Jackal's Dance (46 page)

‘You already have. More than you know. I'll never forget all you've done. Thank you.'

‘I had no choice,' he said simply. ‘I love you.'

Thea held his gaze. ‘I don't know how I feel about you,' she admitted at last, ‘but I know this much. If we make it out of here alive, you'll certainly have my attention.' Her look was almost apologetic. ‘That's the best I can do.'

‘It's more than I ever hoped for,' Sean responded. ‘Under the circumstances, I'll take it.'

Chester went to Kalila as soon as he could. There were no words he could think of, nothing that covered the way he felt, or the way she must
be feeling. He'd witnessed rape before. It left him disgusted yet strangely detached. Not this time. Kalila was a girl who had seriously stirred his interest. A person, an individual, with feelings, opinions and ambitions. He felt connected to her. The savage violation so recently witnessed affected Chester as if it had happened to him. ‘You are still the daughter of a chief.'

She would not look at him.

‘Hold your head high.'

‘How?' Her voice trembled.

‘The same way as always. You are no different now. Let them see it.'

Her mouth twisted bitterly but she said nothing.

‘Look at me.'

Kalila just turned away, answering an almost obsessive need to stick close to James.

Chester felt helpless. Through the night, a fear that he might be responsible had been growing inside him. He was beginning to suspect that, however unwittingly, he might have been the source of Ace's intelligence about the lodge.

Some weeks ago a Portuguese couple had come to Logans Island. They spoke very fragmented English and so, when it was discovered that Chester could converse fluently in Portuguese, they attached themselves to him. He had been surprised by the depth of their interest in the lodge but learned that they were involved with the hospitality industry in Portugal. An opportunity to swap notes was always of interest.

Ace had made an interesting comment the night of their capture. In his own language, he'd said, ‘At least we don't have to worry about looking for that professor and his students.' At the time, Chester was surprised that the terrorists' leader would have known about a group camped in the bush. Thinking back, he remembered mentioning to the Portuguese pair that Wits University had a special arrangement with the Department of Nature Conservation.

They'd shown a great deal of interest in when the lodge would close, how many guests were booked in for the last days, what staff were needed to run the place and was it normal for tourists from other parts of the park to visit the island? He also remembered that, for all their attention to the lodge itself, they were remarkably uninterested in game drives.

If the two of them had been collecting intelligence, Chester had provided them with more than enough. He'd been a gullible, willing piece of putty in their hands. Could he somehow be responsible for everything happening now? The likelihood sickened him. All those people out on the pan, Matt Grandville and Mal Black. They would all be alive. Kalila, James and little Jutta unharmed. None of them would be in this mess.

Chester succumbed so deeply to self-blame and remorse that he wasn't thinking straight. Having targeted Logans Island, gathering information was never going to be difficult for UNITA. Who would expect they were desperate enough to penetrate so far into a neighbouring country?

In dawn's grey light, the waxen body of Matt Grandville appeared as some aging mannequin in a shop window. Gayle remained by the stretcher, gazing vacantly at his handsome face. It was such a familiar sight, and yet it was not. His soul, the essence that had been uniquely Matt, had gone, leaving behind only the mask it once wore. Without a spirit, that inner something that had made his eyes glow with love, humour, or even anger, was long gone, leaving the outer casing, a stranger.

Dan tried to prepare Gayle for the fact that Matt would not be coming with them.

She turned lacklustre eyes to him. ‘What?'

‘He's of no use to them now. We'll have to leave him here, Gayle.'

‘No.'

‘I'll get Chester to ask if we can bury him.'

‘Out here? All on his own? No.'

Dan realised that reason had temporarily deserted her. ‘You've seen what these men are capable of, Gayle. Don't expect kindness from them.' Dan's next words mirrored her thoughts. ‘Matt has moved on. He has no need of his body. It was only a facade for what lay underneath. He's a free spirit now, not earthbound like the rest of us. In some ways, he's the lucky one. You have to let go, Gayle.'

She was nodding, though Dan couldn't tell if she agreed, or even if she heard him. Encouraged, he called to Chester who was still standing next to Kalila with a stricken expression on his face. ‘Ask if we can bury Matt.'

Chester translated Ace's response. ‘Africa takes care of the dead. Permission denied.'

The refusal got through to Gayle. Tears rolled down her cheeks, finding tiny crevices, spreading laterally as well as down. Without make-up, her face streaked with sweat and hair tangled, Gayle didn't much resemble the glamorous screen figure known to millions. For the first time in her life, she looked her age. Even if she had known, such was her misery that she wouldn't have cared. Leaning over Matt, Gayle kissed the cold forehead. ‘Oh, my darling. My poor darling.'

Dan eased her away. ‘There's nothing more you can do, Gayle. Matt would have understood.'

She sobbed against him. ‘It's my fault. All my fault. He always understood. Now he has to do it again. He's forgiven me so many times . . . all the dumb things I've done. I hope he knows how sorry I am. Mattie, can you hear me? I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry.'

Dan stroked her hair gently. He understood what she was going through.

A little distance away, Billy approached Thea with an unexpected apology of his own. ‘I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me,' he added.

Thea looked at the man she had been prepared to spend her life with. Now she felt nothing – no hurt, no love, no regrets. In his eyes was a genuine plea for forgiveness. It would be easy to turn away, to make him suffer and leave him with his guilt. But what was the point? No-one forced her to
marry a man she hardly knew. Relationships were a lottery at the best of times. To forgive would cost nothing. She could do that too. ‘Thank you.' Sean's nearness was reassuring.

Billy cleared his throat. ‘Losing your baby. Will you be okay?'

‘I'll manage.'

He didn't push it. He'd made it clear enough that the baby was hers and hers alone. If Thea chose not to talk about her feelings he'd have to respect that. It was the least he could do. But she had to know he was sincere. ‘I've behaved like a shit. I apologise.' His eyes found Sean's. ‘Take care of her.' Billy turned and walked away. He was as surprised by the uncharacteristic need to apologise as Thea.

Caitlin was trying to make sure that Walter understood the danger Jutta still faced. ‘You've got to make her get up. If she doesn't, things can only get worse. You're the one worth something to them, not Jutta.'

‘Worse,' Walter sneered. With his hands untied he was, at last, able to hold his daughter close. And that's what he was doing. If it had been at all possible, he'd have absorbed her into himself to keep her safe. ‘What more could they do to her?'

‘Please, Walter. I know how hard this is for you but it really could be worse, believe me. If she holds us back they'll kill her. They won't hesitate.'

Walter felt a tremor run through Jutta. Caitlin's words got through to him as well. He knew she spoke the truth. Much as he realised his daughter
was in pain, he had to make her stand up. ‘Okay, baby, okay. Papa is here.' He spoke quietly in German. ‘Try to get up, baby? Papa will help.'

Jutta did not respond. Her father sensed the tension in her body increase. It told him that she was deliberately rejecting his attempt to make her move. He had to insist. Doing nothing meant running the very real risk of losing her. Walter rose, pulling his daughter with him. Jutta moaned a protest and her legs sagged. She'd have fallen if he hadn't been holding her. But she stayed upright.

‘That's my girl. Come, try to walk with me.'

Ever since she'd screamed for her father the night before, Jutta had not uttered a word.

‘Good girl, that's a good girl. You're doing fine. Can you stand on your own?'

Jutta remained mute, leaning against him, head hanging.

‘Speak to me, baby. Say something to Papa.' Her anguish and agony were breaking Walter's heart. Jutta had always been the light of his life. That those filthy pigs had degraded his precious only child was a nightmare he'd carry with him forever. His little girl, her innocence. To have been robbed of that so brutally, what would it do to her? ‘Talk to Papa, baby. I'm here. Right here.'

And the tears came. Swollen drops that dripped off the end of her nose. She began to tremble, making small whimpering noises. Then gasping, fighting for breath as the sound grew to a growl. It had such an animal quality that Caitlin felt the hair bristle on her neck. Suddenly, Jutta was screaming.
Loud, endless, soul-destroying suffering that went on and on until, desperate, Walter slapped her face. In the silence that followed he pulled her hard into his arms, clinging on as tightly as he could. Tears streamed down his own cheeks as sobs racked Walter's body.

Caitlin saw a soldier running towards them. Without hesitation she stepped between him and the tortured German pair. ‘No!' she barked. ‘Get lost.'

Uncertainty crossed the man's face but he stopped and looked back at Ace who shrugged, as if to say, ‘Let them sort it out.' The terrorist rolled his eyes and turned away, no longer interested.

Ace called something to Chester who translated for Caitlin, ‘Walter must keep her quiet.'

‘She's hysterical,' Caitlin said sharply. ‘How the hell does he expect him to do that?'

Chester shook his head. ‘He has to. Or they'll kill her.'

Caitlin took a shuddering breath. ‘Oh God,' she whispered. ‘Dear God in Heaven. What did any of us do to deserve this?'

‘That poor man,' Felicity said to Philip, looking towards Walter and Jutta. ‘First his wife, now this. How do you deal with something like that?'

Despite his interest in extremes of human emotion, the question was beyond Philip's capability to answer. Sympathy for Walter's despair flooded him. ‘I'll see what can be done once we start moving again. Jutta won't be able to get by on her own and Walter is in no state to be of much help.'

‘It might be best if you let Caitlin help. A strange man . . .' She let it drop.

‘You're right. I'm not thinking straight.'

‘Who is? Anyway there are others in need of assistance.'

‘Sean might appreciate some help. Thea's been through a bit too.'

Felicity managed to swallow the sudden fear that rose in her throat. ‘If we get out of this –'

‘We will,' Philip cut in quickly. ‘Don't doubt it.'

She turned away.
Would they?
It was only a matter of time till they raped her too.

Troy and Fletch moved separately among the captives explaining their plans. ‘We'll have about an hour to get free and away. Keep your eyes open for anything we can use to cut rope.'

A burst of laughter from the soldiers attracted their attention. Looking towards the fire, Troy and Dan saw they'd lined up last night's bottles and were throwing rocks at them. ‘Small things amuse small minds,' Dan muttered angrily, annoyed that anyone could be so stupid as to leave broken glass lying around in a game reserve. A bottle shattered. ‘That's right, gentlemen, thank you very much,' he gritted. Then a thought occurred to him. He flashed a quick grin at Troy. ‘I do believe we've found our knife.'

The terrorists seemed in no hurry to leave. Last night's debauchery had them relaxed and in a good mood. Ace was confident that the spirit of his prisoners would be close to breaking point. Another night like the last and he might not need to kill any
of them. Today, they should make it to the park boundary. Tomorrow night, if he pushed the pace, they'd reach Angola. Everything was going to plan.

Just before eight o'clock he gave the order to move. By then, three shards of glass had found their way into pockets and, with a pretext of repacking, the seals had been broken on eight assorted bottles of alcohol. All were easily accessible in Fletch's backpack. Chester knew that the men preferred rum to scotch. They thought it was stronger. It was hoped the terrorists would give further clues as to tonight's preferences. The Rompun had not, as yet, been introduced. Troy wanted to do that at the last possible moment in case it lost potency.

Helping and being helped comforted most as they walked. Kalila and James drew together, not speaking, just needing each other's company.

Caitlin and Walter linked arms behind Jutta and literally forced her to walk. She was young and, despite the terrible abuse, her body responded automatically. Pain lingered where rough hands had bruised, and a deeper ache served as a reminder that she had been violated. The further they walked, the easier movement became. What wouldn't go away was her traumatised state of mind. Jutta relived, over and over, every sordid detail of the previous night's horror up to the merciful moment when she passed out.

Angela kept close to Troy. He was her salvation. She was still terrified but, every now and then, Troy would ask how she was or put out a steadying hand to her. They were fleeting moments of safety.

Philip and Sean supported Thea, walking close on either side of her. She felt tired, and would dearly have loved to sleep for a week, but kept up, only needing help now and again.

Felicity gave Dan a hand with Gayle, who started to weep uncontrollably as they left Matt behind. With an arm loosely around her so his heavy pack didn't bump, Dan could feel tremors and sobs shaking the actress's slim body. Felicity, one arm linked through Gayle's on the other side, found herself reflecting that whenever life drops you in it and you're feeling hard done by, up pops someone else's problem to let you know, in no uncertain terms, that your own hard luck story is a piddle in the middle of the ocean compared to theirs.