Jackal's Dance (37 page)

Kalila's tent was opened and an exchange in a language no-one understood took place.

Although the generator had been turned off by Sean before he went to his room, there was enough stored power in the batteries to last seven or eight hours. A light outside the ablution block came on and the captives could see who was responsible. The men were like none they'd ever seen before. Ragged, unkempt, dirty and dangerous. Eben's suspicion that these were UNITA rebels was confirmed. The AK47s were all the proof he needed.

Angela saw Troy's nakedness and turned away, only to be confronted by Eben's gaping fly. She settled for staring at the ground and realised she was standing in a puddle of her own urine.

Their three captors wasted no time. Each tent was searched thoroughly. Watches, jewellery and money went straight into pockets. Fletch and Troy could only stand helpless as their clothing was picked through and pilfered. One by one, the captives were escorted to their tents, hands released and, with gestures, ordered to dress. They had no privacy. One man rummaged in the tent for suitable clothing which, once located, was flung through the flap. Another stood guard outside while their captive dressed. Torchlight ensured that none of the prisoners escaped intense scrutiny.

Megan's breasts came in for some lewd handling before she could cover up. With her mouth taped shut, she could only utter muffled screams of protest. One man pressed his body against her and
Megan was shocked to discover he had an erection. His grinning face so close to hers revolted her. At a sharp word from his companion, the man stepped away. Angela, shaking and crying, was not touched. She was too pale and skinny to be of interest. Josie, outrage and fear giving her an almost rebellious expression, suffered the same fate as Megan. Troy's nakedness provided a diversion. His penis was lifted by the flat of a knife, then dropped. The perpetrator rolled his eyes and said something to his companion. Both laughed. Troy breathed a shuddering sigh of relief when he was allowed to dress. Fletch, like Angela, seemed to be of little interest. His deep red hair and white skin were repugnant to the Africans. Eben's gaunt frame, hairy and wrinkled, caused considerable mirth.

Each of them felt in some way violated when, dressed, they were regrouped.

Eben thought it likely that their captors would understand Portuguese but he spoke not a word of it. Still, he tried desperately to communicate. Realising the old man was probably in charge of the group and thinking he might have useful information, one of them ripped off the professor's gag. It was a futile attempt on Eben's part. He gulped in air thankfully, and asked, ‘English?'

The terrorist shook his head.

‘Afrikaans?'

Another shake.

‘German?' Without his false teeth, Eben's lips had collapsed inwards, making diction fuzzy.

Shake.

‘Swahili?'

Shake.

‘Zulu?'

Shake.

That exhausted the spectrum of Eben's linguistic talent. With a despairing look at the students he subsided into silence. The tape was replaced.

The six prisoners were made to form a line before being prodded and pushed towards the lodge.

Billy couldn't sleep. He was tossing and turning, not used to having the bed to himself. He'd been dozing on and off. No-one bothered to lock their door on Logans Island so, hearing it open followed by footfalls coming towards the bedroom, Billy assumed Thea had returned. Not wanting any more argument or discussion, he feigned sleep. Suddenly the smell hit him. It was too late. Tape silenced any protest.

The rebels sent to capture the lodge manager and rangers enjoyed much better pickings than those down in the camp site. While Billy dressed, covered by the menacing muzzle of a Kalashnikov, a second man helped himself to anything with a value which could be easily carried. He even demanded the wedding ring off Billy's finger.

Caitlin had been dreaming of Scotland. And, in the way of dreams, the out of place noise of her door being opened became part of that illusion. Still asleep, her mouth was taped shut. She came awake quickly enough when a hand was thrust
down the front of her sleeping shorts. Rolling off the bed, Caitlin found her feet, fingers turning to claws as she crouched defensively against the intruder in her room. Being dark, she didn't see the second man. Ace grabbed her from behind and held on, deftly avoiding her kicking legs. The other sought and switched on a light. When Caitlin saw who she was dealing with, resistance seemed like a waste of energy.

Clothes were thrown at her and she dressed in front of the pair. Their silent scrutiny of her body was the most terrifying thing Caitlin had ever known.

Next door, Sean had not been asleep. He'd turned off his light half an hour earlier and lay staring at the ceiling. Possibilities for a future with Thea kept him awake. Not being able to reveal his feelings had been frustrating but now that she was free – after a fashion anyway – the knowledge that he might still lose out seemed even worse. Sleep was impossible as he relived every word Thea had said, trying to read more meaning into them and failing dismally. She'd been, as usual, totally honest. Sighing, Sean turned on his side. He heard a thump from Caitlin's room, followed by what sounded like a scuffle. Sean sat up instantly.
What was that?
Light suddenly illuminated the tree outside his window. He relaxed. Caitlin must be going to the bathroom. But her door opened and the light went out.
What on earth's going on?
It was too early for Caitlin to be taking a game drive. A clandestine visitor perhaps? Or was she going for an early
morning jog around the island? She did that sometimes. But never this early. Sean was half out of bed, planning to investigate, when his own door opened.

He knew then that something was very wrong. Thoughts that it might be Thea in need of company, or Billy seeking revenge, were discarded. Thea would have knocked. Billy knew the layout of his room and would not be hovering at the door. Without stopping to think, Sean propelled himself off the bed and ran straight at the shadowy figure, never seeing the AK that was swung at his head. He was dragged, semiconscious, from his room, blood leaving a trail across the wooden verandah.

Dan, after his previous night's session with Doris Delaney, remained deeply asleep. The first he knew of trouble was when somebody pulled him from his bed. He was throwing punches even before he woke up. It made no difference. The element of surprise had given Dan's unwelcome visitors too much of an advantage. He was quickly overpowered. When the light came on and Dan saw their weapons, he gave them no more trouble. Dressing quickly, he shrugged when his watch was confiscated, handed over a near empty wallet and went quietly outside when gestured to do so.

Completely oblivious of the drama going on all around them, Chester and Kalila were preparing for round four. So preoccupied were they with each other that neither noticed the door open. Ace and his companion knew exactly what was going on. They waited until the pair inside had reached
the point of no return then stepped into the room. Silencing them was child's play. Kalila and Chester thrust at each other twice more before the realisation hit home. Chester was unceremoniously dragged off and light flooded the room. Kalila, eyes wide, breasts still heaving from unsatisfied passion, tried to cover herself and was prevented from doing so. The man with Ace licked his lips and reached for her but a sharp command stopped him in his tracks.

Gestured to dress, Kalila and Chester pulled on their discarded clothes. The order given had been in Ace's tribal dialect. After seven years in Angola, Chester knew enough of it to understand. The one in charge had said, ‘Not now, fool. There'll be time for that later.'

Ace was more than pleased so far. The operation had gone smoothly with everyone bound, gagged and assembled in the car park by four-ten, dawn still half an hour away. As expected, the twenty-three African staff had presented no problems to his men. They knew, even better than the Europeans, the reputation of UNITA. Some had relatives up near the Angolan border. Stories of armed incursions would have filtered through, even to those who had no connection with that part of Namibia. With a fatalism that was exclusively African, they quietly submitted when their hands were taped and obediently moved when told.

Now for the real target, the lodge's wealthy guests. Eight bungalows were occupied. They'd hit
them all at once. Leaving two armed men on guard, Ace and nine others melted into the darkness. Once he was sure everyone was in place, Ace shouted the order and they sprang into action.

Two men burst noisily into number seven. The sound woke Matt. Lights going on cut through Gayle's sleep. Screwing up her eyes against the intrusive glare, she saw enough to make her scream and huddle closer to Matt, who instinctively tightened his arms protectively around her. The terrorists stood silently at the end of the bed, eyes hard, weapons pointed. Gayle, having recovered from her initial shock, reacted predictably. ‘Who the hell are you? Get out immediately. Do you know who I am?'

‘Ssshhh, Gayle. I think they know exactly who you are. Just keep quiet and do whatever they tell us.'

‘Are you mad? Tell them to get out of here.'

One of the men mimed the action of pulling on clothes.

‘They want us to get dressed, baby girl.'

‘I'm not doing anything in front of these bastards.'

‘Come on, Gayle. We have no choice.' Matt eased himself out of bed and turned back to help Gayle out on the same side. He didn't want the bed between them. There was no telling what these men might do. He carefully picked up their clothes from the floor. ‘Get dressed.'

The intruders saw Gayle's slinky black pants and high-heeled shoes and immediately shook their heads, pointing to the wardrobe.

‘Find something else, Gayle. Hang on, I'll come with you.' Matt had pulled on his trousers but was still barefooted and shirtless. He took Gayle's arm and gestured towards the cupboard.

The closer man swung his weapon up sharply, breaking Matt's grip. The blow connected with his elbow, sending the entire arm instantly numb. Gayle was grabbed and thrust across the room, still struggling against the rough handling. ‘You smelly creeps. Get the fuck away from me.'

Her words were not understood but the tone could not have been clearer. She was shoved violently forward so that she slammed into the cupboard door.

‘Gayle!' With no thought for his own safety, Matt tried to clamber over the bed and reach her. One arm temporarily out of commission, he was off balance and clumsy. The second terrorist had all the time in the world. His excessive use of force was mainly an objection to the loud-mouthed woman's arrogance. He swung the AK47. The raised foresight made a sickening connection with the side of Matt's head. The actor was unconscious even before he slumped onto the mattress.

‘Mattie!' Gayle screamed, seeing his blood staining the sheets.

But she was given no chance to go to his assistance. Instead, she was held while the second man ransacked her wardrobe, throwing out a pair of khaki slacks, black shirt and designer running shoes.

Sobbing, Gayle dressed. Nudity had never
bothered her, she'd played some pretty steamy parts in her life so dressing in front of two strangers was of little concern. What scared her most was a fear that they might hurt her. But the fact that Matt hadn't moved terrified her even more. She kept glancing at the bed, willing him to be all right. Dressed, they finally allowed Gayle to help. She sat on the bed, gingerly dabbing his wound, talking all the time, waiting for any sign of life. One African held his gun on her, the other plundered Gayle's considerable collection of jewellery. She barely noticed. It was dawning on her that Matt might be in serious trouble.

Satisfied they had found everything of value, Gayle was pulled to her feet and propelled outside. Matt, head lolling, was dragged out by his arms.

Ace peered through the window of number six, the only bungalow that still had a light on. A woman, fully-clothed and curled into a ball, was asleep on top of the bed. He would attend to her himself.

Too many scotches numbing the day's events had Thea in an exhausted sleep. She resisted the first attempt to shake her awake, mumbling in protest. The hand became more persistent. Thea groaned, rolled over and opened her eyes. Ace's grinning face was the last thing she expected to see. Thea gave a spontaneous gasp of fear as she was tugged off the bed to stand, swaying, while Ace's eyes examined her from head to toe. He kicked a foot against her sandals, said something she didn't understand, then pointed to a pair of walking boots.

Moving slowly lest she provoke an attack, Thea pulled a pair of thick socks from a drawer, removed her sandals and donned the more substantial footwear. Making no comment when Ace picked up her watch and rings and dropped them into his pocket, Thea stepped outside with him. As they neared the car park she became aware that the island's entire population seemed to have been rounded up. Her still confused mind finally made the connection that whatever was taking place had to be a whole lot more than simple burglary. She stood while her hands were taped, sat when it became clear that's what was expected and registered the fact that Professor Kruger knelt next to her. She was more confused than frightened. One of the students sobbed quietly. Thea turned her head looking for Sean but encountered Billy's eyes glowing with anger in the dimly lit car park. Only then did the fact filter through that most of those present had tape across their mouths. At that point, Thea began to feel afraid.

When Mal returned to his own bungalow, James had been soundly asleep. It was a hot night so the covers were left where they were, at the bottom of the bed. James slept through the sounds coming from other guests and didn't even wake when light flooded the room. He lay on his back naked, left leg crooked, foot resting against his other calf. One arm, palm uppermost, flung outward, the other draped across his stomach. But for the obvious, he might have been a young girl.