Red Earth

by Tony Park

  Dunn shook his head. ‘I’m not buying it, and there’s no way I’m handing over a child to you after what you’ve done, the people you’ve killed.’

  ‘This is not your war.’

  ‘You’re right about that, and it’s not South Africa’s. As far as I’m concerned, you, and the Americans, anyone who wants to bring this shit to my country can go to hell. We’ve got enough problems of our own here. Tell me, what was your deal with Bandile Dlamini? You were supposed to sell him some rhino horn, yes?’

  ‘Yes. I’d heard that despite his holier than thou comments in the media he was actually a big player in the illegal wildlife trade.’

  ‘You’ve just admitted to a crime that could see you put away for years in a South African prison.’

  ‘I’m being honest with you,’ Paulsen said. ‘I don’t have any rhino horn, but I took Dlamini’s money. Tell the cops, see if I care. Give the child to me or, if you don’t trust me with it, cut the chip out of the back of its neck with your Leatherman. The child will scream, but it will live, as long as the Americans don’t get hold of it first and exterminate it.’

  ‘Even if I agreed to your sick request, what would I get in return?’

  ‘I have no need to kill you, or the woman, or the others if I get that microchip. I will let you live.’

  Dunn scoffed. ‘I’m the one pointing the gun at the back of your head and you’re the one lying face down on the ground. I know what you look like, your name.’

  ‘So do the Americans, and they haven’t been able to catch me yet.’

  ‘You’re one man; they’re an army.’

  Paulsen said nothing. Instead he turned his face abruptly and let his cheek drop to the tarmac of the road. At the same time he dropped his arms to his side, careful to keep his right wrist downwards. The back of his neck was covered in blood. ‘I’m … I think you hit me. The shock … didn’t feel it.’ He closed his eyes and let his body go limp.

  The position Dunn had made Egil adopt had helped him with his plan. Before he surrendered he had slipped the sheath from the knife strapped to the inside of his right forearm. Unseen by his captor, Egil had been slowly pressing the needle-like point of the blade into his wrist. As they talked he had let the blood pool on the back of his neck, creating the impression of a wound.

  He lay there and heard Dunn change position behind him. Dunn nudged him in the ribs with the toe of his boot, but Paulsen had been prepared for this, and gave no reflexive response.

  Paulsen had no way of knowing if there was enough blood on his neck to be convincing, but he was counting on Dunn to do what he was sure he would. He heard the rustle of the other man’s clothing, the soft thud of the rubberised stock of the hunting rifle being placed on the ground. He willed himself to lie still, just a couple of seconds longer.

  ‘Hey,’ Dunn said. ‘Are you awake?’

  Paulsen didn’t move. He felt Dunn’s fingers touch his neck, searching for a pulse. It was his cue to strike.

  Paulsen rolled and folded his hand back, exposing the bloodied point of his stiletto. He rammed it up towards Dunn’s throat but the other man was also quick, already ducking to one side. As he moved, Dunn tried to bring his rifle up and Paulsen’s dagger pinged on the blue steel of the barrel.

  Dunn fell backwards, and Paulsen was up, on his knees. He dived on Dunn, preventing the man from bringing his rifle to bear. Dunn dropped the weapon and reached for Paulsen’s right arm, but Egil twisted his wrist, slicing Dunn’s palm.

  Dunn drew back his hand and Egil sprang to his feet. He lashed out with a kick that caught Dunn under the chin and sent him sprawling backwards. Dunn recovered quickly and, one-handed, raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. The shot boomed, but Egil was already rolling and the bullet missed him, although it was another near-miss.

  Egil closed on the other man and kicked again, knocking the rifle from Dunn’s hands as he tried to work the bolt to chamber another round. He punched the researcher with his left fist and heard the satisfying crack on the man’s skull. If the blow hadn’t knocked him out, it had dazed Dunn. Egil felt the fight go out of him. He drew back his right hand again, bared the blade, and knew that with Dunn out of the way he would easily be able to catch the young ones and that arrogant helicopter pilot, kill them, slice open the baby and –

  Chapter 24

  ‘Mike,’ Nia said. ‘Mike, can you hear me?’ She slapped his cheek again.

  Mike opened his eyes and tried to focus on her.

  ‘Thank God. It’s all right, you’re alive, but you’re bleeding.’

  ‘Paulsen?’ He looked around him.

  Nia glanced towards the body and Mike winced in pain as he turned his head to follow the direction of her eyes. Nia swallowed back the bile that was rising again in her throat. ‘I shot him.’

  ‘I thought …’

  ‘I know, I know, you told me to go with the kids for my safety, but I also told you I don’t like following orders. It’s just as well I stayed behind. I’ve seen that man in action, remember.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He grimaced again as he felt the back of his head.

  ‘You’re bleeding there as well as on your palm, but head wounds always bleed a lot. I don’t think it’s too bad, unless you’ve got concussion.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘I know where I am. Where are the others?’

  ‘Themba said he knew the way to the Nsumo. He’s heading there now, with Lerato and the baby. They’re safe, Mike.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

  ‘I know the baby’s mother and the others are still out there, but surely we can make it to safety before they find us here.’

  ‘Paulsen might have got a message to them about where we were, here in Mkhuze,’ Mike said, ‘but I’m also worried about the Americans, what they’ll do if they get to the kids first.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mike told her about the conversation he’d had with Paulsen. It seemed incredible, that whatever was on the microchip was sensitive enough that the Americans might kill three children – and possibly them as well – to cover up its existence.

  ‘I know it sounds far-fetched. And Paulsen had every reason to lie to me, to try and get me to drop my guard,’ Mike said.

  Nia nodded. ‘True, but the lengths that everyone – the Americans and the terrorists – are going to in order to get hold of this baby are crazy. I’m worried about them now. Are you going to contact the Americans to tell them where we all are?’

  Mike fingered the back of his head again. ‘I’m not sure. You know what I’m thinking?’

  She looked into his eyes. ‘I do. You want to find out what’s on that microchip before we hand the baby over.’

  ‘It’s crazy.’

  ‘It sure is. Let’s do it.’

  ‘But we have to get out of here first, take the kids somewhere safe. The only problem is how.’ Mike got to his feet.

  ‘I’ve sorted out our transport,’ Nia said. ‘I didn’t know how bad you were hurt or how we could get out of here quickly in case the woman and the others come, so I’ve organised an evacuation chopper. My friend John’s on the way.’ She looked down at the man she had just killed. ‘What about him?’

  ‘Who cares?’

  *

  Themba carried the baby on his back and the AK-47 at the ready. Lerato was close behind him, one hiking pack on her back, the other across the front of her body.

  Themba was pleased that Lerato had found a new sense of purpose. They were moving fast, so perhaps she was conserving her breath. The infant, amazingly, was sleeping. He thought of the foreign object that had been inserted into his little neck; Themba was no stranger to the concept of cruelty to children, but this seemed particularly sickening to him. He thought of Nandi again, and his vow to her. If he ever had children he would protect them with his life.

  Mike had told h
im to swing around to the south, towards the big Nsumo Pan.

  ‘If I don’t get Paulsen, the white-haired man, he will assume you are heading to Mantuma Camp,’ Mike had said before setting his ambush. ‘Go to Nsumo instead; you remember we went there? You can hide in the ablutions block, get yourselves and the baby cleaned up. I’ll come for you.’

  It was a long walk to Nsumo Pan, about thirteen kilometres, but Themba had followed the orders and was making good time, using the road. They would melt into the bush at the first sound of a vehicle engine. Mike had also ordered Nia to come with them, but she had ignored his command as soon as Mike had left them.

  In the distance he heard a gunshot, then another one soon after.

  ‘Wait,’ said Lerato. ‘Should we go back and check on them?’

  Themba looked over his shoulder at her and shook his head. ‘Keep going. He was clear in his instructions.’

  ‘All right. I’m trusting you, Themba.’

  More than an hour later they were still trudging towards Nsumo. Themba didn’t know if he would be able to keep Lerato’s trust and though she was trying to be stoic, he knew that she, like him, was thinking the worst. After the gunshots Themba had expected Mike and Nia to come find them at any time. He heard a noise, stopped, raised his hand, and cocked his head.

  ‘What is it?’ Lerato asked.

  ‘An aircraft, another helicopter, I think. Move into the bushes.’

  They heard the rotors, away in the distance, but when Themba looked up through the trees he could see no search light, no winking navigation lights. That’s fine, he thought, if I can’t see them, then they can’t see me.

  *

  ‘Two individuals, wait, three. One has a baby on its back. They’re moving south,’ said the pilot through the Sea Hawk’s intercom system. ‘About four hundred metres to the west of us.’

  The helicopter had been overflying Mkuze Game Reserve searching the bush with its FLIR – forward-looking infrared camera. They’d caught an unexpected break.

  ‘Roger that,’ Jed said into the boom microphone. This was the second Navy chopper he’d been on and they were all of them in a heightened state of alert after the disaster of the first flight in pursuit of the targets. There were only two Sea Hawks on board the warship berthed at Durban, and now one of them was gone, but Jed knew that a mini invasion force of more choppers, US Navy SEALs and CIA officers were on their way to South Africa by air at this very moment. For now it was just Jed, Franklin and Chris Mitchell on board.

  Jed knew that Chris, despite his age, was ambitious. Chris wanted to catch these fugitives and find out what, if anything, they were carrying in addition to the baby before the South Africans or any other US Government agency could beat him to it. For now the reality was that Jed, Franklin and Chris were the tip of America’s spear.

  ‘They’ve gone to ground,’ said Chris. He was watching the glowing images of the runaway kids on the screen of the FLIR. ‘Let’s not spook them. We’ll deploy a klick to the south.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Franklin.

  The pilot circled around to the south. ‘Five minutes,’ he said.

  Jed and Franklin checked and cocked their MP5s. They were each carrying half a dozen spare magazines. It might have just been three kids, but they weren’t taking any chances. Fessey, Paulsen and the other terrorists were unaccounted for.

  ‘One minute,’ Chris said over the intercom.

  Jed took off his headset. The crewmen on either side of the Sea Hawk slid open the cargo doors and Jed and Franklin waited in the open hatches. Jed flashed back to his time in Afghanistan. He’d nearly been killed a couple of times and never thought he’d be going into action like this again in his lifetime. But the war he’d left for after September 11, 2001, had never really ended.

  The pilot flared the nose of the big bird, and as it settled on its wheels Jed and Franklin jumped out. In an instant the Sea Hawk was gone and around him was the quiet of the African bush, the silence broken only by the chirp of a tiny Scops owl.

  Jed and Franklin took up positions close to the verge on either side of the road. When the kids came towards them – the FLIR had shown them using the road so he assumed they would continue to do so – Jed would show himself to them first. He didn’t want them being harmed. They would get whatever it was the bad guys were after, and they would do it without spilling more blood.

  Jed watched the road. Visibility was good, thanks to the moonlight.

  ‘Jed,’ Chris’s voice said into the earpiece of the tactical radio Jed carried.

  ‘Go, Chris.’

  ‘We’ve got a problem. Pilot says one of his engines is red-lining. We’ve got to put down so the crew can check it out. You and Franklin are on your own for now.’

  ‘Roger that,’ Jed said into the radio. He snapped his fingers and Franklin looked over at him. In a low voice he relayed the message.

  ‘At this rate the US Navy’s going to run out of helicopters,’ Franklin said.

  *

  Themba strode ahead, the baby still on his back, and Lerato half jogged to keep pace with his long steps.

  ‘Slow down,’ she hissed.

  He couldn’t blame her for getting annoyed. He, too, was feeling the effects of fatigue, but he couldn’t let them slow down. As he walked his foot crunched on a twig. He looked down.

  Strewn on the road were several more small branches in a line across his path. From the positioning it almost looked like the dead leaves and twigs had been blown across the road, but that, too, was unusual, because there wasn’t a breath of wind, and hadn’t been all day. He bent and took a closer look at the branches and leaves – they did not look like they had been chewed and discarded by elephant or other game.

  He slowed his pace and raised the AK-47.

  ‘At last,’ Lerato huffed.

  ‘Shush.’

  ‘Themba!’ a voice called from ahead. A tall man with a beard and fair hair, though not white like the one who had been chasing them, walked out onto the road. He had his hands raised, though in one of them was a short-barrelled machine gun. ‘My name is Jed Banks, I’m with the American Government. Please don’t shoot.’

  ‘Into the bush,’ Themba said to Lerato.

  She hesitated, unwilling to leave his side as Themba brought his rifle up to his shoulder.

  ‘He’s going to shoot!’ another voice called from the opposite side of the road to where the first American was standing.

  Themba started to lower his weapon. He heard one shot, then two, and felt something punch him in the shoulder. He staggered backwards, then darted to the side, towards the trees. Lerato screamed. Themba’s only thought was that he should try to stay upright; if he fell backwards he would crush the baby. He heard the clatter of an engine above and behind him and the next instant he was bathed in light.

  This, he thought, was the moment in which he would die. He wondered if the light above him was from heaven, a beam to transport his soul upwards. He suddenly felt light-headed. ‘I love you, Lerato.’

  ‘What? Don’t be stupid. Are you all right?’ She had her arm around him and the baby, supporting them.

  He could see two men on the road now in the distance. One was a black man, wearing khaki cargo pants and a safari shirt. He was raising a submachine gun. The man fired again, but the fair-haired man who had first appeared on the road put his hand on the man’s weapon and forced it down.

  The light flooded them and Themba looked up. It wasn’t the afterlife calling him, it was a helicopter, and through the open door of the rear compartment he could see Mike Dunn waving to them, motioning them to come closer. Themba took one step, then another, then crumpled to his knees.

  *

  Mike jumped down out of the Bell Jet Ranger. He ran to Themba.

  ‘He’s been shot,’ Lerato said.

  Nia came to them – Mike
had known it would have been pointless to tell her to stay in the chopper. With Lerato’s help she unwrapped the baby from Themba’s back; it was a miracle the child hadn’t been hit as well. As it was, he was screaming his little head off.

  Mike got an arm around Themba and led him to the helicopter. ‘Who was shooting at you?’

  ‘Americans,’ Themba mumbled.

  Past the helicopter Mike could see Jed Banks and his partner, Franklin, heading their way. Franklin had an MP5 in one hand and was running his left hand across his neck, motioning for the pilot to cut his engine.

  It had been a tense wait for John in the helicopter but, from what Nia had told Mike, John had pushed the Jet Ranger to its limits to cover the more than 300 kilometres to Mkhuze as fast as possible.

  ‘They tried to kill Themba,’ Lerato said to Mike.

  Mike looked to Nia, who nodded. ‘We’re South African citizens, Mike, all of us. There’s no reason for us to surrender ourselves to the CIA.’

  They helped Themba up into the chopper. ‘We need to get a dressing on that wound.’

  Nia climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and put on a headset. Mike could see she was talking to John, perhaps trying to explain why two men in khaki were walking up the road side by side, pointing their MP5 carbines at them.

  Mike pressed a dressing onto the wound on Themba’s shoulder and had Themba hold it there while he wrapped a bandage around him. Glancing through the front window, Mike could see that Franklin was taking deliberate aim at them. The American fired a burst of rounds.

  ‘Holy shit, what do we do?’ John yelled through the intercom.

  Nia jabbed a finger skywards. ‘Go!’

  Lerato kept a close watch on Themba as they flew. Mike put on a headset.