Hyena Dawn (46 page)

‘
But it’ll take him a lot longer in the chopper.’

‘
He knows the risks. I made sure that he was one hundred per cent aware of them. We couldn’t have a better back-up man.’

Early the next morning, Rayne took Lois up onto the hotel roof to show him exactly how they planned to attack the bank. At nine o’clock a big Mercedes pulled up outside. Rayne recognised Bernard Aschaar. He handed the binoculars to Lois.

‘
That’s Bernard Aschaar, head of Goldcorp, one of the world’s most powerful mining companies. He’s one of the coordinators behind this little show. He’s got a small fortune in this bank.’ Lois said nothing but Rayne saw his jaw tighten and his fists clench. It was unlike Lois to show emotion so openly.

‘
It’s him, it’s the same bastard. I’d like to strangle him with my bare hands.’

Rayne had never heard Lois talk in this way before. Suddenly he had a new insight into the man, he saw the bitterness that drove Lois on.

‘
You know Aschaar?’

‘
It’s a long story, and it’s not pleasant.’ He was silent for a few moments, then spoke again. ‘It’s a part of my life I’d rather forget. I was working as an aircraft mechanic at the Rand Airport. Times were tough and as usual they were especially tough for me. I was desperate for money, and no doubt someone got to know about it. Anyway, one day I got a phone call and a message to say, was I interested in a special job, a one-off affair that would give me enough to retire on? Of course, I said I was. One thing led to another and eventually I agreed to fix a plane for them.’

‘
How do you mean “fix a plane”?’

‘
Sabotage. You fiddle with the controls, it’s easy enough, and it can’t be detected after the crash. It’s a popular way of wiping out businessmen who’ve become a problem. That’s what they told me this was about, fixing the private plane of some bastard who’d taken a lot of people for a lot of money. I couldn’t argue with that, so I agreed to do the job. The money was incredible. All I had to do was fix the controls, leave my job and collect the cash. The crafty bastards had lied to me from the beginning.’

‘
They never paid you?’

‘
Oh yes, they paid me, but then they tried to wipe me. They were scared of an investigation. They never told me a professional pilot would be on the plane and that there’d be passengers. I’d never have done it then, I swear to you that’s the truth.

‘
There was a whole article about it on the South African TV news. The moment I saw that I knew what was going on. There was this girl on the plane, the daughter of some wealthy financier, and it was her they’d really wanted me to wipe out. Typical big business strategy - hit the bastard where it hurts most and then railroad him. I’m sure the buggers didn’t give up after the sabotage effort failed.’

Rayne felt himself going cold but said nothing. Lois’s was not the only life that had been affected by the incident. Now Rayne knew exactly who had tried to kill Penelope. He was going to get the bastard, that was for sure. Lois misinterpreted Rayne’s clenched jaw.

‘
Look, I know it was attempted murder, but believe me, I’d never have done it if I’d known there were innocent people involved. They sent a hit-man to get me that evening. He nearly did, but he took me for a sucker, didn’t know I had a black belt. I killed him. After that I got the hell out of the country. Now I’m back in hell.’

‘
So what do you feel about Aschaar now?’

‘
I’m going to get him. If not here, in Johannesburg or somewhere else, I don’t care how long it takes. You see, that’s my goal, to hit the bastard back. After I’d fought their hit-man I had to have both of my testicles removed. It’s not something you forgive.’

‘
Lois, if there’s any way we can get him after the attack, we will. His plane is still on the airstrip - and if he isn’t out by early Sunday afternoon, he won’t be going anywhere in a hurry.’

Siva Singh sat in his office for a long time without moving. A small voice inside his head told him to phone the General immediately, but another, more urgent voice told him not to.

He had no doubt that Aschaar would carry out all the threats he had made, and worse. Anyway, perhaps he knew a lot more than Singh. If the invasion succeeded then all would be well and Singh would make a lot of money; but if it was a failure there was now another option, in many ways equally attractive. It was merely business: he had just transferred his interests from the General to Mr Aschaar. He pulled a tissue from one of the drawers in his desk and cleaned the blood off his face.

Then he set about cleaning up the broken articles on the floor. It would never do for the staff to know that he had just been slapped around by one of his important clients.

The afternoon sun was low in the sky as Rayne drove the Peugeot slowly along the dirt road. The road-block had been easy, the guard was beginning to know him well. He gave the man a packet of cigarettes, talked to him for a few minutes and then drove on. The guard would never have believed that there was another man hidden in the boot of the car.

Rayne pulled over at the side of the road and got out of the car, walking straight to the back and opening the boot. Lois emerged, partially covered in dust. He got into the passenger seat and Rayne started the car again. After another kilometre Lois gestured to a tree on the right.

‘
That’s where the first bike is hidden. I’ve also buried a 9mm beneath it with twenty rounds. A couple of grenades as well.’

Rayne kept on driving, anxious not to waste time. A bit further on Lois gestured to the left and Rayne saw a small rocky outcrop. ‘Under a pile of stones, directly behind that lot.’

Rayne nodded and kept the car moving.

‘
The helicopter is another five kilometres down this road on the left. You have to pass through some very thick bush to get to it. About three hundred metres from the road there are thin lines attached to grenades fixed in the trees. Once you’ve avoided those, you’re safe. You can drop me off here. I don’t want to go any closer in the car.’

‘
Thanks, Lois, for everything. On Sunday you should hear a lot of noise at about five in the afternoon. We should be with you within the hour if our own transportation doesn’t come in. I suggest, if we don’t pitch up, that you get the hell out of here by six-thirty.’

‘
I’ll wait. They won’t find me.’

Rayne slowed the car down, they shook hands and then Lois got out and disappeared into the bushes in seconds. Rayne turned the car round and headed back towards Beira.

Now there was only one day left, and he hadn’t seen a sign of Sam anywhere. He kept the car going at a slow pace and tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on anything he might have left out . . . Perhaps there was another clue to her whereabouts that he had missed. He couldn’t let the men down, but there was no way he was going to leave till he had found her.

Maybe Lois would agree to stay with him. No, he couldn’t ask that, the place would be terrifying after the attack. Everybody white outside the Russian camp would be considered a traitor. People would be hauled off the street and interrogated.

He got back into Beira as the sun was setting and parked the car at the back of the hotel. There was nothing left to do, and he knew the next twenty-four hours was going to pass agonisingly slowly. Fortunately he’d heard nothing more about the arms deal he had arranged with the Russians.

He went up to his room and opened the double doors leading onto the balcony. He would have no more alcohol now, his reflexes had to be at their very best for what was to come. There had been no contact from either Bunty Mulbarton or Michael Strong, but this didn’t bother him; keeping silence was far more important than keeping in touch.

Now he had time to think about what Lois had told him. When he got back to South Africa he would tell Penelope’s father the whole story. How many other people’s lives had this maniac wrecked in his quest for more and more power? But Aschaar was another score to settle, one that would have to be dealt with later.

He reviewed the instructions Fry had given him. To avoid destroying the fuel storage tanks; to take the bank and destroy the contents of the safe-deposit boxes; to hit the airport at the same time and then to get the hell out. Not for the first time, he began to question these commands. The bank was a sensible enough diversion to take the focus of Russian attention away from the airport defences - but why should he waste his time destroying the contents of safe-deposit boxes? And why the hell shouldn’t he torch the fuel tanks?

On top of the fear Rayne already felt at being in enemy territory came the new fear of betrayal.

Major Martin Long reached for the bottle of sleeping tablets and poured another two into his hand. He looked at his alarm clock. It was past midnight.

He swore out loud. Samantha Elliot lost in enemy territory, Rayne Gallagher gone on a crazy mission for the CIA . . . They’d been his friends, and what had he given them in return for that friendship?

He picked up the framed photograph of his father and threw it hard against the wall, watching the glass splinter into tiny pieces. It wasn’t his fault his father had been a coward, a failure. Yet he’d never been man enough to confront him with the truth, and instead he’d protected his father’s lie and betrayed his friends.

He picked up the phone and dialled the emergency number he’d been given. Maybe there was something he could still do.

John Fry looked up at the ceiling reflectively, said goodbye and put down the phone. Major Martin Long’s usefulness was definitely over. The panicky call late in the evening had surprised him. Of course he’d reassured the Major that Captain Gallagher would be well looked after.

He picked up a folder lying next to his bed and paged idly through it. The attacks on the bank and the airfield were scheduled to take place on Sunday afternoon. After that he would be able to relax again. With the contents of the safe- deposit box in the bank in Beira destroyed, there would be nothing to worry about. Vorotnikov’s career would be finished and his own assured.

As for Gallagher and his men, well, they would indeed be taken care of.

Tongogara

Tongogara sat huddled in an old wool blanket in the lonely kraal. He was very worried. Usually there was dissension amongst his men, but now they were quiet. A new feeling possessed them - a sense of approaching power. They felt in their bones that the attack on Salisbury would be successful, and already the anticipation of victory was strong in them. There was talk of killing, looting and raping. Tongogara knew better than to argue.

After all the idealistic talk of communism and a people’s state, the years of dreaming how to refashion their country, this was what they had become - a rabble bent on revenge, whose savagery would confirm the worst suspicions of the white men.

He had changed. The loss of his wife had changed him, he knew that. Mnangagwa was also different, maybe because he had trained as a lawyer. They had talked at great length and both decided that they would take no active part in this assault. Instead they would follow behind and try to restore some order.

What would it take to make these men change? It was too late for them, nothing would change them now. They had only been educated in handling the AK-47. Would future generations even appreciate their sacrifice? He prayed that his dream of a free and prosperous Zimbabwe would not turn into another Angola. Angola should have been one of the wealthiest countries in Africa and now it was almost as poor as Mozambique.

Tongogara looked up at the stars that had looked down on Africa for eternity. Time was running out for black Africa. The benevolent attitude of the West would change, his people must earn the right to successful government. While they lived in chaos they would always be at the mercy of foreign powers. In a previous age they had been slaves, but today they were still fighting for their freedom. And outside Africa, no one wanted the black man. While hundreds of white families left the continent every month, able to relocate with ease, Tongogara and his countrymen had no choice but to stay where they were and fight themselves out of the mess the Europeans had created.

He felt Sam’s arms around his shoulders, felt the warmth of her body arousing him. The irony of this moment caught him by surprise. She, the white woman who was only free to come out at night.