Blood Trail

by Tony Park

  Bongani worked the bolt on the rifle and chambered a round. ‘Come. Time is wasting. He will be moving fast.’

  They climbed back into the Land Rover and Mia reversed and turned, retracing their tracks through the bush and driving as fast as she dared. When she came to the gravel road she turned left. Bongani leaned forward in his tracker’s seat on the bonnet and Mia craned her head over the driver’s side, checking the ground as they drove.

  After scanning ahead for a while, Bongani held up a hand. Mia stopped. He pointed to the right and Mia swung off the road. He stopped her again.

  ‘It’s too thick to drive through here and follow the tracks,’ he said. ‘We will go on foot from here.’

  ‘Sara –’

  ‘I told you, I’m coming with you,’ Sara interjected.

  Mia held up a hand. ‘Hear me out. I want you to take the Land Rover, keep driving in this direction. If he’s going to head for the perimeter fence, which is logical, he’ll have to cross this road again some time. Also, the poacher will be able to hear us now; if we turn off the engine he’ll know we’re after him on foot, but if you’re driving he won’t know we’re tailing him. You can act as a cut-off, or whatever it is you call it in the army.’

  Sara bit her lip, perhaps debating whether or not to continue the argument. ‘All right.’

  ‘As an ex-soldier you don’t need me to ask if you know how to use a radio, right?’

  Sara half grinned. ‘You do not need to – what is the expression? – butter me up any more.’

  Mia smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  She and Bongani set off into the bush, Mia tracking, Bongani keeping watch over her with the rifle at the ready.

  *

  Sara drove along the road, imitating Mia, looking over the driver’s side door, searching for tracks, but it was hard for her to make out anything. The higher the sun rose, the less distinct the shape of tracks became.

  She slowed down, scanning the bush instead, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement.

  Sara stopped to remove her fleece. She was warming up. While the sun was out, there were dark clouds building on the horizon. The weather, she already knew, was about to change.

  Once she had shrugged the garment over her head, she froze in her seat. From her left she heard movement over the noise of the idling engine. Even though Mia had told her to keep driving, Sara decided to switch it off, to better hear.

  Not daring to move, she cocked her head. There it was again, the swish of something moving through the bushes. Sara looked around the vehicle. There was nothing she could use as a weapon. She felt her heart pounding and reached, slowly, for the ignition key again. If she saw the bastard poacher she would restart the engine and run him down.

  If he was making that much noise, Sara reasoned, he would not be aware she was there. Swish, swish, swish. The man was crashing through the foliage now. With her other hand she reached for the radio and brought the handset up to her mouth. Glancing down, she noticed that the light on the screen was off. It had obviously needed power from the engine to function. Sara placed the handset down on the passenger seat and pushed a button on the radio.

  It came to life with a musical chime that sounded as loud as a church bell.

  The sound of movement from the bush stopped.

  Sara realised the man had heard the radio coming on. He had a gun. She was unarmed. She tried to think back on her training. The smart thing to do in a situation like this would be to pull out, get reinforcements and come back. She started the Land Rover, but as she put the vehicle in gear a dark shape exploded from the bush beside her.

  Sara screamed. When she looked around, however, at the blur of movement that ran behind the game viewer, she saw the angry pug-face of a honey badger staring up at her. The creature, small but fierce, snarled at her. Sara exhaled.

  ‘My God, you scared me.’

  ‘And you me.’

  She jumped and looked back to where the honey badger had erupted from the bush and saw a man in black clothes and a ski mask moving around to the front bumper of the vehicle. He was pointing a Czech Brno hunting rifle at her. His bare hand, and the finger inside the trigger guard, told her he was African.

  Neither of them said a word. The man licked his lips, but kept the rifle up in his shoulder and stared down the open sights at her.

  ‘Turn the engine off,’ he said to her, at last.

  ‘Don’t shoot me. You don’t want to add murder to your list of crimes. Why don’t you just go? I won’t tell anyone I saw you.’

  ‘Where are you from? Your accent is not Afrikaans.’

  ‘I am from Norway. I’ve heard it said that if a South African commits a crime against a foreigner then the police come down on you harder.’

  He nodded. ‘That is true. Now turn the engine off and throw me the keys.’

  She made a show of looking around the steering wheel. ‘I am sorry, I am not normally the driver.’ As she pretended to scrabble for the key she picked up the handset of the radio and keyed the send button, keeping the handset low, out of his line of sight.

  ‘I said, turn off the engine, now, and get out of the vehicle.’

  ‘Are you going to kill me?’

  ‘Not if you do as I say. Quickly now. The key. Switch it off.’

  She pretended to fumble again. ‘I’m trying!’

  He started to move sideways. Sara knew she had only one chance. She put the gear lever in first and depressed the clutch.

  She pressed her foot down on the accelerator, revving the engine.

  The man pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 6

  Mia had stopped Bongani when she heard Sara’s voice on the radio. She started at the sound of the gunshot.

  ‘Vulture, Vulture, this is Mia, over,’ she said into the handset. ‘For God’s sake, answer!’

  ‘Go Mia,’ said Audrey, at last, replying via the radio.

  ‘Give me a location on our game viewer, please, Audrey. Sara’s in it and I think she’s just been shot. Then call Sean, get him to send a team there ASAP. We may need a helicopter casualty evacuation.’

  ‘Roger, Mia . . . stand by.’

  Mia turned and led Bongani the way they had come, towards the road. The poacher had obviously doubled back on them.

  ‘Mia, I’ve got the Land Rover on the computer screen now. I’m zooming in on it with the camera.’

  Mia was breathing heavily as she ran through the bush. ‘Any sign of movement?’

  ‘Um . . . negative. Wait . . . I can see Sara. My God, she’s lying on the ground, over. She’s west of Little Serengeti. There’s a tree partially blocking the road, if that’s any help.’

  Mia knew the place. The tree had come down in a windstorm last week. ‘Send the GPS coordinates to Sean. Where the hell’s our chopper been today?’ Mia said a silent prayer they were not too late, but it didn’t sound good. Dark clouds covered the sun, and thunder rumbled.

  ‘The helicopter had some maintenance issues,’ Audrey said. ‘Julianne already had me check on that, over.’

  Mia fumed, although she knew it wasn’t Audrey’s fault. ‘OK. Sorry. But please tell Sean he needs to find a chopper from somewhere.’ She looked up at the sky. A storm wouldn’t help when it came to air support. As much as everyone loved the first rains, this was not a good time for the dry season to break early.

  Bongani, still holding the rifle, ran ahead of Mia as she slowed to talk. He burst out onto the road before her and looked both ways, and at the ground.

  ‘Come, this way.’

  He led her at a jog and as they rounded a bend Mia saw the tree partially blocking the road and the Land Rover beyond. Bongani charged ahead and dropped to one knee as Mia, panting, joined him. She put two fingers to Sara’s neck.

  ‘She’s got a pulse.’ Mia ran her hands over Sara’s body. ‘Help me roll h
er over.’

  Her right hand came away sticky. ‘She’s been hit in the shoulder,’ Bongani said.

  ‘Put your hand on the wound. I’ll get the first-aid kit.’

  Mia got into the truck and fetched the pack with the red cross on it from behind the driver’s seat. She unzipped it and ripped open a wound dressing.

  Bongani moved his hand, which was drenched with blood, and Mia applied the pad. With Bongani’s help they tied the dressing. It started to rain, fat drops spattering them, but they continued to work.

  Sara came to and started screaming. Mia held her hand. ‘We’re here, we’re with you, Sara. Help is on the way.’ Mia looked to Bongani, who grimaced.

  The radio squawked and Bongani picked it up as Mia cradled Sara in her arms. Bongani got up and walked a few paces away.

  ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry,’ Sara said. Tears mixed with raindrops streamed down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry I disobeyed you. I tried to run him down.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Mia said.

  ‘No.’ Sara shook her head. ‘He was wearing a ski mask, so I couldn’t see his face. He was about one-eighty tall, solid build, deep voice. He was African.’

  ‘You did well to get those details.’ Mia held her tight, keeping her hand on the wound.

  ‘I . . . I saw his hands,’ Sara said. ‘They looked old – thin, you know?’

  Mia nodded. ‘Good work.’

  Bongani returned to them. ‘Good news. National Parks is sending one of their choppers from Kruger, and their doctor. They’ll get you to Nelspruit in no time, Sara.’

  Bongani was staring into the bush, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the rifle held tight in his hands. Mia read his mind. ‘No, Bongani, it’s too dangerous.’

  ‘What?’ Sara croaked.

  ‘I will go find him,’ Bongani said.

  Mia shook her head, ‘No.’

  Sara grabbed her arm, and her grip was weak. ‘Yes. Go. Get him. He killed that mother rhino. Don’t let him get away on my account. There is nothing Bongani can do for me.’ She shuddered as the pain racked her body.

  Mia smoothed the other woman’s golden hair, now wet from the rain and tinged red with the blood from Mia’s hands.

  Bongani stood and Mia saw how his eyes instinctively cast about on the road for tracks. His stare locked on to something.

  ‘He’ll be running for his life,’ Mia said.

  ‘Get him, catch him, Bongani,’ Sara said.

  He looked down at her and nodded. ‘I will, you can count on me.’

  Bongani left and Mia was worried for him. Nothing was right about this situation – the older man disappearing, Sipho appearing out of nowhere, Sara being shot. There was, of course, always a danger of non-combatants being injured in the war that was being waged against poaching in South Africa, but to date it hadn’t happened. The security forces – national parks rangers, the police, military and private anti-poaching companies, such as Sean’s – ran rings around the poachers, tactically. That didn’t stop them coming.

  Mia checked Sara’s dressing. It was almost soaked through. She held the other woman to her breast and picked up her handheld radio again. ‘Audrey, this is Mia.’

  ‘Go Mia.’

  ‘Do you see anything? Bongani’s gone after the guy with the gun.’

  ‘How’s Sara, over?’

  Mia looked at Sara’s face. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow. ‘Could be better,’ was the best she could manage. ‘Now tell me, what do you see?’

  There was a pause as Audrey rechecked the Vulture computer screens. ‘Nothing, I’m afraid, Mia. Rain’s not helping either. The unarmed guy, the one we think was the decoy, is out of our area of operations now; literally off the screen, over.’

  Mia nodded to herself. The cameras and other sensors covered a finite area, and while it was a broad arc of coverage, they could only be turned and readjusted so far. ‘Roger. And the other guy?’

  ‘Lost visual. It’s weird, though. I’m tracking Bongani, plain as day, but the guy with the gun has literally disappeared from my screens, over.’

  Mia felt a chill.

  ‘Mia, do you copy, over?’

  ‘Um, affirmative, yes, I’m still here. Just thinking, over.’

  ‘Thinking what?’ Audrey said. ‘I could use any guidance you can think of. Is there maybe some tracking trick this guy is using? Unless he’s lying flat under a bush, I don’t know where he’s gone. None of the cameras or sensors are picking up movement, over.’

  ‘Keep looking,’ was all Mia could think of.

  ‘Helicopter’s inbound,’ Audrey said over the radio a couple of minutes later.

  Mia heard the chop of rotor blades cleaving the air. ‘Hang in there, Sara. Can you hear the chopper?’

  Sara blinked and nodded weakly. Mia laid her gently on the ground, got up and went to the Land Rover and switched on the headlights. The pilot came through on her radio and Mia talked him down into a clearing next to the roadway about fifty metres away. As the pilot descended, Mia went back to Sara and crouched over her, using her body to shield the wounded woman from the cloud of dust and twigs and leaves that washed over them.

  A ranger in a green uniform, carrying a folded stretcher, and the Skukuza doctor, a woman dressed in jeans and a khaki blouse, carrying a medical pack, jumped out. With Mia, they all shifted Sara onto the litter and carried her to the waiting helicopter.

  ‘Do you want to come with?’ the ranger yelled in her ear as the doctor inspected Sara and inserted a cannula into her arm.

  Mia shook her head. ‘I’ve got a man in the bush looking for the shooter.’

  ‘Be careful!’

  Mia gave the man a thumbs up and she watched as the helicopter started to lift off. She could see the doctor had already connected Sara to an IV line. As soon as the chopper was out of sight she set off into the bush after Bongani.

  She was easily able to follow his trail, but still kept an eye out for dangerous game.

  After a few minutes she came to the banks of the mostly dry Manzini Spruit. Here and there the sandy stream bed still held puddles, and there was a pumped waterhole, which they often checked during their game drives as the clean water was a magnet for game. Bongani was standing by the waterhole, scratching his head.

  ‘What is it?’ she said softly.

  He turned and shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I mean,’ he said, ‘I’ve lost him.’

  ‘Don’t tell me he made himself invisible or turned himself into an impala.’

  He frowned at her flippancy. ‘Do you see any impala here?’

  Mia cast about, walking in a circle. She picked up tracks – hers and Bongani’s, and a third set, that came to the waterhole, where she had found Bongani. ‘Where did he go from here?’

  ‘That’s what I want to know.’

  They heard a vehicle from the direction in which they’d left their Land Rover and decided to retrace their tracks back to the vehicle. A curious black Belgian Malinois, Askari, met them as they approached the road.

  Askari’s handler, Phillip, along with Graham, Oscar and Sean Bourke joined them. They all exchanged greetings and Mia filled Sean in.

  Sean nodded. ‘We need to secure the rhino carcass as a crime scene, for the police and forensics, and I’ve called Doc Baird, the vet, to come dart the calf.’

  It felt to her like he was verbalising his to-do list as a means of trying to assert some sort of control over what had been a terrible morning for all of them.

  Graham came to her and gently took her elbow, leading her away from the others. ‘Howzit, babe?’

  She shrugged. ‘Could have been a better morning.’

  ‘Ja, affirmative.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

  Sean glanced away and Mia felt self-consci
ous. There was important work to do, but it was nice that Graham was thinking of her. Despite his bluster and extroverted nature, which could border on arrogant sometimes, inside he was a softy. He was also ridiculously good-looking, and brave. His partner, Oscar, nodded to her in greeting. Mia forced a smile for him.

  Sean called them back over. ‘Right. Mia, if you and Bongani are up to it, can you help us track the armed guy?’

  Mia was shattered, but there was no question of her going home to her room at Kaya Nghala just yet. ‘Sure. Can do – we’ve just been looking for his spoor, but we seem to have lost him.’

  ‘Graham, Oscar?’

  ‘Yebo,’ Graham said.

  ‘Mia says the rhino still had its horn when they last saw it. You guys go secure the carcass and keep eyes on the calf until the vet gets here. There’s a chance this skelm will double back to try to claim his prize.’

  ‘Roger,’ Oscar said.

  Graham nodded to Mia and he and Oscar jogged away.

  Bongani came to Mia. ‘You take the lead. Perhaps I was tired, maybe I missed something.’

  It was a measure of Bongani, she thought, that he could admit he may have made a mistake in trying to track the man, or that Mia might do a better job.

  Mia led off, with Phillip the dog handler and his Belgian Malinois on her heels, followed by Bongani and Sean.

  There was spoor everywhere. Mia realised that she was seeing Bongani’s footprints, those of the older poacher, and also those of the boy, Sipho, with his distinctive running shoes. If he was going to have a career as a criminal, she mused, he would need more nondescript footwear. Bongani’s tracks went both ways, to and from the road, as did the older poacher’s and her own. It would have been confusing if she didn’t already have some oversight of what had happened during this crazy morning.

  She stuck to what she believed were the freshest tracks. The first light shower of rain, which had helped her distinguish the freshest and crispest tracks, turned into her enemy as the skies opened up.

  ‘This is not going to help,’ she heard Sean say behind her.

  He was right. The fresh imprints began to fill with water, but Mia, undeterred, carried on. The dog sniffed impatiently behind her as he picked up the scent of the poacher. The anti-poaching dogs were trained to ignore the scent of people who worked at the lodge, a time-consuming process that involved using items of clothing worn by each of them, which the dog would come to recognise and then ignore while tracking.