But Steve was too angry to stop. ‘You’re all behaving like animals.’
Joseph Tshuma lifted his hand lazily, then whipped it back, across her face. It was such a powerful blow it knocked her off her feet and she was flung headlong into the wall.
Richard tried to jump him but the others were ready for such action and he was held back.
‘Not a good idea, Dunn.’ Tshuma walked to Steve. She had been stunned by the blow and by the force with which she hit the wall but she was trying to rise, tears of pain flowing down her cheeks. He bent and took her arm, hauling her to her feet. ‘You see, Miss Hayes,’ he said conversationally, ‘we are not like you. We are still trying to spring from the trees into the space age. Every now and then our primitive past catches up with us. This is our way. Your way . . .’ he shoved her roughly and she fell onto the settee next to Penny, ‘. . . is no good for us. There is no reason why it should be. Your way, your turn-the-other-cheek way, each man is as good as the next, do unto others, et-bloody-cetera is, quite frankly, Miss Hayes, Mickey Mouse. It doesn’t suit us. So I would suggest, Miss Hayes, that you keep your opinions to yourself and shut up.’
Oh, God, darling, do as he says.
‘Piss on you,’ she spat at him. ‘You stupid—’
He hit her again. She was knocked sideways into Penny. She had, unwittingly, used the one word that was strictly taboo throughout Africa: stupid. It was a word outlawed from one end of the continent to the other.
Tshuma walked to the middle of the room. ‘Whatever happens to these people will now happen to you,’ he snarled.
Steve, deathly white, opened her mouth but Penny gripped her arm so tightly she shut it again.
‘That’s right, my little whore, teach her to know her place.’ He looked at Richard, still held by the other two. ‘We need money and weapons,’ he snapped. ‘Get them.’
Richard shook himself free. ‘I don’t keep money here.’
‘You’d better, Dunn. Because if I don’t get money I can make life even more painful for these two.’ He waved his hand towards the settee. ‘Surely you don’t need reminding.’
‘What does he mean, Daddy?’ Penny’s voice was sharp with fear. She did not, as yet, know about Samson.
‘The whore speaks!’ Joseph looked at her in mock admiration. ‘What I mean, my little darling, is your father witnessed the execution of Samson.’ He grinned when she gasped. ‘I thought he died rather well didn’t you, Dunn? I’m not sure these two could manage it as well.’
He could not have made it plainer if he had spelled it out. Richard felt fear gnawing at his stomach.
‘Money,’ Tshuma snapped.
Richard kept some money in the safe in his study. Not a lot, usually no more than $2,000. He prayed he had sufficient to satisfy Tshuma. He turned to get it.
‘Wait!’
He turned back.
‘I will come with you.’
He followed Richard into the study. ‘Do not open the safe until I tell you, Dunn, just unlock it.’
Richard worked the combination.
‘Now open it slowly.’ Tshuma moved so he could see into the interior of the safe, the rifle steady on Richard’s chest. Richard opened the safe slowly.
‘Thank you, Dunn. Let’s go back to the others.’
Richard faced him. ‘The girls . . . you don’t have to hurt the girls, do you?’
Tshuma smiled with his mouth only. ‘I don’t have to hurt them, no. I don’t hate them enough. But you, Dunn, I hate you enough to hurt them in front of you. They won’t die easily. You can blame yourself for that.’
‘For God’s sake man, why?’
‘I think you know why. Get going.’
The others, in their absence, had not moved. It looked like time had frozen. Penny had her arm around Steve’s shoulders who had her own arm across Penny’s lap. Elizabeth and Wellington stood near them, Elizabeth’s apron still hanging lamely in her hands. Through the French doors Richard could see Winston sniffing the body of the puppy. He could not see the gardener.
‘Tie them up,’ Tshuma snapped. He turned to Richard. ‘Where’th rope?’
‘Ousthide.’ Richard mimicked his lisp. Tshuma either ignored him, or did not hear. He felt better for doing it although he knew it was risky. He caught a look of approval in Penny’s eyes.
He was thinking rapidly. We’ll have to try to escape. A bullet in the back will be better than what this bastard is planning. But the rifle in Tshuma’s hands never wavered, it simply shifted direction so that it was pointed at Steve’s head.
The pilot returned with rope from the garage. They were trussed tightly, hands, feet and then, as a precaution, tethered to heavy furniture. They were helpless.
‘We’re going to ransack your precious house now, Dunn. We’re going to break everything we see.’
Richard tried to shrug but his bonds were too tight. ‘Help yourself.’ He was elaborately casual.
‘I will.’ Tshuma looked happy. ‘But where you’re going I guess it won’t matter, will it?’
The men moved upstairs. They heard the smashing and crashing as glass, mirrors, furniture, anything they could break, was systematically trashed. ‘Thank God David is away for the night,’ Penny whispered. Then she smiled wryly. ‘That’s probably the first time I’ve ever put him before me.’
‘All good things . . .’ Richard said. But his heart was not in it. He was too afraid of what would happen to them all. ‘If anyone gets a chance, make a run for it.’
‘I’m not leaving you behind,’ Penny said.
‘Just do it.’ Even if one of them could be saved.
‘But, Daddy . . .’
‘Don’t argue, Pen. You don’t know what he’s planning.’
She did not want to know. She fell silent.
‘Steve?’
‘Uh huh.’ Her voice was choked.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Humiliated. I’ve never been hit before. It’s humiliating.’ Tears fell freely again.
‘Hang onto your anger, darling.’ He knew it might help her.
‘Master?’ Wellington sounded completely normal, friendly and cheerful.
‘Yes, shamwari.’
‘I am thinking they might want some food.’
‘Perhaps.’ What’s he getting at?
‘If one of us prepares food there is a little bit of rat poison under the sink.’
‘It’s been there for years, probably doesn’t work any more.’
‘It works, master. I used it in the garage when you were on safari. What I am saying is that it is not in the tin it came in. I put it into a plastic container. It is unmarked.’
Richard nodded. ‘Everybody got that?’
They all nodded.
‘Anything else we can think of?’
‘I have a hunting knife in my room,’ Penny offered.
‘Mangwana?’ Richard said, incredulous.
She smiled slightly at that. ‘It’s been there all these years. I’ve only just remembered it.’
Years before, when Penny was eight or nine, she had wanted a skinning knife for her birthday. Richard had bought her one but Kathy, outraged, had banned its use. ‘She’s too young.’
Penny had flown into a furious rage. Kathy remained unimpressed but Richard, unable to stand his daughter’s disappointment, had hidden the knife under the carpet in a corner of her room. ‘It’s our secret,’ he had whispered to a sobbing Penny. ‘It can stay here until you are older.’
‘How much older?’ she had demanded, mollified by the sharing of a secret from her mother in spite of her disappointment.
‘Mangwana,’ he had said, coward to the last with her.
‘After this night? Tomorrow?’
‘Big mangwana,’ he had replied, knowing it would be many tomorrows before Kathy allowed her to use it.
‘How big?’
‘As big as an elephant.’ He had jumped in the air to indicate great height and she had giggled, her disappointment forgotten.<
br />
‘Are you sure it’s still there?’ He could not believe it would still be under her carpet.
Penny looked over at Elizabeth who shook her head. ‘I have never found this thing.’ Despite their predicament Elizabeth still managed to sound disapproving. A knife was for boys.
‘Shows how well you clean the room,’ Richard growled in mock anger.
Elizabeth giggled. ‘Master, how many people clean under a carpet?’
‘Millions and millions.’
‘Name three.’ Penny had joined the game. It lifted their spirits.
‘My mother does.’ Steve saw what they were doing. If it helped, anything at all, they could use it to make them feel less helpless.
Elizabeth giggled again. ‘You whites,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You are such funny people.’
Wellington tutted. His wife, in his opinion, had overstepped the mark.
The crashing continued upstairs.
The telephone rang shrilly.
‘Probably someone to tell us Tshuma’s escaped.’ Richard stared longingly at the instrument. If he had not been tethered to the leg of a heavy cabinet he might have been able to knock the receiver off and shout for help.
The sound stopped as abruptly as it began.
‘Probably the Armstrongs inviting us to dinner.’ Penny tried a lascivious grin but was unable to bring it off. ‘Lindy probably wants another crack at you, Dad.’
‘Whoever Lindy is I’ll scratch her eyes out.’ Steve played their game.
Richard looked past her. He sensed movement outside but when he looked he saw nothing but the garden. Then the hedge moved. It moved sideways about five metres and stopped. Winston, next to the body of the puppy, saw it too. Don’t bark. For Christ’s sake, don’t bark.
Winston barked.
A black head popped around the hedge and whistled quietly. Then a stone was thrown at the dog. Winston thought it was a ball and went chasing after it. The hedge moved sideways again.
Richard said nothing to the others. Moses must have survived the shot and run to the village. He had no doubt that his workers were now crouched behind the uprooted hedge, trying to figure a way to rescue them. But they would be unarmed. He did not like their chances. So he said nothing, not wanting to get everyone’s hopes up.
Tshuma reappeared, alerted by the ringing telephone and Winston. ‘Someone on the phone?’ he taunted.
‘Wrong number,’ Richard growled.
‘Very funny, Dunn.’ He peered out through the French windows. ‘What’s the dog doing? Why did it bark like that?’
‘Probably chasing a rat. He often does that.’
But Tshuma went outside and roamed the garden near where Winston was frantically searching for a ball. The hedge stayed where it was. Tshuma returned to the lounge and Richard let out a slow breath.
‘We’ve made quite a mess upstairs.’ He was smiling. ‘Care to see?’
‘Not really.’
The other two came back. The pilot was holding a framed photograph of Kathy and Richard on their wedding day. She was smiling up at him. He was looking back at her, his eyes heavy with love. It was his favourite picture of Kathy. The pilot swung his arm and the glass splintered, cutting the photograph. He removed the print and tore it to shreds. Then he let the pieces fall through his fingers.
‘So much for your wife, eh, Dunn?’ Tshuma gloated.
‘You can never take her out of our hearts,’ Penny had started to cry. Seeing her mother so callously treated had upset her.
Tshuma ignored her. ‘Make us some food.’ He untied Wellington and looked back at the others. ‘Smashing the white baas’s home has made us hungry.’
The other two laughed.
Wellington left for the kitchen, followed by the pilot and the other man. Richard’s heart sank. The hedge was making its way around to the kitchen side.
Tshuma tried to make casual conversation while he waited for food. No-one responded. After several attempts, he gave up, disgruntled. His exhaustion was very evident. There was no longer any sign of the hedge.
Ten minutes of silence. The grandfather clock, an inheritance from his grandmother, ticked loudly, its heavy brass pendulum swinging solidly back and forth, its very sound and appearance comforting and familiar. Joseph Tshuma rose, picked up the poker from the fireplace and swung it at the clock, smashing the stained glass and the beautifully polished, gleaming mahogany. The pendulum carried on swinging as though nothing had happened. In a frenzy of violence, Tshuma smashed the poker back and forth until the clock was reduced to rubble.
‘Feel better, do we?’ Richard asked sarcastically. His Gran’s clock was one of his prized possessions but he’d be damned if he would let the bastard see how much it hurt.
Tshuma ignored him, calling out loudly, ‘Where’s the food?’
‘It is coming, master.’ Wellington carried a laden tray. The two behind him, pangas held ready, grinned at the destroyed clock.
As he placed the tray on the coffee table, Wellington gave the briefest shake of the head. He had been unable to do anything with the rat poison. Richard was hardly surprised. That left them with the skinning knife and the men behind the hedge.
Wellington was retrussed and the three invaders sat on the floor around the coffee table and ate the food. Then the pilot spotted the liquor cabinet and the half-full decanter of cognac. Tshuma did not drink any but he made no effort to stop the other two.
Drink up, you bastards. The more pissed you get, the easier it will be.
Neither man was falling down drunk by the time they finished the decanter but they both had a fixed look about their eyes. The liquor had fired their imagination and made them bold. They were staring at Penny in open lust.
Tshuma saw their intent and cut the ropes tethering Richard, Steve and Penny. He also released their ankles. ‘Before we deal with the business end of this little visit, I think we should have some fun.’ He jerked his head at Penny. ‘We’ll go upstairs now, my little dove. I think your father might enjoy watching.’
‘Daddy!’ It was a scream of terror.
He was helpless. His hands were still roped together behind his back. Tshuma held the rifle fifteen centimetres from his chest. If he moved so much as an eyelid Tshuma would pull the trigger. He was no use to Penny dead.
Elizabeth had tears flowing from her eyes. ‘Go with the spirits, my daughter,’ she called in Shona. ‘Fly with the spirits.’
But Penny, with fear hammering into her brain, did not hear her.
As they passed through the hall to go upstairs Richard looked frantically through the kitchen window for the hedge but he saw nothing. ‘Now,’ he thought fiercely. ‘Now, Whatever you’re going to do, do it now.’
They were herded into Penny’s room. Richard and Steve were forced to sit on the floor and, by elaborately trying to find a comfortable spot, Richard placed himself where he thought he had hidden the knife.
Penny was pleading with Tshuma. She was sobbing and begging. Joseph Tshuma watched her impassively. Finally, and lazily, he hit her just as he had hit Steve earlier. With her hands still tied, she lost her balance and went crashing to the floor. Tshuma went to her and, in one swift movement, ripped her nightdress from her body. The other two moved forward for a better look.
‘Put her on the bed.’ Tshuma had more rope in his hand. Penny was spread-eagled, tied to the four corners of the bed, her womanhood open for the men in her room to touch, stare at, abuse.
Richard’s fingers scrabbled under the carpet. It was difficult with his hands tied but he finally felt the bone handle of the knife under his fingers. His relief at finding it almost made him call out in elation. He had not expected it to be there. Steve edged closer, shielding his actions. Nobody was watching them. They were all looking at Penny. He prised the knife out and, by pressing his back hard into the wall and using his leather belt to shield himself from its sharply honed cutting edge, he jammed it, blade up, against the wall. Then he began to saw at the ropes around hi
s wrists.
Penny screamed. Richard ignored her. He had to. He cut his thumb down to the bone. But the pain of it did not stop him hearing the squeak of bedsprings as one of the men climbed up next to her. He sawed frantically. He heard Steve next to him gasp in horror. Heard Penny begging. Heard the bedsprings squawk and squeak as Penny fought and fought as best she could. Heard the other man cry, ‘Hurry, hurry, give it to her. My turn, my turn.’ Heard Penny sobbing. Heard the man on the bed gasp, ‘Untie her legs, get her legs up, I can’t get in.’ Heard Penny crying. Heard the animal grunting and ragged breath of the cowardly dung-heap, maggoty animal bastard trying to rape her. Heard Tshuma laughing.
The ropes cut through and he was on his feet. As he sprang at the man fighting his daughter he knew he should have gone for the rifle. But blood was in his head, thumping, pounding, red-hot blood and he did not care about the rifle. All he cared about was Penny. He heard a shot but felt nothing. The man on his daughter, the pilot, fell on his back to the floor with Richard on top of him. He saw the man’s phallus, swollen, purple with lust. He still held the knife. Anticipating pain, death, bullets at any moment, Richard cut off that foul part of the man’s body which had dared to threaten his daughter. The pilot’s scream of pain, then of horrible realisation, was music to his ears. He drowned in it. He embraced it. He embraced death. He did not care any more.
‘Richard!’ Steve’s scream brought him out of it. He sat astride the pilot, the man’s blood pumping from between his legs, Richard’s own breath coming in ragged gasps and he realised she was at his side.
‘Steve!’ The blood was pounding, pounding in his head. She did not look real.
‘It’s over, darling.’ She was sobbing and holding him, her own hands free. ‘It’s over.’
He looked slowly around the room, his vision clearing. There were his men, the men from the village, his workers, his friends, his saviours. They were holding golf clubs. Golf clubs for God’s sake! They had gone against a gun and machetes with golf clubs. Someone had cut Penny’s bonds and thrown a blanket over her. She lay, curled into a foetal position, not moving.
He staggered up and went to her, lying next to her, putting his arms around her hurt and bruised, abused and terrified little person. She went absolutely stiff until he whispered, ‘It’s me, Penny-farthing. It’s me. It will always be me.’ And he held her and rocked her.
Storms Over Africa Page 38
