Wilbur Smith's Smashing Thrillers (91 page)

Contact! he thought. It was like the old days with the Scouts when they first picked up the sign of a group of guerrilla terrorists. He experienced that same breathless feeling of excitement and the same stone of fear heavy in his bowels.

It took an effort to thrust those feelings aside. Those dangerous days were long past. Still he followed the sign. Although the chase had taken some elementary precautions, they were perfunctory. A cadre of Zanu in the war days would have been more professional. Within fifty yards of the road Daniel found the first clear print of a shod human foot, and a few yards further on the band had joined a narrow game track and formed in Indian file, abandoning all further attempts at anti-tracking. They had struck out in the direction of the escarpment and Chiwewe base camp with determined stride.

Daniel was amazed to find how large the band was. He counted the tracks of between sixteen and twenty individuals in the group.

After following them another two or three hundred yards Daniel stopped and thought about it carefully. Considering the size of the group and the direction from which they had come, the most obvious assumption was that they were a band of Zambian poachers who had crossed the Zambezi River on a raid for ivory and rhino horn. That would also explain the precautions they had taken to cover their tracks.

What he should do now was to warn Johnny Nzou so that he could get an anti-poaching unit in as fast as possible for a follow-up action. Daniel pondered the best way to do this. There was a telephone in the ranger’s office at Mana Pools only an hour’s drive ahead, or Daniel could turn back to Chiwewe headquarters and take the warning in person.

The decision was made for him as he made out the line of telephone poles in the forest not far ahead. These were cut from native timber and steeped in black creosote to discourage the attack of termites.

Between the poles the draped copper telephone wires gleamed in the late sunlight, except between two of the poles directly ahead.

Daniel hurried forward and then stopped abruptly.

The telephone wires had been cut and dangled from the white ceramic insulators at the top of the nearest pole. Daniel reached out for the end of one wire, and peered at it. There was no question about it. It had been deliberately cut. The shear marks made by the cutting edge of a pair of pliers were evident in the malleable red metal of the cable.

There were the milling tracks of many men at the base of the pole.

Why the hell would a poacher want to cut the telephone lines? Daniel wondered aloud, and his sense of unease turned to alarm. This begins to look really ugly. “I have to warn Johnny. He has to get on to these gentlemen damned quickly.”

Only one way to warn him now. At a run he started back to where he had left the Landcruiser.

“What the hell is going on?” Jock wanted to know as he jumped up into the cab and started the motor.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it, whatever it is,” Daniel told him as he reversed off the road and then swung back on to it, headed in the opposite direction.

Daniel drove fast now, ripping up a long bank of dust behind the Landcruiser, slowing only for the fords through the steep dry water-courses and then accelerating away again. As he drove, it occurred to him that the gang could reach the headquarters camp by cutting across the loop that the road made down the pass of the escarpment. It would be a steep climb up on to the plateau, but on foot they could cut almost thirty miles off the longer route that Daniel was forced to follow. He estimated that the telephone lines had been cut about five or six hours earlier. He arrived at that estimate by a process of fieldcraft deduction which included a study of the erosion of the spoor and the recovery time of trodden-down grass and vegetation.

He could not think of any reason why a gang of poachers should want to visit Chiwewe headquarters. On the contrary, he would expect them to give it the widest possible berth. However, their tracks were headed resolutely in that direction, and they had cut the telephone wires. Their conduct was brazen and aggressive. If Chiwewe was indeed their destination then they could be there already. He glanced at his wristwatch.

Yes, they could have climbed the escarpment and, by hard marching, have reached the headquarters camp an hour or so ago. But why? There were no tourists. In Kenya and other countries further north the poachers, having depleted the elephant herds, had taken to attacking and robbing foreign tourists.

Perhaps this gang had taken a tip from their northern counterparts. But there are no tourists at Chiwewe. “There’s nothing of value–” he broke off as the fallacy of that assumption occurred to him. “Shit!” he whispered. “The ivory.” Suddenly dread chilled the sweat on his cheeks. “Johnny,” he whispered. “And Mavis and the kids.”

The Landcruiser was flying down the track now and he slid her into the first hairpin bend that led on to the slope of the escarpment. As he came through the corner at speed a huge white vehicle filled the road directly ahead of him. Even as Daniel hit the brakes and swung the Toyota hard over he realised that it was one of the refrigerator trucks.

He missed its front wing by a foot as he went up on to the verge and tore into a patch of scrub. He came to rest with the nose of the Toyota almost touching the trunk of a big mopane. Jock was thrown up against the dashboard by the deceleration.

Daniel jumped out of the Toyota and ran back to where the refrigerator truck had managed to pull up, blocking his tailgate.

He recognized Gomo, the senior ranger, at the wheel and called to him. “Sorry! My fault. Are you okay?”

Gomo looked shaken by the near collision but he nodded. “I’m okay, Doctor.”

“When did you leave Chiwewe?” Daniel demanded, and Gomo hesitated. For some reason the question seemed to disconcert him. “How long ago?” Daniel insisted.

“I don’t know for sure…”

At that moment there was the sound of other vehicles approaching down the escarpment road and Daniel glanced around to see the second truck come grinding through the next bend. It was running in low gear to combat the gravity of the steep gradient. Fifty yards behind the truck followed Ambassador Ning Cheng Gong’s blue Mercedes. The two vehicles slowed and then pulled up behind Gomo’s truck and Daniel strode towards the Mercedes.

As he approached, Ambassador Ning opened his door and stepped out into the dusty track. “Doctor Armstrong, what are you doing here?” He seemed agitated but his voice was soft, barely audible.

“When did you leave Chiwewe?” Daniel ignored the question. He was desperate to know that Johnny and Mavis were safe and the Ambassador’s reaction puzzled him.

Cheng’s agitation increased. “Why do you ask that?” he whispered. “Why are you returning? You were supposed to be on your way to Harare.”

“Look here, Your Excellency. All I want to know is that there has been no trouble at Chiwewe.”

“Trouble? What trouble? Why should there be trouble?” The ambassador reached into his pocket and brought out a handkerchief. “What are you suggesting, Doctor?”

“I’m not suggesting anything.” Daniel found it hard to conceal his exasperation. “I picked up the tracks of a large party of men crossing the road and heading in the direction of Chiwewe. I am worried that they may be a gang of armed poachers and I am on my way back to warn the warden.”

“There is no trouble,” Cheng assured him. Daniel noticed that a faint sheen of perspiration bloomed on his forehead. “Everything is well. I left there an hour ago. Warden Nzou is just fine. I spoke to him when we left and there was no sign of any trouble.” He wiped his face with the handkerchief.

“An hour ago? Daniel asked, and checked his stainless steel Rolex. He felt a vast sense of relief at Ambassador Ning’s reassurance. “So you left there at about five-thirty?”

“Yes, Yes.” Cheng’s tone sharpened with affront. “Are you questioning my word? Do you doubt what I am telling you?”

Daniel was surprised by his tone and the strength of his denials. “You misunderstand me, Your Excellency. Of course I don’t doubt what you say.” Cheng’s prestige as an ambassador was the main reason that Chetti Singh had insisted that he be present at Chiwewe.

Cheng’s natural inclination had been assiduously to avoid the scene of the raid, and even to fly to Taipei while it was in progress to give himself an infallible alibi. However, Chetti Singh had threatened to call off the operation unless Cheng was present to vouch for the fact that the raid had taken place after the convoy of trucks had left Chiwewe. That was the whole crux of the operation. As an accredited ambassador, Cheng’s word would carry enormous weight in the subsequent police investigation. The testimony of the two black rangers alone might not have been accepted implicitly. The police might even have decided to give them a little earnest questioning in a back cell at Chikurubi prison and Chetti Singh was not confident that they would have withstood that treatment.

No, the police must be made to believe that when Cheng had left Chiwewe with the convoy all had been well. That way they must assume that the raiders had carried the ivory away With them or that it had been destroyed in the fire that consumed the godown.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I was doubting your word Your Excellency,” Daniel placated him. “It was just that I am worried about Johnny, about the warden.”

“Well, I assure you that you have no reason to worry.” Cheng stuffed the handkerchief in his hip pocket and reached for the packet of cigarettes in the top pocket of his open-neck shirt. He tapped one out of the pack but his fingers were slightly unsteady and he let the cigarette drop into the dust between his feet.

Daniel’s eyes were instinctively drawn down as Cheng stooped quickly to retrieve the fallen cigarette. He wore white canvas training shoes and Daniel noticed that the side of one shoe and the cuff of his blue cotton slacks were smeared with a stain that looked at first glance like dried blood.

This puzzled Daniel for a moment, until he remembered that Cheng had been present that morning when the fresh tusks had been unloaded from the truck and stored in the godown. The explanation for the stains on his clothing was obvious; he must have picked them up from a puddle of congealed elephant blood in which the tusks had lain.

Cheng noticed the direction of his gaze and stepped back quickly, almost guiltily, into the driver’s seat of the Mercedes and slammed the door.

Unthinkingly Daniel noticed the unusual fish-scale pattern that the soles of his training shoes left in the fine dust of the roadway.

“Well, I am happy to have been able to set your fears at rest, Doctor.” Cheng smiled at him through the window of the Mercedes. He had regained his composure and his smile was once again suave and charming. “I’m glad to have saved you an unnecessary journey all the way back to Chiwewe. I am sure you will want to join the convoy and get out of the Park before the rains break.” He started the Mercedes. Why don’t you take the lead position ahead of the trucks?”

“Thank you, Your Excellency.” Daniel shook his head and stepped back. “You go on with the trucks. I won’t be joining you. I want to go back anyway. Somebody has to warn Johnny Nzou.”

Cheng’s smile evaporated. “You are giving yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble, I assure you. I suggest you telephone him from Mana Pools or Karoi.”

“Didn’t I tell you? They cut the telephone wires.”

“Doctor Armstrong, that is preposterous. I am sure you, are mistaken. I think you are exaggerating the seriousness of this–”

“You think what you like,” said Daniel with finality. “I’m going back to Chiwewe.” He stepped back from the window of the Mercedes.

“Doctor Armstrong,” Cheng called after him, “look at those rain clouds. You could be trapped here for weeks.”

“I’ll take the chance,” Daniel told him blithely, but to himself he thought, just why is he being so insistent? Something is starting to smell distinctly rotten here.

He walked quickly back towards the Landcruiser. As he passed the trucks he noticed that neither of the rangers had dismounted from the driver’s cabs. They were both looking sullen and neither of them said anything as he passed close beside them.

“All right, Gomo,” he called, “pull your truck forward so I can get past you.” Without a word the ranger obeyed. Then the second truck rumbled past and finally the Ambassador’s Mercedes came level. Daniel lifted a hand in farewell.

Cheng barely glanced in his direction but gave him a perfunctory salute before following the trucks around the bend and heading on down towards the Mana Pools turn-off.

“What did the Chink have to say?” Jock asked as Daniel reversed back into the roadway and put the Toyota to the steep gradient.

“He says it was all quiet at Chiwewe when he left there an hour ago,” Daniel replied.

“That’s a fair do.” Jock reached into the cold box and fished out a can of beer. He offered it to Daniel who shook his head and concentrated on the road ahead. Jock opened the can for himself, took a long slug, and belched happily.

The light began to fade and a few heavy drops of rain splattered against the windscreen but Daniel did not slacken speed. it was completely dark before they reached the crest of the escarpment. The lightning blazed through the darkness, illuminating the forest with a crackling blue radiance and thunder rolled across the sky and cannonaded the ridges of granite which rose on each side of the road.

The rain began to fall like silver arrows in the headlights, each drop exploding in a white blur against the glass then streaming down it so copiously that the wipers could not clear the windshield fast enough.

Soon it was oppressively humid in the closed cab and the windscreen began to mist over. Daniel leaned forward to wipe it clear with his hand but when it smeared he gave up the effort and opened his side window a few inches to let in the fresh night air. Almost immediately he wrinkled his nose and sniffed.

Jock smelt it at almost the same moment. “Smoke,” he exclaimed. “How far are we from the camp?”

“Almost there,” Daniel replied. “Just over the next ridge.” The odour of smoke thinned out. Daniel thought that it might have come from the cooking-fires in the servants compound.