Poacher (23 page)

With practised ease Sam and Aaron threw him
on the back of the truck and handcuffed him to the railing. Sam
gave Courie a hard look. ‘Out here, I do as I damn well
please.’

Courie was beside himself with fury, and
screaming incoherent threats into the wind as they drove off.

Ten kilometres farther along the fire break,
Sam turned off into the bush and followed the game trail down to
the edge of a large pool in the Sweni spruit. He stopped under a
magnificent raintree, its branches extending over the deep pool.
From the trunk of the tree, a thick rope ran into the water. San
unlocked the cuff from the railings, and proceeded to drag Courie
towards the rope, leaving his gun in the cab.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Courie tried to jerk the cuffs from Sam’s hands, and Sam hit him in
the stomach hard. As he doubled over, breathless, Sam passed the
free end of the cuffs under the rope, and handcuffed Courie’s free
hand with it again, so that his arms were locked around the rope.
Courie could slide up and down the rope, which allowed less than
six feet of movement between the edge of the water and the base of
the tree. He was cursing and threatening in a steady stream and
Sam, ignoring the commotion, got the gun and his pipe from the cab,
and got onto the bonnet of the truck, about three yards from where
Courie was sitting on the ground. He lit his pipe, and sat quietly
looking out over the water, the cocked gun in his lap.

Courie had started subsiding. ‘Just what the
hell are you trying to do?’

‘You are going to tell me all about Joao dos
Santos and his present whereabouts.’

‘Now I know you’re insane. I have never heard
of the man.’

‘Linda’s lawyer has been to see me. Brought
me a letter she left me. She explained about the poaching
syndicate.’ He knocked his pipe out against his boot. ‘I loved that
girl.’

‘Bullshit. I don’t believe you, and neither
will a court of law.’

‘Exactly. And that, Mr Courie, is exactly why
we find ourselves in this lovely spot on the banks of the Sweni,
and not in a court of law. I know Linda’s death was your doing, and
so do you. That’s good enough for me. There is nobody but you and
me in a radius of at least ten miles, so we needn’t bother about
the usual legal procedure. Believe me when I say I would gladly
have shot you in the head right now, without any guilt feeling
whatsoever, were it not for the fact that you are first going to
tell me exactly where to find Joao.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘In a while, Mr Courie. It shouldn’t be long.
The noise of the truck will have scared the crocodiles away, but
they’ll be back shortly. Once they start on you, you will beg me to
shoot you in the head. I may do it as a last favour, provided I
know by then where to find Joao.’

‘You must think I am a bloody fool to believe
a crocodile will just come walking out of the water and grab
me.’

‘Don’t believe that for a moment. He won’t
come walking out. He’ll come out like a torpedo and hit you so fast
you wouldn’t believe it. There will just be a sudden great splash,
and he will be tearing into you. All eleven hundred pounds of
primitive muscle and teeth.’

‘Bullshit,’ Courie said with less conviction,
eyeing the deep water in front of him suspiciously. There was not a
ripple on the smooth surface, and the dark water flowed past
slowly. He shifted back as far as he could go.

‘Haven’t you wondered about that rope you are
tied to? The other end is tied to the horns of a waterbuck bull I
shot yesterday. He is not floating, because his guts have already
been torn out.’ Sam was stuffing his pipe again. ‘That is why I’m
sitting up here, and you are down there. It may still not have
dawned on you, but you are going to die here today. It can either
be quick and painless, or you can do it the difficult way. Linda
said dying is easy, but I reckon it depends on circumstances.’

Courie was close to hysteria now, sitting on
his haunches and jerking on the rope. ‘Get me away from here, you
can’t do this to me!’

‘Out here, I can do anything. Aaron said you
didn’t tell anybody where you were going, so you will simply
disappear from the face of the earth without a trace. And let me
tell you, these guys will eat even your shoes and your belt buckle.
Nobody will ever know.’

‘I don’t know where Joao is. Get me away from
here!’

‘Do you know the kind of tree you are tied
to? It’s called a raintree. The blacks have a widely held belief
that, if you damage a raintree, your whole family will be broken
up, one way or another. Do you think your struggling on that rope
is damaging the tree?’

There was a sudden, violent jerk on the rope,
and Courie screamed as he was bowled over by the tight rope. He
grabbed the rope to halt his slide down the bank, screaming
continuously, and scrabbled back towards the base of the tree,
looking over his shoulder.

Sam was lighting his pipe casually. ‘I must
say, they’re back sooner than I expected. Must be hungry.’

Courie was gibbering incoherently. He was
beyond fear. ‘I’ll tell you! Just get me away!’

‘First you tell, and then, if I believe you,
I have prepared a confession for you to sign. Then, if you are
still around, we can untie you.’

Another jerk on the rope started a continuous
stream of words pouring from Courie. Sam listened, while watching
the water intently. When Courie finished, he took the keys from his
pocket and unlocked the cuffs. Sam took a folded document from the
truck and put it on the bonnet with a black pen. ‘Sign.’

Courie signed every page without reading, Sam
looking over his shoulder. Courie finished and turned around,
holding the document out towards Sam. As Sam reached for it, Courie
charged at him full tilt, pushing him in the chest with both hands.
Sam staggered back a few steps down the steep bank, swinging his
arms wildly to try and regain his balance. Courie followed up and
gave him one more push. As he fell over backwards, Sam got hold of
a fist full of Courie’s jacket sleeve, and Courie sailed over his
head as they hit the water. Sam knew that they were seconds away
from a death so horrible, he wouldn’t wish it on even Courie. His
water-logged boots were slowing him down as he battled up the
slippery bank, fighting for hand holds on exposed roots. It felt
like ages before he was out, and he turned around to reach out for
Courie. He knew it was likely to happen, and he was looking out for
it, but even so, he never saw the crocodile coming. He was lying on
one side, one hand gripping a root, and dragging Courie clear with
the other. ‘You bloody idiot! Come on, hurry!’ The next moment the
water exploded behind Courie. The gigantic crocodile grabbed Courie
from below, the peg-like teeth tearing into him in a line extending
from just above the right knee, over the stomach below the ribs,
and down his left side into the groin. On his back, the opposing
teeth were driven in with such force that his spine snapped with an
audible crack. The whole scene froze for a second, the only
movement a stream of blood pouring from the severed femoral
artery.

Then Courie started screaming, utter horror
contorting his features into something unrecognisable. The great
reptile started sliding back into the water and Sam felt as if he
was literally being torn in two but, with a strength born of
desperation, he refused to let go. ‘Oh God,’ he moaned, and clamped
both his hands tighter still. Then the crocodile spun with a force
that nothing on this earth could resist. It tore Courie out of
Sam’s grip as if there was no resistance at all, nearly dislocating
his arm. With a sob Sam jumped up and grabbed the gun from where he
had dropped it when Courie had shoved him.

When he swung around, all that remained was a
bloody swirl in the water, moving downstream slowly. He fired from
the hip, emptying the thirty-round magazine into the water
uselessly. Then he collapsed onto the ground, his back against the
wheel of the truck, the gun across his knees. ‘Holy shit,’ he
whispered, watching the dark current flowing past peacefully once
more, obscuring all traces of the horrible things that were
happening beneath its surface. He was close to a state of
shock.

‘No, Linda,’ he whispered, ‘for some, dying
is not easy.’

Chapter Twelve

From what he had learned from Courie, Sam
knew that getting a convincing message to Joao in Mozambique was
basically impossible, and getting to him physically, even more so.
Joao was supposed to move about in Mozambique, never staying in the
same place for long, in case of security leaks. There was just no
one who knew where he was going to be at any given time. These
instructions had been very explicit, as Courie had no intention of
losing a good man to a recce strike. He knew that Joao was supposed
to receive his new instructions directly from Courie in a little
less than three weeks’ time. The meeting was to take place in
Swaziland, once again at the crowded Royal Swazi Spa. But in three
weeks’ time, word of Courie’s disappearance would most probably
have reached Joao through other channels. It was doubtful whether
he would still go to Swaziland, knowing that Courie was missing. It
all depended on how much information he received concerning the
disappearance, and what conclusions he came to. If he did go,
however, Sam was convinced that the disappearance could be used to
advantage. What wreaked havoc with his nerves was the fact that for
the time being, there was nothing he could do but wait.

He drove to Nelspruit in order to get his
passport renewed, and he drew a very large amount of cash to
finance his venture into Swaziland. He also visited the local
police, and it took a considerable amount of talking before he
could get his hands on one of the police photographs, taken of Joao
during his stay in hospital.

It was very fortunate that the police
photographer had used his initiative, and had gone back to the
hospital at a later stage, to get a second set of photographs. In
the first set, taken the day after his admittance, not even Joao’s
mother would have recognised him. On these, his head bore a
remarkable resemblance to a pumpkin, with sundry appendages and
apertures, and had been kicked about somewhat. In the second set
his appearance was only marred by the presence of steel wires
criss-crossing his teeth, but he was recognisable, all right.

The local newspaper had a front page article
about Courie’s disappearance, so it was quite normal for Sam,
during his talks to the captain in charge of the archives, to
inquire casually about the progress in the investigation. The reply
left Sam with a vague sense of unease. ‘Rumour from up high have it
that we were told to lay off, and issue no statements. National
security. I always said the bastard was a communist. Apparently the
Courie issue has got the whole Department of State Security in an
uproar.’

If State Security was involved, it could only
mean that there was more to the Courie story than either he or
Linda had known about. And these guys were heavy duty. He had
better tread very, very carefully if he didn’t want to end up with
a murder rap.

Nwanetzi being sixty kilometres from the
nearest telephone, he also used the opportunity of being in
Nelspruit to phone Estelle. Although she had started answering his
daily letters occasionally, the conversation was still somewhat
strained. No, she did not think a weekend visit to Pretoria was in
order at this stage, and yes, she was willing to go as far as
admitting that she still felt something for him, but she was not
prepared to say what. He was confusing her, and she wanted some
time to sort out her life.

When he put the phone down, he was not sure
whether he should be rejoicing or crying. And she was the one
talking about confusion! He knew that he was still hopelessly in
love with her, but he didn’t have a clue as to whether he was
making progress or losing ground.

He also made some further purchases for his
trip, some of which raised the odd eyebrow.

Back in Nwanetzi time passed slowly, and Sam
performed his daily duties as usual, but his heart was not in it.
Aaron had not once inquired about Courie’s fate, and Sam had
volunteered nothing. After congratulating Aaron on an exceedingly
convincing performance, the matter was considered closed, and he
told Aaron to keep Courie’s money for himself and his family.
During his patrols he often found himself stopping at the big pool
in the Sweni. ‘Poor bastard,’ he muttered more than once, regarding
the slow current. He still experienced vivid nightmares about that
saurian. Courie’s death bothered him. On the one hand, he
experienced some guilt feelings about setting him up to be killed,
and on the other hand he felt that justice had been done. Except
for the fact that there had been no doubt as to Courie’s guilt,
Courie had tried to feed him to the crocodiles as soon as he
realised that Sam was not going to kill him in cold blood.

On the Thursday preceding the weekend of the
meeting, he put in for two days’ leave during the radio session,
and left for Swaziland at eight in the morning.

Having booked in at a hotel some distance
from the Spa, he went directly to his room. He was still edgy from
the gamble he had taken at reception. He had booked in under a
different name and, had he been required to produce his passport,
he would have been in deep trouble. He had, correctly, assumed that
identities would not be checked too rigorously, as a sense of
clandestine affairs permeated for whole of the Valley. Many of the
visitors to this valley of pleasure would prefer their presence not
to be on record.

He ordered some beer from room service, and
went over his plans once more. He was glad he had decided not to
take Joao on in this environment. He did not know how well Joao was
connected in Swaziland but he himself was definitely out of his
natural habitat. To start something here would most probably lead
to disaster and he had no intention of spending the rest of his
life in a Swazi jail.