‘I’m not surprised,’ muttered Cornelius.
‘But you don’t really have an NIA contact?’ Calder said.
‘Of course not. I wanted to give you just enough information about the Laagerbond to make you believe I was on your side, but not enough to actually be useful.’
‘Is your brother in on this with you?’ asked Cornelius.
‘Edwin?’ Zan snorted. ‘I wouldn’t trust Edwin any more than you would. But he has kept me well informed the whole time, in fact he called me this morning. He knew I was interested in your activities, but he didn’t know why, although he may have guessed. It was Edwin who told me that you and Kim were so eager to find out about Martha, and I passed that on to the Laagerbond. Except they screwed up again.’
‘And so they blew up my sister. Crippled her.’ Scorn and anger mixed in equal measure in Calder’s voice. ‘An innocent woman. A mother.’
‘As I said, they screwed up,’ said Zan. She turned to Phyllis. ‘Where are the keys to the aircraft?’
‘They’re locked in a cupboard in the hut at the airstrip.’
‘And where’s the key to that?’
Phyllis didn’t move. Zan was still pointing the rifle at Calder. ‘You’re a brave woman,’ said Zan. ‘Give me the key or I’ll shoot him.’
Phyllis blinked. Then she slowly pulled a set of keys out of her pocket, and began to select one.
‘Throw me all of them,’ Zan said. ‘By my feet.’
Phyllis tossed the keys on to the floor, and Zan crouched down to pick them up.
‘Good. Now, put your hands on your heads and come out of the cottage one at a time.’
She placed the diary in Phyllis’s small backpack, which she slung over her shoulder. Then she opened the door and backed out. Phyllis came first, followed by Calder and Cornelius. Benton came last. As Zan was backing away, he paused before the threshold and slammed the door shut. Zan lowered her rifle and pressed the trigger. It was a giant round. It rammed into the door, shattering it, and on the other side Benton let out a cry. The door swung open to reveal him lying on the ground, clutching his shoulder.
‘Up!’ Zan shouted. Benton didn’t move. ‘I said get up!’
Benton sat on his haunches, his face crumpled in agony. He was trying not to scream and barely succeeding.
‘Get him, Alex,’ Zan said.
Calder slowly went over to Benton and picked him up.
‘Now move! Over to the shed. And take it slowly.’
They walked in single file, Zan’s gun raised behind them. Calder staggered under Benton’s weight. He was losing a lot of blood.
‘Get in!’ barked Zan as they reached the hut. ‘In!’
They did as they were told. ‘Back! Back as far as you can!’ They moved to a pile of junk along the back wall, as Zan stood in the doorway. She raised the rifle, aimed at the light bulb and fired, all in one movement. The report of the powerful weapon sounded like an explosion in the confined space and the bulb shattered. She was a good shot. Calder saw his opportunity to lunge forward, but in an instant the gun was lowered and pointed at his chest.
‘I said, back!’
Calder stepped back.
Zan’s eyes fell on Cornelius. She hesitated, unsure what to do with him. ‘Pa? Pa. Won’t you come with me?’
‘Come with you? Where? You have nowhere to hide. The only place you’ll be going is jail!’
‘Don’t you see that I did all this for you? For you and for our people? Martha was an evil woman. She had just had sex with this man when I shot her. You’re a powerful man, Pa. You can fix this. You can make things all right again. Come with me.’
‘Zan, you are the evil one,’ Cornelius said. His voice was hard and cold and laced with contempt. ‘God damn you, you’re no daughter of mine!’
A tear ran down Zan’s cheek, then another. She bit her lip. All her strength and bluster seemed to be slipping away. For a moment Calder thought she was going to put down the rifle and slump to the ground. Then she blinked back the tears and her face hardened as she made up her mind. She moved with manic energy. With one hand she grabbed a small can of paraffin and threw it outside, the rifle pointing steadily at her captives. She snatched a box of matches by the oil lamps and backed out of the hut. She slammed the door shut.
There was no window, it was pitch black. Calder threw himself at where he remembered the door was but it held. His hands fumbled for the latch, but he heard a key turning in the lock. He felt Cornelius beside him. Also scrabbling for the latch. ‘She’s locked it,’ Calder said.
‘What’s that?’ said Phyllis.
They could hear the trickle of liquid, then they could smell paraffin.
‘Oh, God,’ said Cornelius. ‘Zan! Zan!’ he yelled. ‘Let us out! Zan!’
Calder stepped back and trod on something. Benton screamed in pain. Then Calder charged at the door. It held.
Sounds outside. A gentle whump. Then crackling as the wood caught light. As Calder hit the door again, he could feel its warmth. He paused. In the confined black space the noises were loud, so loud. Benton’s whimpering. His own heavy breathing. The sound of Cornelius banging against the wall. The darkness was already getting warmer. He felt a rising tide of panic within him, a desire to lash out, to beat the walls with his fists, to do anything to get out of there.
‘There’s a pickaxe,’ Phyllis said calmly, her disembodied voice a couple of feet behind him. ‘There’s a pickaxe over by the far wall. I’ll get it.’ Calder could hear her moving, bumping into things. ‘Stay calm. Stay by the door. It’s the weakest part of the structure, the walls are solid log.’
Calder remained still, taking deep breaths to try to stay calm. The door was warm. The hut was growing warmer. The crackling was growing louder. Panic seeped through the darkness: Cornelius and Benton managed to remain silent, but he could feel their fear. He couldn’t yet see the flames or smell the smoke; when he could it would probably be too late. Phyllis was taking for ever. He wanted to tell her to hurry up but he knew that wouldn’t help.
‘Got it!’ said Phyllis. ‘Where are you Alex?’
‘Here!’ Calder shouted.
Phyllis bumped into something and gave a little cry. Then there was a scream of pain as she stepped on Benton. ‘Where?’
‘Here!’ repeated Calder urgently. He held out his hand and felt Phyllis’s. A moment later the pickaxe handle was in his grasp.
‘Stand clear!’ he said. He stepped back and swung. The pickaxe bounced off hard wood. The wall. He could smell smoke. It stung his eyes in the blackness. He saw a flicker of light at the bottom corner of the door. The flames would be in the hut in a moment. He swung again, above and to the right of the flicker. Wood splintered. Another swing. More splinters, the flicker of flames, smoke, a sliver of daylight. Another swing. More daylight now. Smoke tickled his throat. If he coughed it would all be over. He held his breath, aimed for the door lock which he could now see, and swung again.
The lock shattered and the door swung open, letting in a ferocious wall of heat. Flames licked into the hut, running almost instantaneously over the beams and along the roof. Cornelius charged through the flames out into the open. Calder turned and grabbed hold of Phyllis. ‘Go!’ he yelled and pushed her into and through the flames.
He breathed in smoke. Coughed. Bent down, grabbed Benton’s leg. Pulled. Benton yelled and began to scrabble along the floor. God, the bastard was heavy. Calder coughed again. Benton’s screams were smothered in his own spluttering. Calder charged at the flames in the door, keeping his head down, dragging Benton behind him. It was searing hot, he felt his hair ignite, his skin burn and then he was through into the delicious open air.
Cornelius grabbed Benton’s other leg and dragged him out. Benton’s clothes were on fire. Cornelius ripped off his shirt and smothered the flames. Benton gasped for air.
‘Which direction is the airstrip?’ panted Calder.
Phyllis pointed towards the bush.
‘You stay with Bent
on,’ Calder said to her. ‘Cornelius, you go back to the camp and get some help.’
Cornelius nodded and started along the track. Calder set off into the bush after Zan.
30
The ground was rough and bumpy, with stones and holes hidden under the yellow grass. It was possible to make a path through the scattered trees, bushes and termite mounds, but Calder soon realized he wasn’t moving in a straight line. He had only gone a few yards, but he could no longer see Benton and Phyllis. He glanced up at the sun and decided he needed to aim just to the right of it. He estimated the airstrip was less than a mile away. Zan ran marathons; it wouldn’t take her long.
It was hard running on that terrain, and his chest was soon rasping for breath. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he caught up with Zan, but he knew that after what she had done to his sister he couldn’t let her get away. He dodged round a thorn bush and caught his sleeve in one of the branches, which pulled him up short. He tugged, but the thorns were barbed and wouldn’t let go. He brushed his left hand on one and it scratched him badly.
He stopped and carefully ripped at his shirt, making sure that he kept the rest of his body away from the bush. It took him a full minute, but eventually he broke free, leaving a strip of cloth attached to the thorns.
He checked the sun for his bearings and saw, right in front of him, an elephant watching him. It was only a baby, about five foot high. It turned and moved rapidly away from him towards some trees twenty yards away.
He didn’t move.
Behind one of the trees was what looked at first like a huge grey wall. There was an explosive trumpeting sound, and a crashing of leaves and snapping wood as the tree was brushed aside and a massive elephant erupted towards him, ears flapping wide. Don’t run, Phyllis had said. Calder planted his feet apart and raised his arms. The elephant kept coming. Calder kept his eyes open and focused on the tusks, which must have been more than six feet long and sharp. The elephant was close, too close, such a heavy beast moving at such a speed couldn’t possibly stop in time.
He closed his eyes. Then opened them. Somehow the elephant had halted. It was only ten yards away, a huge tower of grey muscle. Calder’s arms were still outstretched. He didn’t move. For a moment he looked up and caught the elephant’s eyes. Angry, threatening: don’t mess with my kid.
He lowered his gaze, fearing that he might antagonize her. The calf had trotted to a safe distance behind its mother, together with three other elephants that had stopped and were watching.
It was difficult, but he stood his ground. The elephant continued to stare at him, ears flapping, for a minute, maybe two. Then she turned and moved halfway back towards the calf.
Calder shifted sideways, always facing the animal. The elephant reached up to some branches with her trunk and snapped them angrily. They were thick branches: her strength was extraordinary.
It took him another minute to move into the cover of the nearest trees, and even then he walked slowly backwards for fifty yards or so, listening to the snap of branches, and the occasional angry trumpet.
Behind him an aircraft engine sputtered into life. It was close. He was now what he judged to be a safe distance away from the elephant, so he turned and ran towards the noise. He broke into the clearing to see one of the Piper Warriors lining up on the runway. A small herd of antelope were scattering in front of it, leaping in all directions to confuse this strange predator. As the aircraft began its takeoff roll, Calder sprinted to the small hut near the remaining parked aeroplanes. Sure enough, the door was open, and inside was a metal cupboard, also open. Calder grabbed the two sets of keys and ran over to the Cessna 172. He looked up and saw Zan’s plane clearing the trees to the west, towards the mountains.
He climbed up on to the fuselage and quickly checked the tanks for fuel. He could barely see any, but it was notoriously difficult to assess visually how full a Cessna’s tanks were. He heard the sound of a vehicle and saw a Land Rover speeding towards him, driven by Darren, the ranger, with a bare-chested Cornelius in the passenger seat. Calder started up the engine. Cornelius jumped out of the Land Rover carrying one of the game reserve’s rifles and ran towards the aircraft. Calder opened the passenger door for him and he climbed in.
‘Let’s go,’ he said.
Calder did as many of the take-off checks as he could while taxiing to the threshold of the runway, lined up, and opened the throttle for full power. As the aircraft began its take-off roll, he glanced at the fuel gauges. Half full.
‘How’s Benton?’
‘We got him back to the main lodge. Phyllis is binding up his shoulder, she seems to know her first aid. An ambulance is coming, and the police, but they’ll take a while to get here.’
The wheels left the runway and Calder entered a low climb at full power. Zan had about five minutes on them, which in a Warrior equated to about eight miles. But she would not necessarily be flying at maximum speed. He hoped to be able to catch her before she realized he was on her tail.
As they climbed, he and Cornelius scanned the horizon ahead of them. It was hot in the small cockpit and there was a strong smell of Calder’s burnt hair, mixed with sweat. He opened up all the vents. The sky was mostly clear, with a few white puffy clouds about 6,000 feet up. Calder had been trained to scan the sky for small dots, but it was Cornelius who spotted Zan, about seven miles ahead and 1,000 feet above them. They were gaining on her. She was climbing; in a few minutes she would reach the Drakensberg escarpment.
‘Where’s she going?’ Cornelius asked.
‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s looking for a quiet airfield somewhere a long way from here where she can land and disappear. Has she much flying experience?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Cornelius. ‘She’s flown all over the country.’
‘Let’s follow her and see where she lands. Then at least we can tell the police. Here, pass me that.’ Calder pointed to a map on the coaming in front of Cornelius. He handed it over.
Calder glanced at it. South Africa was a huge country, covered in small landing strips. She could be going anywhere.
‘I’ll see if we can get some help,’ he said, pressing the mic button on his radio. He had no idea of the local channels: the radio was tuned to 119.0. ‘Mayday Mayday Mayday. This is …’ He glanced at the aircraft registration taped to the instrument panel ‘… Zulu Sierra Romeo Tango Oscar.’
‘Mayday, Zulu Sierra Romeo Tango Oscar, Lowveld Information, go ahead.’
‘Lowveld Information, I’m a Cessna 172 about fifteen miles west of the Kupugani game reserve. I’m pursuing a Piper Warrior about five miles ahead of me. The pilot was involved in an attempted murder at Kupugani. The local police have been informed. My intention is to track her and watch where she lands.’
There was a brief silence as the controller digested what must have been a very odd radio call.
‘Tango Oscar, squawk two-one-zero-seven for identification. We’ll contact the police now.’
Calder twiddled the knob on his transponder to 2107. The transponder would send out a signal that Lowveld Information could monitor to find his position.
‘Tango Oscar, we have you identified.’
‘Can you see the aircraft in front of me?’ Calder asked.
‘Negative, we have secondary radar only.’ That meant they wouldn’t pick up a signal from Zan’s aircraft unless her own transponder was switched on, which was highly unlikely.
‘Have you contacted the police yet?’
‘Tango Oscar, stand by.’
‘She’s changing direction!’ Cornelius was pointing up towards Zan’s Warrior. It had indeed altered course about thirty degrees to the north.
‘She must have heard our radio transmission,’ Calder said. ‘She’s looking for us.’
While they were directly astern and below Zan, it was impossible for her to see them, and they had been able to catch her on full power setting. Now they were no longer gaining as Zan, too, put on full power.
‘Damn. She’s
heading for that cloud!’ They were climbing past 6,000 feet, the level of the white puffs of cloud. Zan’s aircraft was heading for the largest of these. Within a minute it had plunged inside. Calder throttled back and stayed beneath the cloud, craning his neck from side to side. No sign of Zan. They passed the length of the cloud, but the Warrior hadn’t emerged.
‘She must be circling in there,’ said Calder.
‘There she is!’ said Cornelius.
She was now heading south-west, climbing towards a larger cloud bank that was forming just above the Drakensberg escarpment. Calder turned tightly to follow her. Once again she entered the cloud. The mountains were too close below, so Calder climbed to try to get above the layer. A thousand feet higher he set up a wide circle pattern.
He couldn’t see her.
She’d got away.
‘Tango Oscar, this is Lowveld Information. We’ve spoken to the police and they have confirmed your story. Do you still have visual with the Warrior?’
‘Negative,’ said Calder. ‘I’m still looking but we lost her in cloud. She was heading south-west on two-three-zero, but God knows where she is now.’
‘I’ll see if Hoedspruit can help,’ said the controller.
‘Hoedspruit?’
‘It’s an air-force base with primary radar. Stand by.’
Thirty seconds’ more circling and then the radio crackled into life. ‘Tango Oscar, Hoedspruit has identified the other aircraft on their radar. It’s heading zero-four-zero about fifteen miles away from you, descending.’
‘Zero-four-zero!’ said Calder, examining the map. ‘That’s, towards Zimbabwe.’
‘Affirm,’ said the controller.
‘We’re going after her,’ Calder said, and turned his aircraft to the north-east. ‘Can you scramble a jet or something to intercept her?’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said the controller. ‘But scrambling fighters is a big deal.’
They were once more over the low bush, miles and miles of it stretching forward as far as the horizon. Although they couldn’t see Zan’s aircraft, the controller gave them bearings. She had descended to 300 feet, which would make her more difficult to spot, but it did slow her down. Calder stayed at 2,000, where the air was that little bit thinner, hence providing less resistance and better fuel consumption. The Cessna and the Piper had broadly similar cruising speeds, but they had a weight disadvantage in the shape of Cornelius, two hundred and something pounds of him.
See No Evil Page 33
