Captive_A High-octane And Gripping African Thriller

by Tony Park

  Just after leaving the stranded bakkie he had seen an aircraft, a Bat Hawk, fly low over them. They were travelling with no lights and if the pilot had seen them he gave no indication.

  They were out of mobile phone range, so Fidel tried the radio in his vehicle. There was no answer from his men at the farm. He pushed the accelerator pedal to the floor.

  *

  ‘Kerry!’

  Kerry was panicking. ‘Over here,’ she yelled.

  Graham Baird stumbled through a clump of bushes and sprinted over to her. He fell to his knees. ‘Where’s he hit?’

  Kerry shook her head. ‘Heart attack, I think. His doctor was worried about it.’

  Graham nodded and opened a leather bag he had brought with him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Kerry said while continuing to compress her father’s chest. ‘You’re an animal doctor.’

  He rolled up her father’s sleeve, fitted a tourniquet above Bruce’s elbow and took out a cannula from his bag. He slid the needle into a vein in the crook of Bruce’s arm, then drew it out, leaving the cannula in place. Graham snapped the end off a plastic bottle, filled a syringe from it and squirted the liquid into Bruce. ‘This is saline, to make sure the line’s clear.’ He snapped the end off a vial and drew up another syringe.

  Her father seemed barely aware of what was going on, but he was breathing. ‘What are you sticking in him now?’

  ‘Epinephrine – adrenaline – we use it in animals just the same as doctors use it on humans who’ve suffered cardiac arrest.’ Graham injected the drug.

  The effect of the drug was instantaneous. Bruce coughed, blinked, looked at Graham then reached up and grabbed his shirtfront with two hands. ‘Where’s my daughter?’

  Kerry bent over him and kissed him. ‘I’m here, Dad. I’m fine, and so are you.’

  Graham drew up another syringe. ‘I’m going to give you some morphine as well, Bruce. We’ve got to get you to hospital as soon as possible.’

  Bruce sat up and Graham injected him in the arm. ‘Take Kerry. That’s . . . that’s the plan.’

  Graham shook his head. ‘The plan didn’t survive, Bruce. Eli’s in some kind of trouble. He’s got injured men. He didn’t make the rendezvous point. I got half a radio message from him.’

  Bruce reached for his belt and took his radio. ‘Call him, again, on mine.’

  Graham took the radio. ‘Kerry, I landed not far from here. Help me get your father there.’

  ‘One sec.’ She jogged across to José’s lifeless body and, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, bent down and retrieved his rifle. She went back to her father and Graham.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Bruce protested, but he was unsteady as Kerry and Graham brought him to his feet.

  ‘Lean on me, Dad.’ She put his left arm over her shoulder to support him and Graham got under the right. Kerry carried José’s AK-47 and Graham slung Bruce’s rifle around his neck. Graham tried the radio as they walked as fast as they could away from the compound and through the thorny bush.

  After a couple of attempts, Eli answered. Bruce held up the radio so they could all hear the American.

  ‘I’ve got two men wounded, one seriously, and my pick-up’s been totalled. I’ve got a vehicle inbound from Juan’s lodge to get my men to the clinic in Massingir. We were shot up pretty bad. It was a white Nissan – Costa’s.’

  Kerry felt her father’s body start to shudder as they emerged into a clearing. She saw to her relief that Graham’s flimsy little aircraft was parked in the grass. ‘Dad?’

  ‘Ease him down, he’s convulsing,’ Graham said.

  Kerry felt the fear almost overcome her. ‘What do we do?’

  Graham opened his veterinarian’s bag again and rummaged through it.

  ‘I’ll give him a sedative.’

  ‘No,’ Bruce managed to say through gritted teeth. His fists were clenched. ‘Leave me, with a rifle . . . Get Kerry out of here.’

  ‘No, Daddy!’

  ‘Yes, you have to . . .’

  Her father’s body was racked with violent shudders. Graham jabbed another needle into his arm and depressed the plunger. Kerry held her father tight in her embrace until he started to calm.

  ‘What do we do now?’ she asked Graham.

  He looked her in the eye. ‘If I don’t get your father to a hospital in South Africa as soon as possible he’s not going to make it.’

  Kerry looked at the little aircraft. ‘Let me guess, no room for three?’

  Graham shook his head. ‘Not a chance.’

  Chapter 10

  Fidel moved from body to body. All three of his men who had stayed behind at the farm were dead, and the woman was gone.

  Luiz, the master tracker, was looking about for a spoor. He stopped and changed position to keep the tracks he had found between him and the moon. He pointed to the ground.

  Fidel went to him, near the edge of the compound. ‘What can you see?’ he asked in Portuguese.

  ‘Three people. Two men, one woman. One man is injured.’

  ‘Follow them.’

  After calling his other men to him, they moved fast through the bush, Luiz barely stopping to check a broken twig, some flattened grass or the occasional boot print visible in the dirt. Ahead of them, out of sight, they heard an engine cough into life.

  ‘Hurry,’ Fidel commanded Luiz and his other men. They ran towards the noise. As they entered a clearing, Fidel looked up, and silhouetted against the ivory moon was the Bat Hawk aircraft. Anger coursed through him. ‘They have gone.’

  They all stood there for a moment, watching the aircraft turn and head west, towards South Africa.

  ‘Yes,’ Luiz said, ‘but only two of them.’

  *

  Kerry stopped running. She was breathing hard, but she was fit, a legacy of her regimen of jogging three days a week back home in Australia. She held up the GPS Graham had taken from her semiconscious father. On its screen she could see she was still heading in the direction of the arrow, to the southeast, where Eli Johnston and his men were stranded.

  The radio clipped to her belt squawked. She paused, fighting hard for breath, and listened to it. ‘This is Sabre,’ she said, having adopted her father’s call-sign, ‘say again, please, Trident.’

  ‘Sabre, I’ve launched the drone, over,’ Eli said.

  Apart from when she had first been taken hostage, Kerry had never felt so alone in her life. But to her great relief, Graham had managed to reach Eli before taking off into the night sky with her father, and Eli had been in contact with her, encouraging her, but also warning her to use her father’s radio sparingly to conserve the battery. He had told her that he would be using his surveillance drone as soon as he could ready it to fly, to help guide her to him.

  She scanned the sky in the direction she was heading. ‘I’m looking, but I can’t see it.’

  ‘Shouldn’t take too long,’ Eli said. ‘I’m getting a feed from the FLIR camera on the drone now, so I can see in the dark, and pick up anything or anyone moving.’

  Kerry was moving again now, as fast as she could through the bush, following the arrow on the GPS unit. Periodically she looked up, and the next time she did so she saw a dark shape. ‘I see it,’ she said into the radio.

  ‘And I see you,’ Eli replied. ‘Keep on track, on the course you’re following. I’m going to fly a circuit around you to make sure the coast is clear.’

  Kerry stumbled and nearly fell, but kept on jogging.

  *

  Graham pushed the Bat Hawk to its limits and when he picked up a phone signal, crossing the Kruger Park south of Letaba Camp, he called a doctor friend of his who lived at Raptor’s View.

  The doctor, Bongi, was tired and grumpy at first, but intrigued enough by the severity of Bruce’s condition and Graham’s odd call for him to meet them at a private airstrip to agree to come out in the middle of the night. He had also called Ukuphila, telling Thandi what he needed.

  Graham lined up for the landing. The
doctor’s Range Rover cast its headlights down the grassy airstrip, along with two other vehicles from the wildlife orphanage.

  ‘Cardiac arrest, Bongi. I’ve given him epinephrine and ketamine as a sedative.’

  Bongi raised his eyebrows as he quickly checked Bruce.

  ‘It’s all I had.’

  ‘I must get him to hospital, asap.’

  ‘Can I leave him with you?’ Graham asked.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Back to where I came from.’

  ‘Should I ask where?’

  Graham clapped the doctor on the arm. ‘No. Thanks, Bongi.’

  Graham called to Thandi, who drove the orphanage’s bakkie over to the Bat Hawk.

  ‘I have the fuel, Dr Graham.’

  ‘Thank you, Thandi. I need to top up and go. Please help Dr Bongi get Mr Maxwell into the Range Rover.’

  ‘Yebo, Dr Graham.’

  Graham filled the Bat Hawk’s fuel tank by hand, sweating as he hefted the twenty-litre jerry cans. Within twenty minutes of landing he was taxiing down the grassy airstrip. He took off and banked sharply to the east, heading back to Mozambique.

  *

  ‘Sabre, this is Trident,’ Eli Johnston said over the radio.

  Kerry slowed her pace but did not stop. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘You’ve got four tangos on your six, over.’

  ‘Speak English, for goodness’ sake.’ Kerry instinctively looked back as she jogged, but in doing so she missed an exposed tree root. She tripped, sprawled headlong and cried out in pain.

  ‘Four men following, maybe two hundred metres behind you. Are you OK?’

  Kerry groped in the dry leaf litter and found the radio she had dropped. ‘I think so. I fell over.’ She tried to stand, but winced and dropped back to the ground. ‘My ankle. I’ve twisted it.’

  ‘You have to keep moving,’ Eli said. ‘They’re gaining on you. They’re all carrying weapons. I –’

  ‘Can you come to me, Eli?’ she pleaded, forgetting radio security.

  He coughed through the static. ‘I . . .’

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I took a bullet, nothing too serious, but I can’t get to you in time.’

  Kerry forced herself to stand. The pain in her ankle was agonising. She found a slender fallen tree branch and used it as a walking stick. ‘I’m moving again. I’ll come to you.’

  ‘Roger that. Sorry I can’t be of more help, ma’am. Your friend just called; he’s dropped off his package, safely, to a doctor, and he’s on his way back.’

  Kerry allowed herself one small sigh of relief. At least her dad was in good hands. ‘I’m going as fast as I can.’

  ‘Go faster. I can see them . . . on . . . on my screen. They’re gaining on you.’

  *

  Graham spoke to Eli on the radio as he approached Massingir. He turned off before the town to avoid being seen by any police who might be stationed at the dam.

  ‘You say it’s four men after her?’ Graham asked. Eli’s voice was softer, almost a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Roger that. And they’re closing on her.’

  ‘Have you got a fix on her?’

  ‘Affirmative.’ Eli read out the GPS coordinates of where his drone was orbiting and Graham punched them into the satellite navigation device on the Bat Hawk.

  ‘Talk me in, Eli, I’m nearly there.’

  ‘There are two koppies in the area.’

  Graham saw the hills, like dark pimples. ‘Got them.’

  ‘The tangos are passing between them now.’

  Graham scoured the bush ahead and saw movement. If Eli hadn’t given him the reference he might have missed it. He broke left, then changed course, so that he would fly a line between the two outcrops. Graham put the stick between his knees and reached under his seat for Bruce’s AKMS. He yanked back the cocking handle and let it fly forward, chambering a round.

  *

  ‘Graham?’ Kerry said into the radio, not bothering any more with the ridiculous code names. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘It is, over.’

  ‘I can hear your aeroplane, but the men behind me are getting closer.’ She couldn’t hide the terror from her voice.

  ‘Kerry, you’re not far from the road. It’s maybe three hundred metres further from the two rocky hills you just passed between. Get there and I’ll pick you up.’

  Her ankle was on fire and every step was agony. She didn’t know if she could go on.

  ‘Your dad is fine, Kerry. You can do this.’

  She hobbled on, but lost her footing again and fell. She dropped the rifle and it clattered to the other side of a rock. Kerry crawled towards it, then paused. She cocked her head and heard footsteps.

  ‘Graham, they’re coming for me.’

  *

  Graham cut his airspeed to as low as he dared without stalling. He looked down at the moonlit bush below. He held the folding-stock AKMS one-handed.

  He saw movement and pulled the trigger. The rifle bucked crazily but he kept his finger down as he overflew the two figures. He had no idea if his wild firing had hit anyone, but it had the effect he desired. The men stopped running and turned their rifles on him. Bullets chased him, zinging and slapping through the fabric-covered wings as he increased his airspeed and climbed.

  *

  ‘Kerry, listen to me,’ Eli Johnston said into the radio.

  Having retrieved José’s rifle, Kerry reached for the radio and turned down the volume. ‘I hear you,’ she whispered back.

  ‘Look back in the direction you just came from. Can you see a big dead leadwood tree, with no leaves, like it’s been burned or struck by lightning?’

  She stared at the ghostly silhouettes around her. ‘I don’t know that type of tree, but, yes I see a big burned-looking one.’

  ‘One of the targets is approaching that tree. Is your weapon ready to fire?’

  Squinting in the gloom, she checked José’s rifle. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ve got to take him out, Kerry, he’s almost on you.’

  Take him out? This could not be happening to her. This was vastly different from killing José. That had been instinctive, a sudden life or death reflex action. Now, she was about to kill a man, deliberately, in cold blood. I’m a tax lawyer, Kerry wanted to scream. She steeled herself and tried to steady her rapid breathing. ‘I’m ready, Eli.’

  ‘He’s close to the tree. Aim to the right of the trunk, about four feet off the ground.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Pull the trigger when I tell you.’

  *

  Luiz paused as he approached the dead leadwood tree. He listened. There was the sound of whispering on the faint breeze and the hiss of a radio. The woman – he could tell it was her by the tracks – was close.

  She had stopped moving, as there was no noise of her shoes slapping rocks and breaking twigs as there had been last time he had paused to listen. He knew she was armed, but she was just a woman.

  Luiz snapped his fingers, summoning another of Fidel’s men forward. The man came to him, ready for orders.

  ‘The woman is close, just ahead,’ he whispered. ‘Be careful, try and take her alive if you can.’

  ‘Sim, Luiz.’

  The man stepped slowly around the wide trunk of the ancient tree, rifle up.

  And then he died.

  *

  Graham allowed himself a small cheer when he heard over the radio that Kerry had hit one of the poachers.

  Eli gave him a fix on the other men. He could only see two moving. Graham lined up for a second strafing run and, having reloaded, once more flew the gauntlet of their fire from below.

  Kerry was moving and close to the road, according to Eli. Again, Graham felt the flimsy little aircraft take hits, but he let out a wilder cry of elation when he passed over them without injury to himself. The road was ahead of him now and he brought the Bat Hawk down and landed.

  ‘Graham, Graham, I can see you,’ Kerry said over the ra
dio. ‘I’m behind you.’

  He turned the Bat Hawk, only just clearing the trees on either side of the road, and taxied until he saw her hobble out from cover. He stopped beside her and she was half-in when he heard more gunfire and felt a bullet fly over his head. Kerry had her rifle up as he picked up speed, and emptied her magazine at their pursuers as they lifted off.

  When they were clear of the ground and headed towards South Africa Graham reached over to Kerry. She looked at him and grabbed his hand and squeezed it. They looked at each other for as long as they could.

  ‘Eagle, this is Trident, over.’

  ‘Eli, how are you, man?’ Graham asked.

  ‘I’ve had better nights, but I can see the vehicle from Juan’s lodge heading my way now, full speed. Cavalry’s coming, and the remaining tangos are walking the other way. Me and my guys should be OK.’

  ‘Good to hear, Trident,’ Graham said. ‘I’ll check in with you later.’

  ‘Roger that. Safe travels.’

  The wind in the open cockpit cooled them as their shared adrenaline high wore off. The sun was coming up behind them, bringing warmth and a red-gold wash to the bush below.

  They cleared Kruger Park airspace but over the Timbavati, almost with Graham’s hometown of Hoedspruit in sight, he noticed the fuel gauge needle fall into the red.

  Kerry saw him tapping the dial. ‘Trouble?’

  The engine coughed. ‘We must have taken a bullet in the fuel tank.’ With that the propeller stopped turning.

  ‘Graham, no!’

  ‘We’ll be OK,’ he said. ‘I won’t let anything harm you, Kerry.’

  They shared a glance, then Graham looked around. Off to their right was a grassy airstrip used to ferry well-heeled visitors in and out of some of the Timbavati private game lodges. There was an open-topped Land Rover parked at one end of the strip. Animals grazed on bush airstrips and their long open spaces were favourite hunting grounds for cheetah.

  Graham banked and lined up for the landing.

  ‘Strap yourself in, as tight as you can,’ he said to Kerry.

  They glided in, losing altitude at a rate that made Graham doubt his earlier optimism. They came in over a line of trees and Graham’s whole body tensed as the Bat Hawk’s wheels brushed the uppermost dry branches of a knob thorn.