Ivory (40 page)

Alex guessed that the men's ‘employer' was Valiant Chan, and that the mid-sea exchange had involved George paying for the original tape, as well as the computer file. Alex had wondered aloud how much George had paid.

It was common knowledge in criminal circles that Chan ran a number of brothels in Cape Town and Johannesburg. He imagined the presence of hidden security cameras in the rooms was primarily for the girls' security, although no doubt the video footage also occasionally came in handy for blackmail.

‘It doesn't matter,' Jane had said. ‘He's going to pay for the rest of his life.'

Alex had told Jane to come with him, explaining that he had to leave for Nelspruit the next day. He would abandon his pistol and fly, if she would come with him, and if she wouldn't fly then he would drive through the night in his hire car.

Jane had begun to shake and he had tried to put his arms around her to comfort her, but she had shrugged him off, as though she couldn't bear the touch of any man right then. He could only imagine how distressed and betrayed she felt at the discovery of conclusive proof of the evil nature of the man she'd been sleeping with.

‘No, Alex. I'm going to the police here in Cape Town. If Chan was involved in this, then the crime took place here, in South Africa. The police will know who this poor woman was. George has been here on business four times already for the preliminary negotiations over the De Witt deal.'

‘You could drop off the evidence anonymously. The video speaks for itself.'

‘No. I have to do this. It's the right thing to do.'

‘Jane, you need to come with me. Now. Once Penfold works out it's you who's gone to the cops you won't be safe. Don't tangle with him, he's a ruthless killer.'

‘I bloody well know he's a killer! That's why I'm going to the police
and not running away. And you of all people can't tell me what's right and what's wrong.'

He placed a hand on her forearm, but she shrugged it off. ‘Why the hurry to get away anyway?' she asked him. ‘Stay here. Back me up.
Be
with me.'

‘Jane . . .'

‘What? What do you have to do that's so fucking important, Alex? I won't even say “What about us?” What's more important than bringing a murderer to justice?' Her cheeks were reddening with anger. ‘Well?'

‘Jane . . .' He heard the accusation in her voice, but had no answer for her.

‘You're going thieving, aren't you?'

He replied with silence.

‘Tell me you're not going to steal something from someone tomorrow, Alex. Tell me you and your band of bloody pirates aren't going to terrorise some good, honest people at the end of your guns. Go on, tell me.'

He turned away from her.

‘You bastard. Get away from me. I thought you might be different – that you might have been serious about going straight. What a bloody idiot I've been. Get out of my life! You're no better than Penfold.'

He'd left the hotel and her words had hurt more than the shrapnel that had carved his body, or his string of failed love affairs. He had left bitter. Now he felt empty. His only hope was that if he pulled off this job he might be able to redeem his wasted life.

It was impossible to miss the South African Army public relations team as they entered the terminal from the arrivals side of the airport, even though they all wore civilian clothes. A soldier could spot another soldier whatever he was wearing.

The one who looked like an officer was a white man and Alex guessed by the length of his hair and the way he called the other two, a black and an Afrikaner, by their first names that he was probably a reservist.

The African had the muscled physique of an infantryman, but was festooned in gold jewellery. The other white, whom the officer addressed
as Dirk, hadn't bothered to shave that morning. He wore elephant-tail and copper bracelets.

Their luggage also betrayed them. There was a precarious mountain of black dust and waterproof carry cases and two sets of tripods. On top of the pile, like an afterthought, were the men's military kitbags.

The officer walked purposefully across the terminal to a car rental agency. Alex wandered past just as the man was taking possession of the keys, and heard the bay number and directions to the team's rental car. It was all he needed.

Outside, heat haze shimmered above the airport car park. Through the shimmering waves came the Nissan
bakkie
that Alex had cached in the storage unit in Nelspruit. It slowed and barely stopped as he jumped into the back and banged on the roof. Novak accelerated away from the terminal.

The green tarpaulin in the back moved and Heinrich's face appeared from under it. ‘OK?' he asked.

Alex nodded and Heinrich passed him out a camouflage shirt and trousers. Henri sat up as well and fitted a curved thirty-five-round magazine to the R5 assault rifle he was cradling, and cocked it. After Alex struggled into his military uniform, which was no easy task lying down in the back of a moving vehicle, Henri handed the readied weapon to him.

The airport was set in the rolling green hills of Plaston, a farming community near the picturesque regional town of White River. The runway had been laid along a ridge line and the terminal building, from a distance, looked out of place amid the horse studs and macadamia farms.

Alex banged on the roof of the truck again, signalling Novak to pull over. The spot they had chosen was just short of a stop sign, at a quiet railway crossing at the bottom of a small valley. Novak had followed the signs from the airport to the Kruger National Park on the R538. It was the shortest, most logical route to the reserve, and Alex was sure the PR team would take it.

He leapt out of the truck and walked to the front. Novak pulled the bonnet release catch and Alex lifted it. Henri and Heinrich also got out of the back and lifted out a toolbox, which they placed at Alex's feet.

Kevin and Kufa got out of the front seat, where they had been sandwiched in next to the bulky Novak. They took off their tradesmen's grimy blue overalls, as did Novak, to reveal South African Army camouflage beneath. Kevin and Kufa fished their R5s out of the back and lay down in the grass on the verge beside the truck. They laid their rifles beside them and put their hands behind the back of their heads, reclining in the universal attitude of soldiers snatching rest when and where they could find it.

Alex pulled his camouflage bush hat down firmly on his head and put his sunglasses back on. Henri and Heinrich walked across the road and took up concealed positions in a drainage culvert, their faces obscured by a tangle of weeds and shrubs. They held their rifles into their shoulders, pointing up the road in the direction from which they'd come.

Alex looked at each of his men, not only to check their positioning but to try to read their faces. There had been little banter or humour at their reunion in Nelspruit when they collected the cached weapons and gathered for the mission briefing. Mitch's departure had ended the most obvious manifestation of dissent, but Alex still wondered if he could hold their loyalty in the future. He had changed, and they sensed it. The news that there were no diamonds secreted on the
Penfold Son
brought only solemn nods and, in Novak's eyes, a silent ‘told you so'. The good news was that Lisa was recovering well, in a private clinic under twenty-four-hour armed guard, and showed no signs of brain damage.

Alex's life of crime had consumed too much of him. He wanted to prove Jane wrong, that he was not like George Penfold, but the only way he could see out of the mess his life had become was to stage the biggest theft of his career.

‘Ready?' he said to Novak.

‘That promise I made to God . . . you should make it too, Alex.'

A red Volkswagen Golf hatchback crested the rise and slowed as it neared the crossing. Alex gave a thumbs up and waved the driver on. Alex hoped the army camera team arrived soon, as he didn't want too many people seeing and remembering the broken-down military vehicle.

They heard a deeper growl next and a white Land Cruiser came over the hill.

‘That's them,' Alex said, tallying the make of the vehicle from what he'd overheard at the car rental desk, and then recognising the driver, the Afrikaner soldier. ‘Remember, they're not armed, but they are soldiers.'

Given the prevalence of car-jacking in South Africa few people stopped to assist others with car troubles. However, Alex had gambled that the team coming towards him would stop for fellow servicemen. Alex stepped out from behind the raised bonnet and waved his hand up and down, slowly, palm facing downwards. He glanced to his left and saw Henri and Heinrich tighten the grip on their weapons. If the men in the rented four-wheel drive did not stop, the two pirates would open fire and shoot out the front tyres.

The driver slowed, and just as Alex tensed, preparing to draw the pistol from its holster under his shirt, he saw the Land Cruiser's indicator light flash.

Alex started to move forward, then froze as he heard another car's engine. They had reconnoitred the road and knew it was not busy, but a petrol tanker came over the hill and barrelled down towards them. The driver blew his air horn, perhaps checking if all was in order, and Alex waved him on.

By now the Land Cruiser had pulled over and the driver and the leader of the public relations team had got out of the vehicle.

‘Howzit?' the driver called. ‘You
okes
need a hand?'

Kufa and Kevin started to sit up and waved in a comradely way to the new arrivals from their spot on the side of the road.

Alex nodded and reached for his pistol. That was the signal for all of them to move.

Henri stayed in position, still covering the vehicle, but Heinrich leapt
from the cover of the bushes just as Kevin and Kufa got to their feet and raised their rifles.

‘Down!' Alex yelled. ‘Down on the fucking ground. Now! Face down!'

Kevin kicked the officer in the back of the knee, forcing him down, and the white soldier complied without argument. Kufa had the back door of the Land Cruiser open and was dragging out the African, who looked totally confused. Alex noted the white ear buds of an iPod and realised the man had probably been bopping along to his favourite tunes in the back of the vehicle, oblivious to any trouble.

‘Who are you?' the officer said, then winced as Kevin placed a knee in his spine and jabbed the barrel of his R5 into the back of the man's head.

‘Shut it,' said the Australian.

Alex dropped to one knee, behind and to one side of the public relations officer, so he couldn't see his face. ‘Be quiet, man,' he said, not unkindly. ‘Nothing's going to happen to you if you do as we say.'

‘Shit, you're after the ivory, aren't you?'

‘Shut up,' hissed the photographer on the ground next to him.

‘Listen to what your NCO says.' Alex bound the officer's hands tightly with plastic cable ties. ‘That's the sort of talk that could get you killed. Don't make me do something I don't want to, all right, China?'

The man was silent, but Alex ordered them all gagged with masking tape anyway. Hessian hoods were pulled over their heads and tied at the necks. They lifted the bound soldiers into the back of the
bakkie
, and covered their prone bodies with the tarpaulin. Alex, Kevin and Kufa travelled in the Land Cruiser, now assuming the role of the army public relations squad, while Novak led off in the
bakkie
with Heinrich and Henri riding shotgun in the back. Everyone was in uniform now.

Novak led them through the back roads of White River to the R40. Once out of town they turned right and the road meandered up and down through extensive pine plantations.

Novak had worked for SAPPI, the South African paper manufacturing company, for a while after leaving the army, but had soon tired of
a life without action. He'd been based in the Lowveld and was familiar with the plantations around the White River area. While Alex had been in Cape Town with Jane, Novak had rediscovered an old forestry hut. He indicated left and Alex turned off the main road onto a gravel logging road.

At this time of year there was little activity in the forest. Novak rounded a corner and stopped outside a mud-brick shack with a flat corrugated-tin roof. They stopped, offloaded their captives and led them inside the hut and pushed them down onto three metal-framed beds. Working on one man at a time, Heinrich pulled out a pocket knife and sliced through the cable ties binding their hands. Henri then handcuffed each to the welded steel head of each bed. The men would be dry, if not particularly comfortable.

‘All of you listen to me,' Alex said to the captives as his men filed out. ‘I'm leaving an armed man outside to keep watch on the road. He will check on you every now and then, so don't try anything. When the time comes, we'll notify the army that you are here. No harm will come to you if you lie still and quiet.'

Alex didn't know if the men would fall for his bluff. He was taking all his men with him, but even if the soldiers did manage to escape, or if someone found them, it would be too late for them to do anything.

If all went according to plan, Alex and his men would be safely on Ilha dos Sonhos, and out of the pirate business, by nightfall.

A
lex took the lead again and carried on to the small town of Hazyview. As he headed into town he turned right and followed his map to the Phabeni Gate.

The detailed orders for the elephant culling supplied by Chan specified that all military and police traffic should enter and leave via this lesser-used entrance to the Kruger National Park, so as to minimise the visibility of the operation to local people, visitors and the media.

The public relations plan for the culling operation called for an army PR team consisting of a video cameraman and a stills photographer, under the command of an officer, to gather footage of the collection and loading of the ivory from the slaughtered elephants on to South African Air Force Oryx helicopters.