by Tony Park
‘We were lucky she came alone,’ Paulsen said. ‘Made it easier.’
Suzanne buttoned the blue shirt. ‘First piece of luck we’ve had so far.’
‘Now that we have a police vehicle we’ll easily be able to establish a roadblock in the national park. The kids will not have reached the tar access road through Hluhluwe–iMfolozi yet. There’s a road that runs through the iMfolozi half of the park, from Mpila Camp to Nyalazi Gate. They’ll hit that first and either try to flag down a lift or, if they see us, hopefully surrender themselves to the police.’
Suzanne turned her back to him and Egil did the same as she unzipped her jeans and swapped them for Khumalo’s trousers. The fit was not bad. She took the policewoman’s gun and phone also. ‘Agreed. I didn’t really expect Bilal and Djuma to catch them. They don’t know Zululand like we do. I’m sure they’ll be pleased to be picked up.’
Paulsen turned back to her. ‘All that remains to be seen is how quickly the Americans can get their shit together.’
‘Well, we’ve got our shit ready for them.’ Prior to meeting the police sergeant Suzanne and Egil had driven to a remote site in the bush not far from the N2 and uncovered a cache of extra weapons and ammunition that she had buried two years ago, in a waterproof plastic bin, for just such an emergency.
‘We could just head for the border. We can be in Mozambique in a few hours,’ Paulsen said.
‘Not without my baby.’
*
Nia checked her watch again as she sat in her boss’s office at the small Coastal Choppers headquarters at Virginia Airport. It was now ten minutes after ten and Mike still hadn’t called. She had phoned him three times and been put through to voicemail on each call.
Nia called the number Mike had given her for Sergeant Khumalo. The woman answered, but Nia could barely hear her. ‘Hello? Sorry, you’re breaking up.’
‘Hold, please,’ said the woman faintly.
Nia waited. ‘Hello, who is this?’ asked a woman, who sounded like a white English-speaking South African.
‘My name is Nia Carras. Who are you?’
‘I’m Sergeant Munro, Sergeant Khumalo’s partner; she’s busy and asked me to take this call. Can I help?’
‘Um, I guess so,’ Nia said. One cop was the same as the next. ‘I’m the helicopter pilot Sergeant Khumalo met yesterday when we were chasing a stolen Toyota Fortuner.’
‘One second please.’
Nia held.
‘OK, Sergeant Khumalo asks what can we do for you?’
‘Well, there was another guy at the scene yesterday, his name is Mike Dunn. He went to look for the owner of the stolen car today, a woman called Suzanne Fessey, at her house in Durban.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, it’s weird, but Mike asked me to call Sergeant Khumalo if he didn’t get in touch with me by ten, and, well, he hasn’t. This could be a bit paranoid, but as the other sergeant knows, there were these armed dudes chasing the people who stole the car and it was pretty crazy.’
‘So I’ve heard. OK, I’ll pass the news on to Sergeant Khumalo, thanks for that. By the way, Suzanne Fessey is here and she’s fine.’
‘She is? Wow, that’s good to hear. And how about her child?’
‘Well,’ said the woman, ‘naturally Suzanne’s frantic, but there is a search under way for the child. Hang on –’ another pause, ‘– Sergeant Khumalo is saying we need to see you, to get an official statement about yesterday. Sergeant Khumalo and I need to interview you, that is.’
‘Sure, no problem. Hey, Mike Dunn has booked my chopper to search for the missing child and the young people who have him this afternoon. But I guess you’ve got a police chopper now, right?’
There was a moment’s silence on the other end of the line. ‘Well, actually, no. With the bomb going off in Durban yesterday all our police helicopters are tied up on security operations. Is there any chance you could still come up here and help us? We’ll send some officers to check on Mr Dunn, by the way.’
Nia didn’t know what to do. She wouldn’t know where to start searching for the missing child.
‘I can get authorisation from national parks to overfly Hluhluwe–iMfolozi, and I can fly with you to direct the search,’ said Sergeant Munro, reading Nia’s mind. ‘This is really important. Shame, it’s a missing child, after all.’
‘OK,’ Nia said. ‘I’ll be on my way soon. But please do check on Mike. He was really worried. I’m not sure what’s going on.’
‘Leave it to us,’ Sergeant Munro said. ‘Ever since those terrorists killed the ambassador the cell phone signal has been regularly clogged. You’re lucky you even got through to me.’
‘Well, my call got through to his number, too, it’s just that he didn’t answer.’
‘No problem,’ the woman said. ‘We’ll send someone to check the Fessey household. If you do hear from Mr Dunn, please let me know, and bring him with you in your helicopter. Sergeant Khumalo and I would like to interview both of you. Call me when you’re getting close. I’m going into the national park now so I’ll let you know where I am.’
‘All right,’ Nia said, then ended the call.
John was in the office next door. Nia walked in and found him reading an aviation magazine. ‘I’ve got to fly up to Hluhluwe again. If Mike Dunn calls, could you tell him I’ve gone searching for the missing kid? Also, call me and let me know if he does get in touch.’
‘Will do.’
Nia went outside and did her pre-flight checks. Although she had called the police like Mike had asked her to, and the sergeant had said she would send officers to look for Mike, she felt a knot of worry begin to form in her stomach.
‘It’s nothing,’ she said aloud to herself as she started the engine.
*
Themba walked down the grassy hill, the child warm and sleeping – at last – against his back. It felt weird, having another person attached to him. Carrying infants was the work of women and girls, but Themba had to admit the weight and warmth of the child was oddly comforting. In his hands he carried the AK-47 he had taken from the Fortuner. He had reloaded it with one of the spare magazines.
He glanced over his shoulder. Lerato trudged along about thirty metres behind him, eyes downcast. She was not happy, but there was nothing he could do for her right now. Just as it was a relief that the little one had stopped crying, it was good, in a way, that Lerato was silent. She had been berating him most of the morning, telling him they should give themselves up, but so far they hadn’t come across another soul.
In the distance a glint of light caught Themba’s eye and he could hear, far off, a low rumbling. He lost sight and sound of the apparition as they descended to a river. As was now his custom, he tuned his senses to full alert. The vegetation along the river was much thicker and greener than on the slopes; perfect habitat for predators and other big, dangerous game to be seeking shelter from the sun.
Themba slowed and checked behind him again. Lerato had stopped, not wanting to close the gap between them.
‘You must stick close to me,’ he called back to her.
‘Don’t yell at me.’
He had deliberately raised his voice, to let any animal that might be waiting in the jungle-like fringe know that there were humans coming into their territory. In response a turaco squawked and flew out of the threes. Themba saw Lerato flinch.
‘It’s all right. Just stay close to me when we go through thick bush. I don’t want to lose you.’
She blinked a couple of times and Themba thought for a moment she was going to start crying again, and that brought on a sudden feeling of sadness and helplessness in his own heart. He swallowed hard and told himself to be brave, to be a man, for all of their sakes.
‘It will be fine,’ he said, ‘but in this, you must stick with me.’
Lerato gave the slightest of nods
and started to make her way towards him. He told himself to remember that she was a city girl, spoiled and not used to life in the bush, let alone sleeping outdoors and being on the run with a criminal. Themba sighed. He had made a mess of this from start to finish. When it was over, however it ended, Lerato would never want to see him again. He sagged under the weight of the child, which suddenly felt unbearable.
‘Let me take him.’
Themba turned. ‘It’s all right. He’s not a problem.’
Lerato shook her head. ‘His poor little legs are probably in agony from being splayed across your big back.’
The child stirred and started to grizzle. ‘OK,’ Themba said. He put the rifle down in the grass and unfastened the wrap tied across his chest.
Lerato eased the little boy from Themba’s back. Themba felt the immediate relief from the removal of the weight and the cool of the breeze on his back through his shirt. How did people do this every day? he wondered. ‘Thank you.’ He picked up the AK-47.
She scowled. ‘Don’t thank me for anything. You got us into this mess and soon I’ll be getting us out of it. But in the meantime you need to get us to civilisation and we need to make sure this little man is not harmed.’
Themba took a deep breath. ‘You are right. About everything.’
Lerato flicked him a glance as she hoisted the child onto her back and tied the wrap around him and her, as though she’d been doing it all her life and not just the last twenty-four hours. ‘How do you mean?’
‘We – I mean I – should turn myself in. We need to find the police or someone who will take us to them.’
The relief was plain in Lerato’s sigh. ‘Yes, Themba. You have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re a good guy.’
He felt, again, though for different reasons, as though his heart might break. ‘I’m not, but thank you. We haven’t done anything really wrong, have we?’
She shook her head. ‘No. My father will help us. He is well connected in the ruling party. He can talk to the police. I’ll put in a good word for you. And that will be that.’
Themba felt the sadness creep back into his soul. He had been right; whatever happened, Lerato would never speak to him again after this. She would wash her hands of him. He would have a hard time talking his way out of this situation and she would go back to her big house and her pampered life. He was crazy to have thought it would end any other way.
‘I’m sorry I put you through all this, Lerato.’
She stopped walking. ‘I won’t lie, Themba, I’m tired and I’m filthy and I’m scared, but you did save my life. I’m sorry I haven’t thanked you properly for that.’
Themba smiled. ‘I would do it again.’
‘Well, you’re not going to get the chance, hopefully. Promise me we’ll stop as soon as we see a car, people, whatever.’
Themba nodded. He didn’t want to spoil this moment of forgiveness. He led off again, focusing on the ground ahead. As he approached the river he slowed, then stopped and listened.
‘What is it?’ Lerato asked.
Themba held up a hand to silence her, and sensed her resentment without even looking back at her. He turned his head slightly and heard it again, a snort. ‘Go back.’
‘What?’
‘Back up,’ he said to her.
He started to move and then saw the dark brown shape emerge from the reeds, trotting up the bank of the river towards him. Themba drew breath. ‘Stop.’
Lerato exhaled. ‘First you tell me to back up, then you tell me …’
‘Shush.’ Themba held his hand up again, then pointed. ‘Look.’
The rhinoceros took two more steps, climbing up onto the top of the rise. It looked at him with its little eyes, sniffing the air as its ears rotated. Themba could tell immediately from the way it held its head up, and from its hooked, pointed upper lip, that it was a black rhino, and that was bad news. Unlike the relatively placid grass grazing white rhino, the black had a justified reputation for being aggressive and quick to charge.
Themba looked around. ‘Dead tree, on the left,’ he whispered. Slowly, so as not to provoke the animal, he began to unsling the AK-47, moving it from where it had rested on his back around to his front.
‘I see it,’ Lerato said quietly.
Themba almost had the rifle off his body. The rhino snorted, then charged.
‘Run!’
Themba glanced left and saw Lerato heading for the tree, so he headed right, waving his hands in the air. ‘Hah!’
The rhino followed his shout. That was what Themba wanted, but even so he was filled with terror. He could hear the animal’s feet pounding the ground behind him, carving great divots from the dry ground as it clawed for purchase. Themba’s arms were pumping. The rifle bounced against his side but he’d also been carrying his blanket roll on his other shoulder and the AK’s sling was tangled in it. He imagined the point of a horn hooking him and tossing him high in the air then trampling his broken body to death.
Themba was running, instinctively, away from the river, but something in his brain told him to break left and head back to the watercourse. Even though other dangers might lurk there he knew he couldn’t outrun the horned freight train behind him.
Directly ahead of him was a bend in the river. On the opposite side was a sandy deposit on the point. Themba had no idea of how high the drop would be on his side, but the drumming noise in his ears told him he had no choice. He sucked air into his lungs, pumped his arms and pushed his legs to run faster than he ever had in his life.
Themba could hear the huffing and puffing of the rhino behind him and almost feel its hot breath on his neck and legs. Themba glanced over his shoulder and saw the rhino sweep its head up in an attempt to gore him. Instead, the wickedly pointed horn hooked the blanket roll bouncing on his back. Themba screamed, fell and somersaulted as his bedding was ripped from him. He was vaguely aware of the rifle coming untangled and falling free from his body.
The ground beneath him disappeared and Themba flailed his arms and legs as he tumbled through the air. The next thing he knew he was on his face in the water. He had landed hard in the shallows. He looked up, fearing the rhino was going to come flying over the precipice and land on him. It had, however, stopped short, its malevolent face staring down at him. It snorted its contempt for him and shook its head.
Themba coughed muddy water. At least he was safe for the moment, and he hoped Lerato had the good sense to stay in whatever tree she had found until he could get back to her and the child.
The rhino lifted its head high, sniffed again and then turned and trotted away from the bank. Themba went to stand, but his foot slipped on a rock and he fell backwards into a deeper pool of the river. He came up snorting water and coughing again. His body ached in various places but he realised he’d been lucky not to break a bone. He had only just escaped with his life.
‘Themba!’
He stood and held his hand up to his eyes to shield them from the glare. Lerato was standing on the bank above him, the baby still tied to her back, holding the AK-47 which she must have found on the ground where it fell.
‘Get back in the tree. The rhino could still be around,’ he called to her.
‘Themba, look out! Behind you.’ Lerato raised the rifle. ‘Get down!’
Themba turned and ducked at the same time, and felt his stomach churn as he saw the scaly ridge of the crocodile’s tail and its evil eyes bearing down on him through the water. Lerato pulled the trigger and a burst of bullets sent geysers of river water rising around him.
Chapter 14
Mike Dunn came to with a slap in the face. He blinked. The man in front of him hit him again.
‘Who are you?’ the man asked.
Mike focused, which wasn’t easy, and saw that the man had his wallet. ‘You’ve got my driver’s licence, so you’ve got my name.’
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
The man raised his hand to strike him again, but then another man came into focus. He was fair haired, with a blond beard flecked with grey. He put a hand between Mike and the other man. ‘Leave him be.’
‘Dude nearly killed me,’ said the African American.
‘We all just need to cool it,’ said the fair-haired man with the beard. Mike recognised him; he was the man who had let him into the estate through the security gate. He had been set up. The man’s accent was no longer disguised; it was pure American.
Mike raised a hand, slowly, and felt the lump on the back of his head. ‘Yeah, cool it like nearly caving my skull in.’
‘Well,’ said Blondie, ‘you did take a shot at my partner here.’
‘You’re police? What, FBI?’
‘Something like that,’ said the bearded man. ‘Now, you tell us what you’re doing here.’
‘You first.’
The black man laughed. ‘I say we water-board him.’
‘CIA?’ Mike said.
‘Enough,’ said Blondie. ‘Michael, I’m going to level with you. My name’s Jed Banks and my partner here is Franklin Washington. We’re looking for Suzanne Fessey, the woman who lived here, until recently. How do you know her?’
Mike touched his lump again and winced. ‘I don’t. Her car was stolen yesterday and I ended up helping a woman who was trying to get it back.’
‘What woman?’ Jed asked.
‘Helicopter pilot. She works for a car-tracking company. I was nearby and she couldn’t get police assistance, on account of your ambassador being assassinated. You got anything to do with that?’
‘What makes you ask that?’ Franklin said.
‘Well, we don’t get too many CIA agents breaking into houses in Durban.’
‘Who said anything about the CIA?’ Jed asked.