Hyena Dawn (34 page)

The guard did not seem in the least put out by their lethargy. He examined their papers, more for show than anything else.

‘
Where are you going?’ An idiotic question, seeing that the road led only to Beira. However, even idiotic questions must be treated seriously.

‘
We are going to Beira.’ Guy spoke as nonchalantly as possible. Both guards roared with laughter at his reply. The one who had asked the question then stared at him coldly.

‘
This road only goes to Beira, my friend. What is your business?’

‘
We have come to see a friend of ours at the bank, we’ll be staying at the hotel. We have some business matters to clear up.’

‘
I do not like businessmen. They take what belongs to the people and use it to make themselves wealthy.’

The guard stared at them for a few moments. Then he handed them back their documents and waved them through.

Rayne pulled away very slowly, anxious to seem as if he wasn’t in a hurry. The men Guy had just killed must have passed through this same road-block, and when they were missed, questions would be asked. He was glad now that they had taken the precaution of burying the bodies.

The road ahead was getting wider though not better. Occasionally they would pass the burnt-out wreck of a car or a truck, lying in the bushes at the side of the road. Then, at last, they came over a crest and found themselves looking down at Beira and the Indian Ocean beyond. They could see the town proper, and a much larger shanty town next to it. Near the main harbour was a giant collection of fuel tanks. Immediately to the south, the Pungwe River snaked its way out to the azure-blue expanse that disappeared into the horizon; while to the north lay the airfield, strangely empty. Yet Rayne was sure he could make out the lines of camouflage covers, and underneath them, undoubtedly, lay a formidable array of modern fighters and helicopters.

Guy voiced his thoughts. ‘It is smaller than I imagined. We won’t be as inconspicuous as I had thought. It will be dangerous.’

‘
Don’t worry, we have an excellent cover. It’ll give us the perfect excuse to be seen all over the place. The only trouble we might have is with the Russians, and we’ll have to try and avoid bumping into them at all costs. We’re their competitors, in a way; we’re selling exactly what they’re selling - though for a different reward.’

Rayne eased the car forward and soon they lost their panoramic view of the harbour town and were back in the bush again.

They came up to another road-block just as they were heading into the town itself. Rayne could feel how tense he was becoming. The security was stiffer than he’d realised, they’d really have to watch every step they took.

The line of questioning here was much the same as before, except that this time the commander phoned the hotel to find out if they were expected. Rayne and Guy sweated heavily, hoping that nothing was wrong. If they were arrested at this point, they stood little chance of getting away. Eventually the commander put the phone down and walked over to the car.

‘
My friends, you are most welcome. The hotel has confirmed your booking. I hope you enjoy Beira.’

Rayne drove slowly along the partially tarred main road. It obviously hadn’t seen any attention since the Portuguese left. The town was well laid out in a typically colonial style. Many of the houses had seen better days, though it was clear that the place had never been really prosperous. His eyes noted everything of importance. There were few shops, and virtually no one was on the streets. It was almost like a ghost town. The bank looked run-down, as if it were permanently closed.

The hotel was at the end of the street, overlooking the sea. It was a two-storey structure with pretensions to grandeur. They pulled up outside and walked up the steps to the giant wooden entrance doors standing open.

The entrance hall was vast and gloomy, filled with bad furniture and dominated by a large reception desk that looked more like a bar. On the main wall above the fireplace was a picture of the Mozambican president, Samora Machel. In the far comer of the room two white men were enjoying a drink. Rayne guessed they must be Russian military personnel.

‘’
Allo. Mr Brand and Mr Dubois?’

They turned to the desk to see a short, stocky Portuguese standing behind it. His hair was swept back from his forehead and glistened with oil, his teeth stood out from his mouth like a chipmunk’s and he grinned at them idiotically.

‘
Welcome to the Hotel Beira.’

Rayne didn’t say anything. He was watching the Russians out of the corner of his eye - they didn’t appear to be in the least bit interested in him or Guy. He leant over the counter and spoke quietly to the hotel proprietor. ‘Who are those men?’

‘
Ah sir, you are worried? There is no need. They are Russian military advisors. I am Fernandes and I am at your service.’

Rayne shook the oily palm pushed out to him and Guy followed suit.

‘
I will show you to your rooms, the best that the hotel has to offer.’

They followed him up the wide staircase and along a gloomy corridor. In some places the ceiling was sagging, and huge pieces of plaster were hanging off the walls. At the end of the passage Fernandes flung open a door and stood to one side.

‘
Both rooms are the same, they look out to the sea. You can order anything you want by phoning me directly. Please keep your door locked when you are not in the room and do not leave anything valuable lying around. There is great poverty here and even the most honest men are not above stealing. Lunch will be served at one o’clock and dinner this evening at eight. Drinks are always available from reception, and the bar is open most of the time. Now I must have your deposits, please.’

‘
Half the bill has been paid already.’ Rayne answered coldly. He did not trust this man.

‘
This is not fair. I am not a wealthy man.’

‘
I will pay you in American dollars when I leave. As long as the service is good.’

Realising he wasn’t going to win this argument, Fernandes left them and they both breathed a sigh of relief. The best that could be said of the two rooms was that they were clean. The pile of newspapers which were obviously meant to serve as toilet paper said everything about the state of the Mozambican economy. Rayne had hoped there would be more people staying at the hotel, but perhaps he had been a little unrealistic about that.

The balcony door of Rayne’s room would not open easily. He had to use all his strength to slide back the bolts which had rusted into place. With the doors open, the room immediately felt better. Rayne wondered how long it had been since it was last used. Perhaps not for over a year; maybe not since independence . . . From the balcony he had an excellent view over the harbour and the river mouth. The sound of the sea blanketed his thoughts for a few moments until he heard a knock on his door and Guy walked in.

‘
I do not trust the Russians, Rayne. We will have to be wary of them. That scum Fernandes cannot be relied on either. He would sell his mother to the devil for ten dollars.’

‘
Relax, Guy. We couldn’t have a better cover. It allows us to come and go as we please - we can go for a drive around town after lunch, maybe play some cards with Fernandes, let him win a little money and encourage him to drink a bit too much. We have to find out how the town works, who runs what, and what sort of security they have organised. There’s no way Fernandes can be in league with the Russians, they probably pay him next to bugger-all and demand everything. He thinks we’re loaded with money, which means he’ll do everything he can to please us
-
and I guarantee he knows more about this town than anyone else around.’

Ivan rapped his glass down on the table. He wanted another vodka and he couldn’t see Fernandes anywhere. Carl was lucky, he never drank much. Also, he liked Beira. He must be slightly crazy, because of all the places he had ever been posted to, Ivan thought this one was the worst. He banged his glass down again and screamed out at the top of his voice, ‘Fernandes!’

Carl roared with laughter at Ivan’s irritation. He shuffled the pack of cards again and dealt them each another hand. Ivan scowled at him.

‘
I’ll strangle that bloody Portuguese to death before I leave this place. He disgusts me.’

He looked up as he heard a rattling sound coming from the reception desk and saw Fernandes waddling over with a tray filled with drinks. The Portuguese set another glass in front of Ivan and poured him a strong vodka, spilling some of it on the table.

‘
You call yourself a barman and you can’t even pour a drink straight.’

‘
Sir, I am not a barman. I am the owner of the hotel. There was a time when I employed five men to work behind the bar.’

Ivan stared at the man and decided that he wasn’t worth having an argument with. Besides, there was something he wanted to ask him.

‘
I see you have guests, Fernandes.’

‘
Yes, guests with money. Gentlemen who pay their bills. Men of substance.’

‘
Cut the crap. Who are they?’

‘
Why don’t you ask them yourself? I know nothing.’

‘
When did they make their booking?’

‘
Two weeks ago. Cash in advance. These men are in business. All that matters to me is that they pay their bills, what they do to pay them is of no interest to me. I am not your spy.’

‘
Fernandes, if you know what’s good for you, you will cooperate with us.’

The Portuguese turned his back on the Russian and headed for the door. He spoke as he walked away. ‘I am sure General Vorotnikov would love to know that there are drunks on his staff.’

Ivan did not reply. It didn’t matter; in this place there was plenty of time. Still, he
would
find out what the men were up to. It would help to break the boredom.

The two Russians were the only other people having lunch. Almost as soon as Rayne had seated himself, the larger of the two men came over to him.

‘
Would you like to join us?’ he asked in English. ‘We do not see many new faces here.’

This was the last thing Rayne wanted, but he could hardly decline the invitation without appearing hostile. He could see that Guy shared his feelings. Reluctantly they joined the Russians.

‘
A bottle of wine?’ Ivan offered.

The Russian smiled, but Rayne and Guy shook their heads. It would be hard enough acting correctly while they were sober without risking the effects of a heavy drinking session.

‘
Well, I’ll have a bottle by myself. Carl’s like you, he also dislikes drinking at lunchtime.’

There was no menu, and they had to wait a considerable time for the first course. They introduced each other and began talking about how run-down Beira was. Rayne carefully steered the questions away from himself and Guy, and Guy said very little. When the first course arrived it was cold tomato soup.

Ivan had clearly had far too much to drink. ‘Fernandes!’ he shouted. He was beginning to slur his words. They carried on eating and hoped that he would calm down, but this only aggravated him and made him shout more loudly. ‘Fernandes, you old bastard, come here!’

‘
Ivan, leave him alone.’

‘
It’s not good enough, Carl. How can he serve us this cat’s piss? It is the first time that our two friends have eaten here, they should not be subjected to this. I am embarrassed for them.’

Rayne wasn’t in the mood for this. ‘I’ve eaten worse. Let’s just relax and enjoy the meal.’

‘
No! I cannot accept the way in which you have been treated.’ He was about to pour himself another drink but Carl snatched the bottle out of his hand.