The Cull

by Tony Park

  ‘I need to check that head wound first, and we have to carry him down the koppie to the chopper.’

  ‘I said get away.’

  Ezekial looked up at Mario, who was bringing his AK-47 to bear. ‘Hey, what are you doing?’

  ‘I’m not going to tell you again.’

  ‘No!’

  Mario pulled the trigger. One shot.

  Ezekial yelped, then stood unsteadily and wiped droplets of blood from his face. ‘What . . .’ He stared down at the dead man, then to Mario and, finally, Tema. ‘What have you done? You murdered him, in cold blood.’

  Ezekial looked skywards, put his hands in his hair, doubled over and vomited. Tema looked away.

  Mario flicked his safety catch to safe and looked at Ezekial. ‘He tried to kill your girlfriend with a panga. In any case, he was unconscious. He didn’t feel a thing.’

  Ezekial wiped his eyes and mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Tema?’

  Tema tried to steady her nerves. Right now she was terrified of what Mario might do if she showed what he perceived to be weakness. She bit her tongue.

  Ezekial stared at her.

  ‘Enough of this,’ Mario said. ‘We have more work to do.’

  Ezekial bent down, retrieved his rifle and started to climb down from the rocks.

  ‘Ezekial?’ Tema called.

  Mario walked over and stood next to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and although it creeped her out a bit she didn’t flinch. ‘Don’t worry about Ezekial. He’ll get over it.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ she said. ‘He’s very religious. His father’s a bishop.’

  ‘You did well today, very well.’

  ‘I was well trained,’ Tema said. ‘No offence, Mario, but I miss Sonja.’

  He removed his hand and knelt and picked up the panga next to the dead man. When he straightened he said: ‘I miss her too.’

  ‘What would you do if she came back?’

  Mario seemed to ponder the question. ‘I don’t need to be the commander of this team. I’m happy to take orders from Sonja, but I’m not sure she has the stomach for this fight any more. I heard she killed the man who was responsible for the death of her partner, but that was a personal vendetta. I don’t think her heart’s in this war, like it is for you and me.’

  He was reaching out to her, which was good. If she could gain and keep his confidence she might glean more information from him for Sonja about what Julianne Clyde-Smith was up to. ‘Make no mistake, I’m here for the money, as well as my love of wildlife. I have a daughter to raise and I want the best for her.’

  ‘In that respect, in many others, you are very like Sonja. She should be proud of you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Will you talk to Ezekial for me, tonight, see how he is feeling?’

  ‘Why? Do you care?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want him to do anything foolish, like talk to the wrong people about what he saw here today.’

  Tema looked Mario in the eye. ‘You want me to make sure he doesn’t do that? He knows what he saw.’

  ‘Yes, and I know what I saw – you shooting that other guy in the back.’

  ‘He was going for the hunting rifle and he ignored my order for him to stop.’

  ‘I know that and you know that, but if the Tanzanian police were of a mind to do a thorough investigation they’d find the man had no gunpowder residue on his hands because he was a bearer, and they’d see your bullet in his back.’

  ‘Are you threatening me, Mario?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. We’re at war. You’re a soldier, a natural. You’re learning that in the fog of battle things are sometimes not what they seem. What I will tell you now is that today you may be hailed as a hero, but tomorrow you could be persecuted as a criminal for what you just did. We must all be careful, we must all look after each other.’

  ‘And if one of us splits from the group, reports something he thinks he saw?’ she asked.

  ‘Then he – or she – is no longer one of us. They become the enemy, and you know how we deal with them.’

  Chapter 17

  James Paterson heard the helicopter then saw it coming in across the golden grassy plains to the west of Kuria Hills.

  He left the air-conditioned comfort of his suite and trudged up the hill to the helipad, past the back-of-house functions of Julianne’s camp. It never ceased to surprise him how ramshackle and grubby were the workshops, staff accommodation, vehicle parks and other essential elements behind the facade of a luxury safari lodge. The tourists were served up a Hollywood view of Africa, but the builders there to work on the septic tank squatting over a charcoal brazier and a pot of mealie meal were the real deal. So, too, was the grimy, sweat-stained man he now shook hands with.

  ‘Howzit, Mario,’ he said, returning Machado’s crushing grip.

  ‘Good day’s work.’

  Paterson watched the others. The TANAPA ranger, a young man, looked shaken. Ezekial, the preacher’s son, deliberately avoided eye contact with him and strode away. Tema walked with the fluid gait and cold stare of a leopard slinking through the long grass. She slowed as she came abreast of him and Mario.

  ‘You know the drill,’ Mario said. ‘Clean your weapon, get a feed, Tema. Remember what I told you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, then carried on.

  ‘How did she do today?’ Paterson asked once she was out of earshot.

  ‘Sonja trained her well,’ Mario said.

  ‘News of the contact has spread fast. The ranger radioed his own sitrep.’

  ‘I know, I couldn’t stop him,’ Mario said. ‘He was a pussy. Tema is more of a man than he is.’

  ‘The news of the shootings has already reached the ears of a senior government minister, who has complained to the head of the National Parks Department and the chief warden of the Serengeti. We’ve fielded calls from both and the minister is not happy.’

  ‘So? Just another politician complaining.’

  ‘Actually, it’s good news. The minister in question is, I’m told, in the pay of the Scorpions. Him complaining so soon of “foreign mercenaries” killing Tanzanian citizens in cold blood means we’ve landed a blow in the right place, straight to their solar plexus, as it were.’

  Mario grunted. ‘You deal with the politicians. To my mind they’re worse than the poacher vermin Julianne is paying us to exterminate.’

  ‘We don’t use words like “exterminate”, Mario. You’re misinterpreting your job.’

  The Portuguese man took a step closer to him. He didn’t flinch. ‘You and I know exactly what is going on here. I have no problem with it, but I expect you to be man enough to use plain language, to not veil your words like some lying coward politician.’

  James put his hands on his hips. The man was a blunt instrument, but he was good at his work.

  ‘You did well today, Mario, you and your people. You’ll be rewarded accordingly. Talk to me about Ezekial. What was wrong with him just now?’

  Mario ran his fingers over his grime-encrusted stubble. ‘He’s weak. He’s a good tracker, one of the best I’ve seen, but his heart’s not in the dirty business.’

  ‘Will he talk?’

  ‘Not if we have anything to say about it.’

  ‘We meaning you and the girl, Tema?’

  Mario nodded. ‘She’s got the look, you know.’

  Paterson nodded. He’d seen her eyes in the faces of men he’d served with in Iraq and Afghanistan. Killing became a job for these people, nothing more, and they were generally very good at it.

  ‘She’ll keep him in line,’ Mario went on.

  ‘I thought you suspected there was something going on between them, that they were sweet on each other.’

  Mario shrugged. ‘Maybe they were, but that will be in the past after today. You should have seen
the way she turned her back on him just now when the job had to be finished. You told me you wanted a message sent to the Scorpions, no?’

  ‘Yes. And as I said, it’s been received loud and clear. We’re going to rattle them.’

  Mario held his AK-47 in the crook of his left arm. With his right hand he opened the breast pocket of his camouflage shirt and took out a short stubby cigar. He lit it and dragged deeply.

  Paterson turned, slightly, as Mario blew the smoke his way.

  ‘Tell me,’ Mario said, then inhaled again, ‘have we really been Julianne’s hit squad all along? Was the whole spiel about surveillance and reconnaissance just a lie to get Kurtz on board? If it was, you can drop it now.’

  ‘You, like me, are employed by Julianne to protect her reserves and assets and fight poachers. You seem more at home with a more fluid battle space than Sonja did.’

  Mario exhaled and spat. ‘You’re talking like a politician again, James. I’m pulling the trigger. I at least deserve to know who is ultimately giving the orders here. If you’re running some sort of rogue operation at arm’s length from Julianne then that means that if it all falls apart she’ll be able to deny she knew anything about it and you’ll hang me out to dry. Enough of my enemies know enough about me to make sure I’ll take the fall for you.’

  ‘You want me to spell it out?’ James asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  James drew a breath. ‘Julianne plans to do whatever it takes to put the Scorpions out of business. She’s got more balls than any man, certainly any politician I’ve ever met. She knows half of these bastards would never do a day in prison even if we served up enough evidence to send them to the gallows. That’s why I’m on board with her. Are you?’

  Mario showed his perfect, even teeth. He took another puff of his cigar. ‘I am. I won’t say anything to her, or anyone else, as long as you back me up.’

  ‘That was my job as an intelligence officer and it’s still my role today. I’ll do the targeting . . .’

  ‘Yes, and I’ll do the shooting, and the commanding officer will get all the glory.’

  James nodded. ‘That’s exactly how it should be.’

  ‘All right. One more thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’ James asked.

  ‘Tema gets a pay rise. I don’t want to lose her and I want her to know that you – and your silent commander – appreciate her.’

  ‘Done. Fifty per cent OK?’

  Mario nodded. ‘It’s more money than she could ever hope to make in South Africa as a maid.’

  ‘Are you going soft in your old age, trying to uplift the previously disadvantaged people of South Africa?’

  ‘No, and you can lose that tone in your voice, Paterson.’

  James bridled silently. He needed this thug, so he bit back the retort that was forming in his mind.

  Mario used his cigar to point at James. ‘I served with scores of good African men in Angola. They bled and died for your apartheid regime and when the war ended people like you tossed them on the scrap heap.’

  Paterson said nothing. He knew the story of 32 Battalion’s fearless soldiers and how the new South Africa had no need for them and no compassion for them. Many ended up working as mercenaries, others in high-risk security jobs such as ferreting out heavily armed illegal goldminers from deep underground where no police officer would dare go. It seemed this cold-hearted killer had a soft spot somewhere beneath his leathery, tattooed skin.

  ‘Are you finished, Mario?’

  He put his cigar back in his mouth and nodded.

  ‘Good. Now I have some news for you. Sonja Kurtz is coming back to us. Julianne wants to welcome her back with open arms.’

  Mario narrowed his eyes and exhaled. ‘Sonja’s not the sort of woman given to changing her mind once she’s made a decision.’

  Paterson shrugged. ‘Julianne wants her to head up your team again, just as you started out. How do feel about being under Sonja?’

  Mario grinned and winked. ‘Under her, on top of her, behind her, it’s all good as far as I’m concerned.’

  The man was a boor, but Paterson made a mental note that Mario seemed to think he had a chance of bedding Kurtz, or perhaps already had. It was the sort of information that Julianne paid him to collect and interpret. He allowed himself a brief fantasy of what Sonja might do to Mario, preferably with a riding crop, if she knew he’d been talking about her in that way. ‘Good. Keep me informed about Ezekial.’

  Mario gave a theatrical bow and tugged his forelock. ‘Yes, my liege.’

  *

  As he drove through Tanzania, Hudson Brand was feeling happier than he had in as long a time as he could remember.

  He would have pinched himself, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, but he was too busy hanging on to the steering wheel of the Defender as he navigated a rough, corrugated stretch of gravel road, a deviation around resurfacing work on the main road. It seemed to him that much of Tanzania was one giant road-building project in progress.

  Sonja was next to him in the Defender, dressed in a green tank top and matching short shorts, her feet propped up on the dashboard. She looked over at him and smiled. In the short time he’d known her he reckoned he could have counted on the fingers of both hands the number of times she had smiled – really smiled. However, what buoyed him was that most of those times had been in the last few days. It lifted his spirits and moved his heart to see her like that.

  She had her phone out and was sending Emma a message on Facebook, updating her with their progress through Tanzania. Sonja had told him that Emma was thrilled when she’d learned she was back with Hudson.

  ‘What was the name of the place where we stayed at the northern end of Lake Malawi?’ she asked him.

  ‘The Blue Canoe, Matema Beach.’

  ‘Ah, yes. But it’s called Lake Nyasa on the Tanzanian side of the border.’ She glanced up from tapping the phone and winked when she caught his eye. ‘In fact, how could I forget that place?’

  They had made love on the sand there, in the middle of the day. The few staff were having a siesta and she had spread out a towel to sunbathe. Hudson had lain down next to her and before they knew it they were naked. Afterwards they’d swum in the lake, locked in each other’s arms.

  From Matema they had travelled north, stopping on a farm outside the town of Iringa, where it had been cold enough for them to wear long-sleeved T-shirts to bed and spoon each other in the roof-top tent on Hudson’s Land Rover. From there they had dropped down to the warmer, drier bushveld of Ruaha National Park.

  It was there, in Tembo Camp on the Great Ruaha River, that the real nature of their trip through Tanzania had once more intruded. Tema had called Sonja on her phone and, as Sonja and Hudson had watched a bull elephant walking silently past their vehicle not more than three metres away, ambling down to the river to drink, Tema had told them how Mario had executed a poacher in cold blood during a gunfight in Tanzania in the Grumeti reserve.

  Just hearing Mario’s name had again annoyed Hudson, but he knew he had to stay professional. Tema had also told them that Julianne had been inspecting sites for a future camp in the area where she, Mario and Ezekial had tangled with the elephant poachers.

  Glancing now at Sonja, who was messaging her daughter as he drove, he could almost pretend, for a moment, they were like any other couple fortunate enough to be overlanding through a beautiful expanse of Africa, but it was an illusion. They were travelling as hard and as fast as they could through Tanzania, sharing the driving and only stopping to feed or relieve themselves. They had spent the last night in the capital, Dodoma, in a B&B on a winery on the outskirts of town. He told himself that he would at least take the time to show Sonja the natural majesty of the Ngorongoro Crater and the Serengeti before their impending date with Julianne Clyde-Smith.

  At Dodoma, Hudson had used the wireless internet to d
o some research and found out that the Grumeti area had been hit hard by poachers recently. A game-viewing vehicle full of tourists had also been held up by armed gunmen which was as serious for local tourism as it was unusual. He had tracked down and called a woman he knew who ran a safari operation in the reserve and had told Sonja he had arranged to meet the woman on the road during their travels, at a lodge called Maramboi, located in a conservation area between Lake Manyara and Tarangire national parks.

  It was getting dark as they approached the turnoff to Maramboi and Sonja had to brake hard to avoid hitting a giraffe that ran across the main road that separated the two parks. They went left and passed through a pretty floodplain landscape studded with palm trees. A herd of zebra trotted parallel to them for a moment, their hooves raising a cloud of dust that burned red-gold in their wake.

  After a few kilometres of winding road they came to the lodge. Its car park was busy at this time of day, with stretched Land Cruiser game-viewing vehicles disgorging tourists clad in khaki and green and floppy bush hats. Hudson saw a brace of vehicles with the Maasai Journeys logo emblazoned on the sign.

  ‘Those vehicles belong to Helen Mills, the woman I told you about.’

  ‘How do you know her?’ Sonja asked as she negotiated the Defender into an empty parking spot.

  ‘She used to work in the Sabi Sand managing a lodge there.’

  Hudson and Sonja got out, glad to stretch their legs, and went to reception. They were in luck; despite the crowds there was a safari tent free for the night. The duty manager showed them to an open-sided lounge area where they sat on a couch and filled in registration and indemnity forms. The manager left them and said he would send a porter to carry their luggage and show them to their tent. While they waited, Hudson scanned the room. He saw a flash of blonde hair and a trim figure, from behind, in khaki.

  ‘That’s Helen,’ he said.

  He caught her eye and waved to her. Helen excused herself from a party of tourists and came over to them, smiling broadly.

  Hudson didn’t tell Sonja, but he’d had a fling with Helen when she’d worked in the Sabi Sand a dozen years earlier. She’d then travelled to East Africa and fallen for her driver guide, a young Maasai guy. Helen had married the guide and now ran a mobile safari operation with him in Tanzania.