Hyena Dawn

by Christopher Sherlock

  An orange light flashed on the intercom, indicating that the link-up had been made.

  ‘This is Lynx, who is my quarry?’

  ‘Badger, old chap. Bit late for you, eh?’

  Bugger the Brits, he thought to himself, they always made fun of the CIA jargon. He tried to curb the irritation that was creeping into his voice.

  ‘Operation Troy is complete. The elections can proceed, no need for any heavy metal.’

  ‘Affirmative, Lynx. The kites were sent down just for a show of strength, if you follow my drift.’

  ‘Understood, Badger. Task force has been abandoned as planned. Survival chances nil.’

  ‘You’d better hope so, Lynx. Anything else?’

  John Fry didn’t want to continue but knew he had to pass on the information he had just received. ‘The eagle has been killed.’ ‘I say, Lynx, you’re going to be in hot water over that one. Who’s the replacement?’

  ‘Don’t know yet, Badger.’

  ‘Naughty, you’re going to get your knuckles rapped.’

  ‘Mugabe will be the favourite now. Can you handle the situation?’

  ‘Mugabe won’t win. We’ll be bringing in policemen to control the polling.’

  John smiled to himself. The absolute arseholes! Did they really think that British bobbies were going to control the intimidators?

  ‘OK, Badger, you can return to your lair.’

  ‘Good hunting, Lynx.’

  He was alone again. What was worse was that he was conscious of it - a bad sign. Being on his own usually didn’t bother him.

  He looked down at his silver-faced Piaget and saw that it was getting on. He was over half an hour late for the ball, and lack of punctuality always irritated him.

  Rayne stared up at the sky in horror. The plane had ceased circling the runway and had disappeared into the clouds.

  Sam clung to his side. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘The bastard’s not coming in.’

  Major Navrativlova was so tired that he was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. Even the endless cups of black coffee were failing in their usual stimulatory effect. He lit another cigarette and surveyed the ashtray full of butts on the table in front of him. The truth was, he was afraid of what would happen when General Vorotnikov’s replacement arrived. For the moment, he was in command of Beira, and with the port under attack it was an unenviable position.

  Someone came into the room and he turned to see who it was. ‘Ah, Carl. You come in like a stinking jackal, ready to eat your prey when the killing has been done.’

  Navrativlova hated the men from the KGB and their formi­dable power. He believed that the army came first and intelli­gence second. He also suspected they had something to do with Vorotnikov’s death - it was known that the General and the KGB did not see eye to eye.

  ‘I have some intelligence information which may make you a little more relaxed.’

  Major Navrativlova stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Don’t play games with me. Tell me what you know, Carl.’

  ‘This enemy force. They’ve a rendezvous, now, at the site of the old airport.’

  A smile lit up Major Navrativlova’s face. He ignored Carl Sverdelov’s warning - ‘Be careful. They’re obviously a crack unit’ - and jumped to his feet and ran for the door.

  Carl gazed after Navrativlova’s departing back. The man was a fool. He hadn’t even bothered to ask how Carl knew where the rendezvous was. Not that Carl would have told him the truth.

  And anyway, no one in the Russian military would ever have heard of John Fry.

  Rayne turned round with a start. The rain had stopped. Then he heard the sound that had scared him, the heavy roar of approach­ing trucks. He pulled Sam down, ran into the trees at the side of the runway and looked down the road. Was it Michael Strong with Bunty and the rest of the men?

  The trucks moved onto the centre of the runway. Even if the plane did come back, it could not possibly land now. Now he could see the troops sitting in the back of one of the trucks, the barrels of their rifles glinting ominously.

  No one had known about the pick-up point beside himself, Bunty, Mike and John Fry. And even if Mike or Bunty had already been captured, they would never have talked so quickly under interrogation. He heard the engines being switched off, and saw the Russians leap out of the trucks and run into the trees. It was an ambush. His worst fears were confirmed.

  Rayne’s mind raced as he racked his brains for a solution. Sam had crawled up next to him.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  ‘Double-cross. The Russians must have been told about the rendezvous. I don’t know how the hell to warn the guys.’ He gave her a kiss on the lips. ‘If I don’t make it, just remember that I love you.’

  ‘If you die I’ll never forgive you.’

  Not bothering to silence their movements, they moved quickly through the trees in the direction from which the trucks had come.

  Another truck came tearing along the road and turned onto the runway. To his horror, Rayne saw that Ted Donnel was driving.

  ‘Ted! It’s a trap!’ He screamed the words out of his lungs, but Ted didn’t hear him.

  A rocket, fired by the Russian troops in the trees, hit the front of the lorry, killing Ted instantly. The vehicle burst into flames. Michael Strong and the rest of the men dived out of the back into a withering hail of gunfire.

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  Rayne grabbed Sam and pulled her down as she cried out in horror. A bullet passed through the air where her head had been.

  Then Rayne opened fire on the Russians.

  Navrativlova screamed out in agony as a bullet ripped through his right buttock and flung him to the ground. He lay in the dirt, biting it with pain, clawing for something to grip onto.

  Carl Sverdelov had been right. This was the rendezvous-point all right. But these men were very good. Already they were returning fire.

  All round him there were explosions and screams. His men were dropping all the time. The enemy fire was now coming from two directions at once, although he had only seen one truck.

  After ten minutes the firing stopped, and Navrativlova could hear the screams of wounded men in the failing light. He pulled himself to a standing position, and another bullet slapped into his back and flung him face down on the dirt.

  Michael Strong lay on his back, his rifle held hard against his chest. The attack had come as a complete surprise; they’d been a sitting duck for the rocket as they drove onto the runway, and then the machine-gun fire had caught them as they bailed out at the back. He knew the enemy must have been told exactly where to find them - but he couldn’t believe that Rayne would have double-crossed them.

  The man next to him lifted himself up and started to run. Bullets tore into his body and he collapsed to the ground. Another man raised himself and a bullet smacked into his head, covering Michael with blood and bone.

  Now it was do or die. He had no idea how many soldiers had ambushed them; all he could do was retaliate whenever someone fired. Every time he fired, he gave away his position and had to move on.

  The screaming of the wounded turned the whole thing into a nightmare. In the growing darkness Michael glanced at the luminous dial of his watch and saw that it was six-thirty. He wondered if he would ever see daylight again.

  Rayne whispered to Sam to keep down. Then he eased the paper- thin combat knife out of his waistband and dragged himself forward. It would be a grim business, but he could think of no other way of getting to his men. He had to cross the runway. The enemy were moving in under cover of darkness, and he knew he would have to be careful he didn’t bump into them.

  He came across the first shape in the darkness, and slowed down. There was a slight movement, and he could see the form of a man holding his rifle, lying face-down on the ground.

  He leapt on top of him, made instant identification, and shoved the blade in hard below the lower ribs. The Russian’s head fell forward, and Rayne waited for all movem
ent to cease before crawling on again. Sam followed behind him, horrified at the loss of life. Bodies were strewn around the truck.

  Rayne moved more cautiously now, knowing he was in the area where his own men should have been. Sure enough, he found three of their bodies. He felt the bile rise in his throat. To have gone through so much, and then to be cut down by an act of treachery . . .

  In front of him he saw another still body, but he was wary. The man was holding a rifle close to his stomach - like himself, he was alive, and hyper-aware. Sudden tension gripped him. He remembered back to the ambush of months before, the horror of having killed his own men.

  Very softly, in English, he said, ‘Please identify yourself.’ There was no movement. Rayne swallowed, moved closer and spoke again.

  The shape moved - and at once Rayne was poised like a cat, hand tensed round his knife-handle, ready to leap forward onto the body. The man put the rifle down and turned over.

  ‘It’s Michael, Rayne. There’s hardly anyone left alive. Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘We had problems. That bastard Larry turned on us and then we got ambushed. I’m the only one left, except for someone I found along the way.’

  ‘And what’s going on here?’

  ‘It’s the bloody Russians. Someone’s double-crossed us.’

  Their conversation was interrupted by a burst of machine-gun fire and a high-pitched scream. After that there was a deathly silence. Rayne gazed into the impenetrable darkness that sur­rounded them.

  ‘Did you get all the planes?’

  ‘Yes, and the runway. No one will use that place for weeks. The Russians actually retreated.’

  ‘Moving around now is pretty suicidal. I got one of them further back.’

  ‘Dammit, Rayne, we can’t sit this out, it’s over ten hours till it gets light. We have to get out of here.’

  ‘OK. You can follow me and Sam back the way we came.’

  Before he could say another word, gunfire erupted from the trees. They all dropped flat. Shaking, Rayne felt for Sam’s hand. She was crying, ‘We’re finished! We’re finished!’ He didn’t say anything.

  ‘Rayne . . .’

  It was Michael Strong’s voice, barely audible. Rayne left Sam and crawled over in the darkness to where he guessed Michael to be. The big man was covered with blood.

  ‘I’ve let you down, Rayne. I wish I could have . . .’

  Blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth. Rayne gripped his head in his hands.

  ‘Michael, fight it! You’re not finished yet!’

  ‘It’s the way I wanted to die.’

  His eyes closed. Rayne felt for his pulse, but there was nothing. For Michael Strong, life was over.

  He didn’t need to say anything to Sam. He crawled back to her, and for a moment they lay together on the cold ground, not speaking, not touching. All round him in the dark he could hear movement, the soft and stealthy rustle of the Russian troops slowly closing in on them. He put out a hand to touch Sam’s face, and looked into her eyes.

  ‘They won’t be taking any prisoners, Sam.’

  He pulled the pistol out of his waistband and removed the safety. He put the barrel of the pistol to her head.

  ‘Forgive me?’

  She kissed him on the lips. ‘Rayne, without you . . .’

  The silence was suddenly shattered by the roar of an approach­ing vehicle. In seconds it was on the runway, headlights blazing, and even as Rayne’s finger faltered on the trigger it drew up beside them and an enormous black man leant out of the cab and bellowed.

  ‘Get in! For God’s sake, get in!’

  Tongogara! Rayne and Sam pulled themselves into the back of the jeep, and while Mnangagwa, smiling grimly, floored the accelerator pedal, Tongogara opened up with the machine-gun, raking the Russian troops before they had a chance to return fire.

  Rayne felt faint. He had never been so close to death. He stared at Tongogara, who fired off another fusillade of shots and then sat down in the passenger seat. His deep voice said, ‘You were betrayed. The KGB knew about your operation.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Do not ask questions, Captain Gallagher.’

  Rayne was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘I have another way out of here.’

  Tongogara turned round to face him, his eyes flashing. ‘You live up to your reputation. Where is this way out?’

  Rayne told him where the helicopter was waiting for them.

  ‘That is good. But our only way to this helicopter is along the main road, and reinforcements will be coming fast.’ He reached down and picked up two Russian camouflage jackets from the floor of the cab. ‘Here. Maybe we can fool them.’ Then, Mnangagwa put a metal helmet on his head, as did Tongogara. Rayne had to admit that they looked pretty convincing.

  Tongogara slapped Mnangagwa on the back. ‘If you see anyone coming, just keep going, and we’ll keep down.’

  A set of lights glowed eerily ahead in the darkness. Rayne slammed another clip of ammunition into the Uzi and passed it to Sam. Tongogara pulled his own Uzi carbine onto his lap and Rayne drew out his pistol. They kept very quiet, each trying to work out what the vehicle ahead of them was. The closer they got, the more it looked like a road-block. Tongogara decided they had only one choice.

  ‘Keep going right up to it, stop next to them. Don’t say a bloody word. When I whistle, open fire. And Mnangagwa, you must drive like mad to get us through.’

  ‘And if they’ve got a machine-gun placement?’

  ‘Don’t even think about it.’

  Mnangagwa slowed down, his pulse quickening as he realised it was a road-block. One truck was parked across the road, another was at the side, facing him, with its engine running and its lights on full beam.

  He aimed for the left-hand side of the road, where there was a gap between the truck and the roadside. A spotlight shone directly in his face as he pulled to a halt, and a man screamed at him in Russian. He raised his hand in a salute.

  Tongogara got the impression that the road-block had only just been set up, so that their chances of getting through were better than he’d expected. The Russian yelled again and he tightened his grip round the Uzi. The spotlight and the lights of the truck would be his first hit. After that he’d fire wild. The Russian guard came up to the side and looked in. Evidently he was fooled by their disguise because he smiled and said something else in Russian.

  Tongogara whipped up the Uzi. The bullets massacred the spotlight, and the lights of the truck a millisecond later. At the same moment Rayne and Sam started firing, while Mnangagwa accelerated forward, praying that there was enough room for him to make it past the trucks. Bullets ricocheted off the bodywork and he could hear screams of Russian invective behind him.

  The side of the jeep scraped against the truck, producing a hideous shrieking sound, and Tongogara lobbed a grenade into the back of it as they went past - the explosion nearly knocked the jeep over. Rayne aimed the Uzi out of the back of the jeep. As he had expected, the second truck swung round and followed them. As the lights began to bear down on them, he carefully sighted the Uzi, then shouted for Mnangagwa to apply the brakes; the moment the other truck came nearer, he opened fire. He knocked out the lights with his second burst, then Mnangagwa accelerated again.

  Flashes of gunfire erupted from their pursuers and Rayne lay flat to avoid being hit. Tongogara eased another grenade out of his waistband and pulled out the pin. Carefully he counted up to five and then lobbed it into the centre of the road. It exploded five seconds later in front of the truck, shattering the radiator, shrapnel hitting the driver in the face. The big truck skidded off the road and burst into flames.

  Mnangagwa shouted above the roar of the engine, ‘How much further to the helicopter?’

  ‘Another four kilometres. Just keep the lights on bright so I can see where we are.’

  They thundered and bounced along the dirt road, terrified of every blind bend ahead. Rayne prayed silently that Lois had stayed
put. If he’d gone, they were finished. The roadside became familiar and he gestured for Mnangagwa to slow down. ‘OK, we can get out along here.’

  Mnangagwa aimed the jeep along a storm drainage ditch curving off the side of the road. He wanted it to be out of sight of any soldiers who might be pursuing them.

  ‘Jump off!’

  Mnangagwa screamed the command as the vehicle started to bounce around out of control. Rayne and Sam leaped out, followed by the others, - and the jeep smashed into rocks with a terrible sound of tearing metal.

  They ran across the road and then dived into the bushes for cover. Rayne led the way, the thorn bushes tearing at him as he pushed his way deeper and deeper into the bush. They were just beginning to feel secure when there was an explosion in the distance. The jeep had gone up.

  Tongogara looked grimly back at the flames. ‘Dammit. That’s told them exactly where we are.’

  Heeding Tongogara’s words, Rayne moved faster up the slope. The moment the ground levelled off he headed to the left, towards the rocky outcrop where he hoped that Lois was still waiting for them with the helicopter. In the distance they could hear trucks drawing up, orders being yelled in Russian. Shots were fired in their direction.

  As they got to the rocks, Rayne turned round. The veld where the truck had exploded was burning steadily, and fanned by the wind that had come up after the rain, the fire was advancing rapidly along the side of the road. Silhouetted against the flames he could see the shapes of soldiers, marching steadily towards them. More shots exploded against the rocks above them.

  Now the flames danced round a big tree that stood about one hundred metres behind them. Its topmost branches caught fire, creating a bizarre firework display against the black horizon.