Black Horn (A Creasy novel Book 4)

by A. J. Quinnell

  Creasy answered the question. ‘Tomorrow, Mrs Manners, myself and Mr MacDonald, fly to Bulawayo. We stay only briefly to take delivery of the weapons and then fly on to Victoria Falls, where Mrs Manners and her nurse will stay at the Azambezi Lodge Hotel. Mr MacDonald and I will go into the bush and take a look around the murder site.’

  ‘And your son?’

  Again, Michael answered for himself, ‘I’ll be staying on in Harare for a few days. I’ve been very busy lately. I could use a little time off, especially the evenings.’

  The Ambassador nodded thoughtfully and said, ‘There’s a surprisingly wide and varied nightlife in Harare, but I suggest you stay away from the clubs in the townships. They can be a bit dangerous. There’s so much unemployment in the country, the crime rate in the cities is soaring.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Michael said. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  The Ambassador stood up, saying, ‘But phone me at the Embassy, if you need anything.’ He turned to look down at Gloria. ‘Mrs Manners, that also applies, of course, to you. If you run into any problems or need any assistance, don’t hesitate to phone me. I know the reason for your visit here is not a happy one, but I hope you’ll be able to relax a little at Victoria Falls. The Azambezi Lodge is a wonderful hotel and very peaceful.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Commander John Ndlovu will be here in a few minutes, so I’ll leave you to it.’ He reached down and shook her hand.

  She gave him a rare smile. He did not shake the hands of the three men, but gave them all an appraising stare and then said, ‘Good luck, gentlemen.’

  As the door closed behind him, Gloria looked at Creasy and, with an edge of triumph in her voice, said, ‘So you see, Creasy, I do have a magic wand. He was extremely courteous and helpful,’

  Creasy grunted to himself and then said, ‘He was courteous and helpful because he’s a Foreign Service Career Officer and not a Presidential Appointee. Jim Grainger is a very powerful Senator who sits on the House Foreign Service Committee. The Ambassador had a phone-call from the Senator, which is why he’s being so sweet. Anyway, the result was satisfactory. Without those weapons permits, we would have had to carry our guns illegally and that could have caused problems.’

  Before she could say anything, a soft tap came on the door. Creasy stood up, walked over and opened it.

  John Ndlovu was a tall thick-set ebony African. He was dressed in an extremely smart suit, with a white shirt and some kind of regimental tie. His black shoes had a mirror-like polish. The two men looked at each other for a long time and then Creasy said, ‘Of course, I’ve seen your photograph and would recognise your face anywhere.’

  The African nodded.

  ‘And once I had you in the sights of my rifle,’ he said, it was a very long shot, and I decided to get closer. It was a mistake. You got away and, later that night, killed four of my men.’

  ‘It was a war.’

  The African held out his hand, saying, ‘Yes, it was a war. It’s good that we can meet now and have a drink, instead of shooting at each other.’

  Creasy took the proffered hand and shook it warmly. Then he ushered the policeman into the room and introduced him to Gloria and the others. After shaking hands, John Ndlovu looked at Maxie MacDonald and said, ‘Another name out of the past. Have you been back to this country since Independence?’

  ‘No. I decided to stay away for a while and let things cool down.’

  The African gave him a half-smile, ‘It was a wise decision at the time, for a Selous Scout . . . but there is no acrimony now.’

  Creasy had moved to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room.

  ‘What can I get you?’ he asked.

  The policeman accepted a scotch and water and then told Gloria of his regret that his force had not been able to track down her daughter’s killers. He assured her that they had made extraordinary efforts and would continue to do so. Such a murder case had become rare in Zimbabwe in recent years. There was no obvious motive. Unfortunately, the rain had washed away all signs of tracks. In spite of that, he had borrowed four expert trackers from the anti-poaching department. After a week, he had had to return them, but by that time, it was clear that there was nothing to find. He could think of no political motive and there had been no robbery. He expressed his regret again and his condolences.

  ‘I understand the situation,’ Gloria said. ‘I’ve read your report and I’ve no doubt that you’ve made every effort. But you’ll understand a mother’s feelings. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought these men down here?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘I’ve been asked by my Minister to give you and them, my co-operation. Of course, I would have objected if you had brought in a bunch of ordinary mercenaries. Some of them are nothing more than thugs, but Creasy and Maxie MacDonald are not exactly ordinary. I know from experience that they’re both experts at tracking in the bush and living off the land. If there’s any chance of finding something out there, which my men may have missed, then they are the men for the job. Naturally I’ve studied Maxie MacDonald’s file these past days. He speaks fluent Ndebele and some of the tribal languages of the area. That’s an advantage.’ He turned to Creasy. ‘When will you go into the bush?’

  ‘How do you know we are going into the bush?’

  The policeman smiled. He said, ‘You didn’t come here to go fishing on the lake.’ He gestured at Michael. ‘Does this young man know anything about the African bush?’

  ‘It’s his first time in Africa,’ Creasy answered. ‘He’ll be staying in Harare for a few days to unwind a bit. He’ll join up at the Falls with us later.’

  The policeman reached into the top pocket of his jacket, pulled out a card and handed it to Michael, saying, ‘If you run into any trouble, phone me.’

  Michael thanked him and tucked the card away. Then, from the inside of his jacket pocket, John Ndlovu pulled out a sheaf of papers and gave it to Creasy. ‘Those are the temporary firearms permits. I’d be grateful if you didn’t carry those weapons in view when you’re in an urban area. The permits are good for thirty days. After that, I have permission to extend them, depending on the circumstances.’

  Creasy handed the papers to Maxie, who flicked through them and then nodded. Creasy said to the African, ‘Thirty days should be more than enough. Either we will have come across something, or we’ll be out of the country.’

  ‘I assumed so,’ the policeman said. His voice took on an edge of authority, ‘I expect you to keep in touch with me and inform me of any developments, and to keep in mind, at all times, that you’re on my territory. Those weapons are only to be used in self-defence, just remember that if you make progress, there’ll be no summary justice.”

  ‘I understand,’ Creasy answered. ‘We’re just going looking — nothing else.’

  Abruptly, Commander John Ndlovu turned to Maxie MacDonald and began speaking to him rapidly in a language the others could not understand. Creasy recognised it as Ndebele. Maxie began to nod slowly, never taking his eyes off the African’s face. Finally, the African produced yet another piece of paper and passed it to Maxie. Maxie studied it carefully and then nodded again, folded the paper and tucked it into his back pocket.

  The policeman turned to Gloria and reverted to English. ‘Mrs Manners, I sincerely hope that your men will succeed where we have, so far, failed.’ He reached down and shook her hand, and then shook hands with the others. At the door, he turned and said to her, ‘If I can be of any help at all, don’t hesitate to contact me.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Or, of course, contact your Ambassador. That man seems to be able to get things done around here.’

  As soon as the door had closed behind him, Gloria looked at Maxie and said impatiently ‘What were you talking about in that language?’

  Maxie looked at Creasy and said, ‘We were talking about two things. Ndlovu suggested that when we go into the bush, we take some sovereigns or gold Krugerrands with us. Especially the latter. The police are not allowed to offer rewards to in
formers, but we have no constraints. It’s a very poor area of the country. Ndlovu also pointed out that it’s illegal to import gold into the country without a licence, and he doesn’t want to know anything about it.’

  Gloria said, ‘So how the hell do we bring in sovereigns or Krugerrands?’

  Creasy and Maxie glanced at each other and then Creasy tapped his metal-studded belt and said, ‘People like us never travel without a few gold coins. The metal studs disguise them from the airport scanners. We have enough to bribe a couple of villages up there.’

  Gloria said, ‘And the other thing you discussed?’

  Maxie hesitated and then pulled out the piece of paper and handed it to Creasy. Creasy unfolded it, read the official words and smiled slightly,

  ‘Well?’ Gloria snapped.

  Creasy looked at Maxie and then said to her, ‘It seems that sometimes there is summary justice in Zimbabwe. This is addressed to Maxie. Being an ex-Selous Scout, he was an ex-member of the Rhodesian Armed Forces. After the war, those armed forces were merged with the guerrilla forces. Technically, Maxie never resigned, nor was discharged. He just disappeared over the border. This piece of paper, signed by the Minister of Wildlife and Tourism, is both an order and a permit. If, in the bush, we come across any rhino or elephant poachers, Maxie is to shoot them on sight. If he comes over any tracks which indicate that poachers have been in the area within the past forty-eight hours, he is to follow those tracks for a minimum of seventy-two hours or until such time that the spoor indicates the poachers have crossed back into Zambia.’

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Gloria asked, I mean, who’s paying you guys?’

  Creasy passed the paper back to Maxie and said to her, it’s very unlikely that we’ll come across any poachers in the area — it’s mostly been poached out. And anyway, solving this murder takes priority over everything else.’

  Maxie nodded,

  ‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘But if we do come across any of those bastards, it will be my pleasure to shoot them.’

  Chapter 16

  ‘The funeral is tomorrow.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Four o’clock, in the afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  Inspector Lau sighed. He looked down at Lucy Kwok in the hospital bed and said, ‘Miss Kwok, I just spoke to your doctor. He wants you to stay here for at least another three or four days. The wound is not serious, but you lost a lot of blood and there is the shock factor.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Forget about the shock factor. I’m becoming immune to shocks. As for the blood, they gave me a massive transfusion as soon as I got here and another one this morning. I’m going to be at Colin’s funeral.’

  Inspector Lau saw the determination in the woman’s eyes and nodded.

  ‘I’d be grateful,’ Lucy said, ‘If you could send a police car to pick me up, at three o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up myself, and bring you back here after the funeral.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘After the funeral, I’ll be going to the airport.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To Zimbabwe. There’s a flight to London and I’ll connect from there to Harare.’

  ‘You should rest a few more days, but I think your decision to leave Hong Kong is a wise one.’

  At once, he saw the anger in her eyes and heard it in her voice.

  ‘I’m not running away from Tommy Mo and 14K. I agreed with Colin that I would go to Zimbabwe and try to find the link between the murders there and those of my family. Colin was sure there’s a link and it may lead to Tommy Mo. Has there been any other word from the Zimbabwe Police?’

  ‘Yes. There was a fax this morning. Mrs Manners arrived by private jet yesterday with the three mercenaries. Commander John Ndlovu has promised to keep me informed.’

  She gestured at the phone beside the bed. ‘I’ll make my flight arrangements this afternoon and then phone you. I’d be grateful if you’d fax Ndlovu and give him my arrival time.’

  ‘I’ll do that. Shall I ask him to book you a hotel?’

  ‘No, the airline will do that. Being a stewardess, I get huge discounts.’

  The Inspector walked across the room and looked out of the window. They were in the Matilda Hospital, high on the Peak. He was looking down at the high-rises of Victoria and beyond them, Kowloon. The faint hum and buzz of one of the busiest cities in the world drifted up. He turned to her and said, ‘Colin was my friend. He never said very much, but I understood him. I think, during the time that you worked with him on your father’s files, he became very fond of you.’

  Lucy Kwok was silent for a while, then she said, ‘He told me on that last night that he was in love with me. It must have been true. He threw me out of that window. He could have followed and tried to escape. He had already fired all the bullets in his gun . . . but he stayed there and died.’

  Inspector Lau walked back to the bed and looked down at her again and said, ‘Were you in love with him?’

  Slowly, she shook her head.

  ‘No. But I was coming to like him very much. Maybe love would have followed. Who can say? That’s destiny. Maybe gweilos fall in love more quickly that we do.’

  Inspector Lau walked slowly towards the door. Then he turned and said to her, ‘Colin Chapman looked like a gweilo, but he was not a gweilo. His heart and his mind and his soul came from the middle kingdom. All I want now is the heart and the mind and the soul of Tommy Mo. Either locked up in a prison cell . . . or dead.’

  From across the room, she asked, ‘Would you kill him yourself?’

  ‘No. I’m a policeman. But sometimes I wish I was not . . . I’ll pick you up at three o’clock tomorrow, then I’ll take you to the airport.’

  Chapter 17

  It was only a one hour flight to Bulawayo. The Gulfstream touched down just after 9 a.m. It taxied behind the Land Rover with the flashing light to an area away from the main terminal. The police car was waiting and another civilian Land Rover. The steward lowered the steps and within minutes two men had climbed aboard, both white. One was in the uniform of an Inspector of Police and the other was clad in the typical clothes of a white farmer: khaki shorts, khaki shirt and rough suede ankle boots. The farmer carried a large canvas bag.

  Maxie knew them both. The farmer was his cousin. The weapons were in the bag. Although he had not seen his cousin for more than fourteen years, they greeted each other casually, as if it had only been yesterday. It was the way of Rhodesians. The Inspector was in his early fifties. He shook Maxie’s hand warmly and Maxie said, ‘This is a surprise.’

  The Inspector said, ‘I guess it must be. I decided to stay on for a year after Independence. At first, things were rough but I stuck out a second year and then things improved, so I’m still here.’

  Maxie grinned. ‘Christ! They even made you Inspector.’ He turned to Creasy and said, ‘This is Robin Gilbert. We were at school together.’ He then introduced the Inspector to Gloria, who had spent the short journey reading the local newspaper.

  The policeman said, ‘I understand you’re going straight on to Vic Falls, so let’s get this business over with.’

  The farmer lifted the canvas bag on to the saloon table and unzipped it. Creasy took out the sheaf of papers that Ndlovu had given him in Harare, and passed them to Robin Gilbert. It took ten minutes for Gilbert to check the weapons against the licences. He then countersigned the licences and handed them back to Creasy, saying, ‘Mr Creasy, whenever you or Maxie or Michael Creasy are carrying one of these guns, always have the relevant licence on your person.’

  ‘Understood.’

  Gloria was looking at the assortment of rifles and pistols. She said, ‘God Almighty! There’s only three of you. This is enough for a small army.’

  Creasy explained. ‘They serve different purposes for different occasions. We’re not going to carry them all around at the same time.’ He pointed. ‘That’s a high-velocit
y rifle for long-range. Next to it is a lightweight .22 with silencer. Those other two rifles are AK47s for close work. The pistols are Colt 1911s and very effective.’ He picked up one of the AK47s and one of the pistols and put them back into the canvas bag, together with two of the licences, and said to the farmer, ‘Please be sure they get to Michael in Harare before nightfall.’

  The farmer nodded.

  ‘I’ll be there by late afternoon.’ He had a small battered satchel over one shoulder. He lifted it off and tossed it to Maxie and said, ‘Biltong. Made from young kudu.’

  Maxie’s eyes literally sparkled with pleasure as he unstrapped the satchel and lifted out what looked like two kilos of dark leather.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Gloria asked.

  Creasy explained, ‘It’s dried and salted meat. What we call “jerky” in America. Over there, we make it mostly with beef, but here they use game. You might say it’s an acquired taste, but a man could live in the bush for many days on that much biltong and nothing else except water.’

  The farmer picked up the canvas bag, made his farewells and left. The policeman gestured to Creasy, who followed him down the aircraft. Once out of earshot, he said, ‘I understand you’re going straight from here to Vic Falls.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘I’m going up there today myself, to do a couple of weeks’ duty in the area.’

  ‘Was that a sudden decision by Ndlovu?’

  ‘I guess so. I got the orders last night.’

  ‘He’s sending you up there to keep an eye on us?’

  Gilbert shook his head, ‘I think not. It would be a waste of time, my trying to keep an eye on you two in the bush . . . You’d lose me in about sixty seconds . . . No. Ndlovu knows that I was friendly with Maxie. It makes sense to have someone like me close to the area. Maxie’s more likely to confide in me than in some black policeman he doesn’t know.’

  ‘Sounds likely,’ Creasy said. ‘So, you’ll base yourself at Vic Falls?’