by Paul Eksteen
“It will be my pleasure. And tell Mario not to worry about an envelope. I will do this piece of work, as long as I am confirmed afterwards.”
The waiter arrived with new drinks and the antipasto. Chicco waited until the waiter served them and walked away, before he carried on.
“You whack this guy, and you will be a friend of ours. Now let’s eat. What do you propose as primo?”
CHAPTER 25
Clarens — Wednesday, April Fool’s Day
I slowly got out of my old Mercedes sedan, after parking in the town square in Clarens. I’d been driving for six straight hours from Polokwane.
I had left Polokwane at five in the morning, driving down the N1 to Pretoria and Johannesburg and then followed the N3 towards Durban. I crossed the Vaal River sixty kilometres past Heidelberg, where I left the highway at Villiers, driving towards Bethlehem. Here I turned onto the R712 for the last stint of forty kilometres to Clarens.
My only stop was at half past seven in the morning, when I dropped some ammunition off with Nic, at a garage close to Rietvlei Dam in Pretoria. It was armour piercing rounds for the .308 sniper rifle which I was going to use soon.
A year ago, Nic issued me with two hundred FNM M61 armour piercing rounds, made by Fabrica Nacional de Municoes de Armas Ligeiras, Chelas, Portugal.
I pulled the heads from the cartridges and reloaded them with local gunpowder, to shoot at the same spot at two hundred metres as the factory Federal Match ammunition that I normally used.
The Federal Match ammunition were loaded with 168-grain Sierra hollow point boat tail bullets whereas the FNM armour piercing rounds were loaded with 150.5 grain bullets. I had to lower the load on the FNM round to get to the same zero at two hundred metres but, after five test batches, I got them to hit at the same spot.
I had needed the ammo for a job the previous year, and it had worked perfectly.
My target might be wearing a bullet proof vest, so I was not taking any chances. The armour piercing bullets were designed to penetrate seven millimetres of armour at three hundred metres and five millimetres of armour at five hundred metres. More than enough firepower for a Kevlar vest.
Clarens was known as the ‘Jewel of the Eastern Free State’ and was situated in the foothills of the Maluti Mountains, close to Lesotho. The town was established in 1912 and named after the town in Switzerland where President Paul Kruger spent his last days in exile.
I was tired from driving the six hours non-stop, but at least I was here, at my final destination.
The bloody doctor does not even have to drive three hundred kilometres from Bloemfontein to get here, I thought.
Clarens is an artists’ haven with many well-known artists living close by and selling their artworks at one of the many art galleries scattered around the little village.
I decided to book in at the Red Mountain House where I always stayed on my visits to Clarens, grab something light to eat afterwards and then drive to the Golden Gate Highlands National Park to do some investigating.
***
Golden Gate Highlands National Park
It was two hours later, and I was on my way to the Golden Gate Park to look for the ideal spot for a final showdown. Like the gunfight at the OK Corral. Just a little bit more discreet.
I had spent a lot of time on Google Earth the previous day to find the ideal location. I had identified two locations that might work. The first location was less than thirty kilometres east of Clarens right next to the R712 inside the Golden Gate National Park.
The second location was on the R711 south-west of Clarens. Both roads were rarely used during the week in the off season. I’d decided to start with the site that I’d identified as the most promising. By doing this, I wouldn’t waste valuable time.
I passed the Glen Reenen campsite after twenty minutes of driving. The spot I was looking for was about eight hundred metres from there.
After driving another seven hundred metres through some incredible sandstone rock formations, I found the road I was looking for. It was the road to the Longtoon Dam. I turned off to the right on Blesbok Loop Road which was a one-way road.
I could see one of the three buttes that I identified on Google Earth straight away on my left. I drove past the butte and, after three hundred metres, got to a hairpin bend in the road. I went around the bend and stopped the Merc at the side of the road.
I was dressed in a khaki shirt, shorts and hiking boots. I carried a backpack loaded with a range finder, binoculars, GPS, water bottle, gloves, a hand saw, a small axe, pliers, wire, cable ties, a few ropes, carabiners and quickdraws.
I had to find a way to the top of the butte and planned on leaving a few quickdraws with a rope in place to assist in climbing to the top the next day with a rifle on my back.
The butte was about two hundred metres from where I had parked. I moved around it in an anticlockwise direction and found an access point on the south-eastern side. This pleased me a lot as the access point was hidden away from the R712.
It took me close to thirty minutes to get to the top. Once at the top, I identified a position which could be used to shoot from.
According to my GPS, I was standing at a height of two thousand four hundred and forty-two metres. Very close to what I saw on Google Earth. I saved a GPS reading of the coordinates.
I ranged the distance to the target. The target would be on butte number two. Five hundred and eight metres. Tight. Especially with a wind blowing from left to right or right to left through the mountain peaks. But it would have to do. This was my best option.
I sawed a few branches from shrubs and trees and improvised the sniping position. The target would be directly north of here. The leaves on the branches, which I used for cover, were green and should keep for a day and a half after being cut off.
I started my descent, leaving a rope tied to a sturdy tree at the top. I guided the rope through a few carabiners tied to short pieces of rope. These I tied to solid roots or other outcrops on my way down. At the bottom, I hid the rope between some shrubs and saved another GPS reading at the spot where the rope was hidden.
I made my way back to the Merc and followed the one-way road for three kilometres until I got back to the R712 where I turned left.
I drove back in the direction of Clarens but stopped at the turn-off to the Longtoon Dam. Here I made a U-turn in the road and drove slowly east. After hundred and fifty metres I found a picnic spot on the right-hand side of the road. Ideal!
I took a GPS reading of the coordinates. I then forwarded the coordinates with the directions of how to get there to Nic Badenhorst. He needed to send it to the Cuban. This would be our ‘meeting spot’.
I again made a U-turn on the R712 and drove to the Glen Reenen Campsite. I stopped at the Total garage near the campsite and, with my rucksack on my back, started off on the Wodehouse Peak Hiking Trail.
The trail started at the campsite, across the road from the SANParks office. They did have maps of the trail available at the office, but I didn’t want to be too conspicuous. I would use the map I printed from Google Earth.
The trail was eight kilometres long, and it would take approximately four hours to complete. It was already close to three in the afternoon, but I wasn’t planning on walking the whole trail.
I followed the trail in a north-easterly direction for two hundred metres, where it split left and right. I took the right option, walking towards the two buttes I had identified to the north of the R712. The trail stayed parallel to the R712 around the lower contours of the mountain and then turned directly north, to go straight between the two buttes that I was interested in.
At this point, I spotted a SANParks service road joining the hiking trail from the R712. They probably used the service road in cases of emergency. The hiking trail here was also much wider to enable a vehicle to drive on it.
I turned right on the service road and followed it to the R712. Again, I saved the GPS coordinates. I turned around and followed the service r
oad further north towards the two buttes.
The service road ended at the foot of the butte on the left, close to a shallow cave in the red sandstone formation. The hiking trail continued to the top of the butte.
I followed the hiking trail to the top of the butte and looked around. I could clearly see butte one, which I climbed earlier next to the Blesbok Loop Road.
I looked for a good shooting position close to the edge of a cliff. It must also be very visible from the butte to the east of me. The one I hadn’t climbed yet.
After looking around for ten minutes, I found what I was looking for. I had to remove a few bushes to get a clear line of sight from butte number three and, when I was happy with my handiwork, I took another GPS reading and saved it.
My altitude was two thousand four hundred and sixteen metres, according to the GPS.
I filled up some holes made when removing bushes and sifted loose sand over spots that didn’t look a hundred per cent natural. I stood back and looked at my handiwork. Butte number two was sorted.
Now, for the third position. I looked across at butte number three. This butte was slightly higher, and I ranged it at three hundred and sixty metres.
I would have to find a way to the top the next day.
I followed the trail back the way I came and drove into Clarens fifty minutes later.
I arrived in town just as it was getting dark. Too late to drop off my paintings. The galleries in this little town all closed at five, sharp. Silly, if you think that there was not much else to do, for a tourist.
I took a shower and went for an early supper. While having supper, I received a message on my phone from the doctor. He asked to meet me in two days’ time at a certain spot in the Golden Gate National Park. He included directions and GPS coordinates.
He would be driving a yellow Hyundai Accent, with Free State number plates. Typical, I thought. The Cuban would never buy a Ford! Rather a car made in Korea.
I accepted the appointment. The meeting was scheduled for seven in the morning of Friday 3April.
I phoned Karlien from bed, just after eight and told her that everything was fine. She knew I had to deliver paintings to the gallery in Clarens but was always nervous when I went away for more than two days at a time. Probably scars that her husband had left behind.
She invited me for dinner on Friday night and I told her that I would be there. Danielle and I.
Many times, I’ve been wrong in my life. But never more so than at that moment.
CHAPTER 26
Springs — Thursday, 2 April
Marc Robinson woke at six in the morning. He had to finalise a few things at work, and then drive to Pretoria for a meeting with his handler, Josua Ngube.
At this meeting, he would get his final instructions for a mission in Clarens, the following day.
***
Clarens
I woke at six in my bed at the Red Mountain House. I had slept like a log for four hours and then started to twist and turn in my bed.
There were many things that could go wrong.
And something going wrong meant that I might get shot. Not something I was looking forward to. I had had my share of injuries this year.
I went through my wanderings of the previous day. Yesterday had been a very long day indeed. What did I miss?
Tonight, I will be sleeping in the mountains, so I decided to lie in bed for another hour, and plan what I had to do the rest of the day.
***
Bloemfontein
The Doctor woke with a start. Tomorrow was the big day. The day he had been dreaming of for more than twenty years.
Tomorrow, his father’s death would be avenged. At last.
He jumped out of bed and took a long shower. He was on leave for the rest of the week and planned to spend all his time in Clarens.
He still couldn’t believe the call he had got from a Nic Badenhorst the week before. He was told that his father’s assassin was a rogue agent and that the SSA had decided to eliminate him. In his presence. What a bonus!
He immediately called Lillynn Garcia to confirm the credentials of Nic Badenhorst. She said that she would call him back and did so within thirty minutes. Nic was indeed working at the SSA and was the handler of Tom Allen Coetzee.
***
Pretoria
Nic Badenhorst was awake and lying in his bed. It was close to six in the morning and he had lots to do today.
He had drawn three sniper rifles from the armoury, the previous day, with a hundred rounds of ammunition for them. He could clearly remember the frown on the face of the armoury clerk. He could understand why the clerk wanted to double check his paperwork. Somewhere the shit was going to be flying, and the clerk wanted to be sure that his side was clean.
He had to go out to the range to make sure all the rifles were zeroed at three hundred metres. As per Tom’s instructions.
And, Tom’s gun must be zeroed with his special loads. Tom used one of his own rifles from time to time when doing contract work for the SSA, but this time he asked for three of the Steyr SSGs from the armoury.
After the rifles had been zeroed, Nic had to drive to Clarens in the Free State, to meet his team, and deliver the rifles. The cherry on the top was a romantic dinner tonight, with a Cuban doctor. It was definitely not something he was looking forward to.
Nic sighed and got out of bed. Time to get going.
Marc drove into Pretoria, at eleven in the morning, for his meeting with Josua Ngube. A meeting that almost went haywire.
Josua informed him that the SSA was aware of his connections with a Doctor Luis Esteban Fernandez.
And the SSA was not very pleased.
“The SSA they ees not very happy. Thees is a bigga problem, Marc.”
He was instructed to get rid of the Cuban doctor, without compensation.
That was where he threw his toys a bit.
But Josua was adamant.
“You a made me look like a beeg fool, Marc. I was called for a meeting with da beeg boss. He was not happy.”
He softened the blow by alluding to a new job in the pipeline, where Marc could earn a big bonus, once this one was completed successfully.
Marc had a room booked at the Golden Gate Hotel, near Clarens, for the night. He had to wait at the hotel for further instructions from a certain Nic Badenhorst.
Marc didn’t see the white Mercedes C200 which followed three cars behind him on the highway. He was on his phone, explaining to his wife that he would be out of town on business for a day or two.
***
Clarens
I had an omelette downstairs for breakfast, and then drove out to the Golden Gate Park again. I parked the Merc at the Glen Reenen campsite and was on the Wodehouse trail just after nine.
In less than ten minutes I was at the service road and followed it towards butte number two, until I got to the shallow cave at the end.
From here, I had to bundu bash to butte number three, three hundred metres to the east. I walked around the butte and found an access trail on the northern side. It took me a while to get to the top as the trail was unused and overgrown. I didn’t want to cut the trail open, so it took me a while to arrive at the top of the butte, bruised and bleeding from numerous scratches.
I looked around again for a suitable position and found one on the western side, with a clear view of the shooting position on butte number two.
This was to be my shooting position, so I gave much more attention to camouflaging the spot. I ranged the position on butte two at three hundred and seventy-two metres. The altitude was two thousand four hundred and fifty-two metres. It was the highest butte of the three.
My view to butte one was not good, but the view of the shooting position on butte two was perfect.
Going down the overgrown trail was just as difficult as going up. I would definitely have to climb this butte with lots of time to spare. I followed the hiking trail back the way I had come and drove into Clarens an hour later.
I had lunch at the German restaurant and visited the gallery to drop off my paintings.
***
Somewhere between Bloemfontein and Clarens
The Doctor had just left Bloemfontein in his little Hyundai Accent sedan, driving in an easterly direction on the N8, towards Ladybrand. He had bought the little yellow car after his first six months working in Mokopane. It was his first car, and he was very proud of the achievement. He needed the car, as it was very difficult to get around in South Africa without your own transport, due to the lack of a proper public transport system.
Earlier that morning, he had had to follow up on two of his abortion patients, before he was satisfied to leave for the rest of the week.
He should reach Ficksburg, where they had a yearly Cherry Festival, at around lunchtime. There should be some nice little restaurants where he could have lunch and relax before his meeting the next day.
He would follow the R26, towards Ficksburg, after lunch, and then follow the R711 to Clarens. He was booked in at the Protea Hotel in Clarens for that night and the next — on SSA’s account.
***
Pretoria
Nic Badenhorst was swearing loudly. He had sighted all three rifles at one hundred metres and was shooting at three hundred metres to zero the rifles. He had finished the task with two of the rifles, but the third rifle was shooting all over the target.
He had already become suspicious about the one rifle when shooting at a hundred metres, and the group size of the three shots were larger than a melon.
He decided to call Tom. Did they really need three rifles?
Tom answered the phone on the third ring.
“Hi Nic, are you in Clarens already?”