Jackal's Dance (59 page)

Philip sprang at the closest terrorist, knocking him to the ground. The Russian-made assault rifle spluttered briefly and died, its magazine empty. Queensberry rules didn't come into it. Philip dropped a knee into the man's groin and wrestled the weapon from his hands. He swung the machine gun like a cricket bat. The crack of wood on bone was more satisfying than hitting a six.

Troy went for Ace. The rebel leader had abandoned his pistol in favour of fire power. Troy was relying on physical strength but found his opponent more than a match. Ace gained the upper hand, slowly forcing the muzzle of his gun to point at the student. An explosion of pain on the side of his head cancelled out any advantage he might have had. So intent had Ace been on the tussle with Troy that he hadn't been aware of Angela scrabbling frantically at their feet to find his pistol. She put everything she had into that swipe. Ace was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Sean's marked man went easily. He had been immobilised with fear at the unfamiliar sight of approaching lion. Sean swept up a dead branch and, in one fluid action, smashed it across the soldier's face, breaking his jaw.

Chester swung an arm sideways, the edge of his hand hitting the man next to him on the bridge of
his nose. Chester felt bone give way. Blood and tears streamed instantly but the terrorist was disciplined enough to ignore pain and bring his AK to bear on his attacker. The ranger ducked sideways and launched himself, head first, into the man's face, connecting hard with his already broken nose. Both crashed to the ground. Removing the weapon was child's play. Chester had been lucky. The soldier's finger was tight around the trigger but he'd been carrying one of the empty machine guns.

Caitlin drop-kicked from behind. She was wearing sturdy walking boots with reinforced toes. One connected perfectly with the man's coccyx. He went down immediately, rolling over with an expression of agony on his face. Caitlin wanted insurance. She reached down, grabbed a handful of bulge, squeezed hard and twisted. After that, he obligingly gave up his gun.

Oh Christ, oh Christ!
was all Felicity had in her head as she jumped onto an unsuspecting back. With hands around the terrorist's face, she raked her nails across his eyes. The man screamed, dropped his weapon, and fought back, bringing both hands up to grip Felicity's wrists, lowering one shoulder so he could shake her off. Billy moved in and delivered a vicious punch to the man's midriff. With that he lost interest in further resistance.

Josie and Jutta, fear and hatred lending them strength, took on a man together. They weren't doing very well until James, ignoring the pain of
his smashed elbow, courageously joined in. Against three people desperate enough to commit murder, the UNITA rebel didn't stand a chance. Jutta resorted to biting his face. She became as vicious as a starving animal, sinking her teeth into flesh, locking her jaw and jerking back, attacking again and again. Even after the man dropped, she kept on and on until Josie and James held her back. With his blood smearing her lips and running down her chin, chest heaving and madness in her eyes, Jutta threw her head back and laughed. The sound was more chilling than the lions.

Kalila, in shock after witnessing the brutal shooting of Fletch, didn't stop to think. She grabbed at the closest weapon and pulled. She met with resistance. She'd have been in deep trouble if it hadn't been for Dan.

The energy of an AK47 on full automatic is such that, when activated by the inexperienced, its muzzle has a tendency to rise as it spews thirty rounds down the barrel at a rate of six-hundred rounds a minute. Dan, with his chosen man already out of the picture, was a fraction slow in releasing the trigger. The hail of bullets continued, puncturing Kalila's adversary, blowing away his liver and heart. The remaining projectiles flew past Kalila, missing her ear by a fraction.

It was all over in seconds. ‘Get their other weapons,' Dan shouted.

It wasn't difficult. Ace was unconscious. Two, thanks to Dan, were dead. The rest suffering in various ways from the completely unexpected onslaught.

When someone thought to look for the lions, they were nowhere to be seen. But the jackals hadn't moved. Snarling and fighting between themselves, they fed eagerly on the abandoned zebra.

‘Better give me that.' Troy held out his hand for the revolver Angela was still holding.

She handed it over.

He put his arms around her. ‘Remind me not to make you mad,' he said unsteadily as the aftermath of action hit him. ‘That was one hell of a point you made.'

Dan turned to Kalila and literally hauled her towards him. ‘Jesus! I damned near killed you.'

The Zulu girl patted his shoulder. ‘It's okay. You missed.'

Felicity flung her arms around Billy. ‘Thank you. I was losing that one.'

He looked down at their victim still doubled up on the ground, both hands pressed against bleeding eyes. Billy flexed his right wrist which had been severely strained by the punch. ‘Believe me, it was only a pleasure.' He realised suddenly that he felt pretty damned good about himself.

Philip joined them. ‘Either of you hurt?'

Felicity released Billy and felt her fingernails. ‘I've broken five. Damn! There goes a perfectly good manicure.' Philip pulled her into his arms and held on while she cried out her shock.

Caitlin had only one thought – Fletch. She ran back to where he lay. He was conscious and in a lot of pain. Caitlin positioned herself next to him and gently lifted his head into her lap, brushing hair off
his forehead. He gave a crooked smile of thanks and closed his eyes.

James found them. ‘How is he?'

‘I don't know.' Her voice broke.

‘I'll stay with you.'

‘Thank you.'

The terrorists had been dragged or forced together and were being held under unwavering gun barrels. At Angela's insistence, Troy had given her back the pistol and the look on her face was one of grim intent. If one so much as twitched, Angela would make sure he regretted it.

‘Nice one,' Sean said, indicating the man with an obviously smashed nose. ‘Did you do that?'

‘I most certainly did,' Chester replied with no attempt at modesty. ‘And I enjoyed it immensely.'

Gayle, Thea and Walter had not taken part in the action. Gayle had protected Thea by pulling her down and out of the way. Walter stood his ground, swaying, barely taking in the furious explosion of energy that had hit everyone simultaneously. His drifting mind hadn't even registered alarm for Jutta's safety. But now her maniacal laugh propelled him towards her. In the moonlight, blood glistening darkly against her skin, Walter knew at that moment that no amount of love, care or counselling would ever repair his damaged daughter. Jutta's mind was in some dark place and her subconscious would never let it out. Perhaps she was better off this way, he thought, holding her close. To live cushioned by madness may well be preferable to the torture of sane memory.

Ace groaned, opened his eyes and with surprising agility scrambled to all fours, ready to flee. Almost casually, Angela tapped him on the head with the pistol she was holding, nodding with satisfaction when he collapsed again. Her eyes met Troy's. ‘I could get used to this.'

He grinned. ‘You do seem remarkably good at it.'

She shuddered and Troy put one arm around her shoulders.

Thea stumbled towards the group surrounding the soldiers, searching for Sean. He saw her coming and stepped towards her. She literally fell into his arms, holding on for dear life.

‘You okay?' they asked in unison.

Silence hit them suddenly, as did the enormity of their success. They'd done it. But, oh God, it had been a close thing. Acting out of blind instinct and desperation, they'd overpowered nine armed and experienced soldiers. Perfectly ordinary men and women placed in an extraordinary situation had acted with bravery and determination none suspected they possessed.

Eyes turned towards the squabbling jackals. The brave little animals had tackled eight of Africa's largest predators. They had been the catalyst for success. Watching them now, the group felt a strange sense of bonding as they compared the jackal's courage with their own. The animals couldn't have cared less. Carrying morsels of meat, paired couples made off into the night.

‘More bloody gunfire.' Tully was starting to think he was in a war zone.

‘AKs, sir.'

‘I can hear that, sergeant. Let's go.'

They moved cautiously, not knowing what to expect. What they hadn't anticipated, however, was meeting up again with the lions, now literally running through the night to escape from whatever lay ahead. ‘Oh shit! It's those bloody lions again.'

Tully needn't have worried. The pride was so traumatised by gunfire, the smell of humans and the sheer volume of jackals that the sudden sighting of more potential adversaries scattered them in all directions. They'd go hungry this night. Every instinct they had urged them to get as far away as possible from this place.

Voices alerted Tully that he'd found his target. He stopped and listened, frowning first in concentration, then disbelief. People were speaking English, sounding almost relaxed. Signalling that his men should spread out and move in on three sides, Tully inched forward, all senses on full alert. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the UNITA soldiers had been overpowered. Caution was still called for. The freed hostages were armed and likely to be jumpy as hell.

Taking cover behind a tree, he announced their presence. ‘This is Major Tully of the Namibian Defence Force. Hold your fire.'

A stunned silence followed until one voice shouted, ‘Show yourself.'

Tully stepped from behind the tree, his assault rifle held high. ‘Put down your weapons.'

A head shook. ‘No way.'

‘Hold your fire. I'm coming in.'

‘Come alone.' Three Kalachnikovs were pointed at him.

Tully walked slowly forward, hands above his head. ‘My name is Eric Tully,' he said, stopping a few metres off. ‘I'm an officer with the Namibian army. We are here to rescue you, although right now it doesn't look like you needed our help.'

Surrounded by their captors, what was left of the UNITA force huddled together nursing their injuries. A few, Tully could see, were beyond caring. ‘Which one is their leader?'

‘This one.' Angela tapped Ace on the head none too gently.

‘Turn him over.'

Philip obliged with his foot.

‘Ace Ntesa. Excellent.' Tully glanced at Angela. ‘Would you mind not doing that again, Miss? The army would very much like to speak to this man before they shoot him.'

Dan rubbed a hand wearily over his mouth. ‘You got any water?'

‘Plenty. May I bring my men in?'

‘Please do.'

Tully barked an order. Heavily armed and camouflaged soldiers materialised from the surrounding bush. ‘Secure the prisoners.'

Water, rations and cigarettes were distributed, the hostages more than willing to relax and let the
army take charge. Tully, once satisfied that the situation was under control, joined them. ‘Are any of you injured?' he asked quietly.

‘Over there. One of the students. I think he's dead.'

Tully sent men to investigate.

‘Anyone else?'

Dan looked around the grimy, sweaty and tearstained faces. They were all injured in one way or another. All would bear scars, seen or unseen, for the rest of their lives. He looked back at Tully. ‘A couple shouldn't be on their feet.'

‘How many?'

Dan rose wearily, the pulled muscle in his back protesting. ‘Come with me.'

Tully followed.

Lowering his voice, Dan told him first about Jutta and her father. ‘He's got a bad heart. His daughter . . . the soldiers . . .' He swallowed hard.

‘I understand,' Tully said gently. ‘How old is she?'

The caring in Tully's voice was too much. Voice husky with emotion, his features contorted trying to hold back tears, Dan answered. ‘Fifteen.'

A sharp intake of breath was the major's only reaction. ‘Were there others?'

‘Yes.' Dan wiped a hand across his eyes. ‘An American, James Fulton. And that African girl. They'll need help to get out of here. The man is in a lot of pain. Several others will also require attention. Thea Abbott,' he indicated the lodge manager's wife. ‘She had a miscarriage last night.
Gayle Gaynor has bad blisters and a severely swollen knee. The rest of us should make it on foot.'

The major shook his head. ‘I don't think so. After what you've been through I believe the army can take care of you better than that.'

Tully got busy on his radio. Then he and Dan rejoined the hostages. ‘Two army choppers will be here at first light. Those who need it will be airlifted to Okaukuejo where Medi Rescue teams are on stand-by. Then they'll come back for the rest of you. My back-up troops should be here within the hour. Your ordeal is over. I'm sending Mr Ntesa and his men on ahead. You've seen the last of them.'

‘Two of the terrorists are missing,' Troy said. ‘Another is in the bush over there. Their leader shot him.'

‘What do you mean, missing?'

‘Back in that direction, where we stopped earlier tonight.' It seemed so long ago. ‘They fell into the fire.'

Tully gave Troy a questioning stare.

‘We put tranquilliser into their booze. Rompun. That's how we got away.'

Slowly, in dribs and drabs, the story came out. Tully was able to establish the salient points. He dispatched his sergeant and four others towards the park's northern boundary. ‘Keep your eyes peeled, those two might still be alive.'

The sergeant saluted. From the sound of things, even if predators hadn't found them, he doubted
that the two terrorists would be terribly interested in resistance.

‘Brandy,' Troy burst out. ‘Don't drink it. There's Rompun in the bottles.'