Captive_A High-octane And Gripping African Thriller
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Sonja waited for a reply. The warden she had been speaking to earlier called and said he had heard her and would try to relay the message. In the meantime the helicopter bore down on them, low and fast, its nose-mounted searchlight tracing a path towards them.
The man with the AK-47 aimed his weapon skywards. The gunner, however, had moved behind a leadwood tree and Sonja could not get a bead on him.
‘They’re going to shoot down the helicopter,’ Sonja said. ‘They used us to draw it in, to set an ambush.’
Tema looked scared for the first time that night. ‘What are we going to do?’
Sonja had turned her back on wars, on fighting and dying, and had agreed to this job on the basis that she was a trainer, not a fighter. All that had changed in a few short minutes.
‘We’re going to kill them.’
‘Shouldn’t we try to warn the helicopter again, wait for the police?’
Sonja raised her LM5 and took aim at the man who was about to help the RPD gunner take on the helicopter. He wasn’t pointing a gun at her or threatening anyone right now, but in about five seconds both gunmen would have a clean line of sight to the helicopter.
She drew a breath, watched the tip of the barrel of her rifle rise, then exhaled half a lungful of air. She squeezed the trigger.
The man with the AK-47 staggered and fell and the machine gunner let off a long burst, prematurely, Sonja hoped.
From the bush on either side of the gunner two other AK-47s started firing on full automatic. Their combined fire and a warning from the reserve’s warden, which Sonja heard squawking through her radio, made the helicopter pilot bank sharply and peel away.
The machine gunner stepped from behind his tree and saw Sonja. He let loose a twenty-round burst and she and Tema split and sprinted for cover.
Tema flattened herself behind a tree and looked, wide-eyed, to Sonja. ‘What do we do?’
The machine gun had stopped firing. ‘We advance.’
Sonja looked around her tree, fired at the gunner who had also ducked back behind cover, then ran forward. She had the satisfaction of hearing Tema laying down covering fire. When Sonja had closed the distance between her and the men she dropped down behind a granite boulder and started firing. ‘Move, Tema!’
The other woman started running. Off to her right Sonja saw a fifth poacher break cover and raise his AK-47.
‘It’s a woman,’ the man yelled.
Sonja took aim at him and fired twice. The man fell before he could get a shot off. ‘Damn straight it’s a woman.’
Sonja searched for targets but couldn’t see any more men. She fired a few shots into the bushes where she’d last seen the machine gunner. Tema came abreast of her. ‘Stop, Tema, get down.’
Tema did as ordered but looked to her, panting. Sonja thought she could almost see disappointment, maybe anger, on the younger woman’s face. ‘Why? We have them on the run, let us finish them.’
‘They’ve got an RPD machine gun. If they find good cover and reload we’ll be tickets. You have to learn when to break contact, when to retreat.’
Tema’s lips were pressed firmly together. ‘I don’t want to retreat. I don’t ever want a man to think he can hurt me again just because I’m a woman.’
Sonja nodded. ‘I don’t think that will happen to you again, Tema.’
Tema scanned the bush, searching for targets, while Sonja checked in on her radio. She listened to conversations between several men.
‘What now?’ Tema asked.
‘The national parks helicopter was hit by ground fire. The pilot reported a fuel leak and turned back to Skukuza. Patience is in luck, though, there’s another chopper coming from one of the lodges and they’re going to take her to the hospital in Nelspruit.’
‘Thank the Lord,’ Tema said.
Sonja listened into her earpiece again. ‘Yes, and thank that British billionaire and bunny hugger Julianne Clyde-Smith who owns Khaya Ngala Safari Lodge. It’s her helicopter. Now, let’s get back to the girls.’
They stood and Tema looked over her shoulder to where the remaining men had disappeared. ‘I don’t want them to get away.’
‘Neither do I,’ Sonja said. ‘It makes me sick. But that’s what happens in war; sometimes you have to retreat.’
Tema was coming down from the adrenaline high of her first combat and Sonja knew what that was like.
Tema sniffed and wiped her eyes, the resentment gone from her voice, which was softer now. ‘This is a war.’
Tony Park was born in 1964 and grew up in the western suburbs of Sydney. He has worked as a newspaper reporter, a press secretary, a PR consultant and a freelance writer. He also served 34 years in the Australian Army Reserve, including six months as a public affairs officer in Afghanistan in 2002. He and his wife, Nicola, divide their time equally between Australia and southern Africa. He is the author of fourteen other African novels.
Also by Tony Park
Far Horizon
Zambezi
African Sky
Safari
Silent Predator
Ivory
The Delta
African Dawn
Dark Heart
The Prey
The Hunter
An Empty Coast
Red Earth
The Cull
Part of the Pride, with Kevin Richardson
War Dogs, with Shane Bryant
The Grey Man, with John Curtis
The Lost Battlefield of Kokoda, with Brian Freeman
Walking Wounded, with Brian Freeman
Author’s note
The problems facing Africa’s wildlife seem almost as numerous as the number of non-governmental organisations trying to protect and conserve it.
I am a supporter of several charities taking very different approaches to these issues, including anti-poaching, relocation of wildlife, conservation and demand reduction. There is no single solution to the problems of poaching and the illegal trade in wildlife products.
The organisations and people depicted in this novel may bear similarity to real-life bodies and individuals, but I assure you they are not based on any person or group.
First published 2018 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd First published in the UK in 2018 by Pan Books an imprint of Pan Macmillan
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ISBN 978-1-5098-7656-3
Copyright © Tony Park 2018
Cartographic art by Laurie Whiddon, Map Illustrations The right of Tony Park to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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