Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  For a moment Bob looked quite startled, until Amie laughed and explained the emails were supposed to be between girlfriends and were full of soppy nonsense. Whoever was composing them in London was well into character, and Maddy was the Blonde Bimbo to end all Blonde Bimbos.

  The rest of the morning was spent pouring over maps and familiarising themselves with the area. They would take camping gear, but stay over in a rest camp if possible. Amie thought the one where she’d landed was relatively close but told them she would prefer to avoid it since she was known there. They might think it very suspicious if she pitched up with another party quite so soon.

  There was general consensus about that, but try as she would, Amie couldn’t see where she had crossed the border. The first time she’d been asleep, and if the parks had now been joined – meaning no manned border fences – she couldn’t be sure where the hole was on the way back. Were there places where they had left the fence up? Without enquiring at an official level, they were unlikely to find out. They discussed strategies and what instructions they’d received from the Service. They’d been told to gather evidence of what arms had been fired on the site, identify them and send samples back for analysis.

  During the chat, Amie realised that she should have taken the coordinates of the camp to send back to London. She prayed that no one would mention that she’d made one huge mistake. She may have been trained as a spy, but she doubted she was thinking like one.

  Bob and Karen left around lunch time to buy more supplies. Amie mooched around the apartment for a while then decided to spend some time being totally self-indulgent, who knew when she would get another chance. She had a long bubble bath, filed her nails right down, and sorted her clothes for the trip. She would travel with the minimum, and cram everything into a medium rucksack and a carry-on which also housed her laptop. Then she bought several books online for her kindle and decided to relax. She had no idea how long it would be before she had another day like today.

  Tomorrow was the start of yet another adventure.

  Very early the next morning, a white Nissan SUV arrived outside the apartment. Bob carried Amie’s two bags to the car and put them in the back with his own. He hopped into the driver’s seat, and with Amie next to him, they headed north.

  “We’re meeting Karen and Peter a few miles on,” he explained, “best not to be seen together too close to Durban.”

  “You don’t think someone is spying on us, do you?”

  “Doubt it very much, but if we’re not connected so to speak, maybe future operations … who knows?”

  Amie nodded. The spooks were careful even in the company of other spooks.

  The N2 was a wide freeway, and even with the stops to pay the tolls they made very good time. They passed over the great Tugela River, through Eshowe and Melmoth until Bob pulled up outside a small roadside restaurant just outside Vryheid.

  “That’s their 4WD, the Isuzu, they’re here already,” Bob jumped out of the Nissan and lead the way into the small coffee house which could have been transported straight out of England, with its pretty Laura Ashley curtains and tablecloths, and shelves packed with locally grown bottled jams and fruits. There was even a row of teddy bears on a shelf along one wall.

  “I didn’t expect this in Africa,” Bob said in amazement.

  “The Brits always take their home with them wherever they go,” Amie smiled. “Ever heard the saying ‘An Englishman is never so much at home as when he’s abroad?’”

  “No, never, but I’m beginning to think it’s true. Ah, there you are, Karen. You made it I see. Been waiting long? Felicity, this is Peter.”

  Amie stood stock still in shock. She’d just been introduced to Peter, but she knew him as Ken.

  Without blinking, Ken or Peter, put out his hand. “How do you do? It’s, Felicity is it? And I understand you’re the one who knows a little about Africa. It’s my first visit to the home of my ancestors.” All the time he was talking, Ken’s eyes bored into Amie’s as if daring her to contradict him.

  For a split second she was rooted to the spot. Play along, play along, she thought.

  “How do you do … Peter.” His eyes narrowed slightly as she shook his dry, black, hand. The threat was unmistakable; she would be wise not to ignore it. She squinted at him as she sat down in one of the pretty pink chairs.

  “Coffee, or a cool drink?” Bob asked her.

  “Uh, both please.” Amie wasn’t concentrating, her brain was whirling a million miles an hour. What was going on? Had none of these people ever met before even though they worked for the same service? Then again, the organization was probably huge with hundreds of employees all over the world. Was she over-reacting? Maybe in the spy world people changed their names all the time, but then all those in the Embassy in Apatu called him Ken. Wait, did they? Vivienne was the only person who’d ever referred to him by that name, and she was dead. When he’d assisted in Sam’s release at the airport, he hadn’t introduced himself at all. It was all very peculiar. She was so lost in her own thoughts she didn’t hear Karen asking her how the journey had been so far.

  “What?” Amie snapped to, filing away the questions to mull over in her mind later when she had time to think. For now, she would play the game.

  “I asked how the journey was?”

  “Oh, fine. The roads were good, excellent for Africa.”

  “I expected a dirt road full of potholes and furrows,” Peter was smooth. “I guess it’s watching all those David Attenborough wildlife programmes on TV back in London. You get the wrong idea about Africa.”

  Oh no, you don’t, thought Amie, you know perfectly well what the roads are like in Togodo and in South Africa. Why are you pretending this is all new? What are you up to Ken or Peter or whatever your name is?

  While they enjoyed their drinks, they agreed to continue the journey in convoy, it would be quicker and safer in the long run.

  “Felicity reckons they entered the park through the Phabeni Gate and then turned east,” Bob said.

  “Yes, I think that’s the one.” Amie remembered asking Simon if she could keep the ticket as a souvenir just before he’d dropped it out of the window. As she’d watched it fluttering in the road she was about to ask if they could stop so she could pick it up, but something told her that Simon wasn’t going to do that. Had he deliberately thrown it away?

  Amie continued. “We stay on the N4 to Nelspruit and then the R40 to White River and Hazyview.”

  “It looks pretty straight forward.” Bob studied the map.

  “I must say it’s jolly nice to feel so warm after cold, miserable and wet England,” Peter said, pushing home the point he was new to the African climate.”

  “So, this is your first visit to Africa, is it, Peter?” Amie couldn’t resist it.

  “Yes, it is, and I must admit, I like it.” His eyes warned her against any further questions. Amie felt icy tentacles slither down her spine. She dropped her eyes to concentrate on her coffee. Maybe Karen didn’t know he’d been in Togodo, maybe it was all on a need to know basis. And why were they all calling him Peter when his name was Ken? Didn’t Karen know Ken was sitting in the car right outside the Residence when she was delivered that night? Amie’s brain hurt. She was tired of trying to puzzle it out. She had enough secrets of her own to keep.

  The rest of the journey passed uneventfully. Amie had been hoping she would get to travel with Ken/Peter so she could question him, but before she could suggest it, he had swiftly followed Karen into the Isuzu. Maybe she’d get a chance later.

  Despite her frayed nerves, Amie couldn’t help relaxing a little as they drew closer to the real Africa. Soon the pockets of civilization were left far behind, and when they drove in through the park gates, she felt the primeval power of nature all around her.

  She pointed out a colony of weaver birds to Bob, along with a small herd of Springbok feeding near the road, their large, liquid eyes inquisitive, ready to spring away at any sign of danger. They passed a
troop of baboons, their red bottoms high in the air. Amie spied the heads of two giraffes just off the road.

  Bob stopped the car.

  “So majestic, and so big!”

  “My favourite animal – so tall, so large and yet so gentle. Apparently, they are an endangered species now,” Amie said remembering what Dirk had told her.

  “What? Are you sure, I thought they were all over the place.”

  “So, did I, but in the last fifteen years the population has fallen by half and now there are only about thirteen thousand left in the wild.”

  “I’ve not heard anything about that,” Bob replied. “Is it because there’s not enough space for them? Or disease? Why would anyone kill them? They don’t have tusks.”

  “It’s a silent extinction. Poachers hunt them for meat, though there are plenty of buck around, why they have to choose a beautiful giraffe I don’t know. In Africa most people have no idea these precious animals are not found in every country, so they can’t see their value, especially for tourism which would bring in mega bucks. No, they look at the short term only and seldom plan for the future.”

  Amie noticed that Bob was staring at her, and realised she may have said too much. She was aware that Maddy hadn’t given her a new cover story, so Bob assumed Felicity Mansell was an English girl who’d only been in Africa a short time working at the Consulate in Durban. But even though she would have done her research as a good consulate worker in a new country, she would have to be careful what she said. She couldn’t let on how much she loved Africa and what she’d learned in the past. That was now a closed book.

  The first night they stayed at a tented area using their own equipment. Seeing they only had two tents Amie guessed, quite rightly she would be sharing with Karen. She’d liked her at the Residence and they’d got on well, but now Karen seemed very taken with Peter, giggling at all his jokes, making sure she sat next to him as often as possible. In Amie’s eyes she was behaving like a schoolgirl, not a trained operative, she didn’t trust either of them anymore and it would be impossible to relax in their company.

  During a simple evening meal around the camp tables that evening, Amie soaked up the night sounds of the warm African night, lost in her own thoughts. The owls hooted, a lion roared in the distance and a hyena barked nearby.

  Amie observed the rest of the party carefully. Their actions told her that neither Karen nor Bob were familiar with living in the bush. Bob had taken his shoes off to stretch his cramped toes and then put them back on without shaking them out. Many a scorpion or spider had bitten an unwary foot when cornered inside a boot. While Amie had put on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of safari trousers as soon as the sun went down, Karen was sitting in shorts and a t-shirt. The mosquitoes would have a field day. Even Peter ignored one of the most basic rules. He’d left the tent flap open, an invitation to any small creature to slip inside. So often people only saw danger in the large animals in Africa, but the greatest threat was from the small things you could barely see, along with people who inexplicably told lies about who they were.

  Once she’d settled down to a comfortable sleep that first night, Amie realised that nothing had been spared in the provision of good quality camping equipment – all at Her Majesty’s expense.

  After a light breakfast and the necessary visits to the camp’s ablutions block, they drove further east, with Amie and Bob leading the small convoy. It had been an unspoken agreement that she travel with Bob, and she could see no way of getting time alone with Ken to question him. She kept up the charade and called him Peter reasoning that the deception would be explained sooner or later.

  From here on the journey was more difficult. There were fewer tourists in this part of the park, and Amie had no idea where she and Simon had originally crossed into Mozambique. They discussed the problem at the next rest stop while Karen poured out cold drinks from a massive flask she took from one of the cool boxes.

  “I vote we take the Giriyondo border post into Mozambique and work our way north from there. Does that sound reasonable, Felicity?” Bob’s finger traced the road on the map.

  “Yes, I’m not sure where we crossed into Mozambique. It’s a bit of a mystery as I don’t remember passing any official border posts, and I had my passport in my bag all the time. They would certainly have wanted to look at it. And, there are no Mozambiquan stamps in it.”

  “Without doubt,” Karen grinned. “At least this time, Felicity you’re entering legally and you’ll probably get plenty of pretty coloured ink in it.”

  Once they found the border post, it took almost two hours to get through, despite there being very few cars going in either direction. At both customs and immigration there were forms to fill in, passports to be examined, fees to be paid, and the chassis and engine numbers of the vehicles carefully checked and recorded. The border guards searched their belongings thoroughly.

  “I wonder what they’re looking for?” Karen asked Amie.

  “Could be many things I suppose. Drugs, quantities of weapons or even something they fancy for themselves,” Amie replied.

  “And they’d steal it, in full view?” Karen asked.

  “I’m sure they’d call it confiscation, say it was something we weren’t allowed to import.” Amie couldn’t believe how naïve Karen was. Didn’t even trained personnel have an idea how such matters were conducted in places like Africa? Why did everyone judge or compare life by the way it was run in their own countries?

  When Amie saw the bolt action Remington .375 that Peter had in the back of the Isuzu she wondered if the border guards would make a fuss, but they just shrugged their shoulders and nodded. Peter showed them some papers which seemed to satisfy them; they knew that travelling off road might mean you needed to scare an animal that came too close.

  At last they were through, and onto roads that were little short of appalling. Every few metres there were speed bumps, and the ruts on the dried mud made it a very uncomfortable ride. They were forced to travel very slowly.

  “Most definitely, this is not the road we were on last time,” Amie remarked to Bob as another bump flung her skywards out of her seat. “It’s much, much worse. I could never have slept through this.”

  “A huge difference compared to the other side of the border. I’m not surprised they call South Africa the jewel of the continent if all the other countries have roads like these.”

  “I’ve heard,” said Amie with care, “that in many African cities, especially large ones, they have skyscrapers and beautifully tarred roads in the centre and you could be anywhere in the first world. But then a couple of miles out, the paved roads stop and you hit the dirt with virtually no infrastructure at all.”

  “This sure is an eye opener,” Bob wrestled with the wheel as they approached yet another speed hump. “Any idea how far we go on here? I’m beginning to think we’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “We need to get north of the dam. I remember us passing it and hoping that was where we were going to stay, but no such luck.”

  They battled on for several more hours, stopping every now and again for a short break. The heat was intense; the sun beating down on the metal roofs turning the cars into saunas. The dust swirled in the little wind there was. The engines were getting hot and they’d already mended one puncture. It was difficult to gauge if they were still in a national park area or not. They’d passed through a couple of villages where the children ran out to shout and wave, but while the locals were not allowed to live inside the park boundaries in South Africa, the rules might be very different on this side of the border.

  The next time they stopped, Peter insisted it was his turn to lead the way. “We’re making ridiculously slow progress here,” he snapped. “I’ll take the lead from now on.”

  Bob simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “It’ll be less work for us,” he muttered to Amie. “If they disappear down a hole, we don’t have to follow.”

  “Very true, as long as we remember to hang
back out of their dust cloud.”

  They followed the same atrocious road for a couple more miles before coming to a fork. Without hesitating Peter swung to the left, inexplicably he appeared to know where they were going, and the hair on Amie’s neck prickled.

  Half an hour or so later, the Isuzu stopped and Karen and Peter got out. Bob pulled up behind them and they alighted.

  “I think this is the general area,” Amie said. “It’s the same sort of open woodland – much greener than before, but the trees look familiar.” An image of Kirk’s body made her shiver.

  “This is the camp site, right?” Peter glared at Amie.

  She was amazed they’d driven to the exact place. Finding a needle in a haystack would have been more successful. How had he found it so easily?

  “How’s that for luck?” Karen bounced over to them. “Think this is the right place, Felicity?”

  Amie walked into the clearing and inspected the site. She could just make out the blackened dirt where the fire had been, and the holes made by the tent pegs. Over to one side was a large mound of freshly turned earth covered with a cairn of stones which she guessed must be Kirk’s grave. She was glad they took the time to bury him. He might’ve been a nasty piece of work but he hadn’t deserved to die the way he did.

  She looked at the others and nodded. “This is definitely the place where we camped.”

  “So, which way did the men go?” Peter asked.

  Amie pointed. “Over that shallow ridge.” From where she was standing, she could describe the route she’d taken to follow the men and … yes, she thought, she had the photographs as well. How could she have forgotten they were still on her phone? She hadn’t sent them over the internet to Maddy somewhere in South America. She hadn’t been sure how secure the line was and the question of sending pictures had never been discussed. She’d told Maddy she’d taken some great photographs here in South Africa, but there had been no direct response from her. You could encode words, but pictures were a different matter.