The Cull

by Tony Park

  A shoal of cichlids, brightly coloured tropical fish sought by collectors around the world, parted as Mario glided through the warm water, as silent and deadly as a shark. Mario was getting close and could see the outline of the boat ahead and above him, haloed by the sunlight that penetrated the waters around it.

  Mario was ready for the fight, but what he wasn’t expecting was for the water aft of the boat to suddenly start churning with millions of bubbles. The growl of twin diesel motors vibrated in his chest. Mario finned as fast as he could, to get to the boat before it slipped its moorings.

  He angled up towards the surface, and when he broke the water he could see a crewman pulling in the line that had just been released. Next to his face was another Zodiac, towed behind the fishing and dive boat. It started to move.

  Mario unbuckled his dive tank and let it fall from his shoulders to the lake floor. Likewise he had to let the spear gun go as he struck out, swimming overarm as hard as he could as the fishing boat and Zodiac picked up speed. Just when he thought he was too late he redoubled his efforts and managed to slap his right hand onto the transom of the Zodiac.

  Arms straining in their sockets, Mario hauled himself closer and up over the rear of the tender. He struggled aboard, panting, and edged his way forward, staying low in the bilge water to keep out of sight of anyone on board the mother ship who might be looking aft.

  Mario stopped and rested a moment, water sluicing over his body.

  When he had regained his breath and strength he raised his head, looking above the bulbous front of the inflatable. He could see no crewman at the back of the fishing boat. He crawled further forward and reached out for the line tethering the Zodiac. Slowly, hand over hand, he fought the power of the twin diesel engines and the drag of the towed boat to pull the Zodiac closer to the larger boat, one arm length at a time.

  As he crossed the wake the little boat bucked and bounced. Mario was able to grab a metal bollard with his left hand, and, holding fast, reached out with his right to grab the safety railing. He was fit for his age, but was panting once he was on board. Water dripped from him onto the sun-bleached deck.

  Mario looked up and saw that the man who had been guarding the boat at the dockside was now at the helm on the upper deck, his AK-47 leaning against the control panel next to his right leg. That meant, by Mario’s reckoning, that there was now only one man below deck guarding James.

  In front of them, a few hundred metres away, was Peves’s luxury motor cruiser. Mario knew he had to act fast. He scaled the ladder to the bridge and when he was at the top rung he lifted his leg and drew the diving knife from its scabbard. His footsteps on the bridge deck were drowned out by the growl of the boat’s engines and he was sure no one below heard the thud as the security man fell, blood flowing from his slit throat.

  Mario sat in the skipper’s chair and kept his head low in case anyone on the other craft was watching their approach through binoculars. He had charge of the fishing boat now, but he still needed to free Paterson.

  He rolled the dead man over with his foot and, in doing so, saw the handheld radio clipped to his belt. Mario leaned down, picked up the radio and held it to his mouth. He pushed the transmit button and said a few words of nonsense, deliberately cut short and garbled.

  ‘Say again,’ said a voice on the other end.

  ‘Come . . . brid . . . prob . . .’ Mario said. For good measure he grabbed the boat’s throttle and cut it back to neutral. The bow dropped and then Mario gunned and stopped the throttle again, twice more. He picked up the dead man’s AK-47 and cocked it.

  ‘Hell . . . up . . .’ he said into the radio again.

  Mario looked over his shoulder and saw the top of the head of the other guard emerging from below. Mario dropped the throttle back a little so the boat was moving slower, steadier. He brought the AK-47 up to his shoulder, looked over the edge of the upper deck, and when the man peered over the deck at him, eyes wide with surprise, Mario squeezed the trigger, twice.

  *

  ‘Listen to that,’ Hudson Brand said to the bare-chested crewman standing on board the green patrol boat moored by Kipili village. ‘Gunfire. I told you people were in trouble out there.’

  The crewman had steadfastly refused to believe there was danger brewing on the lake, but the faint yet distinctive sound of a rifle being fired had shaken him. He looked to where the noise had come from.

  Mario had called Hudson to tell him Sonja was in trouble. Hudson hated Mario, but Machado had told him he needed extra firepower. Even if it was a trap, Hudson reasoned, it would give him another excuse to kill Mario. Every cloud had a silver lining.

  ‘Hudson!’

  Brand and the sailor turned at the sound of the voice.

  Ezekial was half running, half sliding down the dirt track to the wharf.

  ‘This is my colleague,’ Hudson said to the crewman, loud enough for Ezekial to hear. He was relieved that Ezekial had made it; if he was walking into an ambush he’d also need extra firepower. ‘Captain Radebe from the South African police.’

  ‘Captain?’ said the man.

  Ezekial stopped near them and for a moment he looked surprised at being described as a police officer. However, Ezekial was a quick thinker and played along; he pulled out his South African ID book and flashed it at the sailor. ‘Yes, that’s right. Captain Radebe. We need to commandeer this boat.’

  Hudson glanced at Ezekial and nodded. ‘I was just explaining, Captain, that you and I are here in Tanzania looking for some terrorists who we believe have hijacked a luxury cruiser from the lodge over the hill.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Ezekial said. He lifted the loose shirt he was wearing to show the pistol tucked into his belt. The crewman saw it and looked worried. ‘Let’s go, sailor!’

  Hudson drew his Colt, which he’d kept under wraps until now, and jumped aboard the boat with Ezekial close behind him. The crewman, unused to the presence of armed foreigners and, probably, the prospect of action, said nothing.

  ‘Start the engines,’ Ezekial barked.

  ‘Yes, Captain,’ said the crewman, and moved to the bridge.

  ‘I got your SMS,’ Ezekial said to Hudson in a low voice. ‘I was on my way here, anyway. Tema also sent me a message. I wanted to leave her, but I couldn’t.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ Hudson said as he let slip the mooring.

  ‘You think they’re in real trouble?’

  Hudson dropped the rope and clapped him on the arm. ‘I know they are, man. Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Do you trust Mario?’

  Hudson shook his head. ‘Not in a million lifetimes, so watch your back, and mine. But there’ll be time for him once we find our women.’

  ‘Our women?’

  ‘Yup.’

  Ezekial nodded and he and Hudson clasped hands as the patrol boat pulled away from the wharf. ‘I like the sound of that.’

  *

  ‘Here comes James now, right on time,’ Nikola said, pointing out to his other boat, which was approaching from the starboard side.

  They all got up from the table and Sonja scanned the oncoming boat. The first thing she noticed was that she could not see who was driving it.

  ‘Get on the radio,’ Peves said to his nearest man. ‘Tell Abdul to ease off the throttle, to slow down.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the man said, then spoke Swahili into his handheld radio.

  ‘He’s coming straight for us,’ Julianne said.

  ‘There’s no answer, sir,’ Peves’s man said, panic rising in his voice.

  ‘Start the engines!’ Peves yelled to anyone who would listen. The man relayed the command into his radio, to the skipper.

  Sonja could see that the bow wave of the other boat was frothing white, the craft rearing up on its stern.

  ‘Something’s wrong, give me your gun.’ Peves snatched the A
K-47 from his man’s hands, went outside the cabin, took aim and fired a burst of three rounds over the top of the fishing boat’s bridge. The warning shots had no effect. ‘Open fire on the bridge, stop them!’

  A crescendo of fire erupted from the rest of Peves’s armed men and bullets began smashing through the superstructure of the oncoming boat. It held its course, though.

  Sonja grabbed Julianne by the arm. ‘Quickly, let’s get out of here.’

  Peves looked over his shoulder. ‘Where are you going?’

  Sonja hustled Julianne out of the cabin. ‘I’m taking her port side, to the bow. We’re going to jump if that thing hits us.’

  Nikola turned on them, rifle up. ‘Who have you got on that boat?’

  Sonja raised her pistol, and pointed it at his head. She pushed Julianne behind her. ‘Move.’

  The other boat loomed large and the gunmen started to lose their nerve as their fire failed to stop it. Sonja was moving backwards, pistol still up as she shepherded Julianne forward. ‘It’s going to hit us.’

  Sonja turned, grabbed Julianne by the shoulder and propelled her faster.

  ‘You’re going to push me overboard!’

  ‘That’s the idea.’ Sonja ushered Julianne across the bow of the luxury cruiser and when they got to the other side she shoved the other woman in the back. As Julianne hit the water in an ungainly splash Sonja followed her over the side, at exactly the same moment as the fishing boat ploughed into the cruiser. There was a screech of metal, the splintering of wood and the shattering of fibreglass as the two craft became enmeshed.

  Julianne bobbed up, spluttering.

  ‘Swim!’ Sonja commanded.

  Julianne was floundering so Sonja swam around her and put her left arm around her, holding her head under the chin, above water, as she propelled them backwards with her right arm.

  As she swam, she looked up and saw where the fishing boat had carved into the cruiser. Mario emerged from the cover of the fishing boat’s cabin and he jumped, like a buccaneer, onto the cruiser. She never thought she would be pleased to see this pig of a man again. He had an AK-47 up and ready and moved confidently, expertly, along the deck of the other vessel. He fired a double tap and killed the first of Peves’s gunmen before the man could even draw a bead on him.

  A second man came around the cabin, saw Sonja and Julianne in the water and swung his rifle towards them.

  ‘Dive.’ Sonja rolled Julianne over and duck-dived. Underwater, she turned and saw that Julianne was still above her. Sonja grabbed Julianne’s arm and pulled her down as bullets started zipping through the lake water around them.

  Julianne started to swim, following Sonja down and around the pointed bow of the now stricken cruiser. The keel of the vessel began to fall; the luxury boat was starting to sink. Sonja looked over her shoulder and motioned for Julianne to follow her.

  Sonja surfaced on the other side of the cruiser and gasped for breath. Julianne popped up beside her. They saw Mario, feet apart, braced on the deck of the cruiser, water up to his ankles and rising.

  ‘Mario,’ Julianne called.

  He turned and located them.

  Julianne raised a hand and pointed, furiously. ‘Look out, behind you!’

  Mario spun around and saw the gunman who had fired at Sonja and Julianne, splashing around the superstructure in search of his targets. The man yelled a war cry and opened fire with his AK-47. Mario dived and rolled to one side, avoiding the bullets. His aim was better than the gunman’s and when he fired, also on automatic, the three rounds punched into the other man’s body, sending him into a dance of death that ended with him flailing and writhing in the water, until he sank beneath the lake’s surface.

  Mario waded through the reddened water and hoisted himself up onto the deck of the fishing boat, which, though damaged by the ram raid, was still more or less afloat.

  ‘Get James,’ Julianne ordered Mario from the water. She started to swim towards the rear of the fishing boat, where she would be able to climb aboard from the diving platform.

  Sonja had to get to Tema first. She went in the opposite direction, diving again and swimming underwater back around the front of the cruiser, which had come to rest on the sandy bottom of the lake. The boat was only a few metres below the surface, but it was more than deep enough for Tema to drown in.

  Sonja surfaced, took another deep breath and duck-dived again. She made her way down and into the rear of the cabin. Plastic bottles, linen napkins and food scraps floated around her as she navigated her way through the dark interior of the boat. She heard banging and screaming, distorted through the water. She came to a door, heaved on it, but it was locked.

  She was running out of breath, but the noise from inside the cabin was getting softer. Sonja rolled and swam back a little. She reached into the waistband of her shorts and pulled out her pistol. She prayed the Makarov would still function, with its wet ammo. Sonja racked the pistol and fired. The lock shattered.

  Bracing her feet either side of the door she turned and heaved on the handle. The water pressure was keeping the door closed and she strained. The exertion was threatening to steal the last of her oxygen.

  Just when she feared she would be unable to get it open, the door started to move. As Sonja pulled she could feel, now, the thuds of Tema kicking from the other side. Sonja was flung back as the door opened wide. Tema was still in there, though, and when Sonja reached out to grab Tema’s hand she snatched it away and moved deeper into the cabin.

  Sonja tried hard not to panic, but she could feel herself becoming dizzy. She could not expend more energy than she already had and would be lucky to make it back out the way she’d come in. Her brain was slowing, but through the fog she realised Tema had been underwater for some time now. She drew on the last of her strength and air and swam deeper into the gloom of the flooded cabin. When she was almost blacking out she felt a hand grab her around the wrist and yank her arm upwards.

  She surrendered and a second later her head came up out of the water. It was dark; she could barely see.

  ‘Sonja!’

  She spluttered, then sucked hard on the warm, wet air in the pocket where Tema had been hiding. Something big was floating and Sonja pushed against it. ‘What the –?’

  ‘My guard,’ Tema sniffed. ‘I feel bad. When we were rammed and started to go down he cut the ropes binding my hands. I repaid him by breaking his nose, taking his knife and then slitting his throat. I got the key to the door and unlocked it, but the water came in before I could open it.’

  ‘Don’t worry about him.’ Sonja coughed and tried taking more air in. She felt she couldn’t fill her lungs. ‘Why didn’t you get out of here?’

  ‘I can’t swim, Sonja. I’m terrified. I can’t go under the water. I thought I was going to die in here.’

  ‘You will, unless you come with me. You’re running out of air and it’ll disappear quicker now I’m here. You have to come with me.’

  ‘I’ll drown!’

  Sonja reached out for her in the darkness, found her face and stroked it with the backs of her fingers. ‘Shush. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘It’s dangerous out there.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Sonja said. ‘Peves’s men are dead. As much as I detest Mario, he did save the day and he’ll find Nikola and kill him. Mario’s a creep, but he’s a machine.’

  ‘I don’t trust him.’

  Sonja was treading water, and while she had regained her composure and some of her strength she knew they could not stay here. ‘I don’t trust him either, Tema, and that’s why we’re leaving this place, as soon as we get out of here.’

  ‘What about Julianne and James?’

  ‘I don’t care about them,’ Sonja said. ‘It’s just you and me. We’ll go to van Rensburg in South Africa and tell her what we know, but that’s all we can do. There comes a time in every war, every bat
tle, when you have to cut your losses and run.’

  ‘I can’t do this, Sonja, it’s dark and it’s too far under water. I won’t make it.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. Just take my hand and kick your legs. I’ll get you out.’ Sonja put a hand on each of Tema’s shoulders. The younger woman was shaking.

  ‘I’m so scared. I shouldn’t be here, should never have come to this place. I miss my daughter.’

  ‘Well,’ Sonja said, ‘then you and I are in exactly the same boat. Take a deep breath.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’ Sonja pulled down on Tema’s shoulders, forcing her head underwater. She felt the girl flailing against her, then brought her up again so her head surfaced.

  ‘No! Don’t do that again!’

  ‘Then for fuck’s sake, if you want to see your little girl again, take a breath. That’s an order.’

  Sonja heard the intake of air, drew a lungful of the fetid atmosphere herself, and pulled Tema down.

  Tema wriggled and struggled, panicking as Sonja reached for handholds in the cabin interior to help pull them towards the open door. She groped in the greenish darkness and found the entryway and kept pulling. It took twice as much effort, more, maybe, to move the two of them through the interior of the cruiser, but ahead and above her she could see the brighter colours where the sun was streaming through the water.

  Sonja pulled Tema over the table where she, Julianne and Peves had sat. Silhouetted against the sky above them was the spreadeagled form of another of Peves’s dead henchmen.

  They were near the open rear deck of the cruiser now. Sonja kicked hard for the surface, but she was anchored. She held Tema’s wrist in what must have been a painfully tight grip, but the other woman was not moving.

  Sonja looked down at Tema. Her mouth was open. She was trying to say something, but Sonja could see she was taking in water at the same time and starting to convulse. Her foot was trapped. Sonja let go of Tema and dived down. When she got to Tema’s foot she saw it had become entwined in a mooring rope. Sonja reached around her belt and found the pouch for her Leatherman. Once more, nearly out of oxygen, she opened the blade and began sawing through the rope.