Hyena Dawn (49 page)

It had occurred to him that there must be other Western businessmen besides Aschaar who would be interested in developing the new Zimbabwe. He had been wrong to involve Aschaar.

Aschaar had to leave Beira by plane. An accident could be arranged. The Lear jet was the perfect target for a heat-seeking missile, and he had SAM-7 rocket-launchers amongst his armoury. He wished he had the American equivalent, he wasn’t particularly happy about the effectiveness of the SAM-7. He remembered the statistics from the Yom Kippur War: over half the A-4 aircraft hit by SAM-7 missiles had managed to return to base. Still, with a light aircraft like a Lear jet the weapon could be effective.

He put Rhodes down and stretched his arms above him. If the invasion was successful and Aschaar was eliminated, he would be safe. With Aschaar dead, the evidence that the General had consorted with capitalists would be gone. Anyway, no one would dare to incriminate a national hero, and he would quickly organise his power-base within the Kremlin to make sure that nothing could go wrong. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if the invasion failed.

He turned round and walked back towards the villa, followed by the ever-faithful Rhodes.

Bunty Mulbarton stared down at the eerie glow of his watch and saw that it was just after 2 a.m. The day before had been sheer hell. The heat and the mosquitoes had been terrible, but the worst part was that he couldn’t relax for a second. Groups of black soldiers kept joining the road, coming out of the bush from all directions. There was constant risk of discovery and he had to be on the alert all the time. When one of Michael Strong’s group had unexpectedly come up to his position to confirm that everything was all right, he’d almost shot him.

Now he wanted the action to start. How he was going to get through the next day was beyond him. Gallagher had certainly been correct when he said that they’d earn their money. Most of the mercenary jobs he’d taken on before involved sitting around at a cushy base camp or in a town. This was different, more like genuine army action.

Bunty thought about his role. His job was to blow up the road when the vehicles retreating from the airport came along it. This would block the road with wreckage, forcing the vehicles behind to make a diversion, and these vehicles would then hit the minefield Bunty had laid on either side of the road and be blown to pieces - if everything went according to plan.

He would then pin the Russians down with sniper fire while Michael Strong’s group made their getaway; then, he’d join up with them and they would make for the lift-off point together. According to his calculations, they should be flying away from Beira by the time darkness fell.

Bunty desperately wanted a cigarette, but knew that it would be disastrous to have one. That single pinprick of red light would be enough to give them away.

On the airfield Michael Strong waited for the next day with grim anticipation. He had no illusions about what was going to happen

They’d counted every plane on the airfield, and his express orders were that no man was to retreat until each plane had been destroyed.

He kept on rehearsing the action in his mind, trying to see if there was any point he’d missed. It was a game he always played with himself at times like this. More than once it had saved his life. Try as he might, he couldn’t find any loopholes in his strategy.

Bernard arrived back at his villa and went up to his room to catch a few hours’ sleep before dawn. It always amazed him how he tired of people the moment they ceased to be of use to him. He had been stupid to get involved with the Russian in the first place. Still, one constantly learned from one’s miscalculations.

Tomorrow would be amusing. After that, later in the afternoon, he would leave this place in his private plane and that would be the end of his involvement with the invasion. But before he left, he would have the pleasure of witnessing the sudden, dramatic death of General Vorotnikov after hearing shocking news . . . Yes, he could sleep easy tonight, knowing he had arranged that.

The evening air hung heavily over Beira. Then the wind began to blow across the water, gently at first, then harder, whipping the trees along the shoreline into uneven motion. The few boats in the harbour began to tug at their moorings as the water became more disturbed. A full moon cast silvery patches on the tips of the waves, thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. The horizon was thick with water-laden storm clouds, carried towards the port by a strong south-wester.

Then the bad weather struck in earnest. First came stronger winds, tearing at the trees and shrubs. Windows rattled, litter was blown across the streets. Outside the port, small dust storms developed along the dry, untarred sand roads. The wind made strange noises through the trees and any animals that were in the open soon made for whatever cover they could find. The moon disappeared behind a giant cloud, and the eerie landscape below was plunged into blackness.

The first drops of rain came an hour later. They tamed the sandstorms, beat musically on the tin roofs of Beira’s shanty town, a strong and steady downpour. It would rain like this for at least the next twelve hours.

The air now smelled sweet and pure, or at least it smelt so to Sam, sleeping under a blanket beneath a big tree with Tongogara snoring noisily beside her.

The universe had changed. She had felt the coming of the storm in her bones and shivered involuntarily. She had pulled the plastic ground-sheet over them as protection from any rain that might pass through the heavy foliage of the branches above. Now she could see the wisdom of Tongogara’s choice of sleeping place. They were slightly higher than the surrounding ground, so that any water running down towards the sea would naturally be deflected away from them.

Bad weather had always been a good omen for Sam. It always symbolised a change for the better in her life. She remembered that the day she left school it had rained, and on the day she had become a trainee reporter. She was glad to see that Tongogara was still sleeping quietly.

Silently she moved his pack, ammunition and rifle to a place where they would not get wet. Her father had taught her all he knew about hunting, especially the handling and care of weapons. Once she had put the weapons in a dry place, she moved back to the warmth of the blanket and lay down to sleep again. The rain was falling more heavily now and showed no signs of abating.

She closed her eyes and imagined she was back in her flat in Salisbury, enjoying a bottle of red wine from the Cape and listening to a Miles Davis record. Soon she was asleep, the storm forgotten.

In the first grey light of the overcast morning, the runway looked like burnished black glass, with every plane reflected in it. There was a heaviness in the air, and the steady beat of large raindrops against the hollow metal of the fuselages. Not a human being was in sight, and to a first-time observer the place might have appeared completely deserted.

Michael Strong lifted his binoculars and noticed in the reflection of the eyeglass that his lashes looked as though they had morning dew on them. He shivered again with the cold. His uniform was absolutely sodden, it felt like a straitjacket; the hardy clothing had become as tough as board, and there were even large puddles of water on his back. ‘Bloody hell!’ He muttered aloud as he tried to reposition himself on the soggy ground.

He stared through the glasses at the pools of water along the edge of the runway and knew instinctively that half the charges they had so carefully laid must be considered inactive. Because it hadn’t rained once in the last week, they had ignored the possibility that it could rain at all. Well, they couldn’t replace them now, in daylight. They’d just have to hope that enough of them worked to do a decent job.

He looked at the dial of his watch, covered with water droplets like everything else. Half past six. That left another ten and a quarter hours before they were due to strike. He knew that the time was going to pass painfully slowly.

At the other side of the runway, outside the storerooms, Major Conrad, the commander of the Beira air base, was worried. It was obvious that the big pool of water building up against the wall of this particular store indicated an equally big pool of water inside.

He unlocked the padlock on the door and entered. He hadn’t been inside for some months. On his schedule he saw that the contents of this store were listed as canned foodstuffs.

One look at the cases and he realised that there had been an administrative mistake. It was that idiot, the quartermaster, who was now languishing in solitary confinement before he joined the prisoners in the workcamp.

The crates in the storeroom were long and rectangular, and certainly didn’t contain tinned food . . . With mounting excitement he began to prise open the top of one of the cases.

Michael Strong picked up his field-glasses and surveyed the runway for the fifth time in as many minutes. He couldn’t quite believe what had happened. In less than an hour all the Russian perimeter guards had disappeared. If they stayed away, it would mean that their attack could be far more effective . . . Only a fool would have reduced the guarding levels at such a strategic installation. There must have been a change in command.

The other possibility was that they had been spotted, and the forces around the perimeter had been withdrawn in anticipation of an attack. He watched all the buildings like a hawk, especially the storeroom which had just been rapidly and completely emptied. It was the same one the commander had left in a hurry earlier. What the hell was going on?

General Vorotnikov put down the phone and decided that he would mention the good news at lunch. Now they would not have to cooperate with this rather sinister arms dealer. What fools they were at the airport! He had immediately transferred control to Captain Balashov, who was ordered to make a thorough inspection of all the AK-47 assault rifles in Store 21, and report back.

The plans for the invasion of Rhodesia could now be set in motion. He would call a meeting of all the pilots on Monday morning, and give them a complete battle plan. On Monday afternoon he would hand out the assault rifles to all the black forces, which would instantaneously boost morale, and impress upon them the generosity of the Soviet Union towards the oppressed black peoples of Southern Africa.

Rayne worked with Guy and Larry, hidden from view in the back of the shop. Mick was on the roof of the hotel, watching the bank.

Slowly they dismantled and rebuilt each of their weapons. They would get no second chances once they began the attack, and seconds would make the difference between success or failure. They were all on edge.

It was ten o’clock, and as usual on a Sunday the streets of Beira were almost deserted. The atmosphere was wet and cold. Rayne spoke to Guy and Larry as he worked the action of his rifle.

‘
I have to meet them for lunch, I’ve got no choice. If I don’t turn up they’ll probably come looking for me, and it could blow the whole operation. In the event of my not returning by five o’clock, you must attack the bank under Guy’s command.

‘
As planned, you’ll drive down the main street and turn off just past the bank. A couple of stun grenades through the front window will knock the guard out, after that you can use all the explosives you want to blow open the door of the safe.

‘
I want to get the contents of every single safe-deposit box in the place destroyed. There shouldn’t be more than about fifty. You can shoot open each one in a matter of seconds. Don’t waste time, and above all don’t panic.

‘
The attack on the airport will begin at exactly the same time. Bunty will blow up the road the moment the Russian forces are mobilised. The Russians probably
will
panic, which will give us an added advantage provided we can stay cool. Planes to pull us out will be coming in at the site of the old airport just before sundown this evening, but if anything goes wrong, Lois will be waiting for us. I’ll give each of you a map locating this emergency take-off point. I only have two objectives, and they’re to destroy the safe-deposit boxes in the bank and destroy the airport.