She climbed the tree until she was about fifteen feet up. It was harder than she’d expected because of her injured hand, and her sore shoulder didn’t help. But once she was up, she could see the ground in all directions for about thirty yards. If he came into the circle...
“You okay, Lee?” The shout came from the direction of the house.
“No problem,” came the response. Then silence.
Crys sat and waited. At first, she felt like the cat, patiently waiting for the mouse to come and play. But as the minutes ticked by, she started feeling more like the mouse. Where was he? Was he watching this tree? Was it safe to get down? Could he see her?
Then she heard a scuffle. Barely a noise in the night, but definitely human. Her heart beat faster, but her senses sharpened and her fear evaporated. She became totally focused. She heard the noise again. She sensed it came from her left. Better than the right for shooting. Crys shifted the rifle close to her shoulder. And waited. Calm. Ready.
She had to do something, because if Mabula didn’t arrive soon, it would be all over. She could never match their firepower.
Somehow, she had to get the man to show himself without giving herself away, halfway up the tree.
She took her shoes off and lifted the rifle into shooting position. She could only hope he would react with a spray of bullets when she dropped them.
She took a breath and threw them out of the tree. She heard them hit the ground. Almost immediately there was a burst of fire from a tree nearby. She aimed at the muzzle flashes and fired.
The firing stopped. All she could hear were groans.
Crys slipped down the tree as quietly as she could and moved away, keeping her tree between her and the man. She hoped there were no thorns on the ground.
“You okay, Lee?” The same shout from the house. This time there was no reply.
“Lee, you okay?”
She guessed it would take them a few minutes to decide what to do. She made use of that time by making a wide arc, ending up behind the tree where the man had been. He was still groaning.
When Crys reached the tree, she could just make out the shape of someone on the ground on the other side. She thought she saw the rifle lying a few yards away. Or was it a branch? She wasn’t sure.
She had to find out. And she hoped she didn’t have to use another bullet.
“Throw your gun away and roll onto your stomach,” she said from behind the tree.
No gunfire, but no response. Only groaning.
She stepped out, pointing her rifle at the body on the ground. It was curled in a ball, still groaning. She picked up his rifle and found her shoes. One down, but there were still three heavily armed men in the house.
Crys took a deep breath and started to think about what to do next.
Chapter 36
Crys looked back at the house. Now there was light in one window—upstairs. She thought it was the one where she’d overheard Anton talking about some deal the previous morning.
She had to assume that one of Dinh’s men was either outside, lying in wait for her to show herself, or was covering the entrances to the house. As far as she could remember there were three of those: the front door—the one Bongani had tried to come out of; the kitchen door, next to the window she’d broken; and a side door off the sitting room onto the porch. Her guess was that they were all locked, and the kitchen and side doors barricaded. That left only one door to guard. It was the most likely scenario since the two vehicles were parked close to the front of the house.
Crys took a look at the rifle she’d grabbed. How did it work?
She assumed that when she pulled the trigger, it would shoot for as long as she kept it pulled. She had no idea what the recoil was like. Was it strong? Would it push her back? Would she be able to control it? Would the gun even hold its aim or just spray bullets in the general direction it was pointed? And were there even any bullets left in the magazine?
The man had fired three bursts, but she didn’t know what that meant. If she decided to use it, she would have to be ready for it to be empty. There were so many variables. But she’d come this far. She wouldn’t back out now.
She crept closer to the house, hugging the trees wherever possible. She stopped when she was close enough to see in the upstairs window—about forty or fifty yards away. There was nothing to see, but she could hear voices. Angry voices. She was too far away to hear what they were saying.
She wondered if that’s where Anton had his horns and money—in the upstairs room. Maybe there was a safe up there, and Dinh was trying to get Anton to open it—if Anton was alive that was.
Crys longed to turn on her phone to see how much longer it was likely to be before Mabula arrived, but she didn’t dare. Any glimmer of light would be enough to attract the attention of anyone hidden outside the house. Maybe even from inside the house—someone looking through a darkened window. She couldn’t give up the slightest advantage. She just had to hope Mabula was getting close.
Until he arrived, her best option was to keep shaking things up, keep distracting Dinh and his men, as she had already. If she could keep their focus on her, perhaps Michael and the others might—just might—be able to escape.
She leaned the .303 against the tree and moved slowly about fifteen or twenty yards away. Then she placed the stock of the assault rifle firmly against her shoulder, just as she would her little .22 back home. She aimed it at the lighted window and pulled the trigger for about one second. Crys was deafened and thrown backwards. She immediately dropped to the ground and scuttled back to her tree. There was no response. No return fire. She looked up. She had no idea whether she’d hit the window, but the light was now off.
She waited a few minutes, then moved back, away from the house. When she heard and saw nothing, she moved slowly around the house toward Dinh’s two vehicles. If she could make Dinh think she was disabling his vehicles, perhaps she could draw his men out of the house.
Eventually, Crys was behind a tree and had the two vehicles between her and the building. She assumed Dinh would have put a guard on them since he needed them to make his getaway. She watched carefully for several minutes and saw nobody. But since it was still pretty dark, she couldn’t be sure she was right.
She picked up a stone and threw it as far as she could away from her. She heard it hit the ground. No response. But maybe they were getting smart and were waiting for her to show herself. She didn’t like that thought one bit.
She waited a few more minutes, then put the assault rifle to her shoulder, braced herself, and pulled the trigger, spraying one of the vehicles with bullets and blowing out the tires. Immediately she ducked behind the tree, waiting for return fire. There was none. Perhaps Dinh wasn’t as smart as she’d thought.
Crys waited a moment, then started moving to a position where she could give the second vehicle a going over. She could see no one and heard nothing.
She’d only taken a couple of steps, when a figure stepped out in front of her.
“Drop your gun.” Crys could see the man’s assault rifle pointed straight at her chest. She froze. She had no option. She dropped the rifle.
“Hands on head. Dinh looking forward to seeing you again.”
He jabbed her in the back and started pushing her toward the front door.
“Dinh, I have her,” the man shouted in Vietnamese. “Open the door.”
Crys cursed herself for being so stupid.
“Move,” the man said, pushing his gun hard into her back. There wasn’t much she could do. She took a small step forward.
“Quick. Move.”
Another push.
Crys thought what Dinh might do to her and stopped. She wasn’t going to make this easy.
“Move,” the man screamed. He jammed his rifle into her kidneys, making her gasp with pain.
“Walk.” Another brutal ja
b.
She heard someone running toward them. The rifle left her back in the direction of the footsteps and let off a burst. Then, even through her partial deafness from the firing, she heard a crack followed by a cry of agony.
She turned around to see the figure drop what looked like a tire lever and jerk the rifle from the man’s hand and put him in a headlock. The two fell to the ground, each trying to gain an edge. The Vietnamese man was pulling desperately at the arm around his neck; the figure was clinging on for dear life.
As Crys grabbed the man’s rifle, she realized who the figure was. Bongani! He must have only been slightly injured when they shot him.
She pushed the rifle into the man’s side. Hard. It was payback time.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Put your hands on your head.”
The man continued to struggle. She jabbed the rifle even harder.
“Stop!”
He moaned and slowly did as she’d told him.
Bongani let go of the man’s neck and tried to stand up, but groaned and collapsed.
“Where are you hurt?” Crys asked not taking her eyes off the other man.
He groaned and pointed to his left shoulder.
“I have to get you out of sight of the house,” she said.
She jabbed the rifle into the Vietnamese man’s neck. “If you move, I’ll kill you,” she told him in Vietnamese.
He looked startled.
“Understand?”
He nodded.
She tried to lift Bongani to his feet, but he was too heavy.
“Bongani, grab my hand and I’ll pull. Try to stand. You need to get out of here.”
Keeping her eye on the man on the ground, she stuck out a hand and Bongani grasped it. Crys pulled as hard as she could as he tried to stand. Not quite enough. She had to put down the gun and pull with both hands. This time they made it, and Bongani was on his feet.
He grunted something and pointed at the house.
The Vietnamese man was running toward the front door. “Open the door,” he shouted.
Quickly Crys picked up the rifle, aimed, and fired a short burst, but missed. The recoil pushed her backwards. She pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. It was out of bullets.
“Come,” she said, helping Bongani away from the house to safety behind the vehicles.
“Wait there.” She ran to where she thought she’d dropped her rifle. Her instincts were good, and she found it quickly. Then she returned to Bongani.
“Can you walk by yourself?”
He nodded.
She walked a few yards away to recover the .303 and handed it to him. “Take this. I think there’s only one bullet left. I hope you don’t have to use it. Now walk as far as you can away from the house. Then lie down. Mabula will be here soon. Hopefully he can put an end to this quickly. Now go.”
As soon as he was out of sight, Crys paid attention to the house again. The man she’d had on the ground was nowhere to be seen—Dinh must have let him in.
Then the front door opened and the porch lights came on. She dropped into a crouch. First out of the door was Søren. One of Dinh’s men had an arm around his neck and what looked like a handgun pointed at his head. His rifle was slung over his shoulder.
Then came Johannes. This time it was Dinh himself, holding him in the same way.
“You try anything,” Dinh shouted. “We kill your friends.”
Crys hadn’t banked on this.
Then the third man came out dragging something heavy. Crys looked carefully—it had to be Michael. A wave of relief washed over her—they wouldn’t be taking him if he was dead. The man left the body next to the vehicle and ran back inside. A few moments later, he reappeared carrying something over his shoulder.
Was it Anton? No, it wasn’t big enough for him. It had to be his stash of rhino horn.
A few moments later, she heard something being dumped into the first vehicle. It sounded hard. The man ran back inside the house again, only to reappear a few seconds later, again with something over his shoulder. He dropped the bag in the vehicle.
Two large bags. That was a lot of horns. Worth millions on the street.
The man went back a third time and repeated the process.
So much for Anton telling everyone that the horns were in a bank vault in Phalaborwa. They were in the house all along. But why?
Dinh’s two men picked Michael up and dumped him in the back of the undamaged vehicle with the rhino horns. She stifled a cry as she saw his slack body. Then Søren and Johannes were pushed into the back seats of the vehicle. One of the men jumped in next to them, handgun at the ready. Dinh climbed into the passenger seat and called for the third man to get in and drive. The man jumped in, started the engine, and moved off in a sharp right turn to get back on the road that took them off the farm.
In the middle of the turn, one of the back doors opened, and Søren fell out.
There were a couple of shots from the car, and Crys let off a burst, aiming high. She didn’t want to hit Michael or Johannes by mistake.
Dinh sprayed a burst in her direction, but nothing came close, and a few seconds later the vehicle was out of sight.
“Søren,” she shouted. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” came the choked reply. “Had the wind knocked out of me.”
“Get over here.”
A few moments later, Søren limped into view.
Crys pulled her phone from her pocket, turned it on and handed it to Søren. “Mabula is the last person I called. See if you can reach him. Tell him that Dinh just left here in a vehicle with the rhino horn. Johannes and Michael are hostages, and they are heavily armed. Then see if you can find Bongani. Don’t worry, he’s on our side. I’ll explain later. He headed off in that direction.” She pointed. “He’s armed, so make sure you identify yourself. He was shot earlier, but I don’t think it’s too serious.”
“What are you going to do?” Søren didn’t look too happy.
“See if Anton is still alive.”
Without waiting for his reply, she headed for the house, rifle at the ready, just in case.
* * *
When Crys reached the front door, she hesitated, then ran in, checking left and right.
Nobody.
She dashed into the living room and then took the stairs to the second floor. She moved quickly and quietly, her mind completely focused.
She heard no sound. Not knowing where Anton would be, she ran into the first room she came to. The light was on. That’s where he was, lying on the floor facedown, oozing blood onto the floor from a nasty head wound. One hand was tucked under him; the other hand was missing all of its fingers. She gasped and took a small step back.
Dinh had been determined to find the horns.
She knelt next to Anton and felt for a pulse. There was a very weak one. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and tied it tightly around his forearm, hoping to stem the flow of blood from his hand. Then she ran out of the room to find a blanket and grabbed one from the bed next door. She came back and covered him with it. If he wasn’t in shock already, he soon would be.
Crys took a quick look around and saw a desk pushed aside and an open safe behind. It was large, certainly big enough to store three bags of horns.
She sped down the stairs. Søren was on the front porch. He was still on the phone.
“Is that Mabula?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Tell him we need medical help urgently. Anton is still alive, but only just. All I can do is keep him warm and try to stop the bleeding.”
Søren relayed the message, then hung up.
“He’s only a few miles from here. They’ve set up a roadblock for Dinh, if he goes that way.”
“I think there’s only one way out of here,
so they should be in the right place. Did you tell him they were heavily armed?”
“I did. Twice.”
“Okay. Let’s find Bongani and get him inside and see what we can do for him.”
Crys was sure there were no other men here now, so the two of them headed off in the direction Bongani had gone.
“Bongani, where are you?” she shouted.
No reply.
“He’s probably passed out, but we should be able to see him soon. The sky is getting lighter.” She pointed upwards.
“Bongani, where are you?” she called again.
This time they heard a weak response. “Over here…”
They followed the sound and soon found him lying on the ground, clutching his shoulder. His shirt was drenched in blood.
They slowly headed back to the house with Søren supporting Bongani. When they reached the living room, he helped Bongani onto a sofa and made him lie down. Crys fetched a glass of water and another blanket.
“Take it easy, Bongani,” she said. “A doctor is on the way.”
Finally, she went for two more glasses of water, and handed one to Søren.
Crys sat down, took a deep drink, and started shaking uncontrollably.
Chapter 37
“Crys, I can hear automatic weapon fire,” Søren called out. He’d gone out onto the porch.
Crys checked on Bongani and then joined him there. She also heard distant gunfire. She very much hoped it was Mabula taking down Dinh and his men and prayed that Michael was safe. And Johannes.
As if on cue, her phone rang. It was the colonel.
“Crys?” he said, surprising her by using her first name. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “What’s happening? Have you got Michael?”
“We’ve stopped them at the road block,” Mabula continued, “but it’s a standoff. I don’t want to risk Malan or Davidson. Update me on what’s happening there.”
“Anton Malan’s in trouble. I don’t think he’ll last long without medical attention. Bongani Chikosi has also been shot, but is not as bad. He has a bullet in his shoulder. I think he’s lost a lot of blood. Søren and I are okay.”
Shoot the Bastards Page 31
