Killed in Kruger

by Denise M. Hartman

  It looked like she’d have to wait until morning to see if someone would take a look. She scribbled a note as suggested, tucked it into the pay telephone in case one of the men called, and headed for the restaurant.

  The maitre d’ led her to a table just outside on the covered veranda. Tabitha studied the courses for the evening and tried to relax in the moment. Be like Daniel.

  “Ms. Cranz? Is that you?” A man’s voice cut through the noise in her head.

  Tabitha looked around and saw Chuck Alonzo at the next table. He had given up his Panama hat, so his bald pate showed. The lank blond hair clung to his neck where the hat had been. She tried to smile.

  “Hello.”

  “Shall I join you?” he asked, picking up his bowl of soup and stepping across without waiting for an answer. He reached back to retrieve his beer. His wildly colored African shirt pulled up to give Tabitha an unwanted glimpse of the full tummy beneath. “Ahh. That’s better. So much nicer than eating alone.”

  Tabitha wasn’t sure, but she nodded. The waiter came and she gave her order. Maybe it would be good not to sit and brood on her thoughts. She kept looking back across the camp toward the phones and finally gave an explanation. “I’m hoping to get a phone call tonight,” she said.

  “From whom?” Chuck asked, spreading butter on a roll.

  “Either the acting director, or the police officer I met in Nelspruit.”

  “Are you still involved in an intrigue, or do you have odd choices in men?”

  Tabitha laughed. “I guess I’ll have to go for the intrigue, if those are my only choices.”

  “Well, the director won’t be getting back to you anytime soon. A leopard escaped the park and is terrorizing a little town. The only thing left of some poor fellow were his feet, still inside his shoes.”

  “How do you know these things? They don’t announce them on the loudspeakers.” A waiter set the first course, a bowl of beefy soup, before Tabitha, and she took up her spoon with gusto. She might be small, but her appetite was usually good.

  “I have my sources. You just have to be willing to talk to people. And know who the right ones are to talk to. I just like to know what’s going on.”

  Just then the lights chose to go out, leaving them silhouetted in darkness for a few minutes.

  “Don’t be alarmed, happens all the time,” Alonzo said.

  “So I’ve gathered.” Tabitha lifted a spoonful of beef broth to her mouth. The waiters brought out kerosene lanterns for the patio and restaurant, so they were swathed in a golden light. Great, a romantic moment with Chuck. She thought of Jeffrey and felt a clamp of homesickness wrap around her heart.

  “So what’s your game?” Chuck interrupted her thoughts.

  Tabitha set her spoon down. “Actually, you’d be interested in this. I saw your archenemy today involved in questionable activities, maybe.”

  “Which enemy?” Chuck gave an evil grin.

  “The one you say is working both sides and has lots of money—Mr. Vandenblok.”

  “Ohhhh. That enemy. I wouldn’t call him that really. It’s just fortune envy on my part. Yes indeed, I wish I had his dough.”

  “Maybe you don’t.”

  “Why would you say that? Do tell. What did you see?” He smoothed his hands over his dyed golden locks.

  “I’m not sure what it was really. They were loading things, including elephant tusks, into a trough-like space beneath their giraffe enclosure. So I could be completely wrong, but I’m thinking they might be smuggling.”

  “Good show, but I think he has probably greased enough palms out here to get away clean. I’ve suspected him of smuggling for years, but never had a way to figure it out. If I were you, I’d ask for a piece of the pie, but you’re trying to turn him in to Mpande or the boy police officer. How noble.” He speared a piece of chicken from his dinner plate and pushed it whole into his mouth. He chewed, then continued, “I’ll be interested to see how your story turns out. Will he get off or won’t he? My money is on him getting off scot-free.”

  “Why?” Tabitha’s stomach turned during this speech. Surely things weren’t corrupted to that extent.

  “I just think he’s been around long enough to have made important friends.”

  “But you can’t just go around killing people.”

  “Whoa, you think he’s killing people? This is news to me. I thought it was just a little smuggling.”

  “It is. It’s just I think he was involved in my uncle’s death somehow.” She thought of the cryptic slide Phillip had shot of two people moving a carcass, and that had held so much interest for Mpande and Mhlongo. The KGR 79 note.

  “You’ve got guts. That American spirit alive and well in you. I guess my sense of justice is tarnished after so many years in the wilds, or maybe not so wilds of Africa.” He toasted her with his beer glass. He gulped and gave an “ahh” afterwards. “You need to know that crime is the national pastime here.”

  “Surely not for everyone.”

  “No, you’re right. A relative few. Probably a good chunk of the twenty-five percent unemployed who are a little bitter over their plight. A few more who just can get away with it. I’ve been robbed at gunpoint twice myself. It hardens you.”

  “So you think random violence is more likely to account for my uncle’s death? Even inside the park?” she challenged him.

  “Inside the park does cast some doubt on it, but the news in this country makes me believe otherwise. Sorry.” He bit a roasted potato chunk in half, letting the other piece fall back to his plate.

  Tabitha’s hands shook as she finished her dinner. Phillip’s death was so unfair. She made her excuses to Chuck and walked back past the telephones, willing them to ring.

  She thought of the burned shed, and Mpande’s suspicions that it was used for trafficking. This at least she could pass along. She called John Bratten at the Johannesburg Star. Of course he wasn’t in this late, but it felt satisfying to leave him a message confirming what he suspected about the park. Those haunted eyes kept coming back to her. The trafficking had to be exposed even if the park didn’t want the negative publicity. She added Chuck Alonzo as a possible source. Tabitha was sure that for a 20 Rand note he would probably give up the brothel and the pimp and maybe Bratten would get some more substantial information and bring vermin to the light.

  The camp was still dark with the electricity off. A few flashes of light came from people walking around with flashlights, and the fires at the actual camping sites. She wished Rian or Mpande would call. She picked up a receiver and listened to make sure the phones were working. She pulled her calling card out and dialed Skukuza. She asked again for Mpande.

  “Miss, it is against regulations…”

  “I know, I called earlier. I left an urgent message. Have you gotten it to him?”

  “Oh. No, ma’am. A leopard attacked someone at the edge of the park and he was called away.”

  Tabitha moaned inwardly. Of course, Chuck had been right. “Will you make sure my message gets delivered as soon as possible, please?” It was all she could ask, all she could do.

  She called the police station in Nelspruit and left another message for Rian.

  She sat on the bench by the phones and stared ahead into the darkness. Utterly helpless. She slapped her hands against her thighs. The darkness secured her. She felt invisible. While none of her official resources were available, no one knew where she was, sitting in the darkness of Africa. Strange.

  A mosquito bit her arm, making Tabitha jump. She slapped at it and shook herself.

  Tabitha changed her note to reflect her cabin number, so perchance Mpande or Rian called and someone answered the phone, they might try to find her.

  Suddenly anxious to be out of the darkness, she hurried down the path.

  She leaned against the back of her door when she got into the cabin, contemplating the inner darkness. What a mess. Tabitha believed with all her being that Vandenblok’s merry party had something to do with Un
cle Phillip’s death and the attempt on Daniel’s life. With Mhlongo dead, she supposed they might never know the connection.

  She needed to decide about leaving. Admit defeat and pack the bags? She would give the film she’d shot today on the hill overlooking the encampment to Mpande or Minaar, whoever seemed more interested and ready to act. Or whoever called first. What Chuck said had depressed her previously hopeful spirits. Maybe Vandenblok had greased palms like Chuck suggested, and nothing would happen. She might have to shake the dirt of this country off her feet and head for home with or without answers. It just wasn’t in her to admit defeat. She found a flashlight and moved to work on her bags. She still couldn’t shake the jumpy feeling, but she put it off onto the tension of the last few days.

  She was brushing her teeth by flashlight when she heard a knock at the door. She spit in the sink and shut off the water. “Coming,” she called. She paused. “Who is it?”

  “Ma’am, you are Cranz, I think? You have a phone call.” An African voice came wavering through the door.

  Good, someone had called. She wouldn’t have to go to sleep with this knowledge churning in her head.

  “Coming,” she called. Tabitha fumbled for her shoes and slipped on the flip-flop sandals she’d brought as slippers. She tucked her t-shirt into the orange pajama pants she wore.

  She yanked open the door and stood facing the barrel of a gun.

  Chapter 65

  “Vandenblok?” Tabitha had heard an African voice.

  “Sur-prised I can talk Af-ri-can.” A bead of sweat shone on his upper lip.

  “What are you doing here?” She inched back a step, but he pushed the toe of his boot against the door, insuring she couldn’t close it. Her hand slipped on the doorknob. This couldn’t be real, but the pounding inside her chest felt like reality.

  “I’ve come to collect you. I need another twenty-four hours, and I didn’t think you were going to give it to me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tabitha stood rooted to the ground.

  “You and your bloody camera snooping around my compound. I must be cursed that you’d be there right as we were transferring some, ah, property.” The night wind ruffled his mix of blond-gray hair. He squinted his wrinkled eyes harder.

  Tabitha’s knees felt as though they would collapse under her weight. “Why do you think it was me? I’m just trying to get some nature stories done, so I can go home.”

  “You had the wildlife in an uproar this afternoon. Of course we noticed. You may as well have waved a banner from the hilltop.”

  “I thought what you were doing was legitimate,” Tabitha said. She heard the lame sound of this in her own ears, but her mind seemed paralyzed. It was the best she could do.

  “Then why were you skulking around on the hill, instead of driving into camp and talking to us?”

  Tabitha didn’t have an answer for this, but she backed away from the gun pointing at her chest. She could feel the pounding of her pulse in her temples.

  “Where’s the film?” Vandenblok asked. He strode into the cabin and pushed the door closed behind him. He perused the room, keeping Tabitha firmly in the gun sights.

  “Film?”

  “Don’t play innocent with me.” He seized upon a small bag and ripped it open. Several rolls of exposed film tumbled out.

  “Those are my souvenir rolls,” she said in a desperate attempt to keep him from destroying them. “I took the rest in for development already.”

  He dropped one to the floor and crushed it under the heel of his boot. The top popped, exposing the film. His anger and viciousness beat at Tabitha almost like a physical blow. She knew she couldn’t stop him. Tabitha looked at the crushed rolls as he stomped them and thought of the shots at Sunset Dam that night. It had been a visual poem. The light had been that perfect sunset glow. She’d actually enjoyed herself. Probably something usable there. Not anymore. She watched as he ground the canisters beneath his heel one after the other. Stomp, crush, grind. She knew there was another bag in the car and hoped she’d left some of the good stuff out there. The roll of his campsite was in the truck glove compartment. It might never matter now, though. She was afraid to move in case he turned his fury on her, but she tried to stifle the fear.

  “I hope you’re satisfied. I have no souvenirs. You can go now.” Tabitha flopped down on the lone chair in the room. She hoped to appear nonchalant, but her shallow breathing could barely get any oxygen into her lungs.

  “Not so quickly. Stand up,” Vandenblok’s commands came quick and sharp. The bouncing of their two flashlights ripped apart as the electricity and the lights came on.

  The pale yellow of the room spun for a moment. Tabitha slowly obeyed. Her trembling hands gave her fear away. Vandenblok crossed the room, shoved her against the wall. Her forehead banged against the cement block wall, shooting pain through her neck muscles. She fought, but his strength overcame each movement. He tied her arms behind her with a leather strap he extracted from a pocket.

  “Why are you doing this?” Tabitha remembered reading things about making captors see your humanity. “I just came here to get some stories on nature.”

  “I already told you. I need more time. Your bloody interference.” He muttered to himself in Dutch.

  He used the binding on Tabitha’s arms to propel her to the door. He jammed the gun into her ribs as he opened it, and they stepped out into the night. The sound of night insects peppered the air. Faint laughter came from the other end of the compound where the outdoor campers lodged. One dim outdoor light brightened the far end of the dirt road around the camp. Tabitha felt a chill in short sleeves, but it went beyond the outside temperature clear to her bones. Is this how Uncle Phillip met his end too?

  He marched her toward a dark corner of the fence line where a stile straddled the fence. Tabitha was sure the park would not encourage visitors to use the rickety metal steps. The darkness beyond the dim light of the camp was total, like black velvet. A distant barking told of animals in the blackness. Every muscle in Tabitha’s body quivered. She recognized it—that stunned feeling, like after a car accident. Her thinking felt slow, but she had to pull her mind together.

  If he made it outside the camp with her, she was a goner. Better to act now. Tabitha arched her head back and screamed with all her might. No words, just a crazed desperate cry.

  Vandenblok grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted, making her gasp. “I ought to kill you here, but I may need you as insurance to get out of the country tomorrow. Or maybe I want to enjoy killing you.” He spoke quietly in her ear. His breath on her skin repelled her soul.

  They heard footsteps as people came out, searching for the source of the scream. Tabitha reared back to scream again. He twisted her hair to move her face toward the ground. Her violent scream came out as a gurgle. Vandenblok yelled, “Hyena, hyena in the camp.” A tumult arose at the camping end of Lower Sabie, and Vandenblok forced Tabitha over the steps of the stile and into the dark. She muttered and cried out, but by now the tumult in the camp drowned out her sounds. They picked their way along the fence line for a short distance until a shape emerged from the dark. An open Jeep.

  Vandenblok lifted her into the vehicle, her hands bound behind her. She tried kicking him, but he avoided her. Why did she have to be so small? He climbed across her to take his place in the driver’s seat, and tore out onto the main tar road. The headlights only dimly illuminated the narrow strip of asphalt. She knew the engine noise would block out any cries for help. Tabitha looked over her shoulder and saw the shrinking lights from the camp. She could make out the shapes of people running back and forth in the camp, searching no doubt for a fictional hyena. She saw the beams of flashlights break the darkness of the fence line. Would anyone discover her absence? Almost no one knew where she was in the first place.

  She thought of Jeffrey and started to cry. She really did want to spend her life with him. Now it would never happen. Hold on. Quit sniveling. Think. Don’t just go like a lam
b to the slaughter. She swiped at her eyes with her shoulder. She looked into the African darkness and decided it would be better to take her chances with the wild animals than with Vandenblok in his camp.

  The Jeep took a curve in the road, and Vandenblok slowed down. Tabitha leaned out into the darkness head and shoulders first and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard Vandenblok swear as she tumbled out.

  Chapter 66

  Vandenblok continued to swear as he veered the Jeep to the side of the road. How much further had he gone since the interfering girl had thrown herself out? Maybe she’d broken her neck and done his work for him.

  The tires skidded on the sand shoulder. He turned the Jeep around, facing approximately the direction where she flung herself out, and popped on the high beams. He jumped out and looked, but only darkness met him. His eyes couldn’t make a quick adjustment beyond the headlights into the pitch black.

  He muttered to himself in Dutch, flipped the seat forward and scrounged in back. He needed a flashlight. The chunky light finally slid into his hand. He switched it on and checked his pistol. He wanted all the chambers full. He was tired of these games.

  Vandenblok marched back the ten meters it must have taken him to get stopped. He began flicking the light back and forth across the veldt and the area near the road. He saw the spot where it looked like he’d started to swerve, so this must be where she’d gone out. He started into the bush. Again he swept the light across the veldt. He thought he saw a movement and raised his pistol.

  Chapter 67

  Diving out of the open Jeep, Tabitha was suspended in mid-air, then her shoulder struck the ground with a shot of pain. She let the energy of the fall roll her over and over. She came to a stop, gasping, and tried to listen to her body. Her shoulder hurt terribly, but everything felt intact. Hopefully she wasn’t bleeding much. She didn’t want to trade in a two-legged killer for a four-legged one chasing the smell of her blood. She wanted to crawl through the bush grass, but her hands tied behind her made it impossible. She heard the screech of brakes and tires on loose gravel. She had to hurry. Vandenblok must be turning around. She needed to get further away from the road. She needed a hiding place. She struggled to stand, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. Wimp, she told herself, and started trotting as fast as her flip-flops would let her.