Blood Trail

by Tony Park

  Sannie exhaled. ‘And when did you hear her?’

  ‘It must have been yesterday. She was crying for her mother. She said that if anyone heard, they should call her mother, Sue someone.’

  Sannie made a note. She didn’t know whether to feel hope, or to expect the worst. ‘You are doing a terrific job. This is very, very important for us. We need to find those other girls.’

  ‘I understand. I am trying.’ Thandi started sobbing, deeper, louder, her skinny shoulders shaking. Nomvula adjusted the blanket and wrapped her big arms around the child.

  ‘I know this is difficult, but their lives depend on anything we can learn now,’ Sannie said.

  Thandi sniffled and composed herself. ‘It is all right, I will help you.’

  ‘Who took you, and where?’

  ‘It was not far from here, near the sangoma’s place. We – my friends and I – would go there to talk.’

  Nomvula interrupted: ‘And smoke and drink and meet with boys, like that poor stupid Sipho.’

  ‘Poor?’ The girl looked to each of them.

  ‘Nothing,’ Sannie said, not wanting to upset her with news of the snake boy’s death. ‘Unless Sipho hurt you, or was part of this?’

  ‘No, he had nothing to do with it. He wasn’t even there when I was taken.’

  ‘What else can you remember? Did you get a look at the men who took you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not really. I was surprised by them. They grabbed me from behind.’

  ‘How many of them?’

  ‘Two. I fought them, but they were strong. And it wasn’t two men; there was one man, one woman – I smelled her perfume. They wore gloves and before the one put the bag over my head I could see he was dressed in black.’

  Sannie raised her eyebrows and made a note. ‘From their voices, could you tell where they were from? Were they local?’

  ‘They did not say very much. But, yes, the man was. He had a deep voice, like a Shangaan man.’

  ‘The woman?’

  Thandi shrugged. ‘I just knew she was a woman – she did not talk.’

  ‘How did they treat you?’

  ‘My food – it was mealie pap and some sauce – was handed to me through a slit in the door. No one ever spoke. I had to . . . had to use a bucket. It was only emptied every few days. A man would look through the slit and tell me to put the hood, the bag, over my head and to sit on the bed, quietly, while he took my empty food bowls and the bucket away. The last day, up until now, I was tied to my bed. I was starving. I had no water or food for maybe one or two days. I lost track of time.’

  Interesting, Sannie thought. Perhaps the couple wanted her weaker, more compliant, for something. Maybe they were planning on moving her, or something worse.

  ‘How did you get free?’

  The girl closed her eyes as if concentrating on recalling the details. ‘There was a noise, like an engine, but louder. I would hear men working, often, but no one could hear me from the room or through the door.’

  ‘A truck? A helicopter?’ Nomvula prompted.

  Sannie frowned at her, indicating that she was the one asking the questions.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ the girl said. ‘It must have landed close by. There was the sound of two men arguing outside the door and then a white man came in. He was saying something to someone else about how he had orders from “the boss” to move me, urgently, to take me away.’

  ‘In his helicopter?’ Sannie asked.

  ‘I don’t know. There was a fight, and the white man cut my ties. He was taking me away, I was so full of hope, and then the man with the gun came and stopped him. He hit the white man with his gun and knocked him out. I saw one of the other man’s hands during the fight – he was African.’

  ‘Did the pilot, or the other man, say anything about the other girls?’

  Thandi closed her eyes again. ‘I heard him say something like, “where are they”, and the man with the gun swore at him. I didn’t think to ask, I am sorry.’

  Sannie reached out and put her hand over Thandi’s. ‘Don’t be. It’s just good that you made it out.’ She thought it might be positive, maybe, that the pilot was asking about the others – at least that meant he didn’t think they were dead, or gone somewhere. Perhaps there was another hiding place.

  ‘Were you taken anywhere else?’ Sannie asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘How did you manage to escape?’

  ‘After about ten minutes the pilot woke up, and he used the frame of my bed to break the door open. By that time the gunfire had started and the sound of it covered the noise of the pilot breaking down the door.’ She sniffed and started to cry again. ‘It was so scary.’

  Sannie patted her hand again. ‘It’s OK.’ She could picture the rest. The pilot, whatever his involvement in all of this, had perhaps at least tried to redeem himself by freeing Thandi, or maybe he was just trying to get away himself. ‘The pilot . . .’

  Thandi blinked up at her. ‘He saved me. The man with the gun tried to stop us and the pilot charged right at him. The pilot could have run out – he was already in front of me – but he chose to stay inside and he got between me and the man with the gun. He hit him, and then ran himself – I think the gun was out of bullets – but when we got outside he just yelled to me, “run, run, run”, and I did. And then I think the man with the gun reloaded and . . .’

  Thandi was sobbing again, unable to carry on. It did, indeed, seem like the pilot had given his life to protect hers.

  Which did not explain the explosion.

  ‘Did you see any explosives?’ Sannie asked.

  Through her tears, Thandi shook her head.

  ‘Ah, they were blowing up lots of things,’ Nomvula said. Sannie looked to her. ‘Sorry for talking.’

  ‘No, no,’ Sannie said to the older woman. ‘It’s fine. Tell me. There have been other explosions?’

  ‘In between the lockdowns, sometimes there were men working on a new road, as well as the school, the hotel and the pool. Nothing lately.’

  ‘But there are explosives onsite?’

  Nomvula nodded. ‘Yes. In a building with a red skull and crossbones.’

  Could the explosion have been an accident? Sannie wondered. Perhaps a stray round had detonated some explosives. It sounded far-fetched, though. More likely, Sannie thought, the blast was designed to conceal something. Perhaps it was a booby trap.

  A siren outside drew their attention. Sannie went to the door and saw two paramedics in green jumpsuits getting out of an emergency ambulance. Sannie directed them inside the home. A police bakkie pulled up behind the ambulance. Sannie was glad to have some backup, even if it was late. This village was turning into a war zone.

  Mia, Jeff and Virtuous had been waiting in the shade of a tree beside Nomvula’s house. They came to her.

  ‘I’ve finished inside for now,’ Sannie said to Virtuous. ‘If Nomvula wants to see you, then it’s fine.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Virtuous said, and went to Nomvula.

  One of the paramedics came back out of the house.

  ‘The captain here needs someone to take a look at her leg,’ Mia said to the man.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Sannie said.

  Mia shook her head. ‘Not if you pass out on us from blood loss.’

  ‘They’re all under control inside,’ the paramedic said, as he bent to take a closer look at Sannie’s wound. ‘Unlike you. Please take a seat.’

  Sannie sat in an old kitchen chair on the stoep as the paramedic shrugged off his bag and got to work.

  The two police officers, the man and the woman who had been canvassing the village, reported to Sannie as the paramedic cut away part of her trouser leg and took out antiseptic and bandages from his bag.

  ‘You called for backup, Captain?’ the female officer said.

>   ‘Yes. There’s been an explosion and multiple homicides in and around the new school buildings just up the road. Two dead males, though you’ll have trouble finding anything of the one in the destroyed building. Secure the area, please, and beware of other suspects.’

  ‘Yes, Captain,’ the sergeant said.

  The paramedic finished bandaging Sannie’s leg. ‘I’ll help you to the ambulance now.’

  ‘No way,’ Sannie said. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘But, Captain, you’ll need a couple of stitches.’

  ‘That can wait. I’ll go to the doctor later. Mia, can you drive me back to the school and my car, please?’

  ‘Of course,’ Mia said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sannie said to the paramedic, who was shaking his head as he zipped up his bag.

  Mia drove them out of town to the new school. Just as they arrived, Sean Bourke pulled up in his camouflaged Land Rover, with his dog in the back.

  ‘Sean,’ she said.

  ‘Sannie, howzit?’

  Mia and Jeff waited in the Land Rover as Sannie climbed down. Sannie briefed Sean on what had happened and her theory about a stray bullet setting off some explosives.

  He shook his head. ‘Highly unlikely. Modern explosives are pretty stable. You could fire a machine gun into common explosives like C4 or nitropril, and nothing would happen. If it was the Middle East I’d say a suicide bomber, or a command detonation, but as no one in this part of the world likes deliberately heading for heaven, I’d say the latter.’

  ‘Remote controlled?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sean, hands on hips, looked around them. ‘Someone might have been watching, waiting for the right moment to press a button on a wireless device, like maybe a garage door remote, or even sending a message on a cell phone, to detonate the explosives at the right time.’

  ‘There was a guy inside, shooting at us when the bomb went off. Why would whoever this was kill one of their own men?’

  ‘Were you closing in on them?’

  Sannie nodded. ‘Ja.’

  ‘I said people here don’t like killing themselves, but I know plenty who wouldn’t think twice about throwing someone else under the bus. Maybe someone’s trying to hide something?’

  ‘Like missing teenage girls?’

  Sean shook his head in disgust and went to the back of his truck and opened the tailgate. Somewhat awkwardly, Benny jumped down, but when Sean reached into the cab and fetched the dog’s tracking collar the canine barked and ran in a small circle, clearly eager to get to work.

  ‘Hello, Benny.’ Sannie winced as she transferred her weight from one leg to the other.

  ‘I’ll take Benny and we’ll cast about a bit, see if we can find any bomb residue or components.’

  ‘Be careful, Sean.’

  He reached into the cab of his vehicle and took out his LM5 assault rifle. When Sean cocked his rifle Benny’s whole demeanour changed. He stood alert, ears up, tail out.

  ‘When he hears that sound, he knows we’re working,’ Sean said to Sannie, then looked down at his dog, ‘Yes, you do, don’t you, boy?’

  Both of them, Sannie thought, looked in their element.

  ‘Soek, Benny!’ Sean pointed towards the ruins of the school building and Benny set off on his own.

  ‘Will he be all right?’ Sannie asked.

  ‘I’m working him off lead because there aren’t any predators around, no lions or leopards. Also, if he finds something . . .’

  Sannie didn’t need or want Sean to finish the sentence as it was too terrible to consider. If Benny found and accidentally tripped a booby trap bomb then there was less risk of a human being injured if the dog was ranging ahead by himself.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Sean said, ‘what I meant to say is that if he finds something, he’ll know exactly what to do. This isn’t Benny’s first rodeo. He was the best explosive detection dog in Afghanistan, and although he’s getting old, I’d stack his nose up against any other tracker dog.’

  Talk of Benny’s olfactory powers triggered something in Sannie’s memory. ‘One more thing. Come with me, please Sean.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Sean followed Sannie as she limped to her car. She popped the boot and took out a plastic evidence bag. She opened it and gave Laura’s beanie to Sean. ‘See if Benny can pick up her scent again.’

  ‘Hundred per cent. You think Laura and the other girl might be in the school buildings somewhere?’

  ‘Maybe, but after you’ve checked that, I’d like you to also take a look up there.’

  Sean’s eyes followed to where she was pointing, to the sangoma’s hut.

  Chapter 23

  Bongani picked up the radio handset in the Vulture control room. ‘Mia, go for Bongani, over.’

  There was no answer. He tried again, three times more, and wondered if she was out of range or just away from the Land Rover.

  Bongani kept his eyes on the computer screen in front of him, not allowing himself to lose sight of the poacher who was walking resolutely through an open, grassy clearing, an AK-47 balanced with arrogant casualness on his shoulder. It was as if, Bongani thought, he did not care if anyone saw him. Sara sat next to Bongani, similarly transfixed.

  ‘Bongani this is Jeff, over. I’m the guy who’s been doing the research into umuthi.’

  ‘Copy, Jeff, I’ve heard of you. Where’s Mia, please?’

  ‘She’s with the cops. Can I pass on a message?’

  ‘Just tell her the poacher is crossing Little Serengeti now-now. She’ll know what that means.’

  ‘Roger, Bongani.’

  ‘Oh, and one more thing, Jeff.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Tell her I’m going to get him.’

  ‘Roger, will do.’

  Bongani stood and Sara looked up at him. He knew she would want to come with him. ‘Sara, you must stay here and watch the screens.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No buts,’ he said. ‘We cannot lose this man again. I will find him, but if his magic is strong once again and I lose him, then you will be able to guide me. If he heads too far east, out of the Vulture’s area of coverage, you can re-task the system.’ He showed Sara the commands to redirect one of the long-range cameras. ‘You can follow him like that.’

  ‘We shouldn’t have let Sean and Benny go to Killarney.’

  ‘There is no use in regretting decisions once they are made,’ Bongani said. ‘There was a bomb in Killarney and that dog, Benny, is an expert at detecting explosives. I am an expert in tracking people.’

  ‘Be careful, Bongani.’

  ‘I will. And I will be safe with you as my guardian angel, watching my back with your fancy cameras and radars.’

  She smiled and turned back to the screens. It was time for him to end this nonsense once and for all. From the Vulture system cabin he went to the main lodge. In the back-of-house area was a walk-in safe, which housed the reserve’s armoury. Bongani opened it, using the combination entrusted to very few. From the rack on the wall he selected an R1 rifle they sometimes took on walks. He took two magazines of 7.62-millimetre ammunition and put them in each of the side pockets of his cargo pants. He took the keys to one of the Land Rover game viewers from a hook in the safe, went out to the car park and started the vehicle.

  He drove fast, eyes darting left and right looking for animals. In less than ten minutes he was racing along the road next to the open area known as Little Serengeti. He picked the spot where he had last seen the poacher, drove on another half a kilometre and parked.

  On foot, he left the road and had little difficulty picking up the poacher’s path. The grass was long – the passage of animals was evident through flattened pathways – but the individual stems had begun to bounce back on these meandering tracks.

  One pathway was still flattened, still dead straight.
That of a man.

  Bongani broke into a jog, the sure-footed, soundless pursuit of a wild dog on the hunt. He kept an eye on the spoor in front of him, but especially on the way ahead, as he knew he was not far behind the wily poacher who had led them on a merry dance across the reserve where Mia and he had once reigned supreme. He was sure it was the old man, experienced and arrogant enough to hunt alone. Nothing, not the canny leopard nor even the shy nocturnal aardvark had eluded them when they picked up its tracks or heard of its presence.

  Except this quarry.

  Bongani felt the challenge laid down, of a gauntlet dropped by one knight to another, something Bongani had seen in an old movie once. His honour was at stake, as were the lives of rhinos and who knew what else this man was after – be they children or pangolins. Bongani would find him and stop him.

  He caught a glimpse of movement between some trees about a hundred metres to his front. The Little Serengeti had given way to bushveld. He paused by a tree and scanned ahead.

  Bongani’s hands tightened on the pistol grip and the stock of the military-style rifle. This was not a gun for hunting or protection, this was a weapon for mass killing, multiple shots, one after another. He did not have it in mind to kill the elusive old man, but the poacher was carrying an AK this time and Bongani did not doubt that the man would use it without hesitation.

  He paused.

  Why was the man carrying the Russian assault rifle and not a heavy weapon? he wondered. What was the poacher after this time?

  Bongani studied the ground. Now that there was shelter from trees there was not as much grass and undergrowth, and Bongani was able to discern the man’s boot prints on bare ground here and there.

  The stride was long, which meant he was still moving quickly. There was the slightest sign of an uneven gait, a short scuffing of the right foot that told Bongani he was tracking an older man. Of course, there was no way to be certain it was the same man, but Bongani felt it.

  As clever as this poacher was, he wouldn’t be a threat much longer, Bongani thought. This time he would not escape.