by Leon Mare
‘That’s enough now. I’m going to give you something to make you sleep. Just relax and everything will be okay.’
The colonel put his hands on the man’s arms reassuringly. ‘Do as the doctor says, Mr Meyer. We are just going to visit the scene, and then we will pick you up on our way back to Nelspruit.’
It was a short flight to the fence. Following the instructions of the police on the ground, the pilot put the helicopter down in a clearing. While Colonel Aucamp was conversing with his colleagues, Sam walked up to the fence. The body had already been removed and no sign remained of the previous night’s violence.
Sam stood on a boulder and stared into Mozambican bush. ‘I know you will be back, you bastard,’ he whispered. ‘Please hurry. I am waiting for you.’
Chapter Six
As Joao entered the Foyer of the Hotel Polana, the only respectable hotel left in Maputo, he absentmindedly touched the small of his back to make sure that the Tokarev was there, ready for a fast draw. In the unlikely event of this being a trap, he had no intention of getting abducted back across the border. He had no illusions about his fate should the South Africans get their hands on him again. Poaching was one thing, but killing two cops had upgraded him to a different league altogether.
He walked through the lounge and out to the pool area, continuously scanning his surroundings for anything that might look suspicious. There were very few people around at eleven on a Tuesday morning, tourism not being very high in the Frelimo government’s priority list. The hotel was used mostly by foreign businessmen, all trying to get their feet in the door early, as the winds of change have started stirring ever so slightly. A year ago the place had been practically deserted but as the government’s attitude to private enterprise had started changing, more and more doors that had been closed for twelve years had started opening, and a wide variety of businessmen and opportunists were clamouring to get in early.
A few people were scattered around the poorly maintained pool, and Joao immediately spotted Courie at a table near the open-air bar. The tables in the immediate vicinity were unoccupied, and there was no way anyone could approach without being obvious.
‘So, Joao, we meet again,’ Courie said, rising and extending his right hand in greeting.
Joao had come into town the previous week to have the wires removed from his jaws, and had found an urgent message from the Chinese trader awaiting him at his favourite watering hole, the Marco Polo Bar and Grill.
Entering the Chinaman’s shop, he had immediately been shown into the small back office, where serious business was always conducted.
‘Mr Courie wants to see you urgently,’ the Chinaman had informed him excitedly.
‘Courie? The lawyer? You must be bloody crazy. I’m not seeing any South African lawyers.’
‘He is coming to Maputo to see you. And he is not a South African. He’s got a Belgian passport.’
‘He can have a passport to heaven for all I care. It can only be a trap. How the hell do you know about him, anyway?’
The Chinaman shifted uncomfortably. ‘Don’t talk about Mr Courie that way. He’s a very big man.’
‘Looked more like a little runt to me.’
The Chinaman had winced, holding up his hands as if to ward off a physical attack. ‘Please, please, Joao. He is a much more powerful man than you could imagine. He has got contacts everywhere. And soldiers. Be very careful. I think he is in with the Mafia as well.’
Joao roared with laughter. ‘The Mafia? You want to tell me he is a big man in organised crime, and he is practising law in Nelspruit. Come off it, man!’
‘He shifted eighteen tons of ivory last year. And nobody knows how much rhino.’
‘Ah, now I see. He is close to the Kruger Park, close to Mozambique, close to Swaziland . . . So he is the big man behind all this. Why does he want to see me?’
‘He instructed me to tell you that it is in connection with your brother.’
Rui! Hate and visions of revenge had flooded his thoughts, and he had known immediately that he wanted to meet Courie.
‘Have a seat,’ Courie invited. ‘Beer?’
‘Laurentina, please. The Chinaman said you wanted to talk about Rui,’ Joao came to the point immediately.
Courie sighed. ‘Yes, a tragic business, that.’
‘Yes, I know. You didn’t come all the way to sympathise with me. What is it you want?’
Courie experienced some difficulty in hiding his annoyance behind a conspiratorial smile. ‘It’s more a matter of give and take. You do something for me, I do something for you.’
‘Like what?’
‘You give me one very specific rhino, I give you Jenkins.’
Joao could feel his pulse quickening at the thought of getting to Jenkins. He had no illusions about just hopping across the wire and killing the man. Jenkins was expecting an attempt on his life, and the man would be waiting for him to try just that.
‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re the best. And you’ve got an axe to grind. You’ve bungled your first attempt, which means getting the big rhino is going to be twice as difficult this time. You’ll have to get Jenkins out of the way first.’
‘I haven’t bungled anything. What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about the big bull in the quarantine camp. You missed him. They’ve now got a guard with a radio in the camp to stop you from trying again.’
‘I didn’t miss him! I cut off the horn myself.’
‘The one you got was a pretty big bull. The horn was most probably twenty-six to thirty inches long. But it was the wrong one. There is another bull in that camp with a sixty-inch horn. It is very close to the world record, and I want it as badly as you want Jenkins. In exchange for the horn, which must be intact and removed properly, you will not only get Jenkins, but a bonus of one hundred thousand rand in cash as well.’
The figure took Joao’s breath away. A hundred thousand rand represented wealth beyond comprehension to him. It boggled his mind. The fact that Courie had already accepted an offer for one million dollars for the trophy from a man in Texas wouldn’t have bothered him in the least, even if he had known about it. His share would be enough to last him a lifetime.
Joao smiled for the first time. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr Courie. How do we go about it?’
‘Carefully,’ Courie said as he passed a slip of paper across the table. ‘Go to this address and have four passport photos taken. Get them back here to me before three this afternoon. Call on the Chinaman again in a week’s time – he’ll have a new passport for you with further instructions. Follow them meticulously.’
Sam was sitting with his back propped against a granite boulder puffing his pipe thoughtfully. He was patrolling the fence with his Yamaha XT500 scrambler, and had stopped for a smoke break. He had been back for nearly a month now, and things were pretty near back to normal. Since his return his whole division had been in a state of alert, awaiting the return of Joao for his appointment with fate. Nothing, however, happened. Even though he had the patience of a hunting cat, the waiting was getting on his nerves. There was no doubt in his mind that Joao would make good his promise and come after him, but hanging around and waiting for him did not appeal to Sam. If he had any idea where in Mozambique Joao was, Sam would have gone after him without the slightest hesitation. The Frelimo government emphatically denied the existence of Joao dos Santos, so they were in no position to get up and scream about it if he got himself killed. But looking for him without backing would be like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. He had no option but to wait.
He had been out of hospital for quite some time now. In fact, after his hasty departure on the evening of the escape he had never returned to his hospital bed. When they delivered the sedated Hannes Meyer to the hospital, Sam had telephoned Linda to fetch him. His intention had been to get a bath and some clothes and head for Nwanetzi. He should have known that it would not work out that way. He had sta
yed with her for five days, putting his wound through some rigorous tests frequently. Estelle had been under the impression that he was staying with a friend who had no telephone.
Linda had brought him home the following Sunday, and stayed the evening. Since then he had visited her once, and she was due to arrive late this afternoon to stay for the weekend. He was looking forward to her visit. He had still not decided what to do with his life and preferred not to think about it. Subconsciously he was postponing a decision until such time as he was forced to do something. In the meantime he was riding the crest of the wave and enjoying the experience of being infatuated immensely.
He got up and dusted the seat of his khaki pants absentmindedly. The sudden movement startled a bushbuck ewe that was grazing nearby, and she disappeared into the dense bush with a bark. As he started the bike, he noticed vultures circling deeper into the Park. He mentally admonished himself for not noticing them earlier. His attention had been focused entirely on the eastern border of his domain lately, he realised. Being preoccupied with something when you are in the bush, especially on a motorcycle, can end in sudden death. He knew this very well, and decided to make a concerted effort to get the woman and Joao out of his mind while he was in the bush. However, the semi-automatic LM5 on his back kept reminding him of the possibility of an encounter with the poacher. He always used to go on motorbike patrols armed only with his Ruger .44 Magnum in a hip holster, angled so that he could reach it in a cross-body draw with his left hand, while still able to manipulate the throttle with his right hand. Thus armed and highly mobile on the potent machine, he could handle most of the problems likely to arise.
The most dangerous thing a person could encounter in the circumstances was the notorious black mamba, a fairly common species in these parts. Dendroaspis polylepis polylepis is well known for its aggression, especially during the mating season. Although the average length is in the region of ten to twelve feet, specimens of up to eighteen feet have been recorded. To come across one of these monsters suddenly while travelling in tall grass is a hair-raising experience, mainly because there is not much a person can do about it, except abandoning the bike and hoping the snake will be distracted by the machine heading towards it for long enough to get oneself out of striking distance and use the birdshot bullets always loaded in the first two chambers of the Magnum. All the rangers using motorcycles were well versed in these emergency procedures, and most of them had been through the drill more than once. Everyone had been lucky thus far, as a strike by a black mamba on the upper regions of the body meant a swift and very unpleasant departure from this earth. When rearing, the mamba lifts more than a third of its body off the ground, which means it can strike a man anywhere it pleases. The snake is more a metallic brown-ish grey, the term black referring to the colour of the inside of its mouth.
The possibility of such an encounter is the main reason the rangers prefer not to take a rifle on bike patrols. Taking a spill with a rifle on your back can cause serious injury to the spine and kidneys, and the rifle will also be a handicap if swift action has to be taken.
The fact that the LM5 has a folding stock and was of a light but potent .223 calibre made it much more manageable than a conventional rifle, but Sam was still not very happy carrying it on patrols. Should he run into Joao, however, the long-range accuracy and the thirty-shot magazine could make all the difference in the world.
Sam was puttering along at a sedate twenty kilometres an hour in second gear. The big machine had enough torque to literally jump away if the throttle was twisted even at these low engine revolutions. He was following an elephant trail that led in the general direction of the circling vultures. The fact that many of the vultures were still circling was an indication that the killers were still with their prey. Had there been a chance to start feeding, the birds would have been down like a flash, squabbling over the spoils. Since the incident with Joao there had been no more poaching in Sam’s division. Just in case, he decided to approach the scene quietly on foot. When he estimated that the kill was about a kilometre away he steered the bike into the shade of a umbrella thorn and dismounted. He took a swig of water and left the canteen with the bike. The mechanism of the LM5 being fairly noisy, he cocked the gun and checked if before heading towards the vultures.
It was another hot, quiet day and not a leaf stirred. Too bad. He would have preferred to approach upwind, but in this case he would just have to be more careful.
About halfway to his destination he encountered a small herd of buffalo, which he gave a wide berth. Chances were that they would run off if his presence was detected, and he did not want to warn whatever was ahead by stampeding the buffalo. In passing the herd he kept a sharp eye out for solitary animals that often moved on the fringes of a herd. These were the buggers that usually initiated an unprovoked attack, and he knew that the LM5 was not capable of stopping or turning a buffalo that had its blood up. The herd gazed on peacefully, unaware of the man observing them.
When Sam could see the vultures overloading the branches of a clump of trees he stopped and listened. No loud voices, and the chopping of axes removing tusks was absent. Flat on his stomach he started stalking the trees. There was ample cover and he was convinced that he could get very close without being seen. The sudden ear-splitting snarl of a lion followed by a cacophony of growls stopped him dead. He was now so close he could hear flesh being torn. The fact that no bones were being cracked yet meant that the kill was either very fresh or very large. Sam cautiously crept up to a clump of tall grass directly in front of him and carefully parted the stems. Two magnificent male lions, four mature females and a horde cubs of varying sizes were tucking into a freshly killed giraffe. The fact that the prey was so big gave the females and the young ones a chance to feed at the same time as the males. Both males were positioned at the prime spot between the hind legs, where the meat was soft and the intestines were readily accessible. Sam slowly closed the curtain of grass in front of him and started retreating. When he was a hundred yards away he got up and started walking back to his bike. The herd of buffalo had moved off and he reached the bike without incident. After unloading the LM5 he slung it onto his back again and rode off the way he had come, taking his bearings carefully. Finding a particular spot in the bush at night is extremely difficult, no matter how well you know the area. He intended bringing Linda out tonight to watch the lions feed. That giraffe was going to keep them occupied for a couple of days.
Getting back on to the tourist road he increased speed slightly. It was a dirt road, as only the major roads in the Park were tarred. But the surface was good, and he did fifty kilometres an hour with ease.
The lions should provide quite a spectacle tonight, and he was sure it would be something new for Linda to observe them feeding at close range.
It was nearly noon when he took the turnoff to his house, noticing fresh tyre marks on the road leading right past the no entry sign. Damn, he thought, another tourist with a problem. When he noticed that the high barbed wire gates leading to his yard were closed, but there was no vehicle in evidence outside he got worried. Job, his ancient houseboy cum gardener, knew better that to open the gates to anyone in his absence.
Revving the bike in front of the gate he noticed the tyre tracks leading into the yard. On a sandy patch there was the clear imprint of a P7 Pirelli. He knew of only one car shod with these exotic tyres, and his pulse started racing in anticipation. Job was fumbling with the padlock, his rheumatoid fingers struggling to insert the key.
‘Job, you know this gate must not be opened for anyone in my absence,’ he admonished.
‘Hau, nkoski, I have not been near the gate since you left this morning.’
Job had never been good at telling lies.
‘You are as old as the mountain over there and still when a woman smiles at you, you would gladly sell your soul to the devil,’ Sam remarked as he rode past. Job’s wrinkled face was even more distorted as he smiled gleefully, exhibiting a full set of
very yellow but strong teeth. He interpreted every visit by a female as yet another conquest to be chalked up to the virility of his master, a matter of great importance to him, as he regarded Sam as an adopted son, and anything achieved by the son was a direct reflection on him. The one that had arrived a while ago was prime stuff. She would definitely put some fire into nkosi again, and he giggled as he thought about what the nkosi was going to put into her. He locked the gate and shuffled back to the kitchen.
Instead of parking under the car port next to his Toyota, Sam rode over the lawn towards the front of the house, following the faint tracks on the short grass. As he had anticipated, the white Porsche 911 Targa was parked under the gigantic Natal mahogany on the front lawn. She was sitting on the garden seat in the shade, a tall cool-looking drink in front of her on the table and a glossy female magazine open across her tanned knees. As usual, just looking at her had a devastating effect on him. He killed the engine and sat there, straddling the bike and feasting his eyes once more on the most desirable woman he had ever encountered. She was wearing plain white summer dress with thin shoulder straps and around her throat was a platinum chain from which was suspended a silver pansy shell. The green grass, tanned skin, white dress and potent car in the background combined to make a picture fit for the cover of the best magazines.
Linda dropped the magazine and rushed towards Sam as he dismounted. She let out a delighted yelp as he swept her off her feet and crushed her to his chest. She could smell the male sweat intermingled with the dust and pipe tobacco as she nuzzled her face into his neck. She could also detect a faint tint of something wild and primitive, and it sent the blood pounding through her veins. ‘Shame on the old fossil for letting you in on our secret. I wanted it to be a surprise. I intended putting in at least half a day’s work seeing that my partner is on leave, but it was such a nice day that I decided not to go to the office at all. And of course there was the nice man at the end of the road, just waiting, with time on his hands.’