Poacher

by Leon Mare

Aaron knew he had him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding – I’m on holiday. My wife will murder me.’

  ‘I know this is very inconvenient for you, but I have no other option. I want you to take me to Joao immediately.’ He picked up the phone, and dialled. ‘Darling, something urgent has come up. I may not make it back till tomorrow.’ The female voice on the other side sounded agitated, and kept going for a while. Courie listened with a pained expression on his face, and then interrupted her. ‘No, I cannot tell you this time either, I am sorry. I will explain when I get back. I have to hurry now.’ He put the phone down with a bang. ‘What are you driving?’

  ‘Red Toyota Hi Ace. It is in the parking garage of this building. Ah, I have to point out to you that this wasn’t part of the deal. As I said, I have a family that’s sitting in Satara waiting for me. You know how it is, being on holiday and all that . . .’

  Courie sighs. ‘How much?’

  ‘Shall we make it another two grand? I mean, with the authorities involved and all that, this is beginning to sound like dicey business to me.’

  ‘One thousand. Which you only get once I’ve spoken to Joao.’

  Aaron looked pained, but accepted the offer.

  Courie informed his secretary that he would be out for the rest of the day. They left the office by a side door, and took the steps of the fire escape to the parking garage. Courie’s own car was on a different level, so he had no fear of being spotted by someone watching it.

  During the long drive back to Nwanetzi, Courie kept looking over his shoulder, becoming more and more convinced that there was no one pursuing them. The drive was uneventful, and neither felt like making small talk, each for his own reasons. Courie grunted directions, and as they got to the point where the Sweni fire break turned off from the tourist road, he told Aaron to stop and switch off. Courie got out and listened for cars. When all he could hear was the silence of the bush, he jumped back into the vehicle, and told Aaron to turn off, and drive fast until they were well out of sight of the tourist road.

  The vehicle bumped and bounced over the uneven surface, until Aaron was once again told to stop, this time opposite the big fig tree a short distance away. Courie ordered ‘Terrence’ to remain in the vehicle, and approach the dense shrubs around the base of the tree. ‘Joao? Joao!’

  ‘Morning, Courie.’ Sam stepped from behind the tree, the lethal-looking LM5 loosely cradled in the crook of him arm.

  Courie’s jaw dropped and he was speechless for a moment. ‘Well,’ he said lamely, ‘I seem to have lost my way.’

  ‘I am inclined to agree with that.’

  Aaron had gotten out of the vehicle, and was approaching through the short grass gingerly with his polished shoes and new slacks.

  ‘Aaron, go fetch the truck. It’s behind those bushes over there. Then I want you to get out of those spic clothes and return Mr Waring’s vehicle to Satara. Tell him you’ve taken my guests to Nelspruit airport, and I will personally come and thank him again, the moment I have sorted out a problem that has arisen here. Then bring my car back and wait at the house.’

  ‘You bastard!’ Courie’s threatening move towards ‘Terrence’ was ignored by both men, as Aaron went to fetch the new Toyota 4x4.

  ‘Get on the back,’ Sam ordered, taking a pair of handcuffs from the dash of the Toyota.

  ‘You’re bloody insane! You can’t handcuff me on the back of an open truck for trespassing! I got dragged out here by one of your men under false pretences. I will sue you blind for this!’

  With practised ease Sam and Aaron threw him on the back of the truck and handcuffed him to the railing. Sam gave Courie a hard look. ‘Out here, I do as I damn well please.’

  Courie was beside himself with fury, and screaming incoherent threats into the wind as they drove off.

  Ten kilometres farther along the fire break, Sam turned off into the bush and followed the game trail down to the edge of a large pool in the Sweni spruit. He stopped under a magnificent raintree, its branches extending over the deep pool. From the trunk of the tree, a thick rope ran into the water. San unlocked the cuff from the railings, and proceeded to drag Courie towards the rope, leaving his gun in the cab.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Courie tried to jerk the cuffs from Sam’s hands, and Sam hit him in the stomach hard. As he doubled over, breathless, Sam passed the free end of the cuffs under the rope, and handcuffed Courie’s free hand with it again, so that his arms were locked around the rope. Courie could slide up and down the rope, which allowed less than six feet of movement between the edge of the water and the base of the tree. He was cursing and threatening in a steady stream and Sam, ignoring the commotion, got the gun and his pipe from the cab, and got onto the bonnet of the truck, about three yards from where Courie was sitting on the ground. He lit his pipe, and sat quietly looking out over the water, the cocked gun in his lap.

  Courie had started subsiding. ‘Just what the hell are you trying to do?’

  ‘You are going to tell me all about Joao dos Santos and his present whereabouts.’

  ‘Now I know you’re insane. I have never heard of the man.’

  ‘Linda’s lawyer has been to see me. Brought me a letter she left me. She explained about the poaching syndicate.’ He knocked his pipe out against his boot. ‘I loved that girl.’

  ‘Bullshit. I don’t believe you, and neither will a court of law.’

  ‘Exactly. And that, Mr Courie, is exactly why we find ourselves in this lovely spot on the banks of the Sweni, and not in a court of law. I know Linda’s death was your doing, and so do you. That’s good enough for me. There is nobody but you and me in a radius of at least ten miles, so we needn’t bother about the usual legal procedure. Believe me when I say I would gladly have shot you in the head right now, without any guilt feeling whatsoever, were it not for the fact that you are first going to tell me exactly where to find Joao.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘In a while, Mr Courie. It shouldn’t be long. The noise of the truck will have scared the crocodiles away, but they’ll be back shortly. Once they start on you, you will beg me to shoot you in the head. I may do it as a last favour, provided I know by then where to find Joao.’

  ‘You must think I am a bloody fool to believe a crocodile will just come walking out of the water and grab me.’

  ‘Don’t believe that for a moment. He won’t come walking out. He’ll come out like a torpedo and hit you so fast you wouldn’t believe it. There will just be a sudden great splash, and he will be tearing into you. All eleven hundred pounds of primitive muscle and teeth.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Courie said with less conviction, eyeing the deep water in front of him suspiciously. There was not a ripple on the smooth surface, and the dark water flowed past slowly. He shifted back as far as he could go.

  ‘Haven’t you wondered about that rope you are tied to? The other end is tied to the horns of a waterbuck bull I shot yesterday. He is not floating, because his guts have already been torn out.’ Sam was stuffing his pipe again. ‘That is why I’m sitting up here, and you are down there. It may still not have dawned on you, but you are going to die here today. It can either be quick and painless, or you can do it the difficult way. Linda said dying is easy, but I reckon it depends on circumstances.’

  Courie was close to hysteria now, sitting on his haunches and jerking on the rope. ‘Get me away from here, you can’t do this to me!’

  ‘Out here, I can do anything. Aaron said you didn’t tell anybody where you were going, so you will simply disappear from the face of the earth without a trace. And let me tell you, these guys will eat even your shoes and your belt buckle. Nobody will ever know.’

  ‘I don’t know where Joao is. Get me away from here!’

  ‘Do you know the kind of tree you are tied to? It’s called a raintree. The blacks have a widely held belief that, if you damage a raintree, your whole family will be broken up, one way or another. Do you think your struggling on that rope is damaging the
tree?’

  There was a sudden, violent jerk on the rope, and Courie screamed as he was bowled over by the tight rope. He grabbed the rope to halt his slide down the bank, screaming continuously, and scrabbled back towards the base of the tree, looking over his shoulder.

  Sam was lighting his pipe casually. ‘I must say, they’re back sooner than I expected. Must be hungry.’

  Courie was gibbering incoherently. He was beyond fear. ‘I’ll tell you! Just get me away!’

  ‘First you tell, and then, if I believe you, I have prepared a confession for you to sign. Then, if you are still around, we can untie you.’

  Another jerk on the rope started a continuous stream of words pouring from Courie. Sam listened, while watching the water intently. When Courie finished, he took the keys from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs. Sam took a folded document from the truck and put it on the bonnet with a black pen. ‘Sign.’

  Courie signed every page without reading, Sam looking over his shoulder. Courie finished and turned around, holding the document out towards Sam. As Sam reached for it, Courie charged at him full tilt, pushing him in the chest with both hands. Sam staggered back a few steps down the steep bank, swinging his arms wildly to try and regain his balance. Courie followed up and gave him one more push. As he fell over backwards, Sam got hold of a fist full of Courie’s jacket sleeve, and Courie sailed over his head as they hit the water. Sam knew that they were seconds away from a death so horrible, he wouldn’t wish it on even Courie. His water-logged boots were slowing him down as he battled up the slippery bank, fighting for hand holds on exposed roots. It felt like ages before he was out, and he turned around to reach out for Courie. He knew it was likely to happen, and he was looking out for it, but even so, he never saw the crocodile coming. He was lying on one side, one hand gripping a root, and dragging Courie clear with the other. ‘You bloody idiot! Come on, hurry!’ The next moment the water exploded behind Courie. The gigantic crocodile grabbed Courie from below, the peg-like teeth tearing into him in a line extending from just above the right knee, over the stomach below the ribs, and down his left side into the groin. On his back, the opposing teeth were driven in with such force that his spine snapped with an audible crack. The whole scene froze for a second, the only movement a stream of blood pouring from the severed femoral artery.

  Then Courie started screaming, utter horror contorting his features into something unrecognisable. The great reptile started sliding back into the water and Sam felt as if he was literally being torn in two but, with a strength born of desperation, he refused to let go. ‘Oh God,’ he moaned, and clamped both his hands tighter still. Then the crocodile spun with a force that nothing on this earth could resist. It tore Courie out of Sam’s grip as if there was no resistance at all, nearly dislocating his arm. With a sob Sam jumped up and grabbed the gun from where he had dropped it when Courie had shoved him.

  When he swung around, all that remained was a bloody swirl in the water, moving downstream slowly. He fired from the hip, emptying the thirty-round magazine into the water uselessly. Then he collapsed onto the ground, his back against the wheel of the truck, the gun across his knees. ‘Holy shit,’ he whispered, watching the dark current flowing past peacefully once more, obscuring all traces of the horrible things that were happening beneath its surface. He was close to a state of shock.

  ‘No, Linda,’ he whispered, ‘for some, dying is not easy.’

  Chapter Twelve

  From what he had learned from Courie, Sam knew that getting a convincing message to Joao in Mozambique was basically impossible, and getting to him physically, even more so. Joao was supposed to move about in Mozambique, never staying in the same place for long, in case of security leaks. There was just no one who knew where he was going to be at any given time. These instructions had been very explicit, as Courie had no intention of losing a good man to a recce strike. He knew that Joao was supposed to receive his new instructions directly from Courie in a little less than three weeks’ time. The meeting was to take place in Swaziland, once again at the crowded Royal Swazi Spa. But in three weeks’ time, word of Courie’s disappearance would most probably have reached Joao through other channels. It was doubtful whether he would still go to Swaziland, knowing that Courie was missing. It all depended on how much information he received concerning the disappearance, and what conclusions he came to. If he did go, however, Sam was convinced that the disappearance could be used to advantage. What wreaked havoc with his nerves was the fact that for the time being, there was nothing he could do but wait.

  He drove to Nelspruit in order to get his passport renewed, and he drew a very large amount of cash to finance his venture into Swaziland. He also visited the local police, and it took a considerable amount of talking before he could get his hands on one of the police photographs, taken of Joao during his stay in hospital.

  It was very fortunate that the police photographer had used his initiative, and had gone back to the hospital at a later stage, to get a second set of photographs. In the first set, taken the day after his admittance, not even Joao’s mother would have recognised him. On these, his head bore a remarkable resemblance to a pumpkin, with sundry appendages and apertures, and had been kicked about somewhat. In the second set his appearance was only marred by the presence of steel wires criss-crossing his teeth, but he was recognisable, all right.

  The local newspaper had a front page article about Courie’s disappearance, so it was quite normal for Sam, during his talks to the captain in charge of the archives, to inquire casually about the progress in the investigation. The reply left Sam with a vague sense of unease. ‘Rumour from up high have it that we were told to lay off, and issue no statements. National security. I always said the bastard was a communist. Apparently the Courie issue has got the whole Department of State Security in an uproar.’

  If State Security was involved, it could only mean that there was more to the Courie story than either he or Linda had known about. And these guys were heavy duty. He had better tread very, very carefully if he didn’t want to end up with a murder rap.

  Nwanetzi being sixty kilometres from the nearest telephone, he also used the opportunity of being in Nelspruit to phone Estelle. Although she had started answering his daily letters occasionally, the conversation was still somewhat strained. No, she did not think a weekend visit to Pretoria was in order at this stage, and yes, she was willing to go as far as admitting that she still felt something for him, but she was not prepared to say what. He was confusing her, and she wanted some time to sort out her life.

  When he put the phone down, he was not sure whether he should be rejoicing or crying. And she was the one talking about confusion! He knew that he was still hopelessly in love with her, but he didn’t have a clue as to whether he was making progress or losing ground.

  He also made some further purchases for his trip, some of which raised the odd eyebrow.

  Back in Nwanetzi time passed slowly, and Sam performed his daily duties as usual, but his heart was not in it. Aaron had not once inquired about Courie’s fate, and Sam had volunteered nothing. After congratulating Aaron on an exceedingly convincing performance, the matter was considered closed, and he told Aaron to keep Courie’s money for himself and his family. During his patrols he often found himself stopping at the big pool in the Sweni. ‘Poor bastard,’ he muttered more than once, regarding the slow current. He still experienced vivid nightmares about that saurian. Courie’s death bothered him. On the one hand, he experienced some guilt feelings about setting him up to be killed, and on the other hand he felt that justice had been done. Except for the fact that there had been no doubt as to Courie’s guilt, Courie had tried to feed him to the crocodiles as soon as he realised that Sam was not going to kill him in cold blood.

  On the Thursday preceding the weekend of the meeting, he put in for two days’ leave during the radio session, and left for Swaziland at eight in the morning.

  Having booked in at a hotel some distance from the
Spa, he went directly to his room. He was still edgy from the gamble he had taken at reception. He had booked in under a different name and, had he been required to produce his passport, he would have been in deep trouble. He had, correctly, assumed that identities would not be checked too rigorously, as a sense of clandestine affairs permeated for whole of the Valley. Many of the visitors to this valley of pleasure would prefer their presence not to be on record.

  He ordered some beer from room service, and went over his plans once more. He was glad he had decided not to take Joao on in this environment. He did not know how well Joao was connected in Swaziland but he himself was definitely out of his natural habitat. To start something here would most probably lead to disaster and he had no intention of spending the rest of his life in a Swazi jail.

  He watched television all afternoon, and started his preparations at eight in the evening. By the time he left for the casino, there were new personnel on duty at reception and nobody gave him a second glance. In the casino he circulated, watching the crowd intently. In the subdued lighting nobody paid any attention to the bearded giant, moving from table to table and spending money as if it was going out of fashion. Nobody, that is, except some very luscious ladies, whose means of earning a living depended on their ability to spot the right customer. The third one that flaunted herself at him was a rare beauty, and he made up his mind. Sam told her where he was staying, and went to his room to wait. Ten minutes later, there was a knock on his door, and he let her in.

  ‘Well, lover, how do you want it?’ She started disrobing without preamble.

  ‘Hold on. Sit down, and let’s have a talk first.’

  ‘Oh no. You ask me once what a nice girl like me is doing in a place like this, and I’m off. You know what this “talk first” is going to cost you, buster?’

  ‘Cut the crap and sit down,’ Sam said, dropping a hundred rand on the table. It disappeared into her small handbag as if by magic.