Trackers (24 page)

Silence. Then footsteps on the wooden floor. She believed
him.

'Why did you want me to go along?'

He held his hands defensively in front of him. 'You won't
believe me ...'

I lifted the club. 'Try me.'

He retreated up to the edge of the desk. 'Lemmer, I swear to
you, it was just about the horns,' he spoke fast, desperately. 'The poachers,
things are getting out of hand. And these ones come from Zim, you know how
things are there, the police, everyone is involved with the smuggling, I swear,
I swear, I only had Lourens and Cornel's safety . . .'

'You're right. I don't believe you. When did you arrange with
Lotter to come?'

'Friday night, I phoned him ...'

'But you wait till Saturday morning at eleven before you ask
me?'

'I... the thing is, I thought of going along myself at first.
But then Marika suggested you, rather get a professional, and so I phoned
around, but no one had your number, you're not in the book, and I only got away
from here at nine on Saturday, what with all the arrangements, and I went to
your house, but there was no one there, and then I found you in the Red
Pomegranate ...'

'And you gave me a MAG-7, just in case?'

'Lemmer, I know how it looks ...'

'Where did you get the shotgun?'

'It's a long story ...'

I hit him again, on the shoulder. He made a desperate squeak
and fled around the desk, his eyes searching for a place to hide under it.
'What do you want?' he asked in despair.

'The truth, Diederik. Because you are lying.'

'About what?'

I lifted the club again and walked after him.

'OK.' Pleading, retreating all around the desk, as I followed
him.

'OK, what?' still on the merry-go-round, a game for children.

'I'll tell you, just put the fucking golf club down.'

I stopped and lowered the stick.

He blew out a long and noisy breath, grinned. 'Look at us
...'

It was a circus, but I wasn't going to give him any get-out.
'Spit it out, Diederik.'

He sat down in the lovely old chair, worn out. 'I lied about
the permit.'

'The permit?'

'It's forged.'

'The import permit?'

'Yes. And the letter from Nature Conservation. I ... Where's
the harm, Lemmer? Nicola ... He has a rule, he won't transport game unless the
permits are correct. There was no way I could get a permit for the rhino.'

'Who forged the documents?'

'I did. Myself.'

'To convince Nicola?'

'Yes. And if you were stopped ...'

'You never
did
talk to the
government people.'

'No.'

'It was smuggling.'

'Yes.' 'Are the animals stolen?'

'No! I swear, Ehrlichmann heard I was looking for rhino, he
phoned me, said they were outside the game reserve, belonged to nobody, chance
of their survival was nil, just a question of time, Lemmer, it was an
emergency, a rescue mission, I swear to you. But I had to be careful, I...
there were a lot of people involved in capturing the animals, loading them. Any
one of them could have decided to take the horns ... That's why I got you,
because you never know, this is Africa ...'

'What else was on that lorry? What did Ehrlichmann send
along, Diederik?'

'I don't know!' he pleaded.

'Pappa?' Marika called, back at the door, deeply worried. She
rattled the door handle.

'Everything is fine,' he answered.

'Open the door.'

'Marika, everything is fine.'

'Then open the door!'

I looked at him, the prince of liars who had pushed the
'permit' at me in my house with so much slick dishonesty. He was
still
lying. I took the key out of my pocket and
tossed it at him. He missed the catch, bent down to pick it up, and then went
over to unlock the door.

'What's going on?' Marika asked, looking at me reproachfully.

'Just a misunderstanding,' said Diederik. 'We're coming now.'

She was reluctant to leave, turning away slowly and
disappearing down the passage.

Diederik and I stared at each other. 'Lemmer, on my word
of
honour, I don't know what they were looking for.
I am terribly sorry about what happened, but I am innocent, on my word of
honour.'

'The question is whether you have any honour left,' I said.
'You will pay Jeanette Louw now. Before you leave this room.'

'Of course.'

And I walked out to go and fetch Emma.

...a tracker
often has a preconceived image of what a typical sign looks like. Their mind
will be prejudiced to see what they want to see, and in order to avoid making
such errors they must be careful not to reach decisions too soon.

Principles of Tracking:
Recognition of signs

On the way back to Loxton in Emma's Freelander. She drove, I
talked.

'Ay,' she said when I had finished, experiencing the same
Diederik disillusionment I had, the same sense of something lost, a crack in
the honest facade of the Bo-Karoo.

'What are you going to do?'

'Don't know ... I'll sleep on it. Talk to Jeanette first.'

'Probably best,' she said. 'Lourens said you ran into the
Harley guys again ...'

I should have known.

'I...' Groping for an excuse, there was none. Emma reached
out her hand to touch mine gently, with all its ugly cuts and scratches.

Jeanette Louw was a former sergeant major from the Women's
Army College in George, and the founder, managing director and sole shareholder
of Body Armour. Her age - estimated to be in the late forties - was a carefully
guarded secret. She had a taste for Gauloise cigarettes, for bruised, recently
divorced, heterosexual women, for men's expensive designer suits, and brightly
coloured ties. She was a demanding employer requiring absolute loyalty,
integrity and professionalism from her people - because that is what she gave
them.

'I hope you gave him a good hiding,' she said over the phone
when I told my story.

'With a golf club.'

'Hah!' Her usual laugh, explosive. 'And you won't leave it at
that.'

She knew me.

'No.'

'Listen to me, Lemmer. I am going to phone the bastard and
tell him your account will keep running until you find out what is going on.
And if he doesn't pay, I will send two gorillas to collect.'

'Thank you.'

'Are you all right?'

'Just a few marks in interesting spots. Very sexy. I can send
you photos.'

'Fuck,' she said. 'How am I going to get that image out of my
head?'

Late that night, on my bed's snowy sheets, Emma gasped at the
sight of the purple and blue bruises and grazes covering my body. She fetched a
little first aid kit and slowly and gently anointed me with oils and ointments.
Her hands were soft and cool, her voice melodious as she told me with relish
about her afternoon with Antjie Barnard, her morning in the church. Antjie
saying through a haze of cigarette smoke: 'Emma, you're the right one for
Lemmer. But if I were thirty years younger . . .' And, 'The trouble with
Diederik Brand is that he gets bored. He's too intelligent just to be a
farmer.'

Before church, Emma said, everyone wanted to hear the story
of the Knights and the Red Pomegranate. 'This morning the minister prayed for
God's hand of protection over our Lemmer and Lourens on their journey.'

Our Lemmer.
That was a first.

And what if I should unmask Diederik Brand?

Once she had finished, she packed away the bottles and tubes,
turned off the light and lay down beside me, her hand soft on my chest. 'I have
to go back to Cape Town tomorrow,' she whispered. Then sighed in great
contentment: 'I love you so much.'

'Emma ...'

She put her finger to my lips. 'Sleep well,' she said and
kissed me on my unscathed cheek.

Tomorrow morning, I thought. Tomorrow I will tell her
everything.

At a quarter to seven on Monday morning there was a gentle
knock on my door.

Emma was still asleep. I got up and went down the passage to
open the door.

Seventy-year-old Antjie Barnard stood there, with hat,
walking boots and stick. She looked me up and down. I realised I was wearing
only my rugby shorts, displaying the bruises all over me. 'Mmm,' she said
suggestively. 'Kinky.'

'Morning, Antjie.'

'Diederik Brand said he doesn't have your number, but would
you phone him urgently. He sounded a little alarmed.' She passed me a scrap of
paper.

Emma's quiet footsteps behind me. 'Morning Antjie.'

'Morning, Emma. Don't worry, I would have given him a rough
time too.'

It took Emma a moment to catch on. She giggled. 'It was only
a warning,' she said.

'Oh?'

'In case he pays you too much attention while I'm away.'

'Lemmer, you have to come and see this,' said Diederik over
the phone. He sounded more excited than alarmed.

'Why?'

'Lemmer, this is a party line. Please, just come and see.
You're never going to believe this.'

I had other plans. I had to talk to Emma. 'I'll see if I can
come out this afternoon.'

'I don't think you want to wait that long.'

'Diederik, what's going on?'

He deliberated over his answer. 'The questions you asked. I
think I have the answers. The longer you delay ...'

I was reluctant to believe him, despite the fire and
conviction in his voice.

'It's your choice, Lemmer.'

'I'll see what I can do,' I ended the call.

'What is it?' Emma called from the bathroom.

I went to the door. She stood in front of the shower, ready to
get in, naked, at ease with her perfect, compact body. It took my breath away.
Every time. 'I...'

'Concentrate, Lemmer ...' A mischievous smile.

Unwillingly, I looked away towards the window. 'Diederik
Brand wants me to go out there. He's found something, won't say what.'

'I have to leave anyway,' she said.

I had to talk to her first. Not in a rush, I had to say it
all in the right way. 'I...'

She turned around, giving me a full frontal view as she leaned
seductively against the shower door. 'You wanted to say?'

'Emma ...'

'Yes?'

'I ...' What had I wanted to say?

'What?'

'Do you want to wash the wounds of a seriously injured man?'

'Actually, I'm keen on the healthy bits. And
"washing" isn't necessarily on the agenda.'

'You women,' I said, as I took off my rugby shorts in a
hurry. 'No respect for personal hygiene.'

'He's with the rhinos,' Marika said at the front door of the
homestead, stiff and unfriendly.

I thanked her and went towards the field where, according to
Flea's instructions, the animals had to recover and adapt for two weeks before
they were released. This was the first time I had seen the farm in daylight.
The farmhouse nestled in a hollow of the Nuweveld Mountains, the bright blue sky
and rugged, rusty brown mountain tops were a dramatic backdrop to the simple
white building and the lush green garden. A jeep track followed the contour of
the mountain past an earth dam where ducks swam under willow trees, then
through a valley of thorn bushes. Two black eagles swooped silently along the
cliffs, northwards, hunting for dassies.

I found Diederik Brand leaning on the gate of the field,
beside the concrete reservoir and windmill.

He heard me approach, but did not turn. I stopped beside him.
He pointed, 'Look,' he said.

The rhino grazed between the thorn trees, peacefully.

'What?'

He just smiled, dimples beside the moustache.

Then I saw it.

The animals looked ... healthy. Here and there their hides
were dark and damp. Bits of mud clung to them. But the Necrolytic Dermatitis
was gone, the dark pink, septic growths had disappeared overnight.

Decisions made
at a glance can often be erroneous, so when encountering new signs, time should
be taken to study them in detail.

Principles of Tracking:
Recognition of signs