Wilbur Smith - C07 A Time To Die

by C07 A Time To Die(Lit)

For the rest of that day China had searched from the low-flying Hind, but the smoke had hampered him, limiting his vision to the small circle directly beneath the Hind's belly.

  If anything, this additional failure had intensified his determination. The white man's cunning and his outrageous good fortune in evading an China's best efforts only aggravated his hatred and inflamed his longing for revenge. During those long hours when they had ferried his last line of assault troops into position, China had sustained himself with fantasies of vengeance, dreaming up the most bizarre ordeals for Sean Courtney and his woman once he had them in his power.

  There would be no haste then. He would draw out the pleasure, eking out their suffering and pain as jealously as a miser his shekels.

  He would begin with the woman, of course, and the white man would watch it all. After Tippoo Tip had enjoyed her to the full, they would hand her over to the men. China would personally select the most repulsive, those with hideous features, deformed bodies, and elephantine members. Some of his men were truly remarkable in their physical development. He would let them have the woman after Tippoo Tip, and when they were done, he would bring on the sick and diseased, the men with open venereal ulcers and virulent skin disorders, covered with scabs and tropical sores.

  Then at last he would give her to the men with the slim sickness, the most dreaded of all. Yes, it would be marvelous sport. He wondered how strong the American woman was, how many she could take. Would her mind go before her body? It would be fascinating to find out, and of course the white man would be forced to watch every second of it.

  Only when the woman was finished would he begin on Colonel Sean Courtney. He had not yet decided what it would be-there were so many possibilities. However, the man was tough; he could be expected to last for days, perhaps even weeks. Planning it, gloating over it, brought a smile to General China's bps and calmed his frustration enough to allow him to drop into his canvas chair, draw the lapels of his greatcoat around him, and sink at last into sleep.

  He awoke in confusion, unable to orient himself. Somebody was shaking him urgently, and he threw off the hands and struggled out of his chair, glaring around him wildly. It was morning; the trees around his temporary base were gray skeletons against the paler gray of the dawn sky. The light bulbs still glowed on their poles above the squatting helicopter, and the radio on the rough table of hand-planed logs in front of him was squawking urgently.

  "Contact! General China, we have a live contact!" It was the commander of the line of men he had placed on the hills at the approaches to the Limpopo. He was calling in clear language, proof of his agitation.

  Still half asleep, China stumbled to the radio set and seized the microphone. "This is Banana Tree, report your position and status correctly," he snapped, and at the sound of his voice the distant patrol leader steadied himself and corrected his radio procedure.

  The fugitives had run into his stop fine at almost precisely the point China had predicted. There had been a brief firelight, and then the fugitive band, had taken refuge on the crest of a small kopje, almost within sight of the Limpopo River.

  "I have called for the mortars to come up," the patrol leader exulted. "We'll blow them off the top of that hill."

  "Negative." China spoke very clearly. "I say again, negative.

  Do not open fire on the position with mortars. Do not attack. I want them taken alive. Surround the hill and wait for my arrival."

  He glanced across at thohelicopter. The titanium engine hatches were back in place, aD_d the Portuguese engineer was overseeing the last of the refueling. A line of porters, each of them with a twenty-five-liter drum balanced on his head, was queued up, waiting their turns to empty the drums into the helicopter's main tanks.

  China shouted to the engineer in Portuguese, and he came striding across to the tent. "We must take off immediately," China ordered.

  "I will complete the refueling in half an hour."

  "That's too long. How much fuel have you got on board right now?"

  "Auxiliary tanks are full, main tank is three quarters."

  "That will do, call the pilot. Tell him we must take off right away."

  "I must replace the debris suppressors over the turbo intakes," the engineer protested.

  "How long will that take?"

  "Not more than half an hour."

  "Too long!" China shouted with agitation. The pilot was stumbeing along the pathway from his tent. Not yet fully awake, he was pulling on his leather flying jacket, and the flaps of his helmet dangled loosely around his ears.

  "Hurry!" China yelled at him. "Get her started!"

  "What about the suppressors?" the engineer insisted.

  "We can fly without them, they are only precautionary."

  "Yes, but-!"

  "No!" China pushed him away. "I can't wait! Forget about the suppressors We fly at once! Get the engines started!"

  With the tails of his greatcoat flapping around his legs, General China ran to the helicopter and scrambled up into his seat in the weapons cockpit.

  Sean Courtney lay on his belly between two rocks just below the crest of the kopJe and looked out over the tops of the mo pane forest. Away toward the south, the dark green belt of trees was just visible in the uncertain light. It marked the position of the Limpopo River.

  "So close," he lamented. "We so very nearly made it."

  It was against all the odds that they had survived this far, almost three hundred miles through a devastated, war-torn land and two murderous opposing armies, only to be stopped here in sight of their goal. There was a burst of AK fire from down the slope of the hill, and a ricochet sang away into the dawn sky.

  Matatu, lying among the rocks nearby, was still berating himself. "I am a stupid old man, my Bwana. You must send me away and get yourself a clever young one who is not blind and decrepit with age."

  Sean guessed that a Renamo observation post must have spotted them as they crossed one of the open glades between the hills.

  There had been no warning, no obvious pursuit, no set ambush.

  Without warning a sweep line of tiger-striped figures had rushed at them from out of the mo pane

  They had all been weary after traveling hard all night. Perhaps their concentration had been eroded, perhaps they should have stayed in the trees instead of cutting across the open vlei, but it was yarn to think about what they might have done.

  for There had only been sufficient time to snatch up the children and drag the women up the side of the kopJe with poorly aimed Renaino fire whining off the rocks around them. Perhaps the Renaino aim had deliberately been wild, Sean thought. He could guess what General China's orders to his men had been. "Take them alive!"

  "Where is China now?" he wondered. One thing was certain, he was not far away and coming as fast as the Hind would fly. He looked out at the Limpopo River again, and there was the foul taste of failure and disappointment on the back of his tongue.

  "Alphonso," he called out. "Have you got the radio rigged?" It was more for something to occupy his mind than with any real hope of making contact.

  Twice during the night he had attempted to make the prearranged radio schedule with the South African Army. Once he had even heard "Kudu" calling him very faintly; however, the batteries of their radio had finally begun to fail. The battery test needle had dropped back deep into the red quadrant of the dial.

  "If I try to raise the aerial those baboons down there will shoot my testicles off," Alphonso growled from among the rocks.

  "It's almost line of sight to the river," Sean told him brusquely.

  "Give me the aerial." He raised himself on one elbow, threw the bundle of insulated wire as far out down the slope as he could reach, and then stooped to the radio set. When he turned on the power, the control panel glowed feebly.

  "Kudu, this is Mosgie," he sent out his despairing call. "Kudu, do you read me? Kudu, this is Mossie!"

  A stray bullet hit the rock above his head, but Sean ignored it.


  "Kudu, this is Mossie!"

  The two women, white and black, were holding the children and watching him wordlessly.

  "Kudu, this is Mossie.:" He adjusted the gain knob. Then, unbelievably, so faintly he "&uld barely catch the words, a voice answered him. lp "Mossie, this ii Oubaas. I read you strength three."

  "Oubaas. Oh, God," he breathed. "Oubaas!"

  Oubaas, the grandfather, was General Lothar De La Rey's code name.

  "Oubaas, we are in deep shit here. Request an immediate hot extraction." He was asking for a removal while under enemy fire.

  "We are seven par, five adults and two children. Our position is-" He read out the map coordinates of his dead-reckoning position. "We are holding a small kopJe approximately twenty kilometers north of the Limpopo." He raised his head and glanced around quickly. "There are two large kopjes approximately two miles due east of our position. Do you read me, Oubaas?"

  "I read you, Mossie." The voice faded and then came back.

  "What was your grandmother's maiden name?"

  "Oh, sod you!" Sean snarled frustration. Lothar was double checking his identity at a time like this. "My grandmother's maiden name was Centaine De Thiry, and she is your grandmother also, Lothar, you rotten bastard!"

  "Okay, Mossie. I'm sending a Puma in for a hot extraction. Can you hold out for one hour longer?"

  "Pull finger, Oubaas. We've got gooks all over us."

  "Wilco, Mossie." Sean had to put his ear close to the set to catch the last words: "Give them bell, Sean. Then the signal faded and the battery died with a last Ricker.

  "They are coming!" Sean looked up from the radio and grinned across at Claudia. "They are sending a Puma helicopter in to take us out." Then his grin faded and all their faces turned slowly toward the north. There was a new sound in the dawn, still faint and far off, but they all recognized it. It was the sound of death.

  They watched the Hind come down from the north, sweeping in low over the forest, a great humpbacked monster blotched with camouflage paint, the first rays of the rising sun reflecting off the cockpit canopy like huge glowing red eyes.

  Out of the mo pane forest at the foot of the kopJe a signal rocket sailed up in a lazy red parabola, calling the Hind in. It altered course slightly and headed directly toward the crest of the biff on which they lay.

  Claudia was at Sean's side, and he placed his arm over her shoulders.

  "It's so cruel," she whispered. "It's like dying twice over." She pulled the Tokarev pistol from her belt and tried to place it in his hand.

  "No!" he rejected her. "I can't do it! I can't screw myself up to that again!" He pushed the pistol away.

  "What then?" she asked, and he showed her the fragmentation grenade he held in his right hand. She glanced at the deeply checkered black metal orb. It looked like some evil poisonous fruit, and she shuddered and averted her eyes.

  "It will be as quick and more certain," he whispered reassuringly.

  "And we'll go together, at the very same moment."

  He knew what he had to do. He would hold the grenade between them as they lay chest to chest.

  He looked up again at the approaching Hind. It was very close.

  It was almost time, He would not warn her. He would simply kiss her one last time and then Suddenly Sean's eyes narrowed. Something about the Hind's silhouette was different. It was coming in swiftly, swelling in size before his eyes, and he felt the first stirring of a new excitement as he realized what had been changed on the helicopter.

  "There is still a chance," he whispered to her. "A small chance, but we are going to take it. Come here, Minnie. Come quickly!" he called in Shangane, and the tiny black girl tottered across to where they lay.

  "Hold her," Sean whispered, and he lifted the back of the child's short, ragged skirt. Under the skirt she wore a pair of blue panties.

  Sean pulled open the elastic top of the underpants and pushed something down into them, something as round and black as one of her little buttocks between which it nestled.

  "Keep that for me, little one," he whispered to the child in Shangane as he adjusted the waistband. "It's a secret. Don't take it out. Just keep it there. Will you do that for me, my little flower?"

  Minnie stared at him with dark, adoring eyes and nodded solemnly. Sean gave her a hug.

  The sound of the Hind's turbos was almost unbearably shrill as it came in toward them at the level of the hilltop. When it was two hundred meters out, Alphonso opened fire with his AK rifle, pouring a full magazine into the front canopy. The light bullets left no mark on the armored glass, and the helicopter slowed and hung motionless on its shining rotor. General China was sitting up in the high-backed seat of the weapons cockpit, so close they could clearly see the triumphant smirk on his face as he lifted the microphone to his mouth.

  His grossly magnified voice boomed out of the speakers of the "sky shout" system slung below the helicopter's stubby wings.

  "Good morning, Colonel Courtney. You have led me a merry dance, but the chase is over Tell your men to lay down their weapons, please."

  "Do it!" Sean shouted at Alphonso, but he snarled a protest and clipped a fresh magazine onto his rifle. "Do as I tell you!" Sean's voice hardened. "I have a plan. Trust me."

  Still Alphonso hesitated. Suddenly the Hind's Gatling cannon thundered, deafening them and kicking up a storm of rock chips and dust from the side of the kopJe just below where they lay.

  "Don't try my patience, Colonel. Tell your men to stand up with their hands high above their heads."

  "Do it!" Sean repeated, and first Matatu and then Alphonso rose slowly to their feet, arms held high.

  "Tell them to turn around. I want to make sure they have no surprises for me."

  They shuffled in a circle, and China's voice boomed out again.

  "Take your clothes off, all of them."

  Slowly they stripped themselves and stood naked before him.

  "All right, now move down the hill into the open."

  With their hands held high they walked down into the open ground below the crown of rocks.

  "Now the two women."

  "Be brave," Sean whispered to Claudia. "We've still got a chance, a good chance."

  Claudia stood up slowly.

  "Miss Monterro." China's voice echoed across the forest tops.

  "Will you be good enough to remove your clothing?"

  Briskly, defiantly, Claudia unbuttoned her ragged shirt and pulled it over her tousled head. Her breasts were white in the early sunlight.

  "Now your trousers," China encouraged her. She let them drop around her ankles and kicked them off.

  "Very good, and now the rest of it."

  Claudia's lace panties had been washed and worn until they were wispy as spiderweb; her pubic triangle was a dark shadow under the filmy cloth.

  "No." She shook her head. "I won't do it." She crossed her hands in front of her. Her refusal was unmistakable.

  "Very well. We'll allow you your modesty for the time being.

  My men will enjoy it all the more later." China chuckled. "Move down into the open, please."

  Claudia walked down the hill, her chin and her small pert breasts held high, and stood between Alphonso and Matatu.

  "Now you, woman," China spoke in Shangane, and Miriam stood up. She did not have a European's shame of nudity, and quickly she stripped herself naked. Holding her little brother's hand, she went down to join the others.

  "And now, Colonel Courtney. The last is the best of all the game- Sean rose to his feet and carelessly threw aside his tattered Clothing.

  "Very impressive, Colonel," China taunted him. "For a white man, that is."

  Sean stood and stared up at him impassively, but he was trying to judge the distance to the helicopter. Sixty yards, he estimated, much too far.

  "Please come down into the open where I can keep an eye on you, Colonel. We don't want any misunderstanding now, do we?"

  Sean took Minnie's hand and led her down the hill. The l
ump under the little girl's skirt wobbled from side to side like a Victorian bustle, and with her free hand she tugged at the waistband of her panties to prevent them being pulled down around her knees by the weight.

  Ten, fifteen, twenty paces, Sean counted as he moved toward the hovering Hind. He could clearly see the pupils of General China's eyes-forty yards, still too far. He stopped beside Claudia, and they stood in a row, naked and vulnerable.

  China gave an order in Shangane, and at the foot of the hill his men burst out of the forest and came swarming up the slope, whooping with triumph. The Portuguese pilot edged the huge machine in closer, then closer still, showing off his prowess at the controls.