by Marion Leigh
A hundred and ten minutes later, she sat up and blinked to focus her eyes in the dim light of the oil lamp. Then she listened with fierce concentration to separate sounds that were close by from those that were farther away. In the immediate vicinity of the hut all was quiet, but in the distance to the north she heard an animal cry and to the west, drumbeats and bells. She checked the view through the vents once more and made up her mind.
The stiletto took care of the door lock in a few seconds. Keeping it in one hand, she slowly opened the door until she could see out. No guards, no women, nobody. She stood on the threshold in the darkness studying her surroundings. It was a dark night with a mere sliver of a moon. In front of her was an open area then several clusters of thatched huts. On each side of her hut were similar square huts. The noise of celebration was coming from the west, to her right. On the east side of the compound, to her left, there appeared to be a number of other structures. Once she had absorbed as much information as she could from what she could see, she closed the door silently behind her, slung her bag across her chest and began to reconnoitre.
First she checked the perimeter of her hut. Behind it there were a few metres of hard sand then a four-metre-high fence made of heavy planks topped with sharp points. Petra leaned against the fence to test its strength. It didn’t budge or flex in the slightest. The fence ran uninterrupted along the back of the compound behind three other square huts which were locked and felt deserted.
Staying away from the west side of the compound, she snaked her way through the silent rondavels towards the east side where her intuition told her she might find something she could use to get herself out of there. She found an outdoor kitchen with a dying fire, a few dirty pots, and the lingering smell of meat stew, adjacent to a collection of long tables and rough benches. She carried out a rapid search for knives or a hatchet, but those had been tidied or taken away. Nearby were a variety of solidly built structures that would take time to penetrate and examine. She discounted the two closest to the kitchen: they probably housed food and supplies. The question was which of the others to target.
She froze and raised her head to listen as another animal cried out. But it was way off in the wilderness. Overhead the sky was bright with stars, uncontaminated by city lights. She stared upwards, racking her brains. So far she had seen no mod cons like electricity or running water on this remote site and had accomplished nothing by leaving the hut. But Florian and his gang had to have a way of getting there, short of his mother’s helicopter. Somewhere there must be vehicles.
Petra found them a few minutes later, under a thatched canopy beyond the structures she had yet to explore. One Higher Ground camper van and a smaller white Toyota van with no markings. She had a feeling she had seen the Toyota before but didn’t recognize the number plate. Working swiftly, she tried all the doors and windows – locked as expected. Florian might be complacent about his women but he wasn’t about to let them out easily. The main gate to the compound would be on the south side and firmly barred.
Once again, she heard her instructor’s voice. A cardinal rule of reconnoitring. Don’t waste your energy. Calculate your best bet and go for it. And if you don’t want to get caught, don’t be too long about it.
Vehicles needed fuel. If she could find it, maybe she could start a fire … then what? Burn down a few huts and bring the wrath of Florian and God’s phony representative Father John down on her head? No sense in that. What about trying to burn her way out through the fence? Then she’d be in the middle of nowhere in the company of wild animals … No. Best to try the locked buildings.
Three looked promising. Then she noticed what looked like an antenna strapped to a pole on the top of the middle structure.
‘Bingo!’
The door lock was much more substantial. The seconds ticked by as Petra worked it with the stiletto in the beam from the penlight on her key ring. Just as she was about to give up, she heard a final tiny click. She opened the door and slipped inside. On the opposite wall stood a piece of equipment that looked as if it might be an old-fashioned radio transceiver. She sat down on the wooden stool in front of the machine and studied the switches and dials.
If she had been out on her boat on Lake Huron or sailing off the east coast of Canada with a friend, she would have known exactly what to do to use the VHF radio for local transmissions or the Single Sideband for long distance calls. This African dinosaur had a primitive microphone as well as what appeared to be a straight key for sending signals in Morse code.
Tentatively she flipped a switch above a paper label on which a call sign was written in faded ink. A green light came on and the needles on several gauges swung wildly before settling down.
‘Bob’s your uncle,’ she whispered. ‘Now let’s see if I can make contact with an earthling.’
Chapter
67
The cacophony of drums, cow bells and rattles was sweet music to Florian’s ears. He drank deeply from the gourd that contained the sour fermented mash that gave him strength to carry on his crusade. This was the second batch of four novices to be initiated since Etosha. The first group was already infused with the true spirit of Higher Ground. He could see why Henny had had trouble with Megan and Hilary. A guy who was imperfect had no place in his organization. Only the Master could exert supreme control. Diego, though, was a happy addition to the team. His massages kept the girls in the right frame of mind to receive Florian’s gifts. They were vying now for the opportunity to be first.
He drained the liquor and felt it reach his loins. Tossing the gourd to one side, he turned to Father John who was reclining next to him on a mattress of straw.
‘Bring me those two Tudor roses. I’ll take them together, here.’
‘You’ve learned your lessons well, my boy.’
‘As you should too. Tell your new handmaiden to fetch beer and dagga, then get the incense and go prepare my bride for the morning. You’ll marry us at noon.’
‘She will do her penance and I’ll claim my reward.’
‘After me, old cock, after me. The first group is yours to minister to tonight.’
The radio appeared to be battery-powered. Petra hoped there would be enough charge in it to get a message out. Carlo must be going out of his mind. She twiddled some more dials and switched on the microphone. It was covered in dust and looked as if it hadn’t been used for eons. Since she had no idea of amateur radio protocol, the best she could do would be to issue an all stations alert and pray that someone heard it. She rattled off the call sign, sensing that she was running out of time.
‘Victor Five One Foxtrot Alpha Zulu calling all stations. This is Petra Minx requesting immediate assistance. I am being held against my will.’ There was a slight whirring noise but no audible response. She repeated the message and listened hard. A burst of static then nothing.
There was one other thing she could try, but should she? Was her situation dire enough to warrant sending an SOS in Morse Code? She hesitated, her hand above the key. Suddenly, she sneezed and the back of her neck began to prickle. Something was happening. Someone was coming.
Petra switched off the radio and her penlight, grabbed the stiletto out of her bag, and took up position behind the door. She tensed as a key turned in the lock and forced herself to wait until the visitor was well inside before slamming the door and locking one arm round the visitor’s throat. She raised her other hand, the one holding the stiletto, to the visitor’s cheek. It was a girl, a fraction taller and broader than herself.
‘Don’t make a sound, unless you want to get hurt.’
Gina felt a pinprick on her cheek and tried to cough.
‘Are you alone?’ Petra relaxed the pressure on the girl’s throat but kept her arm round her neck and the stiletto close to her cheek.
‘Yes.’
‘OK. I’m sorry, Gina, but I have to do this. I have to know what’s going on. Wh
ere are Florian and Father John?’
‘In our recreation area.’
‘On the far side of the compound?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who’s with them?’
‘All the girls, and Diego.’
‘How many girls?’
‘A couple of dozen.’
Incredible. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Father John sent me to fetch beer and dagga, and the incense which is kept in here. He’s going to come to your hut. How did you get out?’
‘It’s too long a story for now. Can I rely on you, Gina? Will you work with me?’
‘I’ll do my best if you tell me what to do.’
‘Right then. Here’s what we’re going to do. You need to get back to the party, and I’ll go back to my hut and lock myself inside. Make sure you come with Father John when he comes to see me. As long as you do that, I think I can handle the rest.’
‘Jojo wants your cross. And he wants you,’ Gina added sadly.
‘I might let him have my cross for the time being, but he’ll never get me. Neither will Florian. I’ll cripple them first.’
Chapter
68
Max steered the white 4 x 4 he had rented at the airport along the rutted sand and gravel track. Julia sat beside him, giving directions and holding on tight as they bounced along. Carlo had climbed in the back and was leaning over Julia’s shoulders, watching where they were going.
They had passed numerous fenced kraals on their way from Rundu. In some cases, the fencing was made of trimmed planks, well put together and maintained, that successfully blocked the view of what lay inside. In other cases, the fences were built of branches roughly cobbled together, leaving glimpses of the villages that lay behind.
The terrain got steadily worse as the villages became few and far between. Eventually, Julia pointed to a track leading off to the right. ‘It’s about a kilometre from here, past those hills. We all know how we’re going to play this, don’t we?’
‘I’m going to stay out of sight initially,’ Carlo replied. ‘You and Max will go in and find Florian, Father John too if he’s there. Max will make a scene and say he’s brought you back, he doesn’t want you any more. While all that’s going on, I’ll look for Petra.’ He looked across at Max and saw the pain in his face. ‘Can you handle that, Max? I know it’s difficult.’
Max gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. ‘If it means those bastards get what they deserve, I’ll do it. And I swear to you Julia, the child you’re carrying will never be brought up as a bastard. He or she is ours.’
The Higher Ground kraal, as described by Julia, was a square enclosure containing over a dozen round thatched huts – living quarters for the women – and several rectangular huts, two of which were used by Florian and Father John. There was an outdoor kitchen and dining space under a wooden canopy, a food store and a few ancillary structures, plus a recreation area on the far side. The fencing around the kraal was more solid and higher than anything Carlo had seen en route. He noted the single gate in the middle of the front fence.
‘Get down, Carlo. Drive right up to the gate, Max. It opens inwards,’ Julia said. ‘And blow the horn – three long blasts followed by two short.’
Max leaned on the horn and they waited. Nothing happened. He repeated the procedure. This time, after a few seconds’ delay, the gate opened and Max drove into the centre of the kraal. Carlo kept his head down. ‘Good luck,’ he whispered.
Max got out of the 4 x 4 and opened Julia’s door. He seized her arm and shouted ‘Out!’ She shook him off and he made a pretence of pushing her towards the women’s huts. Young women clad in pale blue shifts were beginning to emerge. Julia’s red dress stood out in stark contrast.
Max leaned into the 4 x 4 and sounded the horn again. More young women emerged. Then Father John came striding out of one of the rectangular huts followed by Florian wearing a white jacket and black trousers. Max began to shout and gesticulate. He pointed at Julia then at Father John and Florian.
‘I don’t want to see her again,’ he yelled. ‘Take her!’
‘I already have.’ Florian smiled his supercilious mocking smile. ‘I knew you’d come to your senses, Julia. Welcome back.’ He picked up her hand and kissed it. ‘You’re just in time to be a witness at my wedding. You too, brother.’
Max lost it completely. He abandoned his performance and went ballistic. He put his head down and charged at Florian like an enraged bull. He grabbed him round the thigh, wrestled him to the ground and stomped on first one knee then the other. Then he looked for Father John.
The phony priest was halfway across the compound, running in his long white robe and black scarf, to where a Higher Ground vehicle and a white van were parked. Carlo scrambled out of the 4 x 4 and took him down with a flying tackle. He kicked him repeatedly in the ribs and left him writhing on the ground.
Max steered Julia away from the other women, some of whom were bending over Florian, others looking shocked and unsure what to do. ‘Get in the van, you’ll be safe there.’
‘I’m OK, my love. You’ve taken care of Florian. Everything will be fine now.’
Carlo sprinted to the back of the compound. The door of the centre hut opened. Petra stood framed in the doorway, in a white lace dress. She came forward to meet him.
‘Nice job. What took you so long?’
Carlo spread his hands. ‘Is that all the thanks I get? You could have joined in.’
‘You were doing fine without me. But there are a couple of little things I have to do.’
Petra walked over to Father John who was curled up in the fetal position, cradling his ribs. She forced him onto his back and retrieved her cross from around his neck. ‘Asshole!’
She left him whimpering like a baby and went to find Florian.
‘How the mighty have fallen,’ she said as she gazed into his blue eyes, searching for just a hint of regret or remorse, seeing only arrogance and madness.
‘We will rise again.’
‘This one won’t for a while!’
Carlo flinched and Julia and Max watched in awe as Petra gave Florian a savage kick in the groin. There was a murderous look on her face. Florian’s eyelashes fluttered and his eyes closed.
‘Leave him, Petra. Whatever he might have done, he’s broken now.’
‘No punishment will ever be enough,’ she said. Briefly, she wondered what Sandrine would do when she saw her golden boy.
Behind her, Max and Julia were talking to the girls and organizing transport for Ana, Raquel, Pam and Joanna, along with Megan and Hilary and as many others as they could fit into the 4 x 4 and the Higher Ground camper van. Gina and Diego seemed in no hurry to leave.
‘Thanks for what you did to help me, Gina,’ Petra said. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘We’ll stay and clean up the mess.’
Chapter
69
Three days later, Petra said goodbye to Megan and Hilary. They were leaving the Waterside Hotel and joining a bus tour that would take them along the Garden Route to Port Elizabeth. Once there, they would decide what they were going to do next.
‘No more volunteering, girls,’ Petra said, ‘unless you’re absolutely sure what you’re getting into. And watch out for beautiful boys with long eyelashes,’ she added.
‘We know,’ they chorused as they snapped photos of Petra and each other with their phones.
Petra watched them go with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Had they really learned anything from their experiences?
She looked at her watch and hurried down the steps. Mrs. Pinderally would berate her for her tardiness if she was a minute late.
‘Madam begs you to make haste,’ Ali said when she arrived at the foot of Scheherazade’s boarding ladder. ‘She is going swimmingly.’
Petra ran u
p the wide low-rise steps that led from the aft deck to the flybridge of the yacht. Mrs. Pinderally was thrashing around like a large brown whale in the middle of a seething whirlpool. A sturdy young woman was kneeling by the side of the pool.
‘Come on, Mrs. Pinderally, you can do it! On your stomach! That’s it! Imagine you’re a dog paddling to the shore.’
Mrs. Pinderally rolled over with a splash and began to flap her hands up and down, in and out of the water.
‘Feet off the bottom, please! It’s not far!’
Vicky Dunlin shouted encouragement as her pupil flailed her way to the steps at the end of the pool. Then she reached in to help Mrs. Pinderally onto the deck. Quickly Petra averted her eyes: Mrs. P. was stark naked except for her white bathing cap. Equally quickly, Vicky encased her pupil in a white towelling robe and led her to a padded sunbed. She settled her on a mound of pillows, replaced the bathing cap with a towel turban and instructed her to close her eyes and relax.
‘First we observe proper etiquette: Miss Vicky meet Miss Petra. Now call Ali. I must take refreshment after my exertions.’
Petra and Vicky exchanged smiles and handshakes.
‘I’m so glad to meet you at last. A.K. was desperately worried about you.’
‘I’m sorry I caused so much trouble, I had no idea. Thank you for what you did.’
‘Don’t thank me, thank Mrs. Pinderally. She’s the one who sent in the cavalry to fetch you.’
‘Cavalry? Not so. You are the horsy woman. We use magic carpets.’
‘Magic carpets! Just the ticket, Mrs. P.! I knew you’d come through.’ Carlo bounced onto the deck carrying a blue and white striped carrier bag. ‘I brought you a little thank-you present.’
Mrs. Pinderally peered into the bag. ‘Goody, goody, sugared almonds. No diamonds, I hope.’