Lana and Moffat’s eyes met and Moffat raised one eyebrow. She could see he was having the same thought as she was. Karl Henning appeared to be seeking sympathy.
Henning went on, ‘My father was a brute of a man. He bashed my mother until the poor woman’s brains were scrambled. When she wasn’t around, one of us kids would do just as well. It was bad enough for the boys but he did more than bash the girls. One of my sisters fell pregnant to him when she was just twelve.’ Karl shuddered slightly at the memory. ‘I ran away when I was fourteen. Made my way to Johannesburg and worked in the mines for eighteen years. I went to night school and educated myself. One day I read in the newspaper that the British were handing out farms in Nyasaland. I knew about cattle and crops. The thought of having my own place appealed to me, I was sick and tired of the mines, so I came up here. I tried cattle but there was hardly any money in it. Then, just after independence, tobacco took off. Kasungu’s climate was perfect. I made the change and, for years, never regretted it.’
Lana and Moffat remained silent.
‘Late in 1979 I bought an old chiffonier which had belonged to the slaver, Mlozi. I didn’t know this until I found his ledger in a hidden compartment. Remember, I showed you the secret compartment?’
Lana nodded curtly. ‘I remember.’
‘It was Mlozi’s record of trading transactions. Slaves and ivory mainly. Against one of his last entries Mlozi had written that a shipment of four dhows carrying slaves, and one loaded with tusks was lost in a storm. He estimated their position to be between ten to twenty miles north of Likoma Island. I decided to look for it. I needed money. The tobacco boom of the sixties and seventies was over. Prices were dropping fast. A few of my friends went broke.’ His mouth set in a hard line. ‘There was no way I was prepared to let that happen to me. The ketch was fitted with state-of-the-art echo sounding equipment and I found the dhows on my third attempt. My first dive verified Mlozi’s records.’
Moffat stared at him. ‘But there was nothing illegal about the ivory, nothing to justify killing four men.’
Karl went on as if Moffat had not spoken. ‘I needed somewhere to store the tusks until I could set up links with Asia. Likoma seemed like the ideal solution. No-one goes there. All I had to do was find a place to put it.’
He was speaking as if they were having an after-dinner chat and Lana realised that he was not only evil, he was completely devoid of emotion. ‘There was a missionary on the island who was always going on about how little money he had. I talked to him and offered a commission on each tusk sold if he could store the ivory somewhere. He accepted quickly enough.’ Karl scowled. ‘Then he got greedy.’
Moffat raised his eyes but said nothing. Karl did not seem to see the irony of his last comment.
‘The missionary – Frederick Hamilton – told me he had discovered a crypt at the cathedral. No-one knew about it. He said it would be perfect. The entrance was overgrown and, having opened it without authority, he had no intention of telling anyone.’
‘So you went into the ivory business?’ Moffat commented quietly.
‘Only for a while. The dhows had gone down in Mozambique waters. The war there was hotting up and FRELIMO often used the lake to move their forces back and forth. After a while it just wasn’t safe. I put the whole thing on hold. The ivory would keep where it was – no-one ever knew of its existence except for Frederick Hamilton and myself.’
Karl lit a cigarette. Lana and Moffat waited in silence. They had been denied the truth for so many years. Now they were about to hear it.
‘In 1983 a friend of mine, Dick Matenje, told me that he had commissioned a survey of the lake. He asked if my ketch could be used if needed by the geologists. He said that President Banda did not know about it so I was to keep the information to myself. At first . . .’ Karl drew on his cigarette ‘. . . I was only too happy to help. I met the geologist, Cunningham, and put my boat at his disposal. I didn’t expect the bloody man to stray into Mozambique waters and find Mlozi’s dhows.’
‘So you killed him?’ Lana tried to be calm, but the hatred she felt for Karl could not be hidden.
Karl carried on as though she had not spoken. ‘He had a drinking problem. Got quite nasty sometimes. I couldn’t risk him telling anybody about the dhows. It’s funny how things happen. He’d gone on a binge and slipped and hit his head. He was out cold though whether that was the bang on the head or the booze I couldn’t say. At first, I just tied him up to keep him under control when he came round. I didn’t intend to kill him. Suddenly I saw how easy it would be to drop him overboard. We were miles from shore and in his condition . . . well. I untied his hands. He was still unconscious. He went down like a stone.’
‘I suppose his assistant was an accident too?’
‘No. I had to kill him, surely even you can see that. He was the only witness.’ Karl took a long pull on his cigarette and spoke around the smoke. ‘It was simple enough. He was in shock. Instead of defending himself he just sat staring at the water where Cunningham had disappeared. I tied him up. When we were well away from where I’d dropped Cunningham I knocked him unconscious, untied his hands and tossed him off the boat.’
Lana just shook her head in disbelief.
‘But you went on. You killed Lana’s father? And mine?’ Moffat’s voice trembled with suppressed emotion.
‘Dick Matenje told me that another geologist was coming to finish Cunningham’s work. I kept an eye on him and I wasn’t too worried – he was working well to the north but when John Devereaux mentioned the survey was moving to Likoma it was too close, I couldn’t risk it. Most of the ivory was still under the lake. Hong Kong was screaming for more. Frederick Hamilton was complaining that he wasn’t getting enough money – that it was too slow in coming.’ He stopped, as though finished.
‘You’ve told us this much. Please finish,’ Lana said coldly.
‘I found out where they were working and paid them a visit.’ Karl rubbed a hand over his eyes.
‘North of Karonga?’
‘Yes. But then your father said they were going to Likoma. That settled it as far as I was concerned.’
Lana shuddered and closed her eyes.
Karl went on. ‘There’s deep water at the mouth of the Kaporo River. It’s out of sight from where they were working. I anchored Silver Bird early in the morning and went on foot. I expected them to be together so I took my gun. I hid in the trees and watched. Your father was doing something with sand in bottles but there was no sign of Kadamanja. After a few minutes I thought I’d just walk up and start talking but, as I got closer, I could see your father hadn’t heard me. He was completely absorbed in his work.’ For the first time Karl’s voice faltered, although his eyes seemed to gleam with malicious satisfaction. ‘So I . . . I walked right up behind John Devereaux and . . . and hit him.’
Oh God!
‘I tied him to a tree and went back for the dinghy. He was still unconscious when I got back.’ Henning shrugged, unconcerned. ‘Must have hit him harder than I thought.’
Blinded by sudden tears, Lana felt Moffat’s arm go around her.
‘I dragged him down the beach and got him into the dinghy and eventually on board the ketch. It wasn’t easy, he was like a sack of potatoes.’
Lana felt a shudder of horror go right through her. Not only because of what she was hearing but at the calm, almost boastful way Karl was telling her.
‘When he regained consciousness I asked him about his assistant. He told me that Jonah Kadamanja became sick with malaria and had returned home.’ Karl looked angry. ‘He was lying, trying to protect the man. Luckily I decided to check it out. Before it was light, I motored down to Karonga.’ Karl looked at Moffat. ‘Your father was too sick to defend himself.’
The look on Moffat’s face was one of pure hatred.
Karl stared back and said spitefully, ‘Halfway between Karonga and the Tanzanian side I threw him overboard. Like most of your race, he couldn’t swim.’
�
�You bastard!’ Lana gritted.
‘What’s another black man?’ he responded cruelly. ‘This country has too many as it is.’
‘He was someone’s father, someone’s husband, someone’s son. He was a human being, you stupid, arrogant . . . animal,’ Lana burst out, unable to find words to describe her feelings. ‘You pig!’
Karl shrugged it off. ‘Couldn’t leave them in the water together.’ He smiled at Lana. ‘There is a lot of your father in you, my dear. Misplaced loyalty included. John Devereaux would have tried to save his assistant. Futile really but I decided to take no chances and sailed south, taking your father with me.’
Daddy! My God, how frightened you must have been.
‘He knew what had to be done so I kept him tied up. Took it rather well I thought.’ Karl frowned at the memory. ‘Never noticed him working his hands free.’ The frown deepened. ‘He came at me like a madman. I had no choice. There was only time for one shot but the bullet took him in the head and he fell back over the side.’
Lana moaned and covered her face.
‘He was dead before he hit the water,’ Karl went on carelessly. Lana removed her hands and looked at Karl in silence. She was beyond words, even beyond tears now. There is fear and sorrow for this woman.
‘I looked for him of course. Must have spent half-an-hour searching without any success. For months I expected to hear that the body had been found but it never reappeared. Maybe a croc got him, who knows.’
Her father was dead. She had come to Malawi to find out what had happened to him. Now she knew. The tiny flame of hope that she would find him alive flickered and died.
‘You’ll both be dead soon, you might as well hear the rest,’ Karl said. ‘There was trouble in Malawi. Dick Matenje was dead. There’d be no more surveys. The ivory was safe enough. As soon as Mozambique settled down I started diving again. The crypt soon filled with tusks. I couldn’t move it out fast enough. You see, everything had to be carried by dugout canoe to the mainland, tusk by tusk. Each trip was at night. That was the bottleneck. I spoke to Hamilton about the storage problem.’ Karl lit another cigarette from the stub of the first. ‘I don’t think he wanted to help but I had the contacts, he didn’t. Besides,’ the distaste Karl obviously felt for the missionary was clear, ‘he’s a miserable little man. No guts. Not prepared to run risks.’
‘Which of course you are?’ His words seemed to stick and Moffat cleared his throat.
‘Of course.’ Karl seemed surprised. ‘Especially when the rewards are so great. Anyone would.’
‘Anyone but Hamilton?’
‘Bah!’ Karl discounted the missionary contemptuously. ‘Stupid man didn’t even know what he’d found.’
‘What exactly had he found?’
Karl smiled in pure pleasure. ‘I did some research. It’s unbelievable but the more I looked into it the more I realised it was possible.’ He hesitated dramatically, but, when no-one spoke, went on. ‘I believe he’s found the missing treasure of Great Zimbabwe.’ He looked at Lana.
What does he want? Approval? Admiration? Lana merely stared back at him.
Karl sighed, disappointed. ‘There’s a cave on Likoma. It’s right under the crypt. It might have gone undiscovered forever but for Hamilton’s poking around. The crypt is empty, you see, except for one stone coffin.’ Karl’s lip curled. ‘It took Hamilton months to pluck up the courage to open it. When he finally did, the enormity of what he’d found scared the daylights out of him. So, when I came to him asking for more storage space, he took me into the cave.’
Karl leaned toward them. ‘You may not believe this but the cave contains an ancient treasure. Gold, copper, bronze, jewels. It’s worth far more than the ivory. I’ll soon be a very rich man thanks to Hamilton.’ He scowled at the mention of the man’s name. ‘I said I’m a man of my word but nothing lasts forever. Hamilton and I were going to go fifty-fifty on the nest egg of Great Zimbabwe until the little hypocrite got cold feet over the whole deal.
He suddenly decided that the crypt was consecrated ground so his head office should be told of its discovery. I couldn’t let that happen.’
‘How astonishing that you didn’t just kill Hamilton,’ Moffat said sarcastically.
‘I thought about it,’ Karl admitted coolly. ‘But I needed him. I couldn’t come and go on Likoma without his help. Besides, he said that he’d already told the Bishop about the crypt who’d been in contact with London. There was no point.’
‘So where did that leave things?’ Moffat asked. ‘The crypt was officially opened presumably.’
Karl smiled. ‘No. Not yet. I’ve still got a couple of months. Some church bigwig has to come out and perform a bit of religious mumbo jumbo before that can happen. Not that it matters, I have arranged to move everything well before then. A trawler will ship what’s left to Mangochi. From there it goes by road to Nacala and by freighter up the coast to Dar Es Salaam. I didn’t want to move it all at once but Hamilton’s sudden rush of conscience has made it necessary. He can whistle for his cut.’
‘And what’s still under the lake?’
‘Not much. I’ve been diving on the wreck quite regularly. I’ll have it all up on my next diving trip.’ Karl stepped back from the cabin door, smiling at Lana. ‘So now you know it all, my dear. A few little hiccoughs – I didn’t expect Ramón.’
There was one piece of the puzzle missing. There was nothing to lose by asking, so Lana asked, ‘How did Ramón find out?’
‘Ramón? He has a lot of contacts. I was selling some of the ivory to a friend of his in Hong Kong. About six years ago I also offered him some of the gold. Ramón got to hear of it and when he mentioned he was coming to Malawi his friend asked him to check up on me.’ Karl looked angry. ‘That’s the way these damned agents work of course. Get something on you, then blackmail you into helping them if the need arises.’
They had it all. And there was nothing they could do with it. Karl left them sitting in stunned silence. The door and hatch were securely locked from outside.
‘When isi-Kombazana no longer calls over the great water,’ Moffat whispered. ‘And the silent ones gather where witches burn. That’s it! That’s what the second part means. Silent ones are spirits of the elephants. The cathedral on Likoma was erected at the exact place where they once burned witches.’
‘The drums of retribution will stop beating,’ Lana continued slowly. ‘Why? Maybe Miss Fotheringham has got it wrong. Perhaps it’s because we’ll both be dead?’
Moffat put his hand under her chin and raised it. ‘Don’t lose your spirit now, my white sister.’
‘Spirit,’ she said. ‘. . . and music of the spirits will be heard. A band of bloody angels I suppose!’
Moffat grinned. ‘You English,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘How can you be funny at a time like this?’
‘I wasn’t being funny.’
*
Somehow, they slept. They were not offered food. The storm raged over the lake for perhaps an hour but, tucked into the small harbour as they were, they were spared the worst of its fury. The yacht got under way at first light and Ramón brought them something to eat shortly after that. He offered no comment and they made none to him.
They used the engine for the first three hours and then, with the wind picking up, they set the sails and made good time. Around midafternoon an argument developed on deck between Karl and Ramón. Lana and Moffat could hear them quite clearly. ‘That storm’s gaining on us. We must ride it out closer to shore.’
‘Hold the current course and speed. Enough time has been wasted as it is.’
Karl’s voice became urgent. ‘For God’s sake, Ramón! We’re heading towards the deepest part of the lake. If that storm hits we’re gone.’
‘Please do as you are told, my friend. I’m in charge now.’
‘Then we both lose. Just what the hell’s so damned important to you?’ Karl exploded.
‘Honour,’ Ramón said succinctly. ‘But I doubt very much if that means
anything to you.’
‘I had no choice,’ Karl was still shouting, not enjoying Ramón’s censure.
‘Oh you had a choice, Karl. You certainly had that.’
‘What’s it to you anyway? You’d pull that trigger without so much as a twinge of remorse.’
‘If I had to. But, Karl, I would be doing it for my country.’
‘Shut-up!’ Karl nearly screamed at him. ‘What do you know? How dare you make such comparisons.’
Down in the cabin Moffat leaned towards Lana and said quietly, ‘Hear that? He’s losing it.’
She nodded. ‘Everything’s suddenly falling apart. For fifteen years he’s got away with murder. He didn’t make that confession to us out of any sense of guilt. He was boasting. He will kill us, Moffat, he must. It’s the only way he can get his life back in order.’ Lana sighed and stretched out on the bed. ‘From what we’ve just heard there’s some rough weather coming. Karl will probably be at the helm all night. If he’s tired it could give us the advantage we need.’
Moffat sat beside her. ‘Fisi feeds on the skill of others but takes the young and weak for himself.’ He turned and stared at Lana. ‘Do you think the Nganga was telling us to get aggressive?’
‘I couldn’t feel more aggressive if I tried.’
‘You don’t look aggressive. You look half-asleep.’
Lana didn’t open her eyes. She felt exhausted and emotionally wrung out. ‘I’m thinking.’
Moffat woke her at 4.20 in the afternoon, the pitching of the yacht making him stagger to keep his balance. Looking through the starboard porthole Lana could not believe her eyes. The calm, serene blue of Lake Malawi had been replaced by plunging grey rollers, white-capped and threatening. As she stared out a waterspout spiralled upwards, as if trying to escape. It rose more than a hundred metres into the air, reaching upwards towards the storm clouds which boiled overhead. Travelling like a tornado, the plume of water headed directly for the yacht until, at the last minute, it veered off, passing directly behind the stern, a hissing, streaming serpent of coiled fury, capable of picking up and destroying anything in its path. Moffat, at the other porthole, exclaimed loudly and, when she looked, Lana could see only a wall of foaming spray and lead grey water. She could only imagine what it must be like on deck.
Echo of an Angry God Page 33