by Leon Mare
‘Oh?’ She arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Nothing wrong with visiting him, is there?’
He refrained from answering and entered the elevator.
The fat nurse pouted her lips into the resemblance of a string-drawn tobacco pouch but maintained an aloof silence.
Smitty knew there would be questions from the superintendent tomorrow.
Sam was lying on his back, snoring lightly. A dim bedside lamp cast a yellow glow across the bed. The softening of Linda’s features sent a wave of resentment coursing through Smitty.
‘Sam,’ Linda whispered, taking the hand that was lying on the sheet in both hers.
‘I told you he is under sedation, dammit.’ Smitty disengaged her hands and looked over his shoulder furtively. Fortunately the nurse had returned to her station.
Sam opened his eyes groggily. ‘Hello, beautiful,’ he croaked. ‘Water.’
She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Smitty,’ she said.
Turning back, she put a hand on his chest. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Lousy.’
He took the glass from Smitty and gulped greedily. He had just started lowering his head again when the warning bell clanged in his brain. He knew Estelle had been here. He jerked his head up to look around and nearly screamed as the pain tore through him stomach.
His head fell back on the pillow with a grunt.
‘Sam.’ Her hand was on his chest again and tears glinted in her eyes, ‘Are you all right?’
He just lay there, breathing deeply, trying to ignore the world. In the drug-induced confusion images and thoughts jostled for supremacy in his head. Estelle and Linda merged into one personality, overwhelming and smothering him. As he drifted off again, sweat beaded on his forehead, and he mumbled incomprehensibly, rolling his head from side to side.
‘He’s got to sleep this off, Linda. Leave him now.’ Smitty took her hand in his.
She pulled away and leant across Sam once more. She kissed him on the lips. ‘Goodnight, love,’ she whispered.
‘Time to go. You are upsetting the patient.’ Smitty took a firm grip on her elbow and led her out of the room. He was afraid of losing her, so he decided not to say anything. He knew that, if he dared to comment now, she would be at him in a flash.
He walked her to her car in silence. She pecked him goodnight and started her car. ‘Thanks, Smitty, I really appreciate this.’
Gripping the top of the door, he pressed his face close to hers: ‘Linda, please listen to me. You are playing with fire. This man is on the verge of getting married to another woman. They are happy. Leave them alone before you hurt somebody.’
She looked him in the eye without saying anything for a while. ‘Goodnight, Smitty,’ she said, and patted him on the cheek before roaring off, laying down two wide black lines on the tarmac.
He stood alone in the darkness, watching her brake lights flash briefly as she joined the flow of traffic. A light breeze was flapping the white coat around his knees as he turned and walked back towards the hospital slowly.
The next morning Estelle had everybody in the dining room the moment they started serving breakfast. She had already phoned ward nine and the day sister had assured her that Mr Jenkins had had a good nights’ rest and was feeling much better. And no, him being in a private room, she didn’t mind him having visitors outside official visiting hours.
Not wanting to leave his firearms in his room unattended, Louis drew a few puzzled stares from the other guests. Fortunately he had a clean set of khakis in his kit bag, and without a two-day shadow on his jowls he looked nearly civilised. Even so, the other guests politely gave him a wide berth.
On their way out he settled his bill, planning to rent a car at the hospital and return to the Park directly after having seen Sam.
The morning was clear and sunny as they arrived at the hospital just before eight.
Not wanting to let the nursing staff get at him, Sam had shuffled to the bathroom earlier for his morning toilet. He was clean shaven and dressed in fresh hospital-issue pajamas when Estelle entered. She was radiant, and her genuine joy at seeing him evoked searing waves of guilt in him. The bullet was out of his stomach, but the snake was back. Ignoring the pain in his stomach he hugged her, breathing in the clean smell of soft hair. I must be bloody crazy jeopardising all this for another woman, he thought.
Sam’s father was clearing his throat: ‘When you are quite finished . . .’
‘Ah, daddy-o! Mom, how is everybody?’
After the greetings, Sam’s parents pulled up chairs and, with Estelle sitting on the bed holding his hand, he had to recount the story once again, also omitting Joao’s threats.
As he finished, Louis entered the room. ‘Howdy, sport. I’ve just been down to see our prisoner. Doubt if his mother would recognise him. The surgeon reckons he will wait another day or two for the swelling to go down before he operates.
‘Have they got a guard on him?’
‘His eyes are swollen shut, so I doubt if he could find his way out of the room, but the cops are guarding him 24 hours a day anyway.’
‘Good, I’d hate to lose the bugger. How many rhinos did he get?’
‘Three. Judging by the horns one of them was the big bull in the quarantine camp.’
‘Maybe a good thing I got shot before I could get my hands on him.’
‘I doubt it. Mark my words, the moment he gets out of jail he will be back in the Park, poaching to his heart’s content. Two years at the most. There’s no way they’re going to pin the murder of the policeman on him – there is no proof that he actually did the shooting, and there were no witnesses. He could make up any story he pleases.’
Sam knew this to be true. ‘At least the other one won’t be doing any more poaching. And if Joao comes back, I’ll be waiting for him.’
‘Yes,’ Louis pressed Sam’s arm to try and get the message across. ‘We will have to talk about that sometime.’
Louis knew that Joao was no ordinary poacher. He was big time, and a very dangerous man. Earlier, while he had been talking to the guard, Joao had become aware of his presence. ‘Tell Sam Jenkins,’ he had mumbled through his swollen lips and broken teeth, ‘tell him not to forget. He is going to pay dearly for the death of my brother. Tell him I will devote the rest of my life to killing him.’ Louis had had difficulty in restraining himself from breaking some more bones in Joao’s skull. He once again refrained from mentioning this in front of Sam’s family.
Louis collected his hardware and made his farewells, then ambled off in search of transport.
‘Good man, that,’ Sam’s father remarked.
‘The best, Dad.’
In the course of the morning Smitty came breezing in and was introduced to everyone. He examined Sam and chatted a while before leaving.
‘Friend of yours?’ Estelle asked.
‘Yes, I met him and his girlfriend in the Park a while ago. Two very nice people,’ Sam said, taking the gap expertly. ‘She’s a local lawyer. You’d like her.’ I hope to God you never get to meet her he added silently.
He knew, however, that those dark clouds were approaching the fan when the flowers arrived. ‘With love, Smitty and Linda,’ the feminine handwriting on the card said.
That evening, his family having returned from dinner, Sam was lying there with a sense of foreboding. Every time he heard high heels in the passage, he shuddered inwardly.
Linda came striding into the room, holding Smittys’s hand. Oh shit, Sam thought as she kissed him on the cheek, this is it. Judging by the pained expression on Smitty’s face, their arrival must have been preceded by a monumental argument, which he had lost hands down. Introductions were made, and everybody started chatting away happily, except Sam and Smitty. Sam was once again overwhelmed by Linda’s presence. Must be her pheromones, he thought, trying to comprehend the effect Linda was having on him. When she was present, logic just ceased to exist. The snake in his stomach coiled up tight, and he found himself once again craving f
or her.
Even though they were two opposites, the women seemed to be getting along well, and the evening passed without incident.
On kissing Sam goodnight, Linda pressed his arm briefly. ‘Sleep well, Sam. I’ll be popping in now and again, even if Smitty can’t make it. He is working himself half to death these days.’
Chapter Five
Throughout the days of his recovery, Linda kept up this pretence. Every time Sam made up his mind to end it the next time he could see her alone. The few times that he did see her alone, however, his resolve collapsed instantly and he wanted to make love to her there and then. The days passed agonisingly slowly.
Two floors below him, Joao was also healing slowly. An open reduction had been performed on his upper jaw and his jaws were wired shut. The remnants of five of his front teeth had been removed, but this made eating and talking between the a lot easier. The flame of hate he had been nurturing was now a blazing inferno.
He was constantly guarded by an armed police constable, changing shifts every eight hours. The fact that he was even accompanied to the toilet did nothing to lighten his mood.
He was scheming and planning, pretending to be a lot less mobile than he actually was. Time, for him, also passed agonisingly slowly.
Then, one day, he got an unexpected visitor who would change the course of his life. ‘Duncan Courie,’ the man said, extending his right hand. ‘I’m your lawyer. We have to talk.’
The next Sunday evening Estelle and Sam’s parents had to depart. After much kissing and crying by the women they eventually were on their way.
Linda must have been waiting in her car in the car park – her timing was just too good to be pure chance. They had not been gone five minutes, when she entered, all smiles. Without preamble she put her arms around his neck and proceeded to kiss him passionately. Ignoring his wound, Sam put his arms around her, his hands on her bare back, and pulled her to him. ‘Jesus, woman, you are driving me insane.’
She had detected the movement of the sheet at his crotch and, smiling a wicked smile, she slid her hand down and gripped his growing erection through the covers.
‘Shit!’ He nearly tore his wound open, sitting upright and removing her hand. ‘If someone had walked in here now we would both be thrown out,’ he said, lying back again and lifting his knees, creating a miniature tent to hide his predicament.
‘Shall I come back when things are a little quieter?’ she started giggling, and Sam started laughing till the tears streamed down his face.
‘You’re bloody insane, woman!’
The draw-string nurse appeared at the door. It was clear that she did not approve of the two beautiful women taking turns in visiting her patient. ‘You must take it easy, Mr Jenkins. You will tear out the stitches.’
They found this understatement hilarious, and laughed even harder. The nurse left with a haughty sniff, and they subsided gradually.
‘And haven’t I been a good girl?’
‘Perfect. You had me very worried initially. Fortunately Estelle is a very naïve girl. She wouldn’t recognise evil if she stepped in it.’
‘You calling me evil?’ Her hand sliding towards is crotch again.
‘No, hell! It’s just a figure of speech.’ He grabbed her hand.
‘When you get out you will have to recuperate at my place for a few days.’
‘No way, woman. I would love to, but no way. You are putting too much pressure on Smitty. He is going to snap, and spill the beans to Estelle.’
‘Will that mean the end of the world?’
Sam knew he was on very thin ice suddenly. Give me a dangerous animal any day, he thought.
Before he could phrase an appropriate answer, she was smiling again. ‘Don’t look so worried, big man. I am not becoming demanding. And please don’t worry about Smitty, believe me when I say I can handle him.’
After she had left it took Sam a long time to fall asleep. He was a very worried man. He knew women well enough to know that those imaginary thunder clouds were in fact growing thicker by the day. He suspected that she might just be becoming possessive. Getting out of this one was going to be a real bastard. To compound the problem, he wasn’t sure he wanted to get out. Either way, he had trouble.
Joao was watching the constable through his half-closed eyes. He had just come on duty, and he was young and frail looking. It was 10:30 on a Monday evening, and the nightly hush had descended on the ward. The night staff would remain at their station, only occasionally looking in on the more serious patients.
With a bit of luck he had up to seven hours before anybody would miss him.
He groaned and sat up. The policeman was immediately alert. With another grunt Joao got out of bed and stood doubled over, both arms across his stomach. The constable was up and approaching him. ‘Shall I call the night sister?’ he wanted to know.
‘Not necessary, just give me a hand to the toilet please.’
As the constable reached out his hand Joao hit him in the stomach with all his weight behind the blow. With a ‘woof’ the constable’s breath exploded from his mouth and he doubled over, gagging.
Casually Joao stepped over him, put his arm around his neck and started applying pressure. ‘Good-bye, little boy blue,’ he whispered as the constable’s eyes started bulging, his arms flapping wildly.
Joao kept the pressure up for a good while after the struggling had ceased. Ascertaining that there was definitely no pulse, Joao took his pistol and dumped the corpse in his bed. He pulled up the sheets, hiding the blue uniform completely. The cap he kicked under the bed.
It was a pity about the size of the cop, he thought, tying the belt of the hospital gown. He could have used the uniform.
He would have loved to go looking for Jenkins right now, but he knew he would not get far, sneaking around the hospital at this time of night, trying to find his quarry.
Going out of the door would be dicey, as he had to pass the nurses’ station, so he opted for the window. He was on the first floor, but there was a ledge running the length of the building. He got down carefully and lowered himself till he was hanging from the ledge by the tips of his fingers. Dropping the short distance into a flower bed was a piece of cake.
All was quiet in the main parking area, and only a few cars were standing around. He would have preferred to steal a car and drive himself, but he was afraid of getting lost and wasting time trying to find his way Komatipoort, where the Lebombo border post was situated. He also didn’t know anything about hot-wiring a car.
Komatipoort was approximately 120 kilometres east of Nelspruit, at the very southern tip of the Kruger Park. A bit more than an hour’s drive could get him there. The small town was surrounded mostly by wilderness, with a few scattered farms here and there.
Joao knew that, in this area, outside the Park, the border fence was a different cup of tea. The main fence was two metres high and carried an electric current that resulted in instant death when touched. Every two kilometres there was a military monitoring station that reacted instantly upon short circuiting of the current.
At a distance of three metres, this fence was flanked by standard game fencing, with a warning sign in four languages every twenty yards.
It was going to be difficult crossing but he would rather risk that than be executed for the murder of the policeman.
Joao ducked into some shrubs as a car turned off the main road and approached the hospital. It did not, however, enter the main car park but went past in the direction of a smaller parking area some distance away. Joao started trotting after the car, and noticed a sign indicating that this was the Nurses’ Home. Good, he thought, there should be some life around here. As four young women got out of the car, chatting and laughing, he faded back into the shadows. Too many. He would prefer a car with only one occupant.
He was getting edgy when, ten minutes later, another car entered the parking area and stopped in the shadow of a big thorn tree right at the edge. There were two occupants but th
ey remained in the car, necking. He stalked the car through the flowers and shrubs, creating havoc which would be bound to send the chief gardener into convulsions the next day. He sat on his haunches a few metres from the car, waiting impatiently.
Judging by the sounds emanating from the open window he decided that this was bound to take a while, and he didn’t have the time to wait. He had no alternative but to take them both. Getting up he cocked the dead policeman’s pistol and stepped up to the car. He jerked the driver’s door open and leant inside, pointing the pistol.
The roof light had come on as the door opened. The woman’s dress was hiked up around her hips and her legs were spread as wide as the foot well would allow. The man was in the process of kissing her, his hand working away furiously between her legs. The sudden intrusion made the woman take a deep breath and she opened her mouth to scream.
‘Don’t!’ Joao hissed, jabbing the pistol in her direction. ‘You make a noise and you are both dead. You understand that?’ He reached out his other hand and switched off the interior light. He opened the back door and in one movement he slammed the driver’s door and got in the back.
He pressed the pistol behind the woman’s ear. ‘Drive,’ he instructed. ‘Get going. Now!’
The man fumbled lot but got the car going eventually. ‘I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. You can even take the car. I haven’t got much money on me, but you are welcome to what I got. Just please don’t harm us.’
‘Go around the town and get to the Komatipoort road. You get me to Komati quick and nobody gets hurt.’
‘Sure, sure,’ the man said, glancing at the fuel gauge. ‘We have enough fuel. We’ll have you there in no time.’
‘Just as long as you are not planning on being a dead hero.’ Joao made sure the man got a good look at the pistol.