Dead of Night

by Michael Stanley

  She flipped to the current date. There was nothing, but as she looked back over the previous week, she discovered the biggest entry so far, with a huge question mark drawn at the side of it. The transaction hadn’t taken place, but the horns had been in the safe, waiting. Somehow Dinh must have known about that.

  This must be Michael’s ‘something big’.

  Søren yelled from downstairs. ‘It’s Colonel Mabula on the phone. He wants to speak to you.’

  ‘Okay, tell him to hold on a second.’

  She quickly shoved everything back in the safe. Then she hurried down the stairs and took the phone.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Mabula said. ‘They scattered into the bush, but we’ll find them once the helicopter arrives. We’ve moved their vehicle off the road, and we’re on our way. Don’t shoot at us!’

  ‘What about Johannes and Michael?’

  ‘Both are with us. Badly beaten up. I don’t think either is in any danger. Malan probably has some broken bones and maybe some internal injuries, but he’s walking. I don’t know about Davidson. He’s conscious, but very groggy. Malan says he was out for a long time. I hope it’s no worse than concussion.’

  ‘Michael’s tough. He’ll pull through,’ Crys said. But it sounded like someone else saying the words. Her head swam. She felt weak with relief.

  It was over.

  Chapter 38

  Two police vehicles arrived, and men in body armour spread out to check the house and grounds.

  Trembling, Crys focused on the vehicles.

  And then, there he was – Michael, staggering out of one of the vehicles.

  His battered face broke into a grin when he saw Crys.

  She flew to him and hugged him, tears mixing with the dirt and sweat on her face.

  They held each other without saying a word. Crys felt a warmth and happiness that required no questions or answers.

  At last she let him go, stepped back, and looked him over.

  ‘I thought you were dead.’ She choked back a sob.

  The side of his head was a mess of caked blood, and his face was so bruised and swollen that his left eye was invisible. His clothes hung on him as though they’d been bought for a much bigger man, and his skin was pale, almost grey. He was stooped and his usual glow of energy was gone. Crys was at a loss for words.

  ‘It’s so wonderful to see you…’ she said at last. ‘Let’s go inside, I’ll help you get cleaned up before the medics arrive.’

  Next Mabula and Johannes climbed out of the vehicle, also looking the worse for wear. Mabula was exhausted and walked with a slight limp, and Johannes looked nearly as bad as Michael. His face was bruised, and he had a black eye that was badly swollen. He shuffled as he walked, half bent over, clutching his stomach – the result of Dinh’s vicious kicks. All three were covered with dust and scraps of vegetation.

  ‘We have to get a doctor for you all,’ Crys said, still holding Michael’s arm tightly.

  Mabula nodded. ‘It’s arranged. Once the chopper has refuelled it’ll come back and pick up these two. We have to wait. Everything else is tied up in Kruger.’

  He herded them onto the porch, instructing them to stay there until he’d checked the crime scene. When his men gave the all-clear, he went into the house.

  Johannes collapsed in a chair. ‘How’s my father? Is he going to be okay?’ It was painful for him to talk.

  ‘He was alive when he left, but I’m afraid he’s in bad shape,’ Crys replied, helping Michael sit down next to him. ‘He’s on his way to hospital now. How did you get away from Dinh?’

  ‘Dinh? That was his name?’ Johannes paused, wincing with each breath. Crys guessed Dinh may have broken some of his ribs. ‘When Mabula’s team started closing in, his men ran away. He yelled at them, but they paid no attention. He shoved me into a knob-thorn bush and ran off himself. I’m lucky he didn’t shoot me. Bastard.’

  ‘They thought I was still unconscious, so they just left me in the back of the pickup,’ Michael said. He looked at the ground. His voice was weak. ‘I’ve spent six weeks trying to talk Dinh’s men out of shooting me. I made up stories about knowing this house and its security. And I told them I knew how to open the safe. That’s the only reason they didn’t kill me right away.’

  So that was why, thought Crys. She couldn’t speak.

  In fact, no one said anything for a few moments.

  Then Johannes said, almost in a whisper, ‘He tortured my father. I hope they shoot the bastard.’ He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Crys had a million questions, but the two men needed to rest. She could wait.

  ‘I was sure you were dead,’ she said quietly to Michael after a moment. ‘Even after they found your note. And when I saw you lying on the floor in there…’ Her eyes burned with fresh tears.

  ‘Could we get some water?’ Michael asked. ‘I’m so nauseous. And dizzy.’ Crys filled a coffee cup from an outside tap for him. He drained it, and she filled it again.

  Mabula joined them a few minutes later. A few of the Tshukudu staff had arrived, and Mabula asked for coffee, water and cereal to be brought out. And any fruit.

  ‘But please don’t go into the living room or upstairs,’ he ordered.

  ‘Good news,’ he said to the group. ‘They’ve got Dinh and one of his men. The other one tried to take out the helicopter with his AK-47, and they flattened him. Good riddance.’

  Mabula turned to Crys. ‘I also got an update from Kruger. What you deduced was correct, Crys. All three rhino-horn stores in Kruger were attacked last night. Even though our people were ready for them, there were casualties on both sides. But there was no attempt to hold tourists hostage or harm them. In any case, all the attackers are dead – including your Portuguese friends, we think – or in custody. But it will take quite a while to sort it all out.’

  Crys was pleased to hear that. She could write her story now, but somehow that didn’t seem important anymore.

  One of the policemen came up. ‘I found a body lying under a tree near the chalets,’ he said. ‘He’s been shot in the chest.’

  Mabula looked at Crys, and she nodded.

  ‘Let’s get some drinks and something to eat. Then you’d better tell me your stories,’ he said.

  They went through to the dining room and settled down with coffee, fruit, and cereal, and then Johannes began the story of what had happened that night.

  ‘My father woke me about four. He said he’d heard something downstairs and was going to the gun safe to get weapons. But then an Asian man appeared with an automatic rifle and he forced us downstairs. There were three more men in the living room. One of them was Michael’ – Johannes nodded in Michael’s direction – ‘but I didn’t know who he was. I’ve no idea how they got past the entrance gate or into the house without waking us.’ He winced and took a few moments to catch his breath. ‘My father shouted something about Chu Nhan saying the deal was off, so why were they there. I didn’t have the faintest idea what he meant, but one of the men – who seemed to be the leader – just laughed and said the delivery had been moved forwards, and then, for no reason, bashed my father with his rifle. Bastard!’

  ‘That was Dinh,’ Crys put in. ‘They’re from Vietnam. He’s with the government … but he obviously uses that as a cover for his other activities.’

  ‘I told him we had nothing here,’ Johannes went on, haltingly, ‘but he told me to lie on the floor face down and shut up unless I wanted the same treatment as my father. Then he told him to open the safe.’ He pointed at Michael and glared at him. ‘God knows how you knew about it.’

  Crys reached under the table for Michael’s hand. He grasped it.

  ‘Your father showed me around when I was here,’ Michael said, ‘and I spotted it hidden behind the desk. I had no idea how to open it, but I had to tell them something to make them keep me alive. So, I pretended I knew the combination. I went upstairs and moved the desk and fiddled with the handle and the combination dial a bit, but of co
urse I couldn’t open it.’

  ‘So, he came downstairs,’ Johannes continued, ‘and told this Dinh character that my father must have changed the combination. The man went ballistic. I thought he’d shoot Michael on the spot, but instead he turned his AK-47 around and slammed the butt into his face. He dropped like he was a sack of mealies. I thought Dinh had probably killed him.’

  ‘I only came to when the pickup started bouncing around,’ Michael added, ‘but I just lay there. Seemed best to play dead.’

  Johannes picked up the story. ‘Just after that there was a commotion, and a fourth man came into the room with Søren at gunpoint. And Bongani was behind him, also with a gun. I was shocked. First Michael and then Bongani – both apparently working with them.’

  Crys then related how she and Bongani had tried to join forces, and how Bongani had been shot in the process.

  ‘After that, the Vietnamese were nervous,’ Søren said. ‘They turned out the lights and demanded to know who was outside. I said it must be the farm’s security guards, and Johannes backed me up, but Dinh didn’t buy it. He threatened to shoot me if Johannes didn’t tell him the truth, so Johannes told him it was just a woman reporter. Dinh laughed and said he knew her and that she wasn’t going to be good security. He sent one of the men out to find her and bring her back alive. He said it would be very easy.’

  ‘That was a mistake,’ Crys said. Michael squeezed her hand.

  Mabula smiled slightly. ‘It was,’ he said. ‘I could’ve told him that.’

  ‘Then the bastard started torturing my father,’ Johannes said, his eyes tearing up. ‘He demanded the combination of the safe. Dad kept telling him there was nothing in the house, that everything was at the bank, but he wouldn’t believe it. But Dad refused to open the safe. They started hacking off his fingers, one at a time! Even when Dad said he’d open it, Dinh kept on. It was so awful. I could do nothing.’

  Johannes put his head in his hands and sobbed. None of them said anything. Crys stood and put her arm around his shoulders.

  When he’d recovered, he took a deep breath and continued. ‘Eventually they dragged him upstairs, and I guess he opened the safe.’

  ‘And he did have horn up there,’ Søren said.

  ‘No doubt about that,’ Mabula said. ‘A lot of horn. Worth millions of dollars on the street. We found it in their vehicle, as well as—’

  He was interrupted by his phone ringing. He answered it and listened for a few moments without speaking, and then passed the phone to Johannes. ‘It’s the Giyani hospital. They need to talk to you.’

  Johannes must have known what was coming, because he struggled to his feet and shuffled into the garden, his shoulders slumped.

  ‘Mr Malan died in the helicopter. They didn’t even manage to get him to the hospital,’ Mabula said quietly.

  Crys sat back down and took Michael’s hand again. They all remained silent.

  After a couple of minutes, Johannes came back and returned the phone. ‘My father didn’t make it.’ Before any of them could say anything, he continued: ‘I just want to be on my own for a bit. To try to understand all this.’ He turned away and started walking into the grounds. Crys thought Mabula would stop him, but he let him go.

  ‘I think I know what happened after they got the horn,’ he said. ‘The details can wait.’ He turned to Michael. ‘However, it’s your story I really want to hear.’

  Chapter 39

  Michael shifted in his seat. ‘I don’t really know where to start.’

  ‘The beginning is a good place,’ Mabula commented.

  ‘Well, the beginning is National Geographic commissioning me to write a story on the rhino-horn trade. But the start of all this was meeting Dinh in Ho Chi Minh City. I went to ask him questions about what Vietnam was doing to meet the CITES ban on trade. He was very friendly, and told me a story about how they were trying to track the trade from South Africa through Mozambique. We got on well, and he took me out for dinner. Maybe we drank a bit – that Mekong Whiskey. It’s firewater.’ He paused. ‘It was then that he persuaded me to help them, to get information on the trade route under the cover of being a journalist. I agreed. It was stupid. I didn’t know him from a bar of soap. I guess I never thought I’d really accomplish anything in any case.’ He stopped and finished his glass of water.

  ‘But I did,’ he went on. ‘I was lucky, and Bongani made some contacts for me. Money talks loudly in this part of the world. It started right here. Anton was selling the horn to a Portuguese gang who smuggled it into Mozambique. I followed them and documented it all – even got great pictures. Dinh’s men took all that, of course. Actually, I nearly got caught at the house where the Portuguese transferred the horn. They were scanning with binoculars, but they went right past me. I was so relieved, but I ended up with something worse. It was out of the frying pan into the fire…’ He sighed. ‘When I phoned Dinh and told him what I’d found out, he was so courteous and grateful. The next thing his men grabbed me with orders to kill me, but I managed to talk them into letting me live. For a while.’

  He took a deep breath and had to grab the side of his chair to prevent himself falling. ‘Crys, could you get me some more water?’ he asked in a weak voice.

  Crys went to the buffet, frowning. She’d seen Mabula’s face. It was the way he looked at her when she said she didn’t know about the money.

  ‘Was Nigel Wood involved in all this?’ Søren asked.

  ‘Wood?’ said Michael. ‘No. Why?’

  Søren just shook his head.

  Crys gave Michael the full glass and he drained it.

  Then Mabula asked, ‘What about the emails?’

  Michael frowned. ‘What emails?’

  Crys borrowed Mabula’s pen and pad and wrote down the email address and passed it to Michael. He looked up at her, surprised.

  ‘The emails about the twenty thousand dollars, Michael,’ she said.

  He shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. ‘Oh, that was Dinh. It’s his private email. He offered me money. I played along, but I never meant to take it…’

  Mabula was still staring at Michael. ‘I have the other emails, Mr Davidson,’ he said, his voice hard now. ‘The ones from your personal address. I know the whole story. And you took the ten thousand dollars paid to you in advance. I think you knew what you were doing all along.’

  Michael suddenly slumped down in the chair, his eyes closed. Crys jumped up and grabbed his hand. It was ice cold even though the day was already starting to warm up. ‘He’s passed out,’ she said. ‘We have to get him out of here. You can’t ask him any more questions now!’

  Mabula said nothing.

  After a moment, Crys asked quietly, ‘Did he really take the ten thousand dollars?’

  Mabula nodded. Søren was shaking his head.

  ‘He was playing along with them! It’s not what it seems!’ Crys exclaimed.

  Couldn’t they see that?

  But she was trying to convince herself – to deny the truth. To quell the anguish that had gripped her.

  By this time Michael was coming round. He looked about, obviously disoriented.

  She looked into his unfocused eyes, and it came to her what Michael’s father had told her when she’d spoken to him back in the States.

  Like Bongani, he needed that money. For his daughter’s surgery. So he knew what he was doing all along…

  Crys’s heart sank. She felt as if all the strength had left her body.

  Hiding her pain, she helped Michael into the living room to lie down on the couch.

  She left him without a word and returned to Søren and Mabula.

  ‘I’m going to give you some background,’ Mabula said as she sat back down. ‘Both of you know some of it, but maybe between us we can put it all together. For the last couple of years, I’ve been working on smashing a rhino-poaching ring in this part of the world—’

  ‘Dammit, you could have told me that right at the beginning! Just think of the problems you co
uld have avoided!’ Crys was almost shouting. Why had no one been honest with her?

  ‘I understand your anger, Crys, but look at it from my side. We’ve had a few successes, more failures. But we were getting closer. We knew that the man Ho, who was on that plane that crash-landed, was a money courier for a cartel in Vietnam, bringing it in through Maputo in Mozambique. It seems customs there was paid to look the other way. Then you appeared out of nowhere, Crys, right where Ho’s plane crashed. And you were also Vietnamese. What was I to think? The obvious answer was that you were involved too. Maybe a honey pot for all I knew. I had to treat you as one of them. I had no choice.’

  Crys looked at him in astonishment. It had never occurred to her that he’d seen her as anything but an American journalist – an obstacle between him and half a million dollars.

  ‘Around the time the plane crash-landed,’ he continued, ‘we’d heard rumours of something major being planned with a lot of money involved. Our guess is that Ho was carrying that money. Maybe he saw an opportunity to keep it for himself, or maybe the plan was always to get rid of the pilot and so cover his tracks. We’ll never know. But obviously Mr Chikosi was supposed to meet him and drive him to a rendezvous somewhere. He was lucky about the plane crash. If he’d met Ho, he would now be as dead as the pilot.’

  ‘And what was the money for?’ Søren asked.

  ‘We think it was headed here to Tshukudu. It was payment for all that horn that’s sitting in our vehicles right now.’

  ‘No!’ Crys exclaimed. ‘You mean that Bongani was supposed to bring him here to Tshukudu with the money?’

  Mabula shook his head. ‘I doubt that. He was supposed to get back to you at the camp. He was just a link in the chain. But once the money went missing, that must have disrupted their plans. Especially as they were organising the big attack on Kruger at the same time. That’s why I was so desperate to trace that money.’ He glared at her. ‘You didn’t help much.’