Red Earth (32 page)

He swallowed and felt the tears well again, but this time not from sorrow but from sheer pride in the person Themba had become. He wiped his eyes.

‘Thank you.' Mike took another breath and looked at Themba, seeing a man where there had been a boy. He had made a difference with Themba, and now he owed it to him to ensure he could live the life they had both envisioned for him. Themba was right, he did need to reach out for help. He would look for it, but for now he had a job to do. ‘I won't let you down, Themba.'

Mike stood. Themba came to him. They hugged.

*

Nia ran to catch her flight.

She had queued impatiently behind a posse of American big game hunters, their pastime and professions clear from their camouflage clothes and small talk about their dental patients back home. Once through immigration and customs she had sprinted.

The light aircraft from Fish Eagle Lodge had been delayed at its second stop, another safari lodge where the guests were late arriving. Nia had been petrified she would miss the flight that she had booked online from Cassandra's computer.

‘Sorry I'm late,' she wheezed at the flight attendant.

The woman forced a smile. Nia was, after all, at the pointy end of the aircraft, the only seat still vacant when she had booked. ‘No problem, Miss Carras, go right ahead.'

Once inside she averted her eyes from the accusatory stares of her fellow passengers and the captain announced the doors were ‘at last' closed. Nia stowed the daypack she had bought in South Africa, her only luggage, in the bin overhead, then slumped into her seat.

A male attendant brought her a glass of champagne on a tray. ‘Don't worry, we knew you were coming, we wouldn't have left without you.' He cast an eye over her filthy bush clothes. ‘Looks like you really
have
been on safari.'

She took a gulp of the sparkling wine as she watched the safety briefing. Mike and the kids were not safe, not in the slightest. Nia had the awful feeling that she had betrayed them, that they needed her.

With Mike, after their brushes with death, she had felt the overwhelming need to be with him, to be close to him, and she realised now that she thought about it that making love with him had possibly been the logical extension of that. But she felt more, now that she was away from him. It was like a piece of her was missing, amputated, and she felt the phantom pain of that missing element in her heart. It was palpable; so much so that she wanted to cry.

Chapter 33

Suzanne Fessey surveyed her five men. They were not ideal, dressed as they were in an assortment of charity clothes and faded military fatigues, but they would do. They were hard men, veterans of Mozambique's civil war, rhino poachers.

She would have preferred to have kept Bilal alive and with her for longer, but, unlike her, he'd had no new identity stashed at Johannesburg airport. Still, for the sake of security and her mission, she would have had to dispose of Bilal eventually. Likewise, when these brigands had done their job they would not be left alive to talk about her.

Suzanne had trained herself to be adaptable and that was just as well, because a chain of misfortune had led her here to the Zimbabwean lowveld.

Egil had usually been based in Mozambique and had looked after their fundraising there, selling rhino horns on to a Vietnamese contact in that country's embassy in Maputo. However, the diplomat had been busted and the ambassador was making an example of him by sending him home.

Suzanne sourced rhino horn from local poachers in South Africa, who shot them in KwaZulu-Natal's game reserves. The horn came to Suzanne via a middle man, a devout Pakistani trader loyal to their cause. The poachers were always trying to squeeze more money out of the trader and had recently threatened to go to another buyer, Bandile Dlamini, who had put word out that he was in the market. Suzanne had passed on this intelligence to Egil who, through the Pakistani, had set up the meet with Dlamini in the Mtubatuba market.

Egil and his men had crossed into South Africa on the morning of the bombing with the intention of collecting the latest consignment of horn direct from Suzanne – she had sent the trader to paradise to cover her tracks. The plan had been that Egil would do the deal with Dlamini then catch up with her at the Muzi border crossing back into Mozambique. He and his men, armed with their rifles and RPG that had been cached in northern KwaZulu-Natal for some time, were also there to provide firepower in case something went wrong. Indeed, just about everything had gone wrong after her car had been hijacked.

‘You have a weapon for me, Alberto?' she said in Afrikaans to the man who stood in front of the other three.

‘
Ja
.' He unslung a green kitbag from his shoulder, unzipped it and took out an AK-47 and two spare magazines.

Suzanne inspected the rifle and worked the cocking handle backwards and forwards. The action was smooth. These men were unkempt, but weapons were the tools of their trade and they clearly cared for them more than for themselves. She nodded and Alberto gave her a broken-toothed grin.

‘We're not going hunting for rhino,' she continued in Afrikaans. Alberto had worked on the mines in South Africa and he translated from that language to Portuguese for the benefit of his underlings.

‘What, then?' His voice was gravelly.

‘Men.'

Alberto raised his eyebrows. ‘We are not murderers, but we are regularly fired upon by anti-poaching patrols. Sometimes they kill us, sometimes we kill them. I don't think you can pay us enough to murder in cold blood.'

‘Oh, I think I can.' Suzanne unzipped her own bag and took out an envelope bulging with US one-hundred-dollar bills. She handed it to Alberto. ‘That's the first half. The second half is when I get my baby back.'

‘Baby?'

Suzanne outlined the mission. She had picked up a rental car at Harare Airport and parked and camouflaged it in the bush near Fish Eagle Lodge, then conducted her own reconnaissance on foot. None of the people she was looking for were visible at the lodge but at the outlying tented camp she had found Dunn, the two teenagers and Hassan. She had seen Lerato Dlamini walking around the camp with the baby in her arms, wrapped in a brightly printed cloth. Suzanne would have made straight for the girl if it hadn't been for the fact that she was being escorted on her little walk, while she rocked Hassan, by two armed men.

‘There are five armed men in green uniforms, two black and three white. They look like anti-poaching operators,' she explained to Alberto.

The poacher scratched the stubble on his chin. ‘One of the white men is old, grey hair, another much younger, the third in middle age.'

Suzanne nodded. ‘You know them.'

‘It is the Penquitts, father and son, and their dogs, the Mpofus. The other white man is an Australian, a former soldier. I take back what I said before. It will be a pleasure killing these men. They have killed too many friends of mine.'

‘Whatever. There is another white man, about fifty, who will be armed as well, and a teenage Zulu boy and girl. The girl will be caring for my baby. I want no witnesses left alive, Alberto.'

‘All right. We will do our best to ensure your child is not harmed.'

‘Just do your job.'

Suzanne had made a mud map of the camp, a three-dimensional model using rocks for the tents and lines in the sand for the tracks around them. She used a stick as a pointer as she got back to the business of briefing her assassins. ‘They have been making an improvised bunker, here,' she pointed to the trench she had etched in the dirt. ‘This means that they know that I know they are here and that I am on my way.'

Alberto translated and squatted down on his haunches. ‘I will position two of my men on the right flank, to lay down fire support, with extra ammunition, and to act as a diversion. You and I and the other two will then circle around.' He looked to one of his men, ‘Eduardo,
granada de mão
.'

Eduardo reached into a canvas satchel he wore across his chest and pulled out two Russian-made hand grenades.

Alberto smiled. ‘We sometimes put these under the carcasses of dead rhinos, to catch the anti-poaching bastards when they come to inspect the animals. These will take care of your bunker.'

‘Good thinking,' Suzanne said. ‘We will take up position, not too close, because the anti-poaching people look well trained. They may patrol around the camp. We will watch, though, and make sure no one leaves with my baby.'

‘We attack at night, two in the morning, when some of them will be sleeping.'

‘Agreed,' Suzanne said.

*

‘Themba,' said Lerato, ‘could you do something for me, please?'

Lerato and Themba sat in the rudimentary bunker, an assortment of blankets and pillows not quite making it comfortable nor warm enough. Themba was pleased that Hassan, at least, was somewhere safe. Oscar Mpofu stood and scanned the bush at the edge of the camp through a pair of night vision binoculars.

‘Anything,' Themba said. He meant it.

‘Will you hold me, please?'

He shifted closer to her and tentatively put an arm around her shoulders.

‘Tighter.'

Oscar looked down and grinned. Themba replied with what he hoped was a stern look. Oscar shrugged and went back to his surveillance. Themba drew Lerato to him and she laid her head on his chest. Themba felt like he never wanted to let her go.

‘I'm scared, but I feel safe with you, does that make sense?' she asked.

‘You give me courage and strength, Lerato.'

She nodded and looked up at him.

Themba's heart was beating faster. He looked at her beautiful lips, her shining eyes, and moved his mouth to hers. Just as he was about to kiss her there was a shout from beyond the other side of the camp, and the gunfire began.

‘Contact, wait out,' a voice said from the hand-held radio on Oscar's belt.

‘What is it?' Themba said.

‘Keep your heads down.' Oscar continued watching the bush ahead and in an arc in front of him. ‘That was Shane. He and Tim were on a clearing patrol, to the east. They have found someone.'

There were more bursts of fire.

‘Two enemy.' Shane's staticky voice was calm through the radio.

‘You want the QRF?' said the younger white man, Jordan, through the radio. Jordan and Oscar's brother, Sylvester, were in the centre of the camp acting as the small contingent's quick reaction force, ready to rush to any part of the battle when they were needed. Mike had been roving around the camp checking on all of them. Themba hoped Mike would be OK after his earlier breakdown.

‘Hold your position, son,' Tim Penquitt radioed.

There was shouting and more gunshots.

‘He's running!' Shane Castle yelled, loud enough for them to hear from the far side of the camp.

There were two shots and then silence. A minute later Tim broadcast: ‘Two dead enemy. Both have AKs and there's a span of magazines stacked here. Looks like this was the fire support team. QRF, stand by to move to Oscar. Jordie, you're in charge, for now, my boy. We've got one WIA.'

‘Someone is wounded in action,' Oscar said to Themba.

‘Shane's taken one in the leg,' Tim said over the radio. ‘He'll live but he can't stand. I'm going to patch him and be with you just now.'

‘Roger, Pops,' Jordan said.

‘Be ready, you two,' Oscar said. ‘What Tim is saying is that there are others, somewhere near here, who were getting ready to attack us while those other two men tried to divert our attention.'

Themba stood, his legs feeling a little weak, and pointed his AK-47 out towards the darkened bush.

‘Stay down, boy,' Oscar said.

‘Don't call me boy. I am a Zulu. My people are warriors.'

Oscar tutted. ‘You have a woman to protect now. You should stay down.'

Themba was about to continue the argument when he detected movement in his peripheral vision. He turned. ‘Oscar. There's someone in the trees.'

Oscar picked up his night vision binoculars again and swung them to where Themba was pointing. ‘Grenade, get down!'

Themba saw the person's arm moving. A burst of automatic gunfire came their way as well. Oscar shoved him in the back and Themba fell down, on top of Lerato, who screamed.

Oscar dropped the binoculars and reached as though trying to catch something. He missed and a metal orb bounced and rolled into the trench between Oscar and Themba.

‘Get it out of here!' said Oscar.

Themba tried to, but he was tangled with Lerato. Oscar pushed him aside again and grabbed the grenade. As he tossed it, backwards, over his shoulder, he dived forward, falling across Themba and Lerato, crushing them.

The grenade exploded and shrapnel rained down over them. Oscar screamed.

*

Mike hit the ground when he heard Oscar call out the warning about the hand grenade. A storm of dirt and rocks washed over him.

As soon as he'd heard on the radio that Shane and Tim had encountered the fire support team he'd left Jordan and Sylvester and started moving to the bunker. He heard the screams from the trench.

Mike got up on one knee and saw a slight figure moving through the tree line. It had to be Suzanne Fessey. He raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired, but the woman dropped too soon. Gunfire came his way. He was in open ground so he crawled as fast as he could towards the trench.

Two men were up and running from the trees towards the bunker. As they ran two rifles opened up from the darkness, laying down a hailstorm of fire. Mike made it to the edge of the trench and slid in, landing hard on the people inside.

‘Oscar's hurt,' Lerato said.

Themba helped Mike to his feet. ‘He saved us.'

‘Get up, Themba, there are two of them coming this way.'

Mike raised his head, forcing himself to ignore the bullets whizzing around him, and opened fire with his R5. Themba's AK-47 joined in with a near-deafening fusillade by Mike's right ear.

A bullet cleaved the air between Mike and Themba. ‘Get down, Themba.'

‘No.'

Behind them they heard a yell and Mike glanced around quickly to see Jordan Penquitt screaming a war cry as he ran across the open ground from the safari tents. He fired his R5 from the hip as he charged and Sylvester, behind him on one knee, covered him with fire.

Mike saw one of the enemy in front of him stagger and fall, but now all the other rifles from that side, three by the looks of it, were firing at Jordan.

‘Crazy bastard's drawing their fire. Themba, aim at the muzzle flashes.'

Mike and Themba took careful aim and fired single shots. One of the opposing AK-47s stopped firing in the darkness, but Jordan cried out in pain and fell.

There was a momentary pause in the shooting. ‘Keep watching, Themba,' Mike said, ‘aimed shots when you see a target.'

Mike looked around and saw that Sylvester was running to Jordan. Mike remembered what Tim had said, about them all being like family. Sylvester raised his rifle and sprayed the bush with a full magazine of bullets, then dropped to his knees. He slung his weapon and heaved Jordan up onto his shoulders in a fireman's lift.

‘Cover him, Themba,' Mike said. They both started firing and a couple of AK-47s answered in reply.

*

Suzanne crawled to a granite boulder before firing again. She knew her enemies would be aiming for where they had last seen muzzle flashes.

She took aim not at the bunker, where the firing was coming from, but at the man who had just picked up the wounded anti-poaching man from the ground. She drew a breath, then expelled half the air from her lungs. Suzanne held the pistol grip of the assault rifle, her finger curled around the trigger. She squeezed her whole hand, as if making a fist.

The African man carrying the white man pitched forward into the dust. Neither of them moved. The firing stopped.

‘Suzanne Fessey,' a voice called out. ‘It's Mike Dunn here. You know who I am, I'm sure.'

She cocked her head, listening. There were still a couple of anti-poaching guys unaccounted for. They could be sneaking up on her and Alberto while Dunn tried to distract her.

‘We have your baby here, in the bunker. There has been enough killing.'

Suzanne changed firing positions, crawling to a leadwood tree, and took aim at the bunker. There would not be enough killing until she had that baby in her arms and found a microchip scanner, though where she might find one of those in the wilds of Zimbabwe she did not know.