Sipho sensed the tension as well, heavier on the accelerator than before, the delay in getting the kids into the vehicle costing them precious minutes, the sun low on the horizon, the shadows long, a good distance still to cover.
Acton leaned back, his arm over Laura’s shoulders, her head resting on his, and he closed his eyes, his head lolling to the side, the wind whipping in his face, his thoughts returning to the excitement of what tomorrow might bring. If Sipho did indeed know where the mine was, they might be about to solve a mystery over a century old, with nobody around to interfere, as so often happened.
He opened his eyes, noticing his head was stuck out the side of the vehicle, and for a moment he debated sticking his tongue out to the side and see what all the rage was in the canine community, but something caught his eye. He turned back and frowned, several sets of headlights behind them.
“We’ve got company.”
Sipho glanced in the mirror as everyone turned to look, and Acton felt the vehicle surge slightly faster.
“Hotel guests?” suggested Laura.
It was a possibility, though Acton felt a pit form in his stomach. “Could be, but they’re coming awfully fast.”
A sound Acton recognized too well shattered the peace as he pushed Laura forward. “Everyone down!”
The girls in the middle seats screamed, the brat’s boyfriend popping up in his seat as he spun around like an idiot. “Was that a gunshot?”
Acton reached forward, punching him in the stomach, causing him to double over, dropping the vacant target that was his head. “Yes. Now stay the hell down!”
Gunfire continued and Sipho pushed harder on the accelerator, but their situation appeared hopeless. As Acton peered over the rear of his seat, he could see the others were gaining, this safari vehicle not designed for speed, especially on these roads. He could feel the backend fishtail, Sipho easing off the accelerator, seeking a speed that would allow him to maintain control.
And to top it all off, as this was a safari vehicle, it was completely open to the elements.
And bullets.
It was a deathtrap, overflowing with human flesh.
He looked to the front and saw Gorman had managed to wedge a good chunk of his body under the dash, as protected as he could be. The four morons in the center seat seemed to be having problems, the two couples continuing their feud, refusing to touch each other. He reached forward and grabbed the one he had punched. “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you idiots, but put it aside for now, or you’re going to die! Girls, lie on the floor, I don’t care if you hate each other right now. And boys, start to act like men, and protect your women. Cover them with your bodies, or so help me God, I’m going to toss all of you out of here in the next sixty seconds!”
They all froze, staring at him for a moment, clearly debating whether he was serious.
“Now!”
Courtney dove to the floor first, rolling to her side as her frenemy lay beside her, the two boyfriends bending over, trying to cover them, all their bodies at least now below the seatback.
Acton lay across the back seat, Angeline already lying on the floor, Laura over her, allowing him to use most of the seat so he could occasionally assess their increasingly deteriorating situation.
He glanced forward, making eye contact with Sipho in the rearview mirror. “Who are they?”
Sipho’s face was racked with guilt, that much was obvious, yet he said nothing.
“Sipho, who the hell are they?”
Sipho glanced at him briefly, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he fought to maintain control. “I-I think it might be my brother, Tladi.”
Acton felt his chest tighten. “Why? What makes you say that?”
“I-I think he may be after whatever you found.”
“But we found nothing!”
“He-he doesn’t know that. He just knows rich white people were excited about a medallion. Everyone around here knows about the gold. Maybe he thinks you found it.”
Laura poked her head up slightly. “But why would he shoot at his own brother?”
Shame replaced the guilt. “My brother is a bad man. He’s a poacher.”
Acton exchanged a look with Laura, recognizing her anger at this revelation. They both hated criminals with a passion. He personally felt that those who committed acts of vandalism should simply be shot, there no purpose to their criminal acts. Thieves at least had a purpose, feeding some sort of need, though he felt they should be shot as well. Why should someone be allowed to live who felt they were entitled to the things you worked hard to accumulate in your life?
But poachers? They were something else entirely. Not only were they motivated by greed, they were destroying species and ecosystems, risking the extinction of creatures that had survived successfully long before man had come along, and certainly longer than some cultures had decided certain parts of their anatomy could be enhanced through the senseless slaughter of innocent wildlife.
Poachers had a special corner of Hell reserved, just for them.
But unfortunately for him and his friends, these particular ones hadn’t been sent there yet.
Sipho glanced back as more shots rang out. “Should we stop?”
Acton shook his head. “No.” At this moment, he wasn’t sure if he trusted Sipho, the promise of millions in gold almost irresistible anywhere in the world, the allure to someone who lived in near abject poverty perhaps enough to turn even the purest of souls.
More shots, Acton noting for the first time they hadn’t been hit yet.
Warning shots, or poorly aimed shots?
“What should we do?” asked Gorman from the front seat.
Sipho pressed harder on the accelerator, answering the question for them, and returning Acton’s faith in this man they barely knew. “We need to get to the lodge.”
He suddenly remembered something, reaching down and shaking Laura’s shoulder. “Get your satphone out!”
She reached into her pocket, retrieving their lifeline to the outside world. “Who am I going to call? It’s not like I’ve got a phonebook here.”
He peered at the lead vehicle, now only a few hundred yards from their bumper. “Call Hugh, he’ll be able to contact the authorities.”
Laura’s eyes widened at the suggestion, rapidly dialing. Courtney shoved her head up once again, pushing her boyfriend aside as he tried to force her back to the floor. “Tell him I’m Courtney Tasker! I’m the daughter of the Treasury Secretary. My daddy will find a way to help us!”
Acton’s eyebrows rose slightly at the revelation as he peered out the back. “How much farther?”
“Too far! Another forty minutes at least!” cried Sipho with a glance over his shoulder.
It was hopeless. At these speeds, they were liable to go off the road, especially in the growing darkness, and besides, the other vehicles were still gaining.
“Maybe we should just surrender?”
Acton frowned at Laura’s suggestion, shaking his head as she dialed again. “We can’t risk it, and besides, I don’t think they’re shooting at us.”
“What makes you think that?”
“We haven’t been hit.” He spotted the rifle lying between the seats, next to Sipho. He reached over and grabbed it, checking to see if it was loaded. He turned around, took aim, then fired, a headlight blown out, the hood flipping up on the lead vehicle.
“Good shot!”
“Lucky shot. Ammo?” Acton turned around, Sipho gesturing to the glove compartment, Gorman retrieving several boxes of ammo and handing them back to Acton. He quickly opened a box, shoving the contents into his pocket.
“What the hell do they want?” cried Courtney from her hiding place, the terror in her voice making her seem more human.
He fired again, missing, Laura grabbing him by the leg to get his attention. She pointed at the satphone. “I’ve got Hugh!”
“Please help us!” cried Courtney, her boyfriend wisely shoving her back down.
There might be hope for that boy yet.
Acton reloaded as Laura spoke to the one friend who might be able to help, more shots firing, this time sounding like they were getting closer. It was inevitable, they were going to be stopped, and any desperate call for help now was for a rescue hours or days away.
He took aim, wondering if pissing them off was a wise move.
Probably not.
He fired again.
40
Hugh Reading Residence
Whitehall, London, England
Interpol Agent Hugh Reading inhaled deeply, the curry that had just arrived from Indian Express filling his nostrils, the scent of his favorite dish—chicken tikka masala with pilau rice and a side of naan—overwhelming his senses. He sighed, taking a sip of his pint of John Smith’s Extra Smooth.
This is the life.
He frowned.
Too bad you don’t have anyone to share it with.
His son was coming over tomorrow for dinner, something he looked forward to. He hoped he might convince him to go to the pub for a pint, something they had yet to do together. It was only recently that they had reestablished regular contact, the boy holding a grudge for more than a decade over the divorce.
It hadn’t mattered to him that the separation had been mutual and fairly friendly, all things considered. And it had definitely been for the best. Marriage and his job as a detective were not compatible, at least not for a detective with ambition. His job had cost him his family, though it would have happened regardless of what he was doing, he and his wife young lovers that grew apart as they became adults.
But now, now that he had been forced to step aside, to leave the job he had loved with Scotland Yard, he had more time on his hands, and an olive branch had been extended to his son.
And accepted.
I wonder what we’ll have tomorrow.
There was no way he was cooking, any effort likely to scare the poor lad off for good. He dipped his head toward his plate, deeply inhaling once more.
We could do this again.
He shoved his fork into the dish, lifting a steaming helping of the rice toward his mouth, his eyes closing in anticipation.
His phone vibrated on the table beside him.
Bloody hell.
He stared at it for a moment then swallowed the bite, savoring every chew as the explosion of flavors conquered his taste buds, refusing to let the unknown number interfere with his enjoyment of this moment.
The first bite of a meal anticipated.
He moaned with pleasure.
India might have invented it, but we perfected it.
The phone stopped vibrating, then resumed moments later.
He sighed heavily, putting his fork down and swiping his thumb over the display.
“Hello?”
“Hugh?”
He recognized Laura Palmer’s voice and smiled. “Oh, hello Laura, you caught me in the mid—”
“Hugh! You’ve got to help us!”
His chest tightened and he shoved his food away, grabbing a notepad and pen sitting on the nearby counter, the fear in his friend’s voice obvious. “Go ahead.”
“We’re in South Africa. We’re on the road leading to the Sabi Sabi Bush Lodge in Kruger National Park. We’re being pursued by poachers who think we’ve found the Kruger Gold. They’re shooting at us and there’s no way we’re going to reach help in time.”
A young woman shouted something unintelligible as he jotted notes.
“Listen, we picked up four strays. One of them says she’s the daughter of the Treasury Secretary for the United States. You need to get us help.”
The distinct sound of gunfire filled his ear.
Gunfire that sounded close.
“Are you okay?”
“James is returning fire, but there’re three vehicles after us and we’ve only got one rifle.”
Another voice shouted in the background. “Look out!”
“James!”
There was a loud series of sounds, as if the phone had been dropped, then silence.
“Laura!”
41
Road to Sabi Sabi Bush Lodge
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
Tladi stepped from the truck before it came to a complete halt, rushing toward the overturned Toyota. Rage filled his heart at the fact his own brother had fired on them, though he had a suspicion it was the rich white people who were doing the actual shooting. He motioned for his men to surround the vehicle, they complying, training their weapons on the moaning passengers as he searched for his brother in the wreckage.
His jaw dropped when he finally spotted him, still in his seat, there no signs of movement.
“Sipho!” He repeatedly kicked at the windshield, ramming it with the heel of his boot before it finally gave way. He reached in, hauling out the glass and tossing it onto the side of the road. Dropping to his knees, he put a hand on his brother’s face. “Sipho, are you okay?”
There was no response. He grabbed the moaning man whose body lay overtop his brother, hauling him through the windshield, two of his men rushing forward to help, the man heavy.
“Please, my wife!”
Tladi ignored the man’s pleas, as did his men. “Brother, speak to me!” He shook Sipho’s shoulder. He moaned. Tladi’s heart leaped in relief as he let out a sigh and a silent prayer. “Thank God you’re okay.” His brother’s eyes fluttered open.
“Brother!” he gasped.
“Yes, it’s me.” Tladi felt a flash of anger wash through him. “Why did you run? You knew who it was!”
The only response was a moan.
I have to get him out of there.
He reached in and pulled his eldest brother from the seat and through the windshield. Sipho cried out in agony, but Tladi continued, committed to removing him from the overturned vehicle. He laid his brother on the ground then gasped at the large gash in the side of Sipho’s stomach, cut by something, probably a large rock on the ground as the vehicle skidded on its side.
Blood was everywhere, a long trail of it stretching the entire distance he had pulled his brother, his clothes soaked with the precious fluid. Tladi slapped both hands on the wound, turning to his men. “Get me something to stop the bleeding.”
They stood there, staring.
“Now!”
One of his men, Jacob, shrugged. “We don’t have anything, boss.”
Sipho reached up and grabbed Tladi by the back of the neck, pulling him closer. “Y-you’re better than this.”
Sipho collapsed, exhausted, and Tladi watched in horror as all life drained from his brother’s face, his eyes dead, his life over. A pit formed in Tladi’s stomach as he clasped his brother’s lifeless hand still around his neck. He placed it gently on his brother’s chest then climbed to his feet, rage returning, sorrow and any sense of responsibility forgotten.
He turned to the nearest captive, all the tourists now lined up, all unscathed, unlike his brother. He aimed his weapon at an arrogant looking young white man, someone too young to have earned his way here, clearly from a wealthy family.
A wealthy family that was about to pay.
“My brother is dead.”
The man held up his hands, shaking his head. “Hey, dude, I had nothing to do—”
Tladi fired, silencing the privileged scum, the boy dropping in a heap, the girl he had been standing with screaming then bolting into the dark. His men turned to give chase when he raised a hand. “Let her go. She’ll be dead by morning.” He turned to the older people, including two black South Africans who had forgotten where they came from. “Besides, we don’t need her. They’re who we want.”
42
Road to Sabi Sabi Bush Lodge
Greater Kruger National Park, South Africa
Laura rushed to the young man’s side as everyone else stood stunned. This wasn’t her first time in a situation like this, dominated by death and violence, and she had little doubt it wouldn’t be her last
. She dropped to her knees, checking the boy for a pulse, finding none.
She glared at the man who had shot him. “You didn’t need to do that.”
He sneered at her. “My brother died, so one of you dies. Eye for an eye.”
Laura rose, pointing at Sipho. “Your brother died because of you, not because of this boy.”
The other young woman cried out, sobbing uncontrollably, her boyfriend holding her, desperately trying to silence her, Laura certain he was afraid any undue attention might result in their own deaths.
“Watch your mouth, or you’re next.”
Laura glared at Sipho’s brother but bit her tongue. Clearly, life meant little to this piece of garbage, and with the guilt and grief of killing his own brother, he would be unpredictable.
A gun was shoved in her face.
“Get back with the others.”
She stepped back slowly toward Gorman who held his shaking wife, Laura’s eyes searching the near darkness for any sign of James, his ejection from the vehicle something these men didn’t appear to be aware of.
And just as they had no idea he existed, she had no idea if he were alive.
Her heart slammed as she thought of the myriad possibilities, her mind dwelling on the most awful. The fall could have killed him, or worse, left him injured, only to face some horrible fate at the jaws of the unforgiving nature that surrounded them.
Please, God, let him be okay.
He had to be.
For some reason, she knew he was alive, convinced if he weren’t she’d sense it, their love so deep.
Those aren’t the thoughts of a scientist.
And they weren’t. They were the thoughts of a desperate soul, barely clinging to control.
She looked at the murderer. “Sipho said your name was Tladi.”
“Yes.”
“What is it you want?”
He smiled, stepping toward her, weapon still raised. “I want the gold, miss, the gold.”
Footsteps rapidly approached, accompanied by panicked breathing. Acton jumped up, grabbing the girl, slapping a hand over her mouth before she could scream and reveal their position.
Wages of Sin (A James Acton Thriller, #17) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 9