Night

by Casey Christie

CHAPTER THIRTY

  Lisa’s house. Night arranged with the General’s assistance that a Kensington police vehicle would stand guard outside the house protecting Lisa and her family for the next 72 hours.

  Night held his fiancé safely in his arms. Her head resting on his chest. After a few quite moments Night opened his mouth to say goodbye but Lisa put her index finger to his lips and stopped him from saying farewell. She looked up into his loving eyes and whispered softly:

  “No goodbyes, not today Michael Night. You will do this day what you need to do, what you must do and then you will return to me. I love love, kindness and tenderness and I abhor violence but sometimes it’s necessary. And now, violence is necessary. Go get him Michael, go get the devil and kill the bastard!”

  Lumina. Drive. Highway. 235Kph. OR Tambo Johannesburg International Airport. Park. Leave weapons in the secured safe in Night’s vehicle in the secure underground parking lot used by the airport police. Arrive Terminal A. Gate 09. 56 minutes later.

  Tony greeted the Black Bastards. “Gentlemen, follow me please.”

  Walk out of the airport. “Gentlemen, please employ your training as police officers and let me know if at any time you think we are being followed” the General’s bodyguard said dispassionately.

  Into parking level three. Out of parking level three. All clear. Elevator to parking level five. Into an unmarked grey Nissan sedan. All clear.

  “Shaka sit up with me in the front. You are too big to bend down and get out of sight. You two, get in the back and get out of sight.” Drive. One hour and thirty minutes later arrive at destination. All clear. Lanseria airport.

  Lanseria airport. Drive onto runway. Debus in front of transport, a fixed wing Cessna Grand Caravan.

  “Gentlemen for this part of the journey no talking. No communication whatsoever. Your cellphones please” said a man who Sergeant Night recognised, who stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the plane’s entrance. One by one they handed over their mobile phones and were searched to ensure they didn’t have a second phone on their body or anything else that was deemed not permitted. They slowly walked up into the staircase and into the aircraft.

  “Gentlemen. I am your pilot. You will find some food and water for you in your seat. Eat well, and conserve the water, it will be your last opportunity to eat before zero hour. Enjoy your flight” said the man with an adventurous smile.

  The Black Bastards walked to the back of the plane and found seats. They sat down. Night noted the men as he passed them on either side of the plane. Eight in total. They looked like veteran fighters Mike thought to himself. Hard fuckers! Good men to get into a gunfight with! Night looked down at his skin which rippled with goosebumps of exhilaration and anticipation. To battle.

  Much to the pleasure of Shaka, the police officers found a 2kg plastic container of pasta prepared for consumption and six litres of water for hydration.

  “Thank God, I’m starving” said Shaka.

  Night shook his head at his friend’s remark and heard Stanislov laugh. He noticed Tony walk to the front of the plane and speak to a man seated next to the pilot. It was General Arosi. The General whispered into his bodyguard’s ear and Tony made his way to the back of the plane and sat near Night.

  “The General says welcome aboard. He says he is glad Lisa is okay and he says congratulations.”

  The bodyguard fell back into his chair.

  “Oh and he says that he hopes your dog pulls through.”

  “It’s not a dog Tony“ said Shaka between mouthfuls of spaghetti. “He’s a Lion, a Zulu one!”

  Some minutes later and the Cessna carrying the elite South African warriors took off. The pilot was no ordinary aviator and Night became aware of this fact the moment the aircraft left the ground. The captain took off, turned sharply, ascended further and then levelled out the vehicle quickly. It wasn’t as if the pilot was crude in his technique or harsh in his execution of making the plane go. Rather Night realised, this pilot was a combat flier and every manoeuvre he made was exacting and efficient. Fast and economical on exposure to any enemy radar or craft. The flying altitude was low and it was clear that in flight passenger comfort was a secondary consideration. There would be no walking around or going to the lavatory unnecessarily. And there would be no idle chit chat or superfluous conversation with fellow contractors. This suited Night perfectly as he reviled superficial tête-à-tête.

  The atmosphere created on the plane was purposefully generated by General Arosi. As a fine and accomplished commander he demanded discipline and focus from his men. He had instructed the captain, who privately contracted for the General regularly and was in fact a combat pilot from the South African Police Force Special Air Wing, to fly the plane as if they were over unfriendly territory in a hostile environment. The General knew this would accomplish two things: one it would create a solemn atmosphere on board and two it would make the aircraft difficult to track via radar. The General’s natural good manners made him want to get up and greet his men and in particular his friend Night as they had entered the plane but experience taught him that now was not the time for friendship. Rather discipline and professional conduct were called for and in fact necessitated. The General also realised that the men he had recruited for this daring operation would have expected nothing less from their OC (Operational Commander).

  There was no loud music. There was no alcohol. No whores, no jokes and no confetti or hype. The mission of the thirteen was to destroy their enemy and reclaim a stolen fortune, pilfered from a subjugated people. General Arosi found the allure of the commission to be made from the recovery of the Gadhafi gold inviting and it was an important motivator in carrying out the perilous indenture but it was not the only stimulus. Arosi saw the plight of the Libyan people under the dictatorship of the cruel Colonel similar to that of the black population under the oppression of apartheid and felt that returning the plundered gold would be a fitting end to the initial overthrow of the tyrant and his family.

  He, after so many years, was also looking forward to bringing an end to the life and cruelty of Colonel Sifisu Sibanda of the ZNA. General Arosi looked at his chosen twelve fighters on the monitor of the inbuilt CCTV system fitted in the plane’s cockpit and considered his men. Just as the thought formed in his mind, the combat pilot said the words the General was thinking.

  “You have gathered a deadly dozen General. Perhaps even the most deadly fighting unit ever assembled on the continent.”

  The General said nothing but gazed at his flying operative.

  “Whoever your enemy is General, on this occasion, I may actually feel sorry for them!”