The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  Up above, the Milky Way began to show in a great clear swathe across the sky and the sounds of the African night increased. I removed the night vision goggles from the bag and pulled them over my eyes to take a look. Instantly the scene in front of me was illuminated in a dull green monochrome light. I had not had much occasion to use them, but they had proved useful a few times in the past. After taking a good look around for any movement of animals I made my way carefully downstream towards the gulley that I suspected was the landing point for Mr Mayuni and his band of poachers. Through the goggles, the stars above were astonishing in their clarity almost to the point of being too bright. Even from forty metres away there was no mistaking the gulley I had seen from the aerial photograph. The glint of light I had seen in the picture turned out to be a number of tin cans carelessly buried under the sand and the fireplace was also clear to see. It was the perfect spot at which to moor a boat and make drop offs and collections. A few metres ahead of me upstream from the gulley stood a large flat top Acacia tree. Its thick trunk had created a mound of soil around its base and I decided that if there were any visitors that night that I would use it as a spot from which to take the photographic evidence. Seeing no need to venture further I turned back to take my seat at the base of the Baobab and wait. There was a warm quiet breeze coming up the river and I sat in silence occasionally pulling the night vision goggles over my eyes to check for animals.

  Apart from the odd gurgle of water from the river and the distant hoot of an owl the night was silent. I pulled the bag of biltong and a bottle of water from my bag and ate. It was game biltong, perfectly spiced Impala steak and I sat eating the thin sticks of cured meat for the next hour. It was 8.00pm. when I got up and took a walk to the river bank to look and listen for any sign of Dixon Mayuni and his crew. The moon had risen by then so there was no need for the goggles. The surrounding bush had taken on a grey hue while the surface of the river glistened silver. Across the water there was only darkness and silence. Feeling perplexed and doubtful I walked back to my seat at the base of the Baobab to bide my time. I spent the next two hours sitting under the canopy of the Baobab listening to the sounds of the night. On more than three occasions I heard rustling and movement in the bush behind me but thankfully no animals emerged.

  It was at 10.15pm. that I heard the boat motor starting on the Zambian side of the river. The driver wisely kept the revs low but there was no mistaking the distinct sound of the small outboard engine in the distance. Immediately I felt a surge of adrenalin tingling in my limbs. I hear you Mr Mayuni. I retrieved the camera from my bag and checked the Astroscope night lens. Its picture showed even better than the goggles with a bright green monochrome view of the surrounding bush. Finally, I checked that the camera was on silent and the powerful zoom lens was working. All the equipment was functioning perfectly. With the droning sound of the motor growing louder I got up and walked to the mound of earth beneath the flat top Acacia tree. I lay on my stomach on the sand beneath it and tested the zoom lens once again. The foliage above created a large circle of complete darkness under which I lay in wait. Propping myself up on my elbows I scanned the gulley below with the camera. The view was near perfect with only the bottom part of the gulley being obscured by the drop off. The sound of the boat motor grew louder as the boat neared the Zimbabwe side. For a moment I thought I might have misjudged their landing point as the sound seemed to come from my immediate left. It was with great relief that I heard the motor cut back and saw the boat silently drift into the water filled gulley in front of me. There were four men in the boat, but their features were obscured by the darkness of the overhanging bush. With excitement and adrenalin buzzing through my body I pulled the goggles over my eyes. The two men near the front of the boat got off on the far side of the gulley. One of them tied a rope to a protruding branch to secure the craft while the other positioned himself alongside it to help with the offloading. The two men sitting in the middle of the boat began handing bags of supplies to the men on the bank. I removed the goggles, raised the camera and zoomed into the scene in front of me. I snapped six clear pictures of the operation as it happened. Next to be offloaded were the guns. I spotted four AK47 assault rifles, an ancient British 303 and a number of hand guns being handed from the boat to the waiting men. They worked silently and efficiently in the dim light of the moon under the overhanging branches. To my great frustration the rear of the boat was lower than the rest of it due to the weight of the motor and the fuel tanks and I could not get a clear view of the driver.

  They spoke in hushed voices that I could not quite hear from where I lay. Last to be offloaded was a metal twenty litre drum with a handle and screw cap to the top. On the side of the container was a white sticker with the universal symbol for deadly poison. The skull and crossbones were as clear as day through the zoom lens as was the word printed beneath. 'Cyanide' Oh yes. That's what I came for. Now I just need a picture of you Mr Mayuni. Come on, get off the boat. With the weight of the load having been removed, the rear of the craft had dropped further below my line of sight as had the driver. The other men were clearly black and were dressed in tattered rags unlike the pictures I had seen of Dixon Mayuni who was an albino with a thin face who wore khaki bush clothes. I was certain it was Mayuni who was the driver of the boat and it was him who I wanted to photograph so desperately. I needed only to move a few metres forward to clear the mound of earth and I would have a clear line of sight to the rear of the boat and the driver. The darkness from the canopy above would prevent me being seen and the soft sandy soil would ensure I would move unheard. Slowly I got up on one knee and moved forward crouched down as far as I could. Suddenly I heard the motor of the boat start again and I realized I might miss my opportunity to photograph Mayuni.

  There were still many metres of darkness ahead of me so I quickened my pace in order to get the shot. I will never know whether the pit fall trap was built for animals or humans, but it was expertly made and totally invisible even in the daylight as I had completely missed it earlier. My left foot broke the surface of dried reeds and hessian covered with soil and I fell the four feet to the rack of metal spikes below with a thunderous crash. Instantly a bolt of white-hot pain shot up my left leg and swirled around my groin area before rocketing into my skull like a shot of lightning. One of the twenty-five-centimetre spikes had pierced my shoe and gone through the area to the front of the arch of my left foot. The weight of my fall had ensured it travelled straight through the foot and its tip now protruded a clear fifteen centimetres out of the top of the shoe. I yelled in agony and shock as I desperately tried to back up and away to the rear of the trap to find a hand hold from which to pull myself out. Around me was a confused mess of dried broken reeds and choking dust. I became aware of shouting and confusion in the gulley below and within seconds there were three powerful torch beams focussed on the area around me. My first instinct was to get away and once I found a hand hold behind me, I forced myself up into a sitting position at the edge of the trap. The action of lifting myself up pulled the spike in my foot at an awkward angle and once again I yelled with agony. Once seated I used my right foot to find the base of the spikes. They were attached to thick piece of flat bar that had been buried in the soil at the bottom of the trap. I looked up briefly to see the torch beams whipping wildly around as the men rushed around the gulley towards me. Using my right foot, I found the flat bar near my injured foot and held it fast as I pulled the fifteen centimetres of sharpened round bar back through my left foot. Once again, a bolt of white-hot pain exploded in my brain like a firework. Once the foot was free, I glanced up and ahead of me. There was more shouting and confusion as the beams of the torches rounded the gulley and came towards me. I turned over on my front and brought my right leg up to stand.

  Already my left foot was warm and soaked with sticky blood within the shoe. Gasping with pain I hobbled desperately off into the darkness heading upstream. The left-hand side of my body was becoming increasingly numb with eve
ry step as I tried my best to put minimum weight on the injured foot. Behind me came the rumble of foot falls and the manic swinging of torch beams as my pursuers rapidly gained ground. The gunshots came in fast random bursts. Two of them passed my left ear so close, that the air was displaced and my hearing turned to a high-pitched whistle. The next shot hit my back above my right shoulder blade and spun me around like a gyroscope. I landed face up, winded, bewildered and wide eyed in the sand. Within seconds they were on me and I was blinded by the beams of the torches. Rough quick hands quickly ripped the camera and binoculars from my neck as the blood formed warm pools at my shoulder and foot. Still blinded by the torches and unable to speak from the shock I was turned over on to my front and my wrists bound with a length of thick wire. It cut into my flesh and I felt the burning sensation of the blood being cut off in my fingers. Slowly my senses began to return as they turned me over on to my side and began frantically rummaging through my pockets. I kicked at one of them violently with my right foot, the blow connecting with the side of his knee. The man yelled and fell to the floor instantly. In the torch light I could see he was middle aged and dressed in the filthy ragged clothing of a desperately poor man. One of the other men slapped me across my face as punishment. The blow stunned me further and seeing it was now futile I stopped my struggling. In the distance near the gulley I saw the dark figure of a man approaching with a paraffin lamp. He was tall and held it high so as to spread as much light around as possible. The men around me stood and were silent as he approached.

  “Well, well, well,” he said softly in perfect English. “What do we have here?”

  I blinked the dust from my eyes and spat out a mouthful of sand as I strained to see the man's face. The man handed the hissing lamp to one of the others and knelt down on one knee beside me. I smelt the man before I saw his face. It was a pungent mix of body odour and sour milk. He wore long dirty khaki trousers and his pale exposed arms were dotted with the crusty weeping sores associated with albinism and over exposure to the sun. The thin emaciated face smiled at me and there were large gaps between his yellow teeth.

  “Mr. Man,” he said,“although you took great precautions to fly your camera high this afternoon I saw it from the forest.”

  The man laughed and I smelt the overpowering rot of corruption on his breath.

  “Hold the lamp closer!” he shouted to the others.

  His narrowed eyes were a malevolent pink colour, the lids surrounded by tiny clumps of yellow mucus. With a bony hand he pulled me over on to my front and poked a finger into the soaking bullet hole in my shoulder. I screamed in agony as he turned me back on to my side. The sweat poured from my face and I blinked again to clear my eyes.

  “This is a dead man” he said as he licked the blood from his finger “Put him in the boat. It will be much easier to throw him in the river than to bury him here.”

  One of the men cautiously grabbed my feet while the other gripped me under my arms.

  “Rot in hell, you murdering piece of shit,” I whispered as I was lifted from the dirt.

  “Yes Mr. Man,” said the albino. “I'm sure I will, but you will be there first to greet me, no?”

  Two of the men broke into raucous laughter while the one with the injured knee hobbled along silently. The journey down to the gulley was excruciating but I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eyes closed as we moved. My body was tossed into the front of the boat from a height of one metre. I landed on the thick fibreglass, head and shoulders first and the blow knocked the wind from my lungs for thirty seconds. When my breath finally returned it came in great whooping sobs. Mayuni climbed carefully into the boat near the steering wheel at the stern and told the injured man to get in after him. The other two were instructed in Shona to remain and continue with their poaching mission. The motor gurgled into life as the two men onshore pushed us out into the shallows of the Zambezi. Mayuni and the injured man mumbled together as the boat made its way out towards the Zambian side. The interior of the boat was filthy and stank of rotten flesh from the tusks and animal carcasses it had carried. I lay still with by head towards the bow and my back facing the port side of the boat. I could see both men clearly in the moonlight. I began to feel for the twisted wire that bound my wrists behind my back. In their haste the men had left the two ends exposed and I was able to reach them with the fingers of my right hand. Slowly I began to twist the wires behind my back. The ends were sharp and one of them pierced the skin on my thumb, but I persevered until I felt the blood flow once again followed by intense pins and needles from the obstructed veins. Mayuni pushed the throttle forward and the boat gained speed as we neared the deep water at the centre of the river. Finally, I removed the twisted wire from my wrists completely and laid it quietly on the fibreglass hull behind me. My body was freezing cold from shock and I shivered as I lay in silence watching the men. The injured man sitting between Mayuni and myself had put his gun down on the deck behind him and was gently massaging his knee. Mayuni was not as careless and had propped his AK47 up behind the steering console where he sat.

  I could clearly see the barrel protruding from the top. It was when I saw Mayuni peering over the side of the boat and pulling back on the throttle that I decided to make my move. There was no doubt in my mind that we were now in the middle of the river and he had chosen the spot at which to throw me overboard. It was my deepest yearning wish to take Mayuni with me, but I knew he would get me first with the rifle, so it had to be the injured man seated between us. Despite the bleeding and the pain, I leaped towards him with a sudden animal snarl. His eyes were wide and terrified in the moonlight and he wailed as I pulled him overboard by his shirt. Once in the water I held his frantic flailing body between myself and the boat. The current was overwhelming and within seconds we were ten metres away and gaining as we drifted downstream.

  “Maaaiweeeee!” the man screamed as his arms flapped uselessly around.

  He was clearly a non-swimmer. The last thing I saw was Mayuni standing in the boat in the moonlight as he raised the assault rifle and pointed it in our direction. I quickly pulled myself underwater and pushed the man's body away from me. The bullets made a curious 'choo, choo' sound in rapid succession as they hit the water around me. One of them must have hit the drowning man as there was a meaty thud in the blind chaos of swirling water and sound. With my lungs burning I forced myself deeper underwater with my arms and allowed the current to carry me away. After what seemed an eternity I stopped fighting and allowed my body to drift to the surface once again. Gasping for air I opened my eyes to see the great drape of the Milky Way above. I realised I was facing downstream, so I quickly lifted my head and looked around for any sign of Mayuni and the boat. Apart from the fading sound of the outboard motor there was nothing. The force of the current was immense and I felt it pulling me, at great speed downstream. I twisted my aching and broken body in the water to look towards the Zimbabwe side of the river. In the distance I saw the grey outline of the bank and the trees moving past at a steady pace. The vast expanse of water between us seemed impossible especially given the state I was in. Nevertheless, I began pulling at the water with my left arm and kicking with my right foot in a desperate effort to close the gap between me and the moving horizon. After four solid minutes of acutely searing pain and effort I stopped in the water to gauge my progress. It appeared to me that apart from being swept several hundreds of metres downstream my efforts had come to nothing at all. If anything, the bank and tree line seemed further away. My body was starting to feel weakened and cold from the blood loss and shock and I started feeling light headed and sleepy. I resolved to lie face up in the water and allow the current to take me downstream for a while as I rested. I lay in that position, eyes closed in a dreamlike state for a good ten minutes until I lifted my head in sudden panic. Ahead of me the great river curved to right and it appeared the deep channel I was drifting in was edging towards the Zimbabwe side at the curve.

  The trees were closer and appeared to be
moving faster and faster as I travelled. With renewed energy I began pulling and kicking at the water as I had done before. Once again it seemed my efforts were in vain and I allowed myself to go with the flow. It was when I was a few hundred metres from the bend in the river I became aware of the island. It seemed small and inconsequential at the time but as I was swept nearer, I realized there was only a gap of perhaps twenty metres between it and the bank. From where I was it looked like it was only a few metres wide and covered with some sort of low growing vegetation, but it grew larger as I travelled downstream. Soon enough I realized that the deep channel I was being carried in would flow directly to the left of the island and if I missed it there was a very good chance I would once again be swept out into the middle of the river to drown or die. Desperately I began kicking and pulling at the current with my good limbs which felt like lead. After thirty seconds of gruelling effort I felt the current begin to slow around me as I left the faster flowing water and began to drift comfortably towards the island. Soon I felt the blessed crunch of river sand under my hands as I glided neatly into the shallows at the head of the island. I crawled slowly through the water on all fours before collapsing in a heap on my stomach with my legs still in the shallow water. I lay there sobbing with relief on the sand for a good minute before I raised my head to look at my surroundings in the moonlight. The island was low and covered with a thick mat of reeds. To my right not twenty metres away across a deep channel was the bank of the Zimbabwe side of the river. Overcome with exhaustion and gratitude I closed my eyes and rested my head on my right hand as I thanked my lucky stars for the very fact that I was alive. Jesus Christ Green. Maybe you will survive this night after all. Although I was aware of the blood loss from the gunshot wound in my shoulder and the hole in my foot, the shock and fatigue were kicking in and I felt my mind drifting off to the soothing gurgles of the river and the peaceful melodies of the African night. The Crocodile struck with inconceivable ferocity. It must have been three metres long and its jaw a foot wide at the widest point. Having been drawn in from the silent depths by the smell of blood its jaws clamped down on the calf of my injured left leg with unimaginable force. The hideous creature wasted no time and immediately began its death roll as it dragged my semi-conscious body back into the water. Once again, my body was spun around like a gyroscope with my flailing arms slapping the wet sand repeatedly as I was dragged backwards. Instantly my world was turned into an ear splitting mess of confusion and terror. My vision flicked between the moon and the darkness of the water every second and it was a while before I knew what was actually happening. After what must have been ten rolls I had been pulled back into the shallows and the primitive animal started the violent thrashing from left to right. A movement enhanced by its powerful tail and designed to tear the flesh and limbs from its prey. I reached into the side of my shorts and found the sheath of my knife which the poachers had failed to take off me. No sooner had I removed the eight-inch blade tan the creature resumed its death roll all the while dragging me deeper and deeper into the water. In some dark recess of my mind I knew there would be only one more opportunity to end the horror.