Dark Heart

by Tony Park

  ‘The man in the back’s got a gun!’ Richard said. ‘He’s aiming.’

  Theron fired twice. He had a clear shot from his side of the helicopter, but both machines were bucking in turbulence as they crossed a range of hills. His bullets flew wide.

  ‘Aaagh!’

  The national parks helicopter started to lose speed and altitude.

  ‘What is it?’ Theron asked Andre. ‘Are you hit?’

  ‘Fok!’ Lourens swore. ‘There’s a bloody dart in his arm!’

  ‘Get him out of the pilot’s seat,’ Richard said. ‘If it’s a dart intended for the dogs, then it could be M99, which will kill him in minutes.’

  ‘Lourens, help me get him out of the pilot’s seat. I’ll fly,’ Theron said.

  It was an awkward shuffle. Lourens scrambled out of the co-pilot’s seat and Theron climbed over the back and into it. Andre was losing consciousness and he slumped forward.

  ‘Get him off the stick!’ Theron wrenched on the control column, trying to fight the near dead weight of the pilot as Richard and Lourens each grabbed one of the pilot’s shoulders and heaved. The helicopter’s nose dropped and the machine slid towards the ground. ‘Hurry. Get him off!’

  Richard and Lourens heaved back, fighting against the g-forces as the helicopter plummeted. Collette leaned over to help as well and the three of them were finally able to drag the pilot out of his seat. Theron levelled the helicopter as the skids brushed the tops of a stand of gum trees on a farm plantation. ‘Too close,’ he said. ‘Back to the hospital?’

  Richard checked the pilot. He had stopped breathing. ‘No, Fanie. We don’t have time. It must have been an M99 dart, from how fast he has lost consciousness. He’ll be dead before we get there. The only thing that’ll save him is Naltrexone, to reverse the M99. If there’s a vet on board that helicopter he’ll have some. You’ve got to get them to land.’

  ‘Ja. All right.’

  Richard launched into CPR, breathing hard into the pilot’s mouth. Collette got down on the floor of the cabin. ‘I studied first aid in Australia. Let me do the compressions.’

  ‘OK,’ Richard said in between compressions.

  Theron lowered the helicopter’s nose and increased speed. He tried calling the pilot of the other aircraft on the radio, but there was no response. ‘I’ve got him on radar. He’s heading east.’

  ‘Mozambique?’ Lourens said.

  Theron shrugged. ‘Maybe. If they’ve got the dogs on board it would be easier for them to get them past customs from Maputo than out of South Africa. Also they’ll be in international airspace soon and technically we won’t be able to follow them.’

  ‘That’s one of my men, a national parks officer, on the floor,’ Lourens said.

  ‘I said technically. I’m not letting that bastard get away.’

  Richard and Collette kept up the CPR. It was exhausting work, but it was the only thing keeping him alive.

  ‘I see him,’ Theron said. ‘He’s flying much slower than us, thankfully. He might have a heavy fuel load.’

  Theron drew up close to the helicopter, until he was just aft and to the left of the other aircraft. ‘Unidentified helicopter, I say again, this is Captain Fanie Theron of the South African Police. I order you to land immediately. Give yourselves up.’

  The pilot of the Bell 412 turned to the right sharply and dived for the ground. This told Theron he could hear him and was deliberately trying to avoid him. Theron followed him. Collette yelped in the back as the manoeuvre knocked her off her knees onto her side.

  ‘Keep up compressions!’ Richard said.

  ‘All right, all right,’ she said. Collette righted herself and placed the heel of her hand on the pilot’s sternum once more and began pushing down.

  Theron stuck to the other aircraft and narrowed the distance between them. ‘Lourens, Musa, ready?’

  ‘Ja,’ each said in return. Lourens and Musa had positioned themselves on the right side of the aircraft.

  ‘OK. When I come up beside him, let this poes have it. Blow him out of the fokken sky.’

  As Theron eased himself alongside the other helicopter the white man in the back slid open the door and started firing at them. This time, he was armed with a pistol rather than a dart gun. A bullet pinged off the skin of the chopper, forcing Theron to jink.

  Musa was aiming at the engine. He fired round after round from his rifle, and after six shots, smoke started to stream from the Bell’s jet exhaust. The man in the other heli kept firing back and Lourens cried out, ‘Shit. I’m hit.’

  The Bell was losing height and Theron broke off the attack and circled the stricken helicopter. ‘Are you all right, Lourens?’ called Musa.

  ‘Got me in the arm. Not serious. Through-and-through wound.’

  Musa pulled a field dressing from the helicopter’s diminished first-aid kit and wrapped it around Lourens’s arm.

  ‘I’m going down,’ Theron said. ‘He’s auto-rotating by the look of it, putting down in that clearing. We’re somewhere in the Kruger Park, between Orpen and Satara, I think.’

  Richard looked at Musa. ‘Do you know CPR?’

  ‘Yebo. We learn it as part of our training, but I’ve never done it.’

  ‘Collette will show you, but keep it up. Don’t stop.’

  ‘Let me . . . let me come with you, Doc,’ Lourens said.

  The anti-poaching ranger had probably taken a bigger knock than he thought. His face was white and beaded with sweat. Richard shifted to let the other man take over the CPR. He lifted Lourens’s arm and took a quick look at the wound. There was blood on both sides of the dressing, tied just above his right elbow, confirming the bullet had passed through the muscle. Lourens couldn’t hold a weapon and might fall over if he got out of the helicopter.

  ‘Take this, Doc,’ Lourens said, passing him his Z88. ‘More stopping power than that peashooter you’ve got.’

  Richard nodded and braced himself in the door of the helicopter. Looking out he saw the Bell land heavily and tilt to one side as its right skid collapsed under the impact of the powerless touchdown. The rotor blades slammed into the ground and sheared off.

  Theron touched down a couple of seconds later and Richard jumped out and ran towards the other craft. The pilot’s door opened and Richard raised Lourens’s pistol. ‘Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!’ the pilot said as he stepped out. He dropped his weapon on the ground and raised his arms.

  Richard lowered his handgun a little, but then the man who had been shooting at them staggered out of the rear of the crashed helicopter. There was blood on his face. He raised his pistol and Richard fired twice. But Richard was still a good fifty metres away and the man ducked, so both shots went wide. The man pointed his pistol at Richard again, but was unsteady on his feet. Richard kept his own pistol trained on him, waiting for the man to stop lurching so he could take a clean aim.

  The man let off two shots, both of which skewed way off to the right. He adjusted his aim and went to let off another shot in Richard’s direction, but nothing happened. He was out of ammo.

  ‘No!’ the man screamed, realising he was done for, and threw his pistol towards Richard. ‘Please don’t kill me.’

  Richard felt the blood lust rise up inside him, as it had when he’d killed the gangster in Sydney. He wanted to kill this man, but first he needed to save Andre. ‘I need Naltrexone, now, to counteract that dart you put in our pilot.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. I’m a vet. I have it in my bag.’

  ‘Then bloody well get it, man. Now! And if you try anything I’ll shoot you in the fucking back.’

  The man limped back into the cabin of the Bell. He dragged out a plastic fishing tackle box, opened it, and rummaged inside.

  Looking over his shoulder Richard could see the still forms of a dozen African painted dogs, lying heaped on the floor of the crashed helicopter. Richard thought the veterinarian, driven by greed, must have decided to push on with the plan to steal the dogs even though he surely knew from
the gunfire and police cars at the Nel farm that his partner in crime was dead. Richard would get to the dogs in time and force the vet to revive them, but his most pressing concern right now was the pilot.

  ‘Hurry!’

  ‘Here.’ The vet held out a syringe and Richard grabbed it from him. Richard turned and ran back towards the other helicopter, where Theron was climbing down from the pilot’s seat.

  ‘Richard! Look out. Behind you!’

  Richard looked over his shoulder. In his haste to get back to revive Andre he’d forgotten the discarded pistol. The veterinarian had run to it and picked it up.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot!’ the pilot yelled to the veterinarian.

  ‘Here’s the Naltrexone!’ Richard waved it and kept running. He had to get the syringe to the dying man. He braced himself for the impact of a bullet in the back.

  The shot exploded in the damp morning air, which was quiet now that the helicopters’ engines had shut down.

  Richard kept running. The bullet had missed. He made it to the helicopter, anticipating another shot hitting him at any moment. He pushed up Andre’s sleeve, took the cap off the Naltrexone, shot a little into the air to clear any bubbles, and then plunged the needle into the man’s skin. There was no time for finesse. Almost immediately, Andre coughed and tried to sit up.

  ‘Thank God. Lie still,’ Richard said, putting a gentle hand on the groggy pilot. Only then did he turn around. Fanie Theron was standing over the vet, who was lying in the grass with a hole in the side of his head, blood soaking the ground beside him, the pistol still in his hand.

  ‘Richard,’ Collette exclaimed. ‘You saved him!’

  Richard stood by the chopper. He felt so exhausted he thought he might collapse. Collette climbed down out of the cabin and wrapped her arms around him.

  33

  Liesl had blocked out many of the things Hess had done to her while he was torturing her, but she could see the blood on her skin and she knew she was going into shock.

  She leaned against the cages and had to reach out twice to find the latch of this cage. It was hard to open and the bolt swam in her vision as she tried to slide it across. She’d already freed birds and lizards and a pair of golden monkeys, and before she’d felt too weak she’d been able to drag out the cage with the fat python in it and set it free. It had slithered, almost reluctantly, into the long grass behind Hess’s private zoo. She finally managed to open the door to this cage and a colobus monkey sprang out, nearly knocking her over.

  All that was left now was the baby gorilla. She’d wondered if she should let it go. It would need special care if it was to survive. She had Aston’s gun tucked into her pants, which she’d pulled back on, along with a lab coat. She really needed to lie down. She wasn’t thinking straight.

  She’d first staggered, bloodied and battered, to the lodge and walked in on Hess’s high-paying guests having breakfast. A couple had shrieked when they’d seen the gun in her hand.

  ‘Call the police,’ she’d demanded of a waiter. When the man had hesitated Liesl had fired a shot into the floor in front of him. He had run off, presumably to the nearest phone. The guests had stampeded. Dazed and sapped from her fight with Aston, she had then returned to the stone building in the rear compound and Hess’s container of evil to see if there was anything else held captive there. She’d set about releasing the animals and birds he’d been planning on selling. She hoped the police arrived soon, but part of her also hoped Hess would get back first. She wanted to kill him. She heard a shriek from a cage at the end of the room.

  The door swung open.

  A man stepped inside and Liesl clutched at the side cabinet. The man had an AK-47 in his hand and a green uniform. She wondered if he was a government soldier or policeman.

  ‘Get her! Tie her up now,’ came a voice from beyond.

  Hess. Liesl raised her pistol, which she’d been holding behind her back, and shot the black man in the chest. He pitched backwards.

  ‘Liesl!’ Carmel cried into her gag. Liesl sank to her knees, unable to stand any longer.

  Liesl’s hand swayed as she fired another round, but Hess had the instincts of a leopard and the speed of a striking snake. His pistol was already up and he fired twice. Both bullets hit Liesl in the chest and she fell backwards.

  Hess pushed Carmel and Henri to the floor, so they were kneeling. Carmel stared into Liesl’s lifeless eyes. She turned to Hess.

  He leered down at her and tugged the gag from her mouth. Looking down at Liesl, she retched.

  ‘I wanted to know just how much you knew about me,’ he snarled.

  ‘You bastard. You’re going to hang for this,’ she said.

  Hess laughed. ‘Your ICTR doesn’t condone the death penalty.’

  ‘No, but Rwanda does.’

  Another African man ran into the shed and through the connecting door into the container. He surveyed the blood and death, but didn’t comment on it. ‘Boss, some of the guests have called the police. That woman,’ he pointed at Liesl on the floor, ‘told me to, but I didn’t.’

  Hess nodded. ‘OK, Claude. Thank you.’ He raised his pistol and shot the waiter between the eyes.

  There was one thing Carmel didn’t know about Hess. ‘You supplied the surface-to-air missile that shot down Juvenal Habyarimana’s presidential jet.’

  Hess shrugged. ‘So the photograph you found would seem to indicate. What of it?’

  ‘Who was behind the assassination? Who bankrolled it, who planned it? Who started the Rwandan genocide?’

  Hess laughed. ‘It doesn’t matter. The genocide started long before you or me or President Habyarimana himself was born. It was born of us all, of mankind, of greed and hatred. It doesn’t matter who pulled the trigger or why.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  He shook his head. ‘Sadly, Miss Shang, this isn’t a James Bond movie.’ He chuckled again at his own joke. ‘I don’t reveal my secrets, and you don’t save the world. Not even this little corner of it. And now, I have to go.’ He raised his silenced pistol yet again and pointed it between Carmel’s eyes.

  ‘All this killing . . .’

  Hess shrugged. ‘There will be more.’ His finger curled around the trigger and began to tighten.

  A door slammed and Hess looked over his shoulder. ‘My God –’

  Hess fired but the blur of black hair and muscle and yellowed teeth and screaming was too much to be stopped by the single shot he was able to get off. The room filled with more shrieking and beating and the slap of huge feet on the linoleum floor. Carmel and Henri curled themselves into a ball and rolled away from the terrifying onslaught. There was the smell of animal everywhere and the crash of surgical instruments falling. The fallen operating table was picked up and then brought crashing down. Hess yelped and there was the sound of breaking bones. He screamed again as a huge hand swiped down on his head.

  From the last occupied cage the baby gorilla shrieked and poked its stubby black fingers through the wire mesh of the door so it could shake it. Kajoliti, the one-armed silverback they’d seen on the mountain just a couple of hours earlier, took another swipe at Hess and then ambled to the cage, grabbed the mesh and ripped the door from its hinges. He scooped the squealing baby into his arms and glared at the frozen forms lying curled on the floor before trampling over Hess’s body and ushering the rest of his troop from the confines of the room.

  The invasion was over almost as fast as it had begun.

  Henri rolled over and Carmel saw he’d been able to pick up a fallen, bloodied scalpel and had been using it to slice through the tape around his wrists. He wrenched his arms apart and stood. He looked down at Carmel.

  ‘Watch out for him. He’s not dead,’ Carmel said. Hess groaned.

  Henri rubbed his wrists and scanned the wreckage of the container until he saw Hess’s silenced pistol. He picked it up and looked down at the man. Hess coughed blood and stared up into Henri’s eyes.

  ‘OK, free me, but keep him covered,’ Carmel s
aid, her head still reeling from the commando-like raid the mountain gorilla had carried out. She’d once heard of lowland gorillas coming into a village in Congo to take back a stolen baby, but never had she heard of a mountain gorilla conducting such a rescue.

  Henri ignored her and continued to stand over Hess. She looked up at him. ‘Henri . . .’ she began. She wanted to repeat her order, and to tell him to tie Hess up so he could be arrested and tried. She did not operate under the law of the jungle; she was a lawyer, dedicated to the execution of legal justice. Then she looked at poor Liesl’s ravaged body. Liesl, who had clearly suffered so much, had presumably stuck around to release the animals that Hess must have had captive here. ‘Henri . . .’

  ‘He has caused too much suffering, Carmel. He does not deserve to live.’

  Hess looked up at him. ‘You won’t do it,’ he said.

  Henri aimed the pistol at Hess’s head and killed him with a single shot.

  He undid Carmel’s bound hands and she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his chest.

  ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘It is over.’

  EPILOGUE

  FRANSCHHOEK, SOUTH AFRICA, TWO WEEKS LATER

  Richard and Collette sat in the downstairs lounge of the Plumwood Inn guesthouse in Cabriere Street, where they were staying. Richard had helped himself to a sparkling water and poured Collette a glass of Graham Beck shiraz.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I need this,’ Collette said.

  ‘I need a clear head.’

  ‘I’m scared, Richard.’

  He reached over and put his hand on hers. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  Richard sat back and checked his watch. ‘We need to go in about fifteen minutes.’

  Collette nodded.

  Carmel and Henri had been unable to make it back to South Africa in time for Liesl’s funeral, but Richard and Collette had gone, along with Captain Fanie Theron. Liesl’s parents had, understandably, been distraught. The knowledge that Liesl was facing death just as Richard and the South African Police were saving them made their loss even harder to bear. They took some consolation from the fact that her last act had been to release a menagerie of endangered animals.