Mishack?’
‘Fine and you,’ he said, but missing was the young man’s trademark smile. He was good at his job and normally had an easy, welcoming manner.
‘Fine. Castle Lite, draught, please.’
‘Sure.’
Mishack pulled the beer but kept his eyes downcast. ‘Bad day?’ Hudson asked.
Mishack looked up and blinked. ‘My brother, Shadrack, was killed today. A friend of mine walked past the scene of a shooting and recognised Shadrack’s body, and that of our cousin. My friend called me with the news, I still can’t believe it.’
‘Hell.’ Hudson knew Shadrack, who had worked around his house at Hippo Rock. ‘What happened?’
‘Some anti-poaching people shot him. They say he was hunting rhino in the park and killed one of those women, those Leopards, and that both Shadrack and our cousin had guns.’
Hudson whistled. He was tempted to say he couldn’t believe it, but the cash on offer for rhino horn was enough to turn even dedicated national parks rangers and police. A poor young man such as Shadrack could have earned more than a year’s worth of wages from taking a single rhino. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Mishack said.
Hudson reached over the bar and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, man.’
A party of tourists sitting in the nearest cabana was waving to Mishack, trying to get his attention. ‘Thank you, I have to go.’
Hudson took his beer to a table by the deck railing and sat down.
The Sabie was wider here than in front of the house where he lived, though at this time of year the water was restricted to a narrow channel. A breeding herd of a dozen or more elephants was browsing contentedly in the reeds in the middle of the mostly dry riverbed. Hudson sat for a while, enjoying his beer and the tranquillity.
He heard a chair scraping on the wooden deck beside him and turned to see a red-haired woman taking her seat. She wore cut-off denim shorts and a lime tank top. She was carrying a paperback.
‘Sorry for the noise,’ she said.
‘No problem.’
‘I hope I didn’t disturb the elephants,’ she said.
‘Oh, don’t worry about them. They’re feeding, which means they’re nice and relaxed.’
‘Cool.’ She watched the herd for a few moments then opened her book. ‘I’ve just been reading about elephants in the Kruger Park as it happens.’
He made a show of peering around at the cover of her book. ‘Ivory. I’ve read it.’
‘I’m enjoying it,’ she said.
‘That’s the one about modern-day pirates, right? Kind of far-fetched, but I liked it.’
She smiled as Mishack brought her a cocktail, set it down and carried on with a tray of drinks for the other tourists. ‘What girl doesn’t love a pirate?’
He raised his beer to her and she picked up her drink and took a sip.
She set her glass down and closed her book on her lap. ‘You don’t sound South African, originally.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m a mongrel. Half American, half Portuguese-Angolan.’
‘That’s more an exotic pedigree, I’d say, than mongrel. Are you a guide?’
‘Yes. Just been out on a birding tour today.’
‘Sounds exciting.’
‘For some folks. This group came from the States; for some it’s their ninth or tenth visit. Where are you from?’
‘Cape Town. I’m a journalist. I’m here on holiday.’
‘No game drive this afternoon? It’s great wildlife viewing this time of year.’
‘Oh, I like all kinds of wildlife. Actually, I’m happier just sitting here, watching the elephants and reading, than chasing about the park trying to spot the Big Five.’
‘I hear you.’ He sipped his beer.
She was pretty, flirty, maybe mid-thirties. So much his type it wasn’t funny. She finished her drink.
Hudson hesitated. He thought of Sonja and how unfair it was that she had lashed out at him, thought the worst of him. He hadn’t deserved that. ‘Can I buy you another?’
She licked her lips. ‘Sure.’
Hudson called Mishack over and ordered refills for both of them. He introduced himself to the woman.
She held out her hand. ‘Rosie Appleton.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Rosie.’
‘How lucky am I? I get to avoid the crowd and still end up with my own private safari guide.’
*
Sonja finished with Captain Sannie van Rensburg for the second time that day, and accepted a lift with Tema’s uncle, who had come to the scene of the car wreck and shooting in his tiny, rusting Ford Bantam bakkie.
While the local police from Hazyview had taken over the investigation of the killing of the two men, Sonja had first called van Rensburg letting her know that she and Tema were sure there was a connection to the shootings in the Sabi Sand Game Reserve. An ambulance had taken away the injured police officer, and it looked like he would be fine, unlike his partner.
Tema’s uncle tried to insist that Sonja ride in the front, in relative comfort, but Sonja chose instead to sit in the open back with Tema. She wanted time with the girl, to make sure she was OK.
‘I am,’ Tema said, when Sonja enquired.
The initial shock after the shooting was wearing off, although Sonja knew the trauma would manifest itself again, in other ways – nightmares, flashbacks. But for now, T
ema seemed composed.
‘I’m just sad,’ she said, ‘about Shadrack. I thought he was such a good boy – man – so harmless.’
‘It never ceases to amaze me,’ Sonja said, ‘what men are capable of.’
Tema looked into her eyes. ‘Oh, I know what men are capable of, I just thought Shadrack was different.’
Sonja had thought Hudson Brand was different. Maybe he was. Maybe nothing at all had happened between him and the van Rensburg woman. She didn’t feel anything for the men they had killed just now – from her cursory inspection of the bodies it looked like both she and Tema had hit each of the two men. Tema’s second shot had been meant for the driver, but when he fell the bullet had gone into Shadrack, inside the vehicle, and that’s what concerned the younger woman the most, that she might have killed the neighbour she had known since childhood.
‘I need to see Shine, my daughter, to hold her,’ Tema said.
‘I know how you feel.’ Sonja was just pleased that Emma was somewhere safe, without guns, doing what she loved.
Tema’s uncle sped down the R536, through the settling gloom. They passed the entrance to Elephant Point and then Hippo Rock Private Nature Reserve. Sonja thought of Hudson Brand and wondered if she should ask to be let out there. However, she had left her pack and dive bag at the Protea Hotel’s concierge after checking out that morning, still unsure of where she would spend the night.
‘Julianne Clyde-Smith has offered me a job, starting right away,’ Sonja said to Tema.
‘I am pleased for you. I have to get used to calling white women Madam again, that is if I can find another job as a domestic.’
‘I wanted to talk to you about that.’
Tema smiled. ‘If you are staying in South Africa I would be so happy to be your maid.’
Sonja had to laugh. ‘No, I don’t want or need a maid. The job I’ve been offered, I can recruit my own team.’
‘Anti-poaching, like the Leopards? Serious?’
‘Don’t get too excited. It will be a different job, more dangerous. You have to think about your daughter.’
‘Last night we learned how dangerous this job can be. I don’t think the others – Lungile, Lucy, Mavis, poor Patience and Goodness – truly realised.’