the Disappearance of Jonathan Bloom

by Martin Sowery

  The second conclusion was that at least one group of survivors were not interested in the money. They’d taken the time to bury whoever had died and they’d tried to signal for help. Unless he’d missed some signs, all of the survivors were following the same route, which seemed like a dangerous thing to do for the innocent bystanders, given that there’d already been one killing. Clearly, the last group was either lost or following the others as the best way they could think of to get out of this country. Maybe they didn’t have a map of their own.

  So now Green’s hypothesis was that Bloom had come out here to meet some people that he already knew, for reasons that were still unclear: one or more likely two other people. There was an argument, that much was clear; and given that money was involved it wasn’t too hard to imagine a cause. One man dies, another takes the money and the third sets off in pursuit. The innocent survivors see their only option as to follow the killers hoping that the trail would lead them to safety. But if they didn’t have a map they probably were short of everything else they would need to stand a chance of surviving. That was a shame.

  But who were Bloom’s two friends? Strangers that the party met on the way? – that didn’t seem likely. Green thought over the details of the party that he’d read through on Don Kriegman’s computer. Then it came to him: there was a guide and a driver with the party. Either of them would know sensible ways to get out of this country, so it followed that neither of them was with the survivors.

  It made sense: Bloom comes to Africa and meets up with a couple of shady tour operators who have agreed to help him disappear, but then the money gets in the way of the deal. The blood in the Land Cruiser was a fight over the money. Somebody had it with them now and somebody else wanted it back.

  Now he was in more of a hurry, but in the country that he had to travel now, it wasn’t possible to drive much quicker than walking pace. There were no paths whatsoever. This was a crazy place to walk into deliberately. When he found the second grave close to a place where people had been camping, what he saw seemed to confirm his theories. It was obvious to Green that the party following on behind wasn’t going to make it.

  Chapter Fifteen - Day Fourteen

  Seen from a distance across the bone dry plain, the cloud of dust kicked up behind the truck was more noticeable than the vehicle itself. It seemed to move very slowly across the largely flat landscape, never holding a straight course for long as the driver picked his winding way around clumps of thick vegetation and trees.

  A little nearer and you could hear the whine and roar of the truck. The sound had a complaining note, as if the driver were unskilled, or the engine became unbalanced when the revs per minute increased. Every so often there would be a clash of gears as the driver adjusted to address another obstacle and the gears failed to mesh.

  Closer still and the details of the vehicle became visible through the cloud of dust. It was an old model Japanese four wheel drive with a double cab, dark olive coloured and bearing a few scrapes and dents. The front doors bore large decals in the form of a government badge, making it clear that the vehicle was engaged in official business.

  Lucas softly cursed this government issue truck that was so badly in need of maintenance; not too strongly because that would be tempting fate when he was dependent on it continuing to function. And it was clear that the gearbox wasn’t going to last much longer. It kept slipping in third, making an ugly crashing that wasn’t reassuring when you were miles from anywhere and out on patrol on your own. The truck said everything about this job. You were expected to perform miracles and you never had the right tools or resources to do it.

  Next, Lucas cursed his supposed partner for letting him down yet again, but this time he cursed in a friendly sort of way, because he could never manage to get seriously angry at McKenzie. He knew even now that he wouldn’t report him missing for this patrol. McKenzie had a drink problem, like many of the rangers did. It was the stress of the job; the danger as well. Not to mention low pay and the fact that no-one but them seemed to care whether they did their job properly or not. When he was sober, McKenzie was a good man; reliable and never scared. When he wasn’t sober, Lucas preferred to be without him, at peace with his own thoughts interrupted only by the occasional crackling voice from the two-way radio.

  Going out alone if you were looking for poachers would be a different matter, but today, he wasn’t looking for ivory hunters; or at least he didn’t expect to find them. This was just a routine patrol. Of course there would be poachers around somewhere. They were like the animals, always there even when you didn’t see them. The worst of it was, most of them were ordinary people like him, who were doing what they did because they needed the money, like he did. That was another reason why so many of the rangers drank. They were protecting the elephants and other game but they were doing it by hunting their own people.

  The gear slipped once more and the driver cursed again, but this time more harshly; telling the empty air what he thought of people who said that all the rangers were drunks, without knowing anything about taking orders that might lead to your needing to shoot a man from your own village who was hunting ivory because he was poor; maybe even wondering if the same man who was giving you the orders might also be paying your neighbour to go out and steal tusks.

  Lucas liked and respected elephants. It was clear that they needed to be protected; but he would rather have done that by hunting down the men who offered villagers a year’s wages to become poachers for a week. Even so, he knew that when he did come across a poacher, he’d shoot first and ask questions later. That was the job and they all accepted it as a fact of life.

  Upright beside him, mounted on the side of the cab, Lucas had an automatic rifle. Even with these powerful weapons, the job was getting tougher all the time. The poachers had automatic weapons too, more of them and better than what was issued to the rangers. Often they had so many rounds with them that they didn’t need to worry about how much they used firing off at the rangers. Where did all that equipment and ammunition come from, Lucas wanted to know?

  It was one thing trying to outwit some tricky villagers. He remembered the boys they’d stopped a few months ago who’d managed to bring down a buffalo and were trying to punt through the marshes in a mokoro with the carcass covered in reed grass as if the boat was full of roofing material. Those boys had gone to jail, but probably they had just seen an opportunity to make some extra money. It was a different thing when you were out in the middle of the night, up against an organized gang who might be soldiers from the way they were armed and knew how to fight (and maybe they really were soldiers in someone’s army: if the stories were true). At times like that he didn’t feel like a policeman any more: it was more like being caught up in a war, on the side that wasn’t winning.

  Lucas swung off the main highway and took the new road that the Chinese had just finished building. That was how it was with the Chinese. They arrived, they built, and a month later they had all disappeared again. It wasn’t a bad road either, but Lucas was not sure what he felt about the Chinese. According to what the news and his government told him, they were friends. Chinese all had money and they knew how to make things happen. Chinese businessmen were treated as VIPs wherever they went. Nevertheless, Lucas knew that more Chinese meant more dead elephants with their tusks ripped out. Everyone knew where the ivory went, but not enough people cared.

  Most of the people he knew in town were just happy that now they had the Chinese supermarket where it seemed that they could buy everything they needed, and many things they didn’t, more cheaply than they could ever have thought possible. Some people grumbled that none of the money that went over the counter ever came back into the town: it was a one way trade. The truth was that the only ones who complained really loudly were the shopkeepers and stallholders who’d been put out of business by the supermarket.

  Life seemed to get more complicated every day; but there was plenty of time to think about poachers and Ch
inese and a thousand other things that might be right or wrong on a patrol like this; where nothing much was going to happen. In the end, you never got to the bottom of any problem. It was so hard to know what to think about anything, even the job itself. If you spend too much time brooding on it, you would end up in the same condition as McKenzie.

  Lucas drove steadily, covering the miles and from time to time checking in on the radio. He stopped for a while at one of the lodge buildings that marked each of the entry points to the game reserves. He shared some tea with a woman he knew there. Some tour operators that he knew came through hauling their cargoes of dusty sightseers. He waved at the drivers. When he’d finished his tea, he started out once more and the uneventful day wore on. From time to time he pulled off the main track, to check out tyre marks that moved off the authorized path, or else only to pass the one of the slow moving safari buses.

  He came to the more remote places, further out where the roads were lonely. Lucas didn’t mind the emptiness. He wondered if there was a chance he might meet up with that crazy man, Kriegman; the South African. They’d been asked to keep an eye out for him since his party hadn’t shown up at one of the camp sites where he’d made a prior booking. No one worried too much on account of that. It was Kriegman’s way. Most likely he’d show up in a few days having being in a completely different part of the country just because the mood had taken him that way. Everyone shook their heads and left Kriegman alone, apart from that black fellow Michael, who looked after him. And he would end up as mad as the old man if he stuck around with him much longer.

  Lucas knew that he didn’t have to worry about Kriegman trying to shoot game. He was more likely to take a shot at anyone he thought might be a poacher, which might cause other problems, but that would be a matter for a different kind of authority. Kriegman was none of his business and better off that way

  Lucas stopped for a toilet break and to smoke a cigarette. He didn’t like to smoke in the cab even though the windows were always down. Nothing to see but a few giraffe cropping the upper branches of some tree. Plenty of animal tracks but nothing unusual. He figured that he could be back home not long after dark. Then he’d go round and see McKenzie to tell him what he thought of him.

  One hour later, behind the wheel once more, Lucas spotted a small figure far ahead in the road, walking in his direction. It was a white man. He looked as if he had been walking for days. He didn’t wave or signal or anything as Lucas approached; just stood still waiting for the truck.

  Julian had expected he’d meet up with someone on the track sooner or later, but he was surprised when the park ranger’s vehicle appeared and then slowed down and stopped right before him. For some reason he hadn’t counted on a meeting with officialdom. He’d unconsciously assumed that the country was as wild and unpoliced as it appeared.

  The driver was alone and seemed surprised to see another person out in this wild place.

  Are you okay there? Lucas asked.

  ***

  The strange white man claimed that his car had broken down the day before, though he looked like he’d been away from people for longer than that. Lucas couldn’t understand why he hadn’t made for the campsite at the foot of the big hills. There were signposts to it on the track he’d been following and surely he would realize there’d be other people there: but the stranger had been walking away from that place. He explained to Lucas that he’d been there already and found it deserted, which seemed unusual.

  Lucas had come across stranded motorists before. Most of them were eager to get back to their car as soon as they could. At least they showed concern about the vehicle. But not this one. Of course, Lucas offered to take him to see if they couldn’t get the engine started. The stranger replied he didn’t know anything about trucks or cars and had no idea what the problem might be with his. He said that he only wanted to be dropped somewhere where he could get clean and rest for a while. He’d make his own arrangements about the car after that, thank you very much.

  He seemed healthy enough. Lucas didn’t worry that he might be delirious; but then what was a man who had no mechanical knowledge doing out here alone in the first place? And what had he been doing here? It was true though, that the tourists, maybe white people in general for all that Lucas knew, were always doing things that seemed to make no sense. Lucas didn’t want to seem impolite; and in fact he had to admit that he’d seen stranger things than this wandering pilgrim in his time on the job. For the moment, he didn’t ask any more questions. He only swung the patrol car around and headed back towards town, as the stranger had asked.

  There was something odd about the stranger that Lucas couldn’t ignore. Even more than the story he had told that made no sense, there was the story he hadn’t told and the way he avoided questions instead of answering them. Lucas kept stealing glances at his passenger when the road didn’t demand his full attention, looking for clues. He tried again to engage the stranger in conversation, telling him that he should see a doctor while he was in town, just to be on the safe side. The sun could do funny things to people. The stranger nodded.

  And it’s not safe out there alone, Lucas told him. The animals will eat you.

  The man seemed to find this funny for some reason, although he replied sensibly enough.

  I was very stupid and I’ve learned my lesson. I’m only glad that I ran into you.

  But still he didn’t offer any proper explanation of why he was there at all. Well, they would have a long drive and Lucas was a patient man.

  By the way, Lucas asked after a while; I don’t suppose you have seen anyone else who might have had problems?

  I haven’t seen anyone for days. Why do you ask?

  Nothing much. We were asked to look out for a group of tourists that never turned up at the campsite they’d booked. No-one has heard from them in a while. It would be nice to know they are alright. There’d be about eight of them and two guides. You’d remember the guide if you saw him: a huge South African guy with a belly like this.

  Lucas’s hand described an exaggerated arc in front of his own stomach.

  I didn’t see anything; but isn’t that rather alarming for your people? I mean that party could be lost out here like I was. Haven’t you got everyone out looking for them?

  Lucas grinned.

  You don’t know the guy in charge. I haven’t talked to him much myself to be honest. We prefer to leave him alone even though he’s been coming to these parts for years. He’s not so friendly. Don Kriegman, he’s called. The man is a bit crazy about lots of things; and he hates being checked up on, or anyone trying to tell him what to do or where to go. Anyone else, we’d be worried, but with him it’s a normal situation. I suppose that he just decided to head off in a different direction because his nose took him that way. It wouldn’t occur to him that he ought to let someone else know about the change of plan.

  Sounds like an interesting character, the stranger said. I’d like to meet him.

  Well, I’m making him sound like a lunatic I know; but he’s not a bad person underneath, in his own way.

  A thought struck Lucas: something he was always forgetting to do.

  Talking about letting people know what you’re up to, he said, lifting the radio handset off its cradle; I should report in. Maybe there’s someone you’d like me to have contacted?

  No need for that, the stranger told him. He seemed suddenly agitated. I don’t want to cause a fuss. In any case, I thought those things were useless over any kind of distance?

  You mean the walkies that the guides use, Lucas replied. This one isn’t brilliant but it’s more powerful than that. Usually we get through eventually. Are you sure you don’t want me to pass on a message? It’s no trouble.

  He was still smiling as Julian took hold of the flexible cord that was attached to the handset in Lucas’s hand and yanked it out of the dash connection. What happened next was so quick and unexpected that Lucas didn’t have time to form any clear impression of t
he events.

  ***

  While Julian Bowen was doing his best to avoid being rescued, Stephen Green was driving through a different part of the country trying to catch up with Jonathan Bloom and the survivors of the truck wreck that he’d found earlier.

  When Green saw the old couple staggering through the bush ahead of him, he didn’t have any doubts how they had got there. They were stumbling on in a confused way, hand in hand, still alive, barely. They hadn’t even noticed the approach of his vehicle. Green killed the engine when he was still a few hundred yards away, having decided he’d watch them for a while. Probably they wouldn’t be able to tell him much that he didn’t already know, but their behavior might provide some information.

  Sure enough, he saw them come up to a pile of stones and stop. The fat old woman bent with her hands on her knees, panting. Even at this distance you could see her shoulders heaving with each breath. The skinny man went down on his knees and held the cairn of stones with both hands, as if there was some information held inside it that could be passed on by touch. Then he raised himself painfully and they made as if to set off, but halted once more. The old man returned to the pile of stones and looked around as if he wasn’t sure after all which way they should travel. Finally, the pair of them resumed their shambling gait in the same direction as he’d originally set. Their progress was like two drunkards trying to remember the way home at the end of Saturday night.

  Green was in a bad mood. No change of clothes and sleeping on the seat of a hired truck would do that to most people he supposed. These were the stragglers, as he’d guessed; the next ones to fall by the wayside. The rest of them might be only half an hour ahead, or a day away from here.

  Watching the old people made him feel more bad tempered, even angry. He wished that these two had done the decent thing and been already dead when he came across them. Maybe if he’d had a gun with him, he would have been tempted to put them out of their misery. As it was, he knew that what he should do now was to circle around in front of them and get back on the trail. They’d never even know that he had been near and it wouldn’t be long before nature took its course.