by Tony Park
He looked to her. ‘Put down your weapons, both of you, then walk away from them and kneel down, where I can see.’
‘Do as he says, Ezekial,’ Sonja said. The young tracker looked to her, his reluctance clear in his scowl, but Sonja nodded and he complied. She laid down her hunting rifle. ‘It’s all right, Mario, we’re not going to try anything. Just let her go and we won’t follow you.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do, woman,’ he said.
Sonja cocked her head. ‘Listen. The helicopter’s coming closer. Do you think James will tell Doug to come for you? Or maybe they’ll just fly away and leave you. For all they know you’re dead. James would have heard the gunfire. You don’t appear to be carrying a radio.’
Mario glanced in the direction of the engine noise. Sonja could see the concern on his face. Even with Tema as a hostage it would be hard for him to escape on foot through the bush.
‘Let’s stay calm, Mario,’ Sonja said. ‘You can signal Doug.’
‘How?’
‘Tema?’ Sonja could see the girl was trying to be brave, but she was shaking. None of them underestimated Mario’s ruthlessness.
‘Yes?’
‘Do you still have that torch I gave you?’
Tema’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Um, yes, I do, it’s in my pocket.’
‘Mario, is it OK if Tema pulls out a torch and throws it to me? I can signal the helicopter, guide them in; Doug will see I’m unarmed and you’re in charge here.’
Mario nodded. ‘All right. But try something and I’ll pull the trigger. You know I’ll do it.’
‘Oh yes, I know you very well now, Mario.’
He laughed. ‘Maybe I’ll take you hostage as well, back to Mozambique, and I can get to know you even better.’
‘I’ll gladly take Tema’s place.’
Mario grabbed Tema tighter. ‘No, I think I’ll keep the young one instead.’
Tema reached into the side pocket of her uniform trousers.
‘Slowly,’ Mario said.
She unbuttoned the flap and drew out the torch. As she did so Sonja saw how she flicked a switch on the base.
‘Ready?’ Sonja said.
Tema nodded.
‘OK, do it.’
Tema lifted the torch and drew back her hand, above her shoulder, as if she was about to throw it.
‘Hey, watch what you’re doing,’ Mario said as the tip of the torch touched his neck, lightly.
‘Sorry, not sorry,’ Tema said as she pushed the torch’s ‘on’ switch. A hundred thousand volts surged through Mario’s body and Tema wrenched herself from his grasp. She rolled away as Mario screamed and pulled the trigger, but his shot went into the air as his body convulsed. Sonja and Ezekial both went for their rifles; Ezekial, uninjured, plus younger and faster, got to his weapon first.
‘Run, Tema,’ Sonja said as she worked the bolt of her rifle, but Tema went back to Mario and zapped him again. Then she leapt away from him, as she would from a dangerous cornered animal. Mario fought through the pain and brought his pistol up.
Ezekial fired first, and didn’t stop pulling the trigger until all of the remaining bullets in his magazine had been poured into Mario.
Sonja went to Tema and hugged her. Ezekial got up, dusted himself off and came to them.
‘I’m glad you kept that torch,’ Sonja said.
‘I wish I’d had it in Tanzania when Mario attacked me.’
Sonja smiled. ‘Well it was a nice surprise for him now.’
Tema raised her hand. ‘Chopper.’
‘I hear it,’ Sonja said.
The pilot put his landing light on and Sonja saw it, briefly, coming in, not a hundred metres from them. ‘Come on . . . let’s . . .’
The effort of giving the command was almost too much for her. She tried to run, but her legs felt heavy.
‘Let’s go, Tema,’ said Ezekial. Tema let go of Sonja, retrieved her rifle and she and Ezekial headed into the danger zone.
Through her pain and dizziness Sonja felt something else, a flood of emotion for these two brave young people. She couldn’t go on. They wouldn’t make it in time. Doug would be on the ground and airborne again in seconds. Not even Usain Bolt could cover that distance in the time they had to do it in.
Sonja slumped against a tree, anger and despair adding to her pain.
With the last of her strength she lifted her rifle, which now seemed impossibly heavy. She didn’t even have the power to hold it unsupported. She managed to bring the butt up into her shoulder and then rested the barrel in the crook of a thin branch, and pointed it in the general direction of where the helicopter had landed.
Slowly, and using all her powers of concentration, she worked the bolt and chambered a round.
The helicopter started to lift off. The searchlight under the nose was still on, illuminating Julianne Clyde-Smith’s company logo. Sonja tried to steady her aim, but she knew Doug would be climbing away any second now, and she would have no chance to take an aimed shot.
As she expected the aircraft began to climb, but then it slowed.
Sonja blinked away the stinging sweat from her eyes. The rear side door of the helicopter was open and there, with one foot on the skid, was James Paterson, clad only in a pair of swimming trunks, but holding an AK-47. He was taking aim. James had stopped Doug from getting away and, instead, was going to try and finish off her people.
Doug turned the helicopter, no doubt on James’s command, so he could get a better shot. The move made James a more difficult target, but the chopper was in a steady hover.
Doug was the pilot who had flown James into the ambush of the Leopards, who had sat by while Patience was killed or allowed to bleed to death on board his aircraft.
Sonja shifted her aim, looked through the telescopic sights and laid the crosshairs over the pilot. He was laughing at something James was saying.
Sonja squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 32
The wrecked helicopter was ablaze on the ground when Tema and Ezekial reached it. The dry bush around it was also starting to catch fire.
Tema held a hand up in front of her face as she approached the crash site. She got as close as she could to the cockpit, but it was clear from the inferno inside that the pilot was already dead and beyond saving.
‘Tema?’
She followed the sound of Ezekial’s voice.
When she came to Ezekial, twenty metres from the wreckage, his body lit by flames and the heat almost unbearable on their skin, she saw that at his feet was James Paterson. He had been thrown from the dying helicopter, but he was still alive. Paterson turned his head to look at her.
Tema walked up to him, raised her rifle and took aim at the point between his two eyes.
‘Go on,’ Paterson said to her. ‘You’ll be doing me a favour. I don’t want to see the inside of Pollsmoor Prison.’
‘Don’t tempt me.’
‘Mario told me Ezekial didn’t have the balls for the job,’ Paterson said, taunting her. ‘But he said you were a natural. You had it, Tema; you have it. You’re a huntress. You were trained by the best. Do her proud. It’s what Sonja would do.’
Tema looked to Ezekial. He met her eyes. ‘This man is evil, Tema, evil to people, evil to wildlife, evil to our country.’
She looked at the figure on the ground. He smiled up at her. He was pathetic, and at the same time condescending, the way his eyes mocked her. She took up the slack on the trigger, felt her breathing steady. It would be the easiest thing in the world for her to put a bullet in this man’s head.
‘Tema?’
She turned and saw Sonja stagger into the cauldron of burning light. She held her rifle by the tip of the barrel, using the weapon as a walking stick. Sonja was older than Tema, almost old enough to be her mother, but she never thought of her in that way. Now
she looked frail, as if the light and the fight were gone from her. Tema started to turn.
‘No, guard him. Cover him.’
Ezekial went to Sonja instead, and she let him take the rifle and leaned on him for support.
Sonja coughed. She looked down at Paterson. ‘Tell me, James, why did you have to kill my Leopards, Patience and Goodness. Like Hudson said, just wounding one of them would have brought enough bad PR for the unit to be closed down. You going after Goodness is what brought you down. Do you kill for fun?’
He shook his head. ‘My plan was to be the hero. I left my men in the bush and Doug picked me up. We went to Lion Sands and picked up Patience and stabilised her. We were heading to the Mediclinic when Doug picked up the sister, Goodness, on his FLIR. We hovered over her, and guided her to a clearing where we could land and pick her up as well.’
‘What went wrong?’ Sonja asked.
‘Patience was semi-conscious at first, but she came around and when she did she recognised me. She had seen my face when she ran from the leopard that you people scared out of the tree. As we were coming in to land Patience went for my gun, in the chopper, and screamed to her sister to run for it.’
‘So you killed her.’
‘I restrained Patience. I needed to get the other sister and told Doug to put me down while he went and collected one of my men – the cousin of the simple boy who you killed – and they flew to Nelspruit. He finished off Patience. As it happened, it took me longer to catch Goodness than I expected. You might have thought those girls were cowards, Sonja, but they both did well, both died well.’
Sonja was speechless. She felt tears well up from deep within her.
Tema looked down at James, along the open sights of her LM5. ‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked Sonja.
‘You know what to do,’ Sonja said. ‘It’s what he deserves, and it’s the right thing.’
Tema nodded. ‘Roll over, on your belly.’
Paterson laughed. ‘Can’t bear to look me in the eyes, eh?’
‘No.’
‘Very well, get on with it,’ he said.
Tema set down her rifle, knelt on Paterson’s back hard enough to make him flinch, then reached into the pocket of her fatigue trousers and pulled out a plastic zip tie. She fastened his wrists behind his back, nice and tight, and hauled him to his feet.
Above the noise of the buckling, burning wreckage of Julianne’s helicopter came the whine of another engine, and the light from above banished the hellish red flickering of the world below. Tema looked up and saw the police helicopter hovering, coming in slowly to land.
Sonja came to her side, and Ezekial covered Paterson as they walked him to the helicopter. Sonja put a hand on Tema’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze; the gesture meant the world to Tema.
Sannie van Rensburg, her husband Tom, and two uniformed police officers jumped out of the chopper and jogged to them.
‘We’ll take care of this one,’ Sannie said. ‘Good work. We’ve got a vehicle coming and we’ll take him by road.’
Sonja fell to one knee.
‘She’s hurt, bad,’ Tema said.
‘Get her on the chopper,’ Sannie said. ‘Hudson’s on there as well. His wounds from the grenade blast were worse than we thought. A doctor staying at the lodge as a guest is with him; he suspects Hudson may have internal injuries. They can both go to the hospital in Nelspruit, right away.’
Tema draped Sonja’s free arm around her shoulder and she and Ezekial linked hands under her to carry her to the waiting aircraft. They loaded her on board and lay her on the floor, next to Hudson.
Sonja had the strength to give a wave as the helicopter lifted off.
Tema turned to Ezekial and he took her in his arms. ‘I love you,’ he said.
‘Same.’
‘Let’s go home,’ he said.
‘Yes, let’s.’
*
Hudson’s eyes swam from the pain and not enough painkillers, but he was aware of the helicopter landing and people getting off.
He turned his head and saw Tema and Ezekial helping Sonja into the chopper. They laid her beside him.
When he tried to speak he found his mouth was dry and he couldn’t get the words out. He reached out for her and the movement caused another wave of hurt to wash over him. He didn’t care.
Sonja was pale, her grip weak, but she took his hand.
‘I . . .’ He forced the word out, and it was harder still to make himself heard when the engine noise increased as the aircraft took off again.
The doctor leaned over him. ‘Save your strength.’
‘No.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘I came back for you . . . at the lake. I don’t care . . .’
‘About Mario?’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you. I was going to come back to you, Hudson, once this was finished, if you’d have me back. Will you?’
He saw tiny pinpricks of light at the corners of his eyes and the effort of saying a few words had sucked the energy from him. The doctor got between them, placing his ear next to Hudson’s mouth.
Hudson felt himself slipping away.
The doctor sat up and looked to Sonja. ‘It’s the sedative I gave him; it’s starting to work.’
‘What . . . what did he say?’ Sonja asked, unable to hide the hope from her voice.
‘He said, “I will”.’
Sonja closed her eyes and smiled.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
While this is my fourteenth African novel, with the addition of six biographies that I have co-written for different markets around the world, The Cull is actually my twentieth published book.
That landmark warrants some special thanks, not just for this book, but for the many people who have helped me on this wonderful journey I’ve been on.
My wife, Nicola; mother, Kathy; and mother-in-law, Sheila, have been my unofficial editors on every one of these books. Their feedback, if anything, has become more forthright and valuable with every book. Thank you all for your love and support.
In Africa and elsewhere there have been so many friends and readers over the years who have offered suggestions for stories, logistical help, research assistance and their time as proofreaders that it’s impossible to mention them all. Here are a few.
Baie dankie to my friend Annelien Oberholzer who corrects my Afrikaans and Africanisms in every book, and to the rest of her family, Riaan, Adriaan and Leyla, who have looked after my wife and me and our Land Rovers over many years.
Many years on, thank you, again, to my friend John Roberts, who helped with the research for my first book, Far Horizon, when he was living and working in Mozambique (where part of the book is set). He remains my go-to guy for all things Mozambican, Portuguese translations, and African politics and history.
Dennis and Liz Lapham, who were shepherding me around Africa twenty years ago, directly helped with The Cull by introducing me to the beautiful Chitake Springs in Mana Pools National Park, Zimbabwe, which gets a mention in the book. While I was there, Ashley Lapham gave me a blood curdling demonstration on the use of a cannula while watching a herd of buffalo. Thank you, all, my friends.
It’s no accident The Cull follows a path from South Africa to Tanzania – my wife and I did this exact trip while I was writing the book. Thanks to my good friends Brett and Claire Martin for being the most low-maintenance travel companions and for putting up with my absences from the conversations while I was writing.
Thank you to Rob Gurr from Ynot Concepts and Veronica Otter and Leanne Haigh from Grumeti Expeditions who organised accommodation for me at three beautiful Lemala camps in Tanzania: Lemala Ngorongoro Camp, Ewanjan Camp in the central Serengeti, and Kuria Hills Camp. Julianne Clyde-Smith’s Crossings Camp in this novel is based on Kuria Hills Camp, and it was on a game drive from this stunning location
that I witnessed more than three thousand wildebeest and zebra crossing the Mara River, just as Hudson and Sonja do in the book. If you get a chance to visit Tanzania I would have no hesitation recommending these camps.
I met retired South African Police Service detective ‘Boats’ Botha in the Kruger Park while writing The Cull and, like so many other people I’ve met over the years, he was more than happy to share some of his experiences with me on the spot, and advised me on police investigative procedures. Thank you.
Lion Plains, where Sonja and The Leopards are ambushed, is fictitious, (and, incidentally, also featured in an earlier novel, The Prey), but Lion Sands, where they retreat to, is a real place run by friends of mine and it’s well worth a visit if you’re looking for somewhere to stay in the Sabi Sand Game Reserve. Nikola Pesev’s Paradise Bay Lodge is fictitious, but there is a lovely real-life place to stay at Kipili called Lakeshore Lodge. Maramboi Tented Camp in Tanzania is real and it’s an excellent base from which to explore Tarangire and Lake Manyara National Parks. In Malawi I stayed at Makuzi Beach Lodge, and used this beautiful spot as the inspiration for Sonja and Hudson’s rendezvous. Sonja makes a passing reference to the Blue Canoe Safari Camp, which is located at Matema Beach on the Tanzanian northern shore of Lake Malawi, and it’s another wonderful place to stay.
Thanks to all of the staff and my neighbours at the real ‘Hippo Rock’ (not its real name) in South Africa, where I live part of the year, for your friendship and support.
Thank you, again, to firearms expert Fritz Rabe, who once more made sure my aim was true when it came to gun matters, and to former crime scene investigator Brian Dargie for his information on gunpowder residue. Thanks, also, to Wayne Hamilton from swagmantours.com.au, and Susan Summers and Greg Transell who proofread the manuscript for me; and to Tema Matsebula, whose name I used as a character in recognition of her support and feedback on my recent books.
It’s one thing for a writer to research technical facts – such as how to fly a helicopter, fire a gun or track a wild animal – but it’s another journey altogether to work out what makes a person act the way he or she does and, for that matter, how and why we do what we do and feel what we feel. I’m extremely grateful to my good friend and guide on this winding, sometimes difficult path, Sydney psychotherapist Charlotte Stapf. Charlotte has acted as a sounding board and given me (full and frank) insights and feedback on my characters. She pointed me in the right direction and supported me when I needed a hand. She also writes a very good blog, charlottestapf.blogspot.com.au. Thank you for everything.