Silent Predator (21 page)

‘Exactly. Still, they came damn close to catching the culprits this morning. Some poor oaf of a plod who lost Greeves in the first place almost redeemed himself.’

‘ “Almost” doesn’t really cut it in our game, does it, sir?’ He’d read the preliminary intelligence reports and, while he knew little about the copper who had been Greeves’s replacement bodyguard, he had noted
with interest that two of the terrorists had been killed in a fire fight in the African bush that morning, while he’d been driving to Lyneham. Perhaps there would be a scent for Jonathan and his hounds to follow after all.

‘You’ve got the boats as well?’

‘Mozambique does have two and a half thousand kilometres of coastline, sir, so if that’s where they are, the boats could come in handy.’

‘You always were a cheeky sod.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The boats were rubber Zodiacs, packed deflated into containers which could be pushed out the back of the C-17 and then reinflated via compressed air cylinders by the troopers who would follow the load out of the aircraft. They could be dropped kilometres offshore, unseen by the enemy, and motor in for an assault. As well as the cargo aircraft taking them to South Africa, Fraser would have air support from the South African National Defence Force in the form of three Oryx helicopters

‘Of course, if you do pull it off, you’ll write yourself into the history books.’

‘It’s just another job, sir.’

‘That’s the spirit, Johnno. Remember, though, it’s Africa, and someone else’s country, won’t you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘One other piece of good news for you, before you leave. Our cousins across the Atlantic have offered what support they can. They’ll retask a satellite to give us imagery if you get an idea of where they’ve holed up. Also, there’s an American carrier in the Indian
Ocean at the moment. I’ve asked for an aircraft with FLIR and they’ve offered an FA-18. It’ll be at the South African base at Hoedspruit by the time you get there, OPCON to you.’

That was the best news he’d had so far on this job. Being given operational control of a fast jet equipped with a Forward Looking Infra-red camera from another country’s navy was a good indicator of the magnitude of the operation and the faith his superiors were placing in him. If the terrorists were traced to a fixed base, the jet could fly over at altitude but use its radar to pick up heat signatures of people inside. The aircraft would also be carrying enough bombs and rockets and guns to win a small war.

‘PM’s most upset by this brazen attack, Johnno, as you can imagine. He’s intimated to me that if we’re too late, if Greeves and his flunky are dead, and you still get eyes on the target, then we don’t want to be messing around with arrests and show trials and whatnot.’ The major general raised his eyebrows. ‘So feel free to use your aeroplane to maximum effect. The Yanks won’t mind a bit.’

‘Understood. Better go, sir. Don’t want to miss my flight.’

Sannie had organised for Duncan to drive her to Skukuza rest camp in another Tinga vehicle. Once there, she used her personal credit card to hire a car from the Avis office at the camp’s main reception building.

The only car available was a tiny, bright blue Volkswagen Citi-Golf Chico, a two-door hatchback with a 1.3 litre engine. It was hardly a vehicle to take overland into Mozambique, but she neglected to tell the woman behind the counter that was where she was headed. She wondered, as she signed the paperwork, if she would have any trouble getting the vehicle across the border, since she didn’t own it. No, she told herself. In Africa, a police identification, backed up by some cold, hard cash, could get one past most barriers.

Sitting behind the steering wheel she paused and again asked herself the most obvious question. Why am I doing this? She tried to distil her reasoning, but reason wasn’t her strong suit at the moment. Gut instinct? Tom was morally right to pursue the
abductors as quickly and efficiently as possible, despite the legal impediments. But there was more. It shouldn’t be a factor, but she wanted to be with him, helping him. It wasn’t good policing, adrenaline or glory that drove her. Indeed, this might be the end of her career. She shook her head.

It didn’t matter. There was no time to waste. Around her, in the car park outside Kruger’s headquarters, tourists came and went as though nothing was wrong. For South African families Kruger was a haven from the day-to-day worries of crime and the increasingly tough grind of making a living. This terrible thing that had happened to Robert Greeves would be bad news for the park when it hit the media. She drove out the main gates and turned left at the four-way stop.

Back at Tinga Legends Lodge she noticed a white Corolla parked outside the entry hall. As she stepped out of the Chico a man in a photographic vest also stepped out and started taking her picture, his expensive camera clicking as fast as an automatic weapon. Instinctively, she put a hand to her face. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Eugene Coetzee, Independent News Agency,’ he said, still firing away as he walked backwards, in front of her.

‘Get out of my way or I’ll arrest you.’

‘Ah, so you’re police. Can you confirm it’s terrorists who have kidnapped Robert Greeves?’

Duncan was standing inside reception. Sannie gestured to the photographer with a thumb. ‘Who let him in here?’ The guide shrugged. ‘Well, get Carla to get him off the premises. Is she back from Narina yet?’

‘No.’

Damn it, Sannie thought. She should never have let Carla leave the lodge. There were too many things to do at once. ‘When she comes back –
if
she comes back, tell her Captain Tshabalala needs to talk to her. It’s very important.’

Tom was showered and changed into long pants and a blue cotton shirt when she reached his room. He was already packed. She warned him about the press photographer hanging around reception. He nodded and told her that an ambulance had come and gone, taking the Afrikaner safari guide to the hospital at Nelspruit. ‘He deserves a medal.’

‘Well, there’ll be no medals for us if we don’t get your man back. Only jail time, more like it. Let’s go.’

The photographer was still in reception when they strode through. Tom paused, standing in front of the man as he snapped off picture after picture. Sannie sighed. They really didn’t have time for this.

‘You’re the bodyguard, aren’t you?’ Coetzee said over the whir of his digital SLR camera. ‘How does it feel to have lost the man you were protecting?’

‘How does it feel? Something like how it’s going to feel when the doctor tries to extract that lens from where I’m about to shove it. Who are you working for?’

‘Eugene Coetzee, Independent News Agency. And you are?’

‘No, I mean who are you stringing for, Eugene. Don’t tell me you just hang around trying to get pictures of British politicians for the hell of it.’

Coetzee shrugged, as if there was no point in trying
to hide who was paying his bills. ‘One of your English tabloids, the
World
. Journalist there by the name of Michael –’

‘– Fisher?’

‘Yes, that’s the guy. Do you know him?’

Tom shook his head. ‘Bye.’

‘Hey, I was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions.’

As they got into the Chico Sannie ignored the photographer, despite the fact that he kept his lens pressed to the driver’s window, walking alongside them as she reversed, turned and then drove up Tinga’s driveway. In her rear-view mirror she saw Duncan laying a hand on Coetzee’s shoulder. ‘What was all that about?’

Tom shrugged. ‘Nothing. I don’t know. Greeves was being hounded by that reporter, Fisher, before we left London.

‘Is Greeves in trouble back in England?’

‘No, far from it. From what I’ve seen of him so far he’s a clean skin – no faults that I’ve read about. A few eyebrows raised about the number of overseas trips he takes, particularly to Africa, but that’s about it.’

‘Perhaps that’s why your tabloids are taking an interest in him – trying to find some dirt on a clean politician is their style, from what I know of them.’

‘Yeah. Impressive vehicle, by the way. Are we seriously going to be driving through the jungles of Mozambique in this?’

‘Don’t be smart. It was all they had. We’ll probably strike some bad roads, but a lot of money’s being spent in that country trying to fix things up. Shame – they
were just starting to get themselves sorted out after the end of the civil war in 1992 when a cyclone came along in 2000 and flattened a whole heap of bridges and coastal resorts. Still, the country’s bouncing back again.’

Sannie had called her mother on the drive from Skukuza to Tinga and told her what had happened – it was all over the news now. She would collect her grandchildren and they would stay at her place until Sannie returned, though she was unable to say exactly when that would be. Her mother had seemed annoyed down the phone line, though Sannie knew she was really just worried about her safety. So she wasn’t the only one.

They followed the same route Tom and Duncan had taken earlier in the morning in pursuit of the terrorists. Sannie stuck to the main sealed road to make better time, though she refused to go faster than fifty kilometres per hour. ‘We want to get there in one piece, Tom,’ she had protested. ‘It’s no good if we hit something.’

The countryside became more open and drier the further north they headed on the H1-3 towards Satara camp. This was lion country, with open, rolling grasslands that provided good grazing for plains game such as zebra and wildebeest.

‘Why, Sannie?’

‘Why what?’ she replied as she slowed to negotiate her way through a traffic jam of cars and game-viewing vehicles – though not as bad as the one Tom had forced his way through on the bridge. As they passed, a man in a Kombi said, ‘There’s a leopard somewhere
in the bush in there,’ but Sannie and Tom had no time to stop.

‘Why are you helping me?’

‘I have asked myself the same question many times already. It’s a combination of reasons, I suppose. I feel like our system was not good enough this morning, that we’ve let you down. Also, I can imagine myself in your situation. I know that you shouldn’t be doing any of this, and neither should I, but I can’t just sit around and hope it all works out for the best. We’re following the best lead available – someone has to.’

She thought about Carla and the smell of her perfume in his room. She continued to be angry at him, on a personal level, and there would be no going back to what might have been, but she still felt for him professionally.

They drove in silence, passing a herd of about two hundred buffalo, and Sannie explained to him that if they were encountered on foot, the huge black bovines were among the most dangerous and unpredictable animals in Africa.

It was a hundred and sixty kilometres from Skukuza to Letaba camp and another thirty-four beyond that to the Giriyondo border post and the crossing into Mozambique. At the rate they were driving, it would be close to four pm by the time they crossed and she was worried about driving the tiny car along the bush roads on the other side of the border at night.

He studied a map of Mozambique as she drove. He had found a southern African road atlas in the Tinga Legends library while she had gone to collect the rental car and he traced the route they had discussed.
‘If they’re terrorists, what do they want, what do they need?’

They had only a rough plan of where they would head at this stage – basically eastwards, to the coast, as soon as possible after they crossed the border. Sannie chewed her lower lip. ‘Privacy. Somewhere to hide.’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘But that could be a remote camp in the middle of the Mozambican bush, or in a city where strangers wouldn’t stick out.’

‘They need a getaway, in case we find them again.’

‘Right.’ Tom moved his finger through the green swathes of wilderness on the map. ‘But if you’re about to be surrounded by police and you’re in the middle of the bush, then your only way out is on foot or by four-wheel drive.’

‘We’re assuming they picked up another vehicle across the border, but they won’t want to use it for long. Travelling those back roads they will have been noticed, and if there are police roadblocks they’ll be remembered.’

‘So they’ll want to ditch the vehicle soon and maybe get a new one, possibly steal one, but if they’ve got the money and connections for special forces weapons and white phosphorus hand grenades, then they can also afford to buy a couple of cars and have them pre-positioned.’

‘Which is easier to do in a larger town,’ she said, following on from where his reasoning was taking them, inexorably towards the coast.

His finger, she saw out of the corner of her eye as she geared down and waited for a herd of a dozen elephant to cross the tar road, had reached the blue
waters of the Indian Ocean. ‘Where you also have a means of escape via the sea, through an established port or marina, and an airstrip if your budget extends to an aircraft.’

‘Xai Xai?’ she said. Following a straight line from where the gang had illegally crossed the border, the coastal town of Xai Xai – she pronounced it ‘Shy-Shy’ – fitted the criteria they had set for the terrorist group’s hideout. She wondered, however, if they had come to that conclusion simply because it gave them somewhere to go. ‘Or anywhere else on the two and a half thousand kilometre coastline.’

‘Yeah,’ he sighed.

The little Volkswagen town car had no airconditioning and Tom’s saturated shirt was plastered to his back. He was as relieved as Sannie to get out and stretch his legs when they entered Kruger Park’s Letaba rest camp.

He’d noted on the map of the park that the camp was nestled on the banks of a river of the same name. The foliage inside the perimeter was lush and green, typical of what he’d noticed along the other permanent rivers in the park. It was a welcome change from the dry, dusty browns they’d been driving through all afternoon.

While Sannie filled the Chico’s petrol tank she gave him directions to the camp shop, along with instructions to use his debit card to draw out some rand from the cash teller machine he would find at the store. As he walked he mused yet again how different from his
expectations Africa was turning out to be. Here was a continent where people died by the million from malaria because they didn’t have mosquito nets, yet a game reserve had a cash teller machine in the middle of the bush. Bizarre.