Vendetta, page 17
‘Thank you again,’ Adam said.
She waved off his gratitude. ‘My pleasure. It’s been a more enjoyable trip for me than travelling across the country solo.’
‘And much better than a bus ride for me.’
She raised her glass. ‘Cheers to that.’
Adam looked into her eyes as they clinked glasses. He worked every day of the week, on his thesis, out on the water doing research, watching cars at the mall, or hammering, sanding, painting and sawing at the house. He knew that on some level, as Sannie had mentioned, he was drowning his demons with hard work, but it also left him little time to think about women, or love. Now, he was not only well fed, he had time on his hands. He wondered what her lips would feel like against his. They drank their wine in a companionable silence, broken only by a brief discussion of how beautiful the moon looked. He wondered what she was thinking.
Sannie finished her drink and stood. ‘It’s been a long day.’
Adam got to his feet, too, but she made no move to leave. He wanted to kiss her, but at the same time he didn’t want to do anything to spoil things. He put out his hand. ‘Goodnight, co-driver.’
‘Goodnight, nutsman.’
He laughed at the Afrikaans word for handyman. They shook hands and, as before, lingered just a few seconds longer than was necessary.
‘Goodnight, Adam,’ she said, this time.
‘Goodnight, Sannie.’
They let go of each other and she went to her door. He waited while she opened it, and when she stepped inside, she turned and looked over her shoulder at him. Just before she closed the door, she smiled.
*
Just after nine, in contravention of Dune Lodge’s rules, Tony left his suite.
Normally after dark guests could not leave their accommodation without being escorted by their guide or one of the lodge’s security staff. The lodge was unfenced and lion and leopard were active in the area.
Tony paused in the dark and looked up. The stars were sometimes the only thing that had grounded him when he was in the bush in Angola. He could picture himself back home, in South Africa, lying on his back with a girl by his side, or as a child, gazing up at the night sky in awe. The stars reminded him of innocence.
Now he felt guilty as he made his way through the chilly night to Lisa’s room. She was waiting for him and opened her door before he was even on the stairs leading to her permanent safari tent.
‘Hurry,’ she hissed. ‘It’s freezing out.’
He bounded up the stairs and into her room and arms. They kissed. She began to undress him.
‘Can we just talk?’
‘Just?’ she chided.
‘For now.’ He broke apart from her and sat in a chair in the corner of her tent. Lisa flopped down on her bed. Her hair was tousled, her top few buttons already undone. She was barefoot, sexy, ready.
He took a deep breath. ‘I went to the place where Luiz died today.’
‘I’m sorry, babe,’ she said. ‘It must be hard for you.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I said some stuff, to the guide, and later I regretted it. The words just spilled out, like I’d been stabbed and they were bleeding from me.’
She leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes searching. ‘What did you say to her? Tell me, Tony. No surprises.’
He held up a hand. ‘That’s why I’m talking to you, not making love to you right now. As my campaign manager you need to know.’
‘And as your friend, Tony, your lover.’
‘OK, yes, thanks. I told her about how one day I came across Luiz in the bush with a dead Angolan guy. I’m pretty sure he had executed him in cold blood.’
‘It was war, Tony. However, this is the first I’ve heard of this.’
‘I’ve never told anyone this stuff. At the time, I was told to forget it, and that as I didn’t actually see Luiz pull the trigger, it was not worth pursuing. Bad stuff happened, but this happened at a time when other things were going on.’
‘What sort of other things?’
He waved his hand. ‘Nothing too bad. But it’s all coming back to me now. It’s unsettling me. If I didn’t commit a war crime, is it just as bad that I turned my back on one, Lisa? What would the media make of the story I told Mia today? What if she leaks it?’
She stood and came to him. Her hair framed his face as she bent forward and kissed him. He smelled her shampoo; normally it was enough to stir him. Lisa sat in his lap and stroked his cheek with a finger. ‘She won’t. I could see how excited she was to meet you, a man who served with her father. She probably worships you.’
‘Her father was a disrespectful insolent little shit. He was always questioning my orders and thought that no one could tell him how to fight or what to do. He was experienced, but also arrogant.’
She leaned back. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about someone other than the President with such vitriol. This guy really got to you, huh?’
He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. ‘I’m a politician, I can’t badmouth anyone, except the government, of course. Frank Greenaway had it in for me from the moment I took over the platoon. Everyone thinks the army is one big happy family, all pulling together, but when you get a bunch of alpha males in close proximity in a stressful environment it’s like lighting a match in an explosives factory. One time –’
Tony realised he had said enough about the past for one day. And why had he felt the need to unburden himself to Frank’s daughter, of all people?
‘One time, what?’ Lisa said. ‘What happened between you and this guy, Greenaway?’
Angola, 1987
Tony heard footsteps coming up behind him. He and the two Bushmen were still following the tracks of the man who had left the crash site alone. Tony turned and saw Frank Greenaway. Tony cocked his head at the sound of the crump, crump, crump of mortars leaving their tubes.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Greenaway demanded. ‘Do you think the guy wearing the FAPLA boots is one of ours? What aren’t you telling me?’
Tony winced at the sound of the three mortar bombs detonating. It sounded like they were landing near or on the wrecked Bosbok aircraft they had just left.
‘We’ve got our orders,’ Tony said to the sergeant. ‘You know them as well as I do. I told Litis to tell you to stay put. You’ve disobeyed an order.’
Greenaway glared at Tony for a second but said nothing. Rossouw, with his radio, was hovering just behind Greenaway. The rest of the stick caught up with them.
‘Don’t shoot, it’s us.’ Litis emerged from the bush, followed by Kruger.
Tony was livid. He glared at Greenaway and then at Evan. ‘I told you to wait for the Bushmen and me to return.’
Frank stuck his chin out. ‘It’s stupid to split a small patrol like this.’
‘Stu– I’m going to charge you when we get back.’
‘I’d rather be in the cells than out here with people who don’t know what they’re doing.’
Tony felt his body trembling. He wanted to lash out and hit the sergeant, but he knew that would be an admission that he had completely lost control. Also, if it came to a fight, Greenaway would probably kill him with his bare hands. The others watched like dirty, sweaty schoolboys waiting for a playground bout.
‘Listen . . .’ Greenaway took a breath. ‘Sir, with respect, I felt it was unsafe for us to be left waiting for you and the others. Someone’s started an eighty-two-millimetre mortar barrage close by. They’re looking for us.’
‘I heard,’ Tony said coldly, regaining control. ‘All right, you can stay with us for now.’
‘Who are we looking for?’ Greenaway said.
‘The other member of the Bosbok’s crew.’
‘Like I told the guys, it’s a one-man crew on that thing. It’s a passenger you’re looking for, not a crewman.’
‘Sergeant Greenaway, you’ve been told what you need to know. Now, to tell you the truth, I don’t give a fok if you come with us, walk back to South West Africa, or sit in the bush and get yourself killed, but we are tracking this man, and I am in command of this patrol. If I hear anything else from you other than “Yes sir”, I’ll have you charged. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes . . . sir.’
Tony turned on his heel and strode away to catch up to the San trackers. He didn’t bother to look over his shoulder, but he heard Greenaway marshalling the others behind him. He did not have to justify himself to a sergeant.
Luiz had stopped up ahead and Roberto was kneeling next to him. Tony moved forward to join them. Lance Corporal Erasmus, the medic, was beside them.
‘What is it?’ Tony asked.
‘Luiz says we’re close,’ Erasmus said, ‘and he’s picking up a blood trail.’
‘Some blood, earlier,’ Luiz said. He spoke rarely and very little and Tony thought it was because his English was not good. ‘Now, worse.’
Tony looked where the tracker was pointing and could see where the dirt was darkened with blood. ‘We need to get to him, quickly.’
There was a whistling sound, followed by an explosion off to their left that rocked the ground.
‘Mortars are getting closer,’ Greenaway said. ‘Someone really wants us dead.’
‘Shit,’ Rossouw said. Luiz was on his feet, moving, with Roberto in tow.
‘This way,’ Tony yelled, pointing after the Bushmen.
‘No arguments from me,’ Greenaway said. ‘It’s away from where that shell just landed.’
As if to propel them along faster, a second bomb detonated somewhere near the first.
‘Come on, let’s move it,’ Tony said, finally feeling like he was in control. ‘We follow Luiz and Roberto.’ Part of him wanted to do what Greenaway had suggested, to bug out, but he had his orders, direct from the colonel.
Luiz moved in a crouch, as though he was stalking game. He would be the first to catch sight of the man they were following, and he probably wanted to present as small a target as possible.
The tracker held up a hand. Rassie raised his rifle as he closed the gap between himself and Roberto. Tony held up his hand too, to make Greenaway and the others stop. Thankfully the sergeant obeyed, and quietly told Kruger and Litis to face outwards, protecting their flanks and rear.
Tony went to Rassie, Luiz and Roberto.
‘Hey!’ a voice called out from ahead.
Tony saw the man, who raised a pistol, and realised that it must have been his own movement, lifting his hand in a stop signal, that alerted their quarry. A gunshot rang out, and the bullet smacked into a tree a metre from Tony.
‘Put down your gun, we’re bloody South Africans!’ Erasmus stood and waved his R4 over his head.
The man they were following staggered out of the bush, fully into view. He wore a South African nutria-brown uniform and was holding his nine-millimetre pistol by his side in his right hand and a brown leather satchel in his left.
‘What the fuck is he carrying?’ Greenaway asked. ‘His luggage?’
Tony looked over his shoulder and saw the sergeant looking his way. ‘Do your job and watch our rear, Greenaway.’
Tony leapfrogged Erasmus, Luiz and Roberto and rushed to the wounded man, taking him by the arm. ‘Come. This way.’ He led the man through a stand of trees, away from the rest of the patrol. ‘Sit down.’
Erasmus unslung his medic’s bag and followed in Tony’s footsteps.
The man was young, probably another conscript, and he wore air force insignia. As well as wearing enemy boots he had a holster on his belt; his pistol looked like a Russian Tokarev pistol. In his brief time in South West Africa and Angola Tony had already learned that personnel working away from the front line still liked to dress the part, with unauthorised and captured gear that had most likely been souvenired by front-line fighting men.
‘Airman Duarte?’ Tony asked.
The man looked up at him. ‘Yes . . . sir. You know my name?’
Duarte seemed dazed, most likely in shock. His face, which, judging by his colouring and name Tony thought might normally have been an olive colour, was deathly pale. Blood from the wound in his left shoulder had soaked his uniform. He had black hair with non-regulation sideburns and dark eyes bright with fear.
‘What happened to you?’ Tony asked. Erasmus knelt beside them and opened his first aid kit.
‘We were shot down soon after take-off, and crashed. The pilot was killed. I managed to get out, but the FAPLA came. I ran. They shot me, but they seemed more interested in searching the Bosbok than coming after me.’
Tony took out a field dressing, unwrapped it and placed the bulky cotton pad against the wound in Duarte’s side. He needed to keep him talking.
‘Sir,’ Erasmus said. ‘Let me do that.’
Ferri ignored the medic for now. It was important he speak to Duarte first. ‘Your name, what is that? Portuguese?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He winced as Erasmus, who had knelt down and set to work anyway, cut away part of his shirt to better access the wound in his torso. The medic took over from Tony, removing the remains of Duarte’s shirt and the hastily applied dressing. He replaced the pad then set to work wrapping a bandage around Duarte’s body.
Luiz came over and crouched next to Erasmus as he worked, watching him. Roberto squatted nearby.
‘Luiz, go to the others, to Sergeant Greenaway.’ Tony did not want a full-house audience while he questioned the airman.
Luiz blinked and stared at Tony.
‘Duarte, can you tell this oke to go to Sergeant Greenaway, in Portuguese.’
The airman shook his head. ‘Sorry, sir, I don’t actually speak Portuguese. When I finished my basic training, an officer asked me if Duarte was a Portuguese name. I said that yes, my dad was Portuguese. They assigned me to air force intelligence as an interpreter.’
‘An interpreter who can’t speak Portuguese? So, what, they gave you some kind of courier job?’ No doubt the airman had thought intelligence would be a cushy job.
Duarte looked around him furtively. ‘I’m not supposed to talk about what I do, sir. Not to anyone.’
‘I was briefed on what you’re carrying, Duarte, so don’t fuck about.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Tony noted that when he had sat down, Duarte had placed the leather satchel he had been carrying under his butt; he was sitting on it now, with his left hand by his side.
‘Lift your left arm up high so I can tie off this bandage,’ Erasmus said to Duarte.
‘I can’t do that.’
Duarte shifted his left hand and both Tony and Erasmus could see that the satchel was handcuffed to his wrist.
‘What the fok is that?’ Erasmus asked.
Chapter 16
Mia was up before dawn, as usual. She made her way to the lodge’s main building, where she sat down in Shirley’s office to call Tony, Lisa and Evan’s suites at five-thirty, to give them a wake-up call for the early-morning game drive.
‘Sorry, Mia, I’m man-down. I feel terrible; I’m going to have to miss the drive,’ Evan said. ‘It must have been something I ate. I had a chicken mayo sandwich at the airport before we left; I think it might be that.’
‘Shame, I’m so sorry to hear that, Evan. I hope you feel better later. I’ll let Shirley, our manager, know, in case we need to call a doctor.’
‘I’m sure it will pass . . . a lot has, already.’
‘Take care, Evan.’ Mia rang off. ‘Shit,’ she said to herself. If Evan had contracted food poisoning at the lodge there would be hell to pay once Julianne Clyde-Smith found out. Also, if one guest was ill then another could be too.
‘Hi, Lisa, this is your wake-up call,’ Mia said when she dialled the next number. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine. Sorry, I won’t be coming on the drive. Bye.’
Tony’s campaign manager hung up and Mia was left wondering what was wrong with her. It didn’t sound like she was ill, but nor was she happy.
‘Morning, Tony,’ Mia began as she made her final call.
‘Morning, Mia. I’m on my way.’
‘You’ve still got half an hour. This was just supposed to be your wake-up call.’
‘I’m a habitual early riser. I’ll see you in five.’
The politician was true to his word and looked, Mia thought, as ruggedly handsome and polished as if he were setting out for a meet-and-greet media event. He wore a navy polo shirt and matching spray jacket, chinos and practical but stylish low-profile hiking shoes.
He smiled at her. ‘Morning.’
‘Good morning, again. Would you like tea or coffee before we go? We have rusks, croissants and some small pastries.’
‘You’ve got something for morning tea in the Land Rover, right?’
‘Sure do,’ Mia said. He clearly knew the safari routine.
‘Then let’s head out and get an early start on the big game.’
‘Fine by me. The others aren’t coming. Shame, Evan isn’t well.’
Tony nodded as they walked together out of the lodge to the game-viewing vehicle. ‘Yes, he called me and let me know. Lisa is . . . well, snowed under with work as usual.’
‘Is she OK? She sounded a little – I don’t know – stressed?’
‘She’s a workaholic, Mia. I worry about her, but I’d be lost without her.’
They climbed into the Land Rover. Mia got on the radio and told Shirley, who was now in her office, that they were setting off early and would be exploring the western side of the reserve.
Tony stretched his arms wide and leaned back as Mia set off. ‘I can’t tell you how good it feels to be out in the wild and, as much as I hate to say it, alone. Or, rather, just with you.’
‘Well, I’m glad you can enjoy a break,’ Mia said, ‘even though you’re here for a sad occasion.’
