I walked back to the steel door of the chalet to watch the giant animals enjoy their evening feed. Across the lawn near the drop-off to the river bank a camp security guard held his hand up warning me not to venture out further. I acknowledged his warning with a wave and stood quietly watching the spectacle. The massive bull's thick grey skin was deeply wrinkled and caked with mud and dust. I marvelled at his large, expressive, almost human eyes that were set deep with long black lashes. They paid no attention whatsoever to the humans and slowly made their way to the right and left the camp. Once they were at a safe distance, I walked across the lawn towards the drop-off to the river bank. The setting sun had laid a thick orange slab of molten steel diagonally across the water from the Zambian side. A hundred metres away to my right a family of Hippos surfaced in the water and grunted noisily. To my left a cacophony of birdsong erupted from a large bushy tree as the tiny creatures heralded the setting sun. The cut green grass was cool and wet under my bare feet. Once again, I smelt the familiar Potato Bush on the warm breeze from the river. It reminded me of porridge. In the distance the cicadas started their loud hissing marking the end of the day. This is fucking perfect, Green. Pity about the circumstances. One of the camp workers came up and began preparing the nearby fire pit with hard Mopani wood.
“Will you be having dinner tonight sir?” he asked politely.
“What's on the menu?” I enquired quietly.
“Steak and boerwors with Sadza and relish sir,” he replied.
“Yes,” I replied as I stared downstream towards where I knew the Kafue River to be. “Please.”
I sat near the burning fire pit as the African night enveloped me. When it became totally dark, I went back to my chalet for a shower. As I dressed, I heard the sound of drums beating from the dining area which was situated near the fire pit. I made my way across the lawn through the trees which were cleverly fitted with up-lighters. The dining area was thatched as well and had various hunting trophies mounted on the walls. I sat down at the long table and drank a cold beer as I watched the reflection of the near full moon rising on the silent river. The meal was served after a few minutes and afterwards I grabbed another beer and went back to sit at the fire pit to plan the next day. As I sat there staring into the embers of the Mopani logs, I saw a movement from the darkness to my right. I turned to see the old man Andrew walking slowly towards me with a beer in hand.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked cheerfully.
“Not at all,” I said, “please do.”
“Shirley said you are a bird watcher?” he said as he took a seat nearby
“That's right,” I replied.
“Plenty to keep you occupied here,” he said as he took a draw from his bottle.
We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. In the distance there came the familiar booming sound of a big cat.
“Lion?” I asked.
“Yes, a family,” he replied. “They're always nearby. Hyena and Leopards too. Plenty of them.”
His words were a stark reminder that the Zambezi Valley was completely wild and there were many ways to die there. We sat in silence for a few more moments.
“How far is it to the Kafue River?” I asked.
“Flows out of the Zambian side about ten kilometres downstream,” he replied lighting a cigarette.
I nodded and took a draw from my beer. Yes Mr Mayuni. We are close now. The old man and I sat in silence staring at the fire for another few minutes.
“I saw the Elephants come through the camp earlier. Quite something,” I said.
“They're here every day,” he said “There's a big population here in the Lower Zambezi but poaching is huge as well. Bastards are using cyanide. Never seen anything so disgusting or cruel.”
The old man frowned and spat into the fire as if to remove a bad taste from his mouth. I stared into the fire and nodded knowingly. I know.... I know.
“I would like to hire a boat tomorrow if that's okay?” I asked.
“Sure, what time would you like it?”
“8.00am is fine.”
“Sure. So, after breakfast then. I'll tell the driver to be ready.”
“Perfect, thanks Andrew.”
The old man and I sat talking intermittently for the next hour. When he got up and made his excuses to leave, I asked for the hard drive. I wanted to take another look at what Hannes had said about Dixon Mayuni's camp on the Zambian side. I walked with him to the house and waited in the darkness for him to retrieve it from his safe.
“Thanks Andrew. I'll see you in the morning,” I said.
I returned to my chalet and after a liberal application of mosquito repellent plugged in my new laptop and attached the hard drive. After a few minutes of setting it up I was able to bring up the file on the hard drive titled 'Lower Zambezi Operation' I re-read it slowly from beginning to end looking for any information I might have missed as to the location of the camp. There was nothing specific apart from the fact that it was located in the remote bush near the mouth of the Kafue River. I sat back in the chair and stared at the screen. My eyes were gritty with fatigue and there was still a dull ache in the right-hand side of my head. I closed the laptop and walked to where I had stored my bags to remove the drone.
It was a simple job setting up the multi-charger for the three heavy lithium batteries that came with it. Once that was done, I locked the grille doors, dimmed the lights and put the hard drive under my pillow. With the fan still whirring softly above me I lay on the bed and stared at the thatched roof above. The sounds of the African night filtered through from the darkness outside. I reached under the pillow once to reassure myself the hard drive was safe. In a matter of minutes, I drifted off into a deep sleep. In my dreams I saw the blurred face of Dixon Mayuni from the photographs on the hard drive. His pale white skin and the blue eyes totally absent of pigment. His thin face smiled at me ominously.
Chapter Six: Electric Eye
I WOKE AT 5.30AM. TO a massive crack of thunder directly above the camp. The sound shook the foundations of the chalet and rolled away for many seconds. The rain was falling almost sideways in torrential sheets leaving little visibility in the pale morning light. Knowing the downpour would be short lived I got up and boiled the kettle to make a cup of coffee. I stood at the grille doors and watched the spectacle as I waited. It had been a long time since I had witnessed a true African thunderstorm and the experience was intense and dramatic. There was a cool wind coming through the open grille windows, so I turned off the switch for the overhead fan and stood there drinking in the scene before me.
After making the coffee I took a look at the multi-charger for the drone batteries. All three of them were fully charged and I packed them along with the drone into a day bag. I shaved and washed up after which the rain was slowly starting to ease off and the thunder rolled in the distance. I used the next hour to study the files on the hard drive further. The detail that Hannes had gone into during his investigation was staggering and it was abundantly clear that it was a highly organized and powerful group of people that were involved. It was also clear that I would need many many days to read everything he had documented. It was fascinating and deeply troubling at the same time. The fact that he had been murdered for it was a stark indication of the brutal lengths the organization would go to, in order to keep their operation secret and running smoothly. One of the files contained a number of video clips taken by Hannes not far from where I was in the Lower Zambezi Valley. One particularly harrowing clip showed a family of Elephants that had been recently shot and their tusks hacked out. Two baby Elephants had been left alive as they had no value to the poachers and were seen in a highly confused and distressed state nudging their dead mothers with their feet and trunks trying to revive them. There was no doubt as to the identity of the person taking the video. It was my old friend Hannes Kriel. I heard his unmistakeable accent as he filmed.
“Unbelievable,” he said repeatedly “Unbelievable.”
Hearing his
voice was like hearing a ghost from my past. I sat back and stared at the screen feeling angry and worried. I'm going to find you Mr Mayuni. I'm going to find you. I was suddenly snapped out of my brooding melancholy by the sound of the drums from the dining area. Outside the rain had stopped and the sun was starting to break through the clouds. The visibility was good and the trees and lawns glistened with moisture. I closed the laptop and walked to Andrew and Shirley's house with the hard drive in my hand.
“Morning, Jason hope you slept well?” said the old man.
“Very well thanks. I wanted to ask if you could put this in the safe again,” I said.
“Sure, no problem,” he said as he took it inside. “You better go for breakfast your boat driver is ready.”
“Thanks very much,” I said turning to walk across the lawn to the dining area.
Even at that early hour the sun was fierce on the back of my neck as I walked. I ate a full English breakfast under the thatched roof while watching a pod of Hippos fifty metres from the camp. In the distance on the Zambian side I watched as a group of women risked their lives by washing their clothes in the river. I was fully aware that the great river was teeming with man-eating crocodiles and I shook my head as I drank a second cup of coffee. Afterwards I walked back to my chalet in the bright sunshine to get ready to leave. I packed a couple of bottles of water in the day bag along with the drone and applied some sunscreen to my exposed skin. I hung a small pair of binoculars and my camera around my neck and locked the grille doors of the chalet on my way out. I put my sunglasses on and crossed the lawn to the firepit and the stairs that led down the river bank to the jetty. There were three fishing boats moored with one being attended to by a thin black man in a cap and dark glasses. His skin was extremely dark due to the nature of his job and his perfect white teeth gleamed as he smiled and greeted me.
“Good morning sir, my name is Amos, I will be your driver today.”
“Morning, Amos my name is Jason,” I said.
“You have no fishing equipment sir, are you not going for tigers? They are on the bite at the moment,” he said referring to the vicious African Tiger Fish so popular with anglers.
“Not this time Amos,” I said, “I'm more interested in birdwatching.”
“Ah! Okay sir but if you change your mind.”
I put my bag down and sat on one of the swivel seats at the front of the boat as Amos finished filling the tanks with petrol.
“Where would you like to go, sir?” he asked politely.
“I would like to have a look around the mouth of the Kafue River,” I said.
“Certainly, sir we can go down there but it is illegal to enter the river or to stop on the Zambian side”
“Yes,” I said “I don't want to get off the boat. I would like to take a look is all”
Ten metres from the boat a young one and a half metre crocodile surfaced ominously in the shallow water and looked at us.
“Don't worry about him, sir,” said Amos cheerfully. “He is always hanging around looking for fish scraps. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, lets,” I said.
He fired the electric start after untying the mooring rope and the engine revved into life. The bright morning sunlight glared harshly off the surface of the river into my eyes as we slowly headed out to deeper water. Once there he slowly pushed the accelerator lever until the bow of the boat dropped on to the plane and we were off at speed. The warm air rushed through my hair as we sped downstream on the dark green water. On either side of the river giant trees lined the banks surrounded by thick green bush. The steep sandy banks were a stark yellow colour against the water and the bright blue sky above. To my right a majestic black and white Fish Eagle perched on top of a tall dead tree and watched us pass. Ahead the river became wider and there were numerous reed-covered islands along the way. Amos skilfully steered the boat in wide curves alongside the islands staying in the deep channels as we went. There were pods of Hippos at various points every five hundred metres or so. They rose and snorted in the water as we passed. Amos gave them all a wide berth knowing full well the huge beasts were responsible for more human deaths than any other animal in Africa. There were herds of Waterbuck and Impala grazing on the Zimbabwe side. They raised their heads and twitched their ears as we sped past. In the thick trees above thousands of birds flocked and swooped noisily as they chased the flying ants that had emerged after the morning rain. Up ahead on the Zimbabwe side the broken remnants of an old pump house stood, still painted bright white in contrast to the surrounding greenery. Rusted pipes stuck out of its large, rounded art deco facade where they had once drawn water from the swirling green currents of the great river.
The entire valley was alive. The scenery lifted my spirits and for a while I forgot the reason I was there in the first place.
“Boss!” shouted Amos above the sound of the motor from behind me.
I turned on the swivel chair to face him.
“Kafue River up ahead!” he shouted pointing across the river diagonally towards the Zambian side.
I turned to look, surprised we had covered ten kilometres in such a short time. Across the river and ahead to my left I saw the mouth of the Kafue. Its waters were the same colour as the Zambezi but it was less than half the width at the point that the two rivers met.
“Can you take the boat over a bit nearer,” I shouted. “I want to have a look.”
He nodded and swung the wheel. As we crossed the river, we passed another island with a sandy spur at its head. Lying still on the sand was a two and a half metre crocodile. The boat passed between it and a dead tree that stuck out of the water and it never once moved, preferring to remain motionless in the baking sun. Soon enough we arrived at the mouth of the Kafue River. Amos dropped the revs and cut the motor and we drifted quietly past. There was thick bush and huge trees on either side with no sign of human habitation anywhere. I lifted my binoculars and scrutinised the banks on either side. The bush was so thick as to be almost impenetrable. Where are you Mr Mayuni ? Where do you lay your head? Feeling disappointed I dropped the binoculars and turned on my seat to speak to Amos.
“Can we head back over to the Zimbabwe side Amos?” I said. “I want to stop the boat on the bank opposite the Kafue.”
With a slightly confused look on his face he agreed and fired the motor once again. He swung the boat around and headed back upstream to where we had passed the crocodile and the dead tree. I looked to my left on the sandy spur for the beast, but it was gone. The only indication it had ever been there was the tell-tale deep, wide furrow in the sand from its heavy tail as it made its way back to the water. Amos revved the motor once again and we sped across the river towards the Zimbabwe side. I pointed towards a huge Baobab tree with a clearing around it near the steep bank.
“Over there will be fine!” I shouted.
Amos dropped the revs as we approached the bank and we drifted slowly towards a tree branch that was sticking out of the water. I caught it with my hand and steadied the boat. He came towards me with the rope to tether it, but I spoke before he could.
“I think I'll just get out and go up there myself Amos,” I said.
His forehead creased with worry.
“Boss there are many wild animals here,” he said. “Lions, Leopards, Buffalo and Elephants. It is very dangerous.”
I moved to reassure him.
“I know Amos, I am aware of that. There is a big clearing up there and I will keep an eye open for anything, don't worry. I would like to be alone for two hours please.”
“I can wait here boss, it's no problem.” he said wiping sweat from his brow.
“No, but thanks,” I said as I grabbed my bag and leapt on to the sand near the steep bank.
He moved quickly to the front of the boat and caught the branch with his left hand.
“I am worried sir. It is not usual for us to leave our clients in the bush,” he said.
“I know but I will be fine,” I replied. “Just head
up river for two kilometres and park the boat. I will meet you in this exact spot in two hours and I will have a good tip for you as well.”
He looked around briefly.
“Okay boss, please be careful. I will be back here in two hours exactly.”
“Thanks Amos,” I said as he made his way back to the steering wheel and fired the motor.
I watched as he made his way out to the deep channel and headed upstream. Gradually the sound of the motor faded and I was left with the sound of the trickle of the water around the branch and the birds in the trees above. I made my way downstream for a few metres where the bank was less steep and climbed up the sandy soil until I reached the valley floor. By the time I got up there I was sweating, so I paused to take a look around. To the middle of the clearing stood a huge Baobab tree. Its heavily gnarled trunk was at least twelve metres in diameter and a family of Vervet Monkeys chattered nervously in its massive branches above.
I scanned the surrounding bush for any sign of movement but there was none. Satisfied, I moved to a shaded area and and sat down to get to work. The drone was compact but powerful and came almost ready to fly with foldable arms and propellers attached. It was a quick job to insert one of the three lithium batteries and press the power button. The light glowed blue and the machine made a brief electronic sound to indicate it was powered up and ready to fly. I removed the transparent gimbal guard and checked the memory card was fixed in place on the 4K camera. The heat was building in intensity and I took a drink from one of the water bottles before removing the controller for the drone. Its battery was fully charged up and the LED screen flashed the word 'Welcome' and sounded a similar electronic sound as it booted up. It took less than a minute for the controller to connect to the drone and the GPS to locate fourteen satellites. Suddenly the screen showed a bright image of my knee from the drone's powerful camera that was sitting facing me on the sand a metre away. The words 'Aircraft Ready' appeared on the top left of the screen and I stood up to prepare to fly it. I picked up the drone and walked towards the drop off to the river bank where there were no branches above me. The island where I had seen the huge crocodile partially obscured the mouth of the Kafue in the distance, but I could see the right-hand side of it. I placed the drone on a flat piece of soil with the camera facing the river and stood back a few metres to start the motors. They started instantly after I had pushed the button and the tiny aircraft rose and hovered at one metre above the ground. I left it flying in place as I walked back to the shade of the Baobab tree. I made myself comfortable in the shade leaning against the Baobab tree and lifted the left control stick to take the drone up. Instantly it rose up to a height of ten metres still facing the river. The shade allowed me to view the screen without glare and I continued to raise it to a height of thirty metres. From that height I could clearly see over the island and saw the mouth of the river in the distance ahead. Still I could hear the machine clearly and I wanted to be sure that it would pass over the area I wanted to cover unheard. I raised the drone until the screen showed it was hovering at a height of sixty metres. I closed my eyes and listened. Had I not known it was there I would have been unaware of it. I stepped out of the shade to look up at the aircraft. Squinting in the sun I saw it as a silent speck hovering in the blue sky above me. I walked back into the shade and sent it up further to an altitude of seventy metres. I took a look into the screen and saw the landscape of the Zambezi River and the Zambian bush and escarpment as clear as day in front of me. Feeling confident that it would be silent and invisible at that altitude I pushed the right-hand stick on the controller forward and sent it on its way across the river towards the mouth of the Kafue. The flight range of the aircraft was five kilometres so I knew it would easily handle the distance to my target area. There was also little or no chance of any interference in such a remote location. The flight across the river took less than five minutes. I adjusted the tilt of the camera until it was facing directly downwards. On the screen I could clearly see the entire mouth of the river below the aircraft. I continued flying up the Kafue for another six hundred metres and then stopped. My plan was to move within a grid system from six hundred metres either side of the river and work back towards the mouth taking photographs every fifty metres.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 46
