Wilbur Smith's Smashing Thrillers

by Wilbur Smith

  “I’ll be frank with you both,” he said at last. “I wasn’t concerned with Taffari and Ubomo’s real problems when I came here. I wanted my revenge and the film contract was only a means to that end. Then, after my arrival, I began to find out more about what was really going on in the country.”

  He told them about the atrocity at Fish Eagle Bay and the forced labour he had witnessed and filmed. Victor Omeru and Kelly exchanged glances, and then Victor nodded and turned back to Daniel. Taffari has seized at least thirty thousand of the Uhali people to work in the mines and the logging camps. They are slaves, kept in the most appalling conditions. They are dying like flies in the camps, starved, beaten, shot. I cannot begin to describe to you the horror of it.

  “And he is devastating the forest,” Kelly cut in. “He is destroying millions of acres of the rain forest.”

  “I saw the mining unit at work,” Daniel said. “Actually, what he is doing there at least is in line with my own convictions on controlled use of a country’s natural assets on a renewable and sustainable yield basis.”

  Both Kelly and Victor stared at him in disbelief, and then Kelly blurted out angrily, “You approve of what he is doing to the forest? Are you out of your mind? It’s rape and pillage. I was right about you the first time! You are one of the plunderers!”

  “Hold it, Kelly.” Victor held up his hands. “Don’t use inflammatory language. Let Daniel tell us what he saw and what he filmed.”

  With an obvious effort Kelly brought herself under control, but she was still pale with anger and her eyes blazed. “All right, Daniel Armstrong, tell us what Taffari showed you and let you film.”

  “He showed me the MOMU unit at work…”

  “The MOMU,” Kelly interjected. “MOMU singular–”

  “Kelly, please.” Victor stopped her again. “Let Daniel finish before you interrupt.”

  She was breathing heavily, but she nodded and sat back as Daniel went on. “Bonny and I filmed the MOMU and Taffari explained how the track of the vehicle would be replanted after it had passed.”

  “Replanted!” Kelly snapped, and Victor shrugged helplessly and let her continue. “My God! Did he tell you about the chemical reagents they’ve started using in the past few weeks to refine the platinum as it passes through the tube mills of the MOMU.”

  Daniel shook his head. “He told us of his determination that no reagents nor catalysts were to be used during the mining process. Even though it meant a forty percent drop in the production of platinum and monazite.”

  “And you believed him?” Kelly demanded.

  “I saw it with my own eyes,” Daniel told her. He was starting to get angry. “I filmed it. Of course I believed him.”

  Kelly jumped up from the table and fetched a map of Ubomo from the next room. She spread it in front of Daniel. “Show me where you saw the MOMU in action,” she ordered.

  Daniel considered the map and then placed his finger on a spot just north of Sengi-Sengi. “Hereabouts,” he said. “A few miles north of the camp.”

  “Sucker!” Kelly blazed at him. “Taffari set you up. He showed you the pilot scheme. It was a little show for your benefit. The main mining operation is here.” She placed her fist over an area fifty miles further north. “Here at Wengu. And it’s a damned sight different from what Taffari showed you.”

  “How is it different?” Daniel demanded. “And by the way, I don’t like being called a sucker.”

  “You let yourself be conned.” Kelly moderated her tone. “But I’ll tell you how the main operation is different from the pilot. First of all, it is –”

  “Hold on, Kelly,” Victor Omeru intervened gently. “Don’t tell him about it. It would be much more impressive, and he’d be more likely to believe you if you showed him.”

  For a moment Kelly stared at Victor and then she nodded. “You’re right, Victor. I’ll take him up to Wengu and show him.”

  “And while we are there, you can film just what that bastard is doing to the forest, and show it to your great pal Sir Tug Bloody Harrison, if he doesn’t know already.”

  “I’m not a cameraman,” Daniel objected.

  “If you don’t know how to use a VTR after being around them for so many years, then you aren’t very bright, Doctor Daniel.”

  “All right, I could use a camera. Not very artistically but adequately, if only I had one. Where do you suggest I find a VTR in the middle of the forest?

  “What happened to the one your red-haired girlfriend had?” Kelly demanded.

  “Bonny isn’t my girlfriend. You’re a great one for hurling accusations,” he began, and then broke off and stared at Kelly. “Damn it he said. You’re right. I left the VTR in the Landrover. If Taffari’s lads haven’t found it yet, then it’s still there.”

  “Why don’t you go back and fetch it?” Kelly enquired sweetly. “I’ll send Sepoo with you.”

  Chapter 35

  “I have brought you the head of the white wazungu,” Pirri, the hunter, announced dramatically and unslung the net bag of plaited bark fibre from his shoulder and dropped it in front of Chetti Singh. The head rolled out of the bag and Chetti Singh jumped back and exclaimed with revulsion. There was no skin left on the head. The raw meat was putrefying and the stench was fierce enough to make him gag.

  “How do I know that this is the head of the white wazungu?” Chetti Singh demanded.

  “Because I, Pirri the hunter, say it is so.”

  “That’s not the highest recommendation. Never mind,” Chetti Singh said in English, and then reverted to Swahili. “This man has been dead a long time; the ants and the worms have half eaten him. You did not kill him, Pirri.”

  “No,” Pirri admitted. “This stupid wazungu had eaten a poison mushroom and died in the forest before I could find him and kill him. The ants had eaten him, as you say, but I have brought you his head, and that was our bargain.” Pirri mustered all his dignity and drew himself up to his full four foot six inches. “Now you must give me what you promised me, especially the tobacco.” It was a long and forlorn hope. Even Pirri realised that.

  To obtain this head Pirri had exhumed one of the mass graves that the Hita guards had dug in the forest for the corpses of the slave labourers who died in the camps. “You are certain that this is the head of the white wazungu?” Chetti Singh demanded. He did not believe the pygmy, but on the other hand he had to placate both Ning Cheng Gong and President Taffari. He dared not admit to them that there was a possibility that Armstrong had escaped. Pirri was offering him an easy exit from his dilemma.

  “It is the wazungu,” Pirri affirmed, and Chetti Singh thought about it for a while. “Take this he touched the reeking head with his toe, take it back into the forest and bury it.”

  “What about my reward? Especially the tobacco?” Pirri’s tone became an ingratiating whine.

  “You did not bring me the whole head. The skin and hair were missing. Therefore I cannot give you the whole reward. And I will give it to you only when you bring me the teeth of the elephant, as we agreed.” Pirri let out a shout of anger and drew his machete.

  “Put that knife away,” said Chetti Singh reasonably. “Or I will shoot your head off with this.” He showed the pygmy the Tokarev pistol concealed in the pocket of his bush jacket.

  Pirri’s scowl became a beatific smile. “It was only a little joke, O master. I am your slave.” And he sheathed the machete. “I will go and fetch the teeth of the elephant as you command.”

  He picked up the severed head. But as he skipped away into the forest Pirri’s guts and chest were filled with so much anger that he thought they might burst. “Nobody cheats Pirri,” he whispered, and slashed at a treetrunk with the machete as he ran. “Pirri will kill the man who cheats him,” he promised. “You want a head, O one-armed and greasy man. I will give you a head. Your own.”

  “Daniel Armstrong is dead,” Chetti Singh told them. “The Bambuti brought me his head He died in the forest.”

  “There can be no d
oubt?” President Taffari demanded.

  “None at all,” Chetti Singh affirmed. “I saw the head with my personal eyes.”

  “That means the woman is the only living witness.” Ning Cheng Gong looked relieved. “You should get rid of her immediately, Your Excellency. She should disappear in the forest, just the way that Armstrong did.”

  Ephrem Taffari picked up his empty glass and rattled the ice cubes. Captain Kajo hurried across the room and took the glass from his hand. At the small bar in the corner of the president’s office he poured gin and tonic.

  “Aren’t you forgetting the videotape?” Taffari asked, as Kajo respectfully handed him the drink.

  “Of course not,” Cheng said. “But once she has recovered the tape from the embassy we must get rid of her.” He hesitated. “I could arrange that personally.”

  Ephrem Taffari smiled at him over the rim of the glass. “Ah, yes.” He nodded. “I have heard that you have a rather unusual hobby, Mr. Ning.”

  “I am not quite sure what you are implying, Mr. President,” he answered stiffly. “I was merely offering to make certain that the job was done properly. We don’t want any more loose ends.”

  “Quite right, Mr. Ning,” Taffari agreed. “The woman is becoming a bore. I have lost interest in her. Once we have recovered the tape, she is yours. just make certain that there are no mistakes.”

  “Trust me, Mr. President.”

  “Oh yes, Mr. Ning, I trust you just as completely as you trust me. After all, we are partners, are we not?”

  Chapter 36

  “My arrangement with Danny was that he would pick it up personally.” Sir Michael Hargreave inspected his fingernails with some interest and then placed his hand in his pocket and went to the window of his office in the British embassy. He looked out over the lake. “Daniel didn’t say anything about handing it over to a third party. You must understand my position, Miss Mahon.”

  The punkah fan on the ceiling squeaked and whirled and Bonny thought quickly. She knew that she must not appear too eager, even though she was acutely aware of what the consequences might be if she returned to Ephrem empty-handed. “I didn’t realise it would be a problem.” She stood up. “Danny asked me to pick it up. He’ll probably be bitter with me for not bringing it back, but I don’t imagine the tape is of any real importance. I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask Danny for a note. Anyway, thank you for your time and I’ll explain to Danny that you couldn’t see your way clear to handing the tape to me.” She held out her hand and gave him her sexiest smile, thrusting out her bosom. Sir Michael’s gaze wavered from her eyes, and then he seemed to make up his mind.

  “Look here, I suppose it will be all right. I mean, you are Danny’s assistant. Not as though you were a total stranger.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t want you to do anything you feel is not right, Bonny told him. I’m sure Danny will understand that you didn’t trust me.”

  “Good Lord, my dear young lady, it. isn’t a case of not trusting you.”

  “Oh, that’s what I thought it was.” She fluttered her eyelids at him.

  “Would you mind signing a receipt? Sorry to be so awkward, but I must cover myself with Danny.”

  “I understand,” Sir Michael. He scribbled out a receipt on a sheet of the embassy stationery and she signed it and wrote out her full name and passport number at the foot of the page.

  Sir Michael went into the adjoining room and she heard him put a key into a lock and then the metallic sound of the door lugs of a steel safe opening and closing. A few minutes later he returned and handed her a bulky manila envelope with Daniel’s name printed on it. She tried not to make her relief apparent, but her hand shook as he handed it to her.

  “Please give Danny my best salaams.” Sir Michael walked her to the front door of the embassy. “When is he coming back from Sengi-Sengi?”

  “I’m flying up to join him this afternoon.” Bonny had her nerves under control and chatted easily. They shook hands at the door.

  “Having one of our regular cocktail parties next Saturday,” Sir Michael said. “If you and Danny are back in town by then, you must come along. I’ll have Miss Rogers send you an invitation to the guest house.”

  The news of Daniel Armstrong’s disappearance had not yet been reported to the embassy. Ephrem Taffari wanted all the loose ends tidied up before the alarm was raised.

  Bonny went out to where Captain Kajo was waiting at the wheel of an army Landrover. She clutched the envelope in her lap, but managed another smile and wave for Sir Michael as they pulled out of the embassy gates. Then she let out a deep breath and fell back against the seat.

  “President Taffari is waiting for you on his yacht, Miss Mahon,” Captain Kajo told her, and took the lakeside road down to the harbour. The yacht was moored at the naval jetty beyond the fish factory. The vessel had been the toy of a wealthy Asian businessman, one of those whom Taffari had deported and sent back to the United Kingdom when he came to power. of course, he had confiscated all the Asian’s property, and this vessel was now the presidential yacht.

  It was a forty-five-footer Camper and Nicholson with lovely lines, equipped with every luxury, although most of the electronic equipment had long ago failed and had not been replaced, and the paintwork and sails were no longer pristine. However, the bar was well stocked and since the yacht very seldom left its berth, the lack of navigational and sailing gear was not critical.

  There were two men in the main cabin, seated at the red teak saloon table facing each other.

  President Taffari was perusing the monthly operating report and profit-and-loss accounts of UDC, smiling and nodding as he did so.

  Ning; Cheng Gong was watching him expectantly.

  When Taffari lowered the document and looked up, Cheng answered his smile. “I am impressed, Mr. Ning. It is only a very short time since you arrived in Ubomo to take control of the company, but the results are really quite spectacular.”

  “You are very gracious, Your Excellency.” Cheng bowed slightly. “But I can truthfully say that I expect an even greater improvement in the months ahead. There were many problems that my English predecessor left for me, but these are being resolved.”

  “What about the vehicle maintenance depot? This is one of my major areas of concern.” Taffari’s smile faded.

  “And rightly so, Mr. President. We have over a thousand heavy vehicles in service, not counting the actual MOMU installations. Our maintenance costs were running at over three million dollars a month when I took over. As you can see, I have managed to reduce these by almost forty percent.”

  Their discussion lasted another hour before there were footsteps on the deck outside and a polite knock on the cabin door.

  “Who is it?” Taffari called.

  “Captain Kajo, Mr. President, and Miss Mahon.”

  Taffari glanced at Cheng significantly and the Chinaman nodded. This was the reason that the meeting was being held on board the yacht, rather than in the boardroom at Lake House. “Come in!” Taffari ordered, and the door slid aside. Kajo stooped his long frame into the cabin and saluted awkwardly

  “I have Miss Mahon waiting in the Landrover on the dock,” he reported.

  “Did she pick up the packet?” Taffari asked anxiously.

  “Yes, sir. She has it with her.”

  Again Taffari and Cheng exchanged glances, but now both of them were smiling again. “All right, Captain.” Taffari nodded. “You have your orders.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. I am to accompany Mr. Ning and Miss Mahon on the expedition to Lamu Island and I am to –”

  “No need to repeat them, Captain,” Taffari interrupted. “Just carry them out to the letter. Now you may bring Miss Mahon aboard.”

  She burst into the cabin and went directly to Ephrem Taffari, ignoring the other man at the table.

  “I’ve got it, Ephrem,” she gloated. “Here it is.” She laid the envelope in front of him and he picked it up, tore it open and shook out the video cassette.<
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  “Are you sure this is the one?”

  “Yes, that’s my notation on the label. My handwriting. It’s the one, all right.”

  “Well done. I am extremely pleased with you,” Taffari told her. “Come and sit beside me, my dear.” She accepted the offer with alacrity and Taffari laid his hand on her thigh below the table-top.

  “Captain Kajo,” Taffari ordered. “There is a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. This calls for a celebration.”

  Kajo went to the bar and busied himself with the bottle. The cork popped and a little froth gushed on to the carpet. It was Australian rather than French, but none of them complained.

  Kajo turned back to the bar, screening the row of glasses on the bar while he poured the wine. He gave Bonny her glass firsttand then served the others in order of their seniority.

  Taffari lifted his glass towards Bonny. “To you, my dear. You have saved me and my country from a potentially damaging situation.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.” Bonny took a mouthful of the champagne. She noticed but did not remark on the slightly bitter aftertaste, for she had learned not to give him the least pretext for offence. And when Kajo refilled her glass, she drank it without question. The unpleasant taste was less noticeable now.

  “I thought we might go for a sunset cruise on the lake,” Taffari told her, and Bonny smiled at him but her cheeks felt strangely numb.

  “That would be fun,” she tried to say, but it came out slurred and jumbled. Bonny broke off and stared at them. Their faces were receding and there was a ringing sound in her head. It became louder and her vision was darkening. There was only a tiny hole in the centre of the blackness in which she could see Ephrem’s face, as though through the reverse end of a telescope, small and remote.

  His voice boomed and echoed in her drugged brain. “Goodbye, my dear,” he said, and her head dropped forward on to the table-top.