Jackal's Dance (55 page)

Tully thought about that. A report had come through that they might be dealing with Ace Ntesa. It was not like the man to leave such a trail. He had to be confident that time was on his side. And why wouldn't he be? If the Ward girl had died with the others, the UNITA soldiers would have all the time they needed to reach Angola. So what's chummy going to do? Make good time the first day and put as much distance as possible between the hostages and Logans Island. Etosha's boundary
is too far to reach in one go. Soldiers on their own might manage it but not civilians. The country between Etosha and Angola was rough, barren and open. A tough hundred kilometres, maybe more, depending on the direction they took. So Ntesa, if indeed it was he who led the raid, would probably ease up on the second day and cross into Angola on the third. That's what Tully would have done.

Would they move by day or night? More likely by day. Easier by far. Tomorrow everything might change. If Ntesa heard the choppers he'd take cover and employ the cunning that had kept him alive for so long. Ditto if he got so much as a whiff of Tully closing on him from behind. And that was a distinct possibility. As far as the major was concerned, this was a bit like trying to swat a mosquito with a sledgehammer.

Tully had far too many men with him. It was overkill. A knee-jerk reaction by the big brass in Windhoek. Either that or some fool's desire to prove that the Namibian Defence Force was not to be trifled with. Whatever the reason, a whole company, over one-hundred men, was ludicrous. The job should have been done with an experienced assault group of no more than twenty. Argument about it being a waste of taxpayers' money fell on deaf ears. The powers that be had insisted. So here he was in the middle of nowhere, following spoor that stuck out like dog's balls, with a logistically ridiculous number of inexperienced children tailing behind. Some were raw recruits. He needed them like a hole in the head.

‘Sergeant!' Tully bellowed.

‘Sir?'

‘Double time.'

‘Yes, sir.'

The sergeant dropped back to relay Tully's order.

Just before sunset they found where the terrorists had camped the previous night. ‘Looks like they had a bit of a party in the riverbed. That's confidence for you,' Tully commented to his adjutant, as he surveyed the broken bottles. His professional mind was assessing the possibilities. Drunk, the terrorists would be as unpredictable as wild animals. While that might make their capture easier, it didn't auger well for the hostages. Tully's nostrils flared in total disapproval. Drinking on a mission was simply not on.

‘Sir. Over here.'

Tully joined his sergeant and stared at the ground. ‘What the hell is that?'

Strips of green and red canvas covered two splintered wooden poles. Tully hunched down and fingered the material. There was something familiar about it. Where had he seen it before? Then it came back. Only a few months ago, after Angola and before joining his Windhoek unit, he and his wife had spent a relaxing long weekend in Etosha. Each bungalow at Logans Island had a hammock slung outside above the wooden deck. Tully had spent considerable time in his. Why would UNITA want to bring a hammock? The student had said that one of the tourists seemed to be unconscious.
Did someone need to be carried? If so, was that person still alive? Unlikely. Tully rose, still holding the canvas. Anticipating the worst, he checked signs on the sandy ground, and found what he was looking for. A flattened area where something heavy had been dragged. And lots of dog-like paw marks around it.

The sergeant pointed a bit further away. ‘Sir. Hyena droppings.'

Tully walked over and examined the pale excrement. Clearly visible in it was more green and red striped canvas. While the hyena's digestive system can process many things, including bone, the carnivore known as nature's garbage remover could not manage material. A strip of khaki also twisted through the stool. Clothing maybe? Tully remembered that all the hammocks had been red and green. ‘Know what I think, sergeant?'

‘Sir?'

‘I think one of those poor bastards died here and has been eaten by hyena.'

‘Jesus!' The man blanched.

‘Sergeant!' Tully admonished.

‘Sorry, sir.'

Another soldier shouted. ‘Sir, there's blood on the ground over here.'

Tully joined him beside a shallow pool of water. ‘Quite a lot of it.' The blood had crystallised and lay in small squares. ‘Amazing.'

‘Yes, sir.' The soldier had no idea why – perhaps the major was referring to the fact that it had been left untouched.

Tully wasn't about to expand on the observation. He spun on the balls of his feet and yelled, ‘We're walking through the night if needs be. Let's get after these bastards.'

Ace called a halt for the night when they reached the northern perimeter fence of Etosha. Tomorrow, before first light, they'd cut it and continue towards Angola.

Walter helped Jutta to sit down. Saying nothing, she stared around, terrified of what might happen next. A shudder ran through her body and, crying with no sound, she pressed herself hard against him, clutching one arm with such strength that Walter knew he'd have a bruise. That was the least of his worries. It told him that while she wouldn't, or couldn't, speak, his daughter remembered and was afraid. As much as he loved her there was nothing he could do to take the fear away.

Kalila and James sat together. He held her. Both were trembling. Neither spoke.

Gayle gratefully sank down. The soles of her feet seemed to be holding up, her blistered heels less painful. But her sore knee ached abominably. She simply shrugged when Dan asked how it was. The problem was nothing compared to what probably lay ahead.

Felicity and Philip talked quietly. ‘There's a piece of glass in my right pocket,' he said. ‘I can't do anything about it now, someone might see, but after they tie us up, I want you to try and get at it. Hold it so I can cut the rope. Okay?'

‘Will do,' she breathed.

Chester listened carefully to the soldiers' conversation. Then he walked past Troy. ‘Rum and brandy,' he hissed, confirming their preference for dark spirits. Neither were as popular with lodge guests as gin or whisky so stocks were kept low. But even after the previous night, enough bottles remained in Fletch's pack. Chester did not add that Troy, Jutta, Caitlin, Felicity and Kalila had all been discussed for later entertainment.

Sean and Thea watched Billy approach. He came towards them hesitantly, but Thea could see something confrontational in his face. ‘No-one will listen. This scheme of those kids is crazy. It will get us all killed. I don't want any part of it. You're my wife, will you back me?'

Thea glanced at Sean. His expression showed the same disbelief she felt. ‘It's our only chance.'

Billy's lip curled and he nodded towards Sean. ‘Is that what
he
wants?'

‘It's what we all want.'

‘I'm going to stop this. I don't wish to die because of a bungled escape attempt. You're all mad.'

Sean stepped closer to Billy, anger in his eyes and the set of his jaw. ‘If you jeopardise this one chance we have, I'll kill you myself,' he gritted. ‘If you're too chicken to take part, fine. Just stay out of our way.'

Billy moved back, shaken by the emotion he could see. ‘Try and stop me, Hudson.'

Thea knew that Billy was beyond reasoning
with. From experience, she was aware that once he'd made up his mind, he rarely changed it. No point in trying persuasion. A more direct argument might work. ‘You're outvoted, Billy. You may not like it but there's nothing you can do about it. None of us is prepared to go through another night like last night. It might be your turn next. Have a little think about that before you rush off and ruin everything.'

She'd got through to him. Thea pressed home the small advantage. ‘I can't speak their language but I can read the signals. They've made it clear enough. Caitlin has been selected and she knows it. They want Jutta again. Can you imagine what that will do to her?' She took a deep breath and lied. ‘They were also looking at a couple of men. You were one of them.'

Billy glanced quickly towards the soldiers. Two were watching them, alerted by what looked like an argument of some kind. It was enough, he backed down. But he needed the last word. ‘I still don't like it, and if we ever get out of this alive I'll make damned sure everyone knows of my objections.' He turned and left them.

‘Prat!' Sean said softly, unable to stop himself. ‘Who the hell does he think will listen, let alone care?'

‘He's scared,' Thea said as quietly.

‘Who isn't?' Sean countered. ‘The difference with Billy is that he's the only one among us who thinks only of himself.'

‘That's why I lied.'

Sean's own fears at their predicament surfaced suddenly. ‘If this doesn't work I want you to know that whatever happens, I love you. It's important to me that you know that.'

‘Thank you.' Thea touched his arm briefly with her fingertips. ‘I do know that and, whatever happens, it will help.' Tears welled briefly as she thought of the possibilities. She brushed them away. ‘Stay close to me, Sean.'

‘Always.'

‘Diversion time,' Troy whispered, his stomach churning with anxiety.

‘I'll do it.' Caitlin rose to her feet.

‘Better with two.' Josie got up as well. ‘What do we do?'

A fire was already going. The soldiers were excited, confident. Any moment now, they would want alcohol. ‘I don't care what it is,' Troy gritted. ‘Just do something, anything, but do it now. Angie, you stay here. Try to screen me from sight.'

Josie and Caitlin had moved away as if going to answer a call of nature, immediately attracting Ace's attention. The high-pitched scream took everyone by surprise. Josie stood pointing at a bush, eyes wide, one hand over her mouth.

Caitlin grabbed an arm. ‘What is it?' Even though both had agreed to create a diversion, Josie's bloodcurdling scream caused the ranger to jump.

‘Snake! It's huge. Look!' Josie was pointing, shouting. ‘There, it's moving. Don't go too close.'

All eyes were on the panicked student. Ace called to Chester. ‘What's the matter with her?'

Chester shrugged. Josie was having mild hysterics. ‘Somebody do something. Kill it.'

Chester had to keep Ace's attention for as long as possible. He called out to Caitlin. ‘What's wrong?'

‘She's nearly stepped on a snake.'

Before translating to Ace, Chester moved over to Josie and Caitlin, peered into the bush, dislodged some undergrowth, walked around and did the same on the other side. The waiting terrorist, when Chester finally told him the problem, shook his head in disbelief, looked skyward and turned away. In his opinion, women and snakes should not inhabit the same planet.

Like Caitlin, Troy was expecting some kind of diversion. Already filled with tension, Josie's sudden scream scared him half to death.
Do it. Now.
It took all his willpower to reach into Fletch's backpack.

Rum and brandy.
His brain was churning at random.
Not whisky. Where's the bloody brandy?
He didn't dare look towards the soldiers. His fingers closed around the neck of a bottle.
Brandy. Thank God.
His hands shook and were wet with nerves. The bottle slipped, clanging loudly against others. Wiping his hand quickly against his shirt to dry it, Troy tried again, this time successfully. He unscrewed the lid.
Rompun. Oh Jesus! It's still in my fucking pocket.
Fumbling, his shaking fingers found the pouch containing the ampules in his breast pocket. He needed two hands. The pouch was a wraparound kind, designed to protect the thin glass phials. Shoving the bottle between his knees,
cursing all the while that he hadn't thought of making the ampules more accessible, Troy unzipped the pouch and flipped it open. Removing one phial, he tried to take the plastic stopper out. His panicked mind knew that the way to remove it was with gentle pressure.
No time, there's no time.
He gripped the plastic tightly and tugged it loose. The pressure broke the top of the ampule and fine glass sliced through his fingers. Blood welled immediately but he barely noticed.
Problem. Problem.
His mind screamed a warning.
The bottle is too full. Empty some out. Christ! This is taking too long.
With a quick wrist snap he slopped some of the liquor out and tipped half the tranquilliser into it, screwing the lid back.

He could hear Josie yelling and several other voices.
Come on, come on.
Second bottle.

‘They're all watching Josie,' Angela hissed.

‘No-one can see us,' Fletch added in a normal tone. ‘We're well screened.'

His calm voice took some of Troy's panic away. The second bottle of brandy went back. Then a third.
No more, no more brandy. Rum. Where is it?
A bottle of doctored rum was put back.

‘How am I doing?' he hissed.

‘Fine.' Fletch was still composed. ‘Chester has their attention.' Removing another phial of Rompun, it slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground.
Jesus!
He couldn't bend and pick it up so he stood on it, feeling the glass crush under his shoe.
Hurry, hurry.
Fifth bottle done. The sandy ground was wet from the discarded spirits.

‘Wind it up,' Fletch suddenly said sharply. ‘Show's over.'

But Troy wanted one more bottle of rum. He pulled it from the pack. ‘Keep still,' he whispered hoarsely. ‘Last one.'

‘Quick.'

The chink of glass was shockingly loud. Fletch dropped one shoulder to remove the backpack and more bottles rattled.

‘Stop,' Angela breathed. ‘They're coming.'

Troy gave Fletch's arm a tap. ‘Done.'

‘How many?'

‘Six.'

Fletch removed his backpack and placed it on the ground.