Dead Cat Bounce (32 page)

“Tranquilizer gun?” asked Jonah.

“Yes. They’re designed to bring down a rhino. They’ll knock a person out instantaneously,” answered Chippy.

Jonah was relieved. That meant they didn’t plan to kill anyone.

“It sounds simple enough,” David replied. “I’ll get ready.” He picked up a handgun in a holster and started attaching it to his belt.

“Do I stay here?” asked Jonah. It struck him that while he was mentally prepared for almost anything on the trading floor, there was no way to prepare for this.

“Yes,” said David. “Stay where it’s safe.”

“No, David,” said Chippy. “Jonah comes with us.”

“You must be joking!” snapped David, testing the mechanism of the automatic pistol. “Those men are here to kill us. I’m not taking my son out there. He’s not trained for this kind of thing.”

Jonah’s pulse started to race. It wasn’t the excited racing of running cross-country or participating in a killer trade. This felt different. It felt fuelled by mortal terror.

“No,” repeated Chippy. “He must come. He will be good for us.” Jonah could see that his leopard eyes were ablaze again and recalled what David had said about Chippy being a Sangoma and having a sixth sense for danger. He looked back at his father, and for a moment he thought he saw fear flick across his face, to be replaced by acknowledgment that Chippy hadn’t steered him wrong before.

“Okay,” said David slowly, shoving the pistol back into its holster. “But only if Jonah is all right with this.” He turned to his son. “How do feel about it, Jonah?”

Jonah was struck by the oddity of it all—he’d always wanted his father to seek out his opinion more often, and now that he was, it was only after their world had imploded.

“What would you have me do?” asked Jonah, his stomach twisting at the thought of seeing the Baron again.

“You watch. Hidden. The third set of eyes. You don’t enter the extraction zone,” said Chippy as if reading his thoughts.

“If you see anything that threatens the extraction, you shout,” added David. “And get out immediately. We’ll follow.”

“And it would be a good idea if you carried a gun,” said Chippy, handing him the one he was currently holding.

Jonah took the gun. It was a nine-millimeter automatic, the same as the gun he’d fired in Amsterdam. It didn’t feel so heavy this time.

They followed the game paths, avoiding the main track. Chippy led, a crossbow strapped to his back, with Jonah thirty yards behind and David bringing up the rear, a tranquilizer gun in hand. It was the hottest time of the day, and they were the only things moving. They hiked in silence, and Jonah concentrated on lifting his feet high to
avoid stumbling and walking around bushes even if it meant stepping off the path, as Chippy had shown him to do. Soon he began to find a kind of rhythm.

After half an hour Chippy moved off the track and into a clump of thorn trees, stopping and squatting on his haunches. Jonah and David followed and squatted next to him. He pointed forward, and Jonah followed the direction of his arm to the sight of the Baron, a hundred yards away, sitting in a chair in the shade. It was the first time he had set eyes on his former mentor since Amsterdam. His arm was in a sling, and he looked much smaller than Jonah remembered. He wore a standard business shirt with cufflinks plus a tie loosened around his neck—an odd choice for Africa, Jonah mused—and appeared uncomfortable and ill at ease, saying nothing as the big South African man tended to a fire. A light breeze carried the sounds and smells of the man’s activities to Jonah. He was making lunch.

“You stay here,” whispered David, “and keep your eyes peeled. We might be a while.” Chippy gave him a thumbs-up, and the two men peeled off to the right to take a wide circle toward the camp. Jonah looked tentatively for somewhere comfortable to wait and settled on a sandy clearing in the shade. The grass and shadows would cover him, and he had a clear view of the camp. He lay down on his stomach, keeping his eyes on the camp. It was hot, even in the shade, and flies soon gathered to drink the sweat from his face. He swatted at them at first but soon gave up and let them settle.

He watched the Baron and the other man eat their lunch, tidy it away, and put up two tents. Once the tents were up, the other man looked at his watch and said something, leading the Baron to
nod. Soon after two
P.M.
both men retired to their separate tents, presumably for an afternoon nap. There was some movement for ten minutes and then complete stillness; even the breeze seemed to have gone to sleep. Jonah watched carefully, trying to pick up any sign of his father or Chippy.

Suddenly he caught movement behind the Baron’s tent. He heard the faint rip of canvas followed by the pop of a tranquilizer gun.
They were doing it!
His father and Chippy were going after the Baron. Now he could see Chippy crawling toward the second tent. A glint of unnatural light in the trees to the left grabbed Jonah’s attention.
It was a person!
Had David and Chippy seen him too?
The person was standing stock still. He was black and wearing dark khaki clothing, almost invisible in the dappled shadows of the tree. Only the movement had given away his presence.

Jonah relaxed.
No, they hadn’t seen him. They were concentrating on the tents
. But then the man began raising something slowly up from his waist.

A gun!

Jonah shouted, ripping the silence to pieces and causing an unseen animal nearby to bolt. The man in the trees swung his gun around toward the noise as David and Chippy split and dove to the ground. Jonah prayed that his cover would hold and lay rigidly still. He could see Chippy aiming the crossbow as the man began to swing his gun back toward the tents. In mid-movement he jerked backward with his arm pinned against the tree he had been leaning against. The gun fell to the ground. There was a pop, and the man slumped awkwardly, still attached to the tree. Chippy was now putting another bolt into the crossbow as the first tent erupted and the
big South African catapulted out of its front. David stood up behind the second tent with the tranquilizer gun in his hand. There was another pop. The man fell still, and everything was quiet again.

Jonah saw his father take his pistol out and walk toward the tall South African, the gun held out in front of him. He stood over him and bent down, putting the gun against the back of his head. Jonah gagged, but David dropped his left hand off the butt to remove the tranquilizer dart from the man’s neck and check his pulse. He walked over to the third man and reached down to his thigh to pull out the tranquilizer dart, again checking his pulse. Meanwhile, Chippy was dragging the Baron out of his tent.

David turned toward Jonah and called out, “All clear, Jonah. Where are you?”

Jonah stood up, his nerves still firing a mile a minute. “Over here,” he called back and ran over to the perimeter fence where David met him.

“Good thing you came,” said David. “I don’t know how we missed that guy. He must have joined after Chippy left this morning. I assume he’s their tracker.”

“Yeah. Nice work, Jonah,” called Chippy from the tent, smiling. “I told you you would be good for us.”

Jonah tossed his head in acknowledgment. “Would he have shot you?” he asked his dad.

“I doubt it. He looks as if he’s a local lad. But I’m glad we didn’t get to find out. Now, do you reckon you can get over this fence and give us a hand? Otherwise it’s about a mile walk to the next gap.”

Jonah looked upward. The fence was about fifteen feet high, but without any barbed wire at the top. He put his hands into the
hexagonal holes of the wire, shifting his weight to the fence. It supported him easily with only the slightest of give, but he couldn’t get his feet into the holes, or at least not with his shoes on. He bent down, took his trainers off, tied the laces together, and hung them around his neck. “Should be able to do it now,” he said. He gripped the fence once more and scaled it with ease, heaving himself up and over the top, and back down the other side.

“Ya, this boy is definitely African,” shouted Chippy, laughing.

Jonah dropped from about six feet and took the impact with his knees. “That was fun,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He was surprised that after so many months spent trading, he could still find hopping a fence so exhilarating. He would have to tell Creedence when he saw her next. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Can you go over to the vehicle there?” David pointed toward the Land Cruiser in the shade behind the camp. “And clear out the back so that we can get the Baron and his friend inside. I think we’ll leave the watchman behind. No need to get him involved.”

“Okay.” Jonah walked over to the truck and tried the rear door. It was unlocked. He lifted it up. Inside, the Land Cruiser was packed with boxes and supplies, and he hauled these out one by one as his father and Chippy dragged the drugged bodies over to the vehicle. The last thing to come out was a knapsack, and as he heaved it toward him, it fell open. Jonah’s mouth dropped. Inside were guns! Serious guns! “Hey, Dad! Chippy! Come and look at this!”

David ran over, and Jonah showed him the contents of the bag. On the top were two genuine hunting rifles, but below that were a sniper’s rifle, two assault rifles, and an assortment of automatic handguns as well as some evil-looking knives and an axe.

“Mmm. Not very pleasant,” said David. “Chippy, have a look in this guy’s pockets, will you, and find out who he is. I think we’ve got ourselves a rhino poacher. Now that’s someone whom the police can take care of, even without our help.”

“Kristoff Klaasens,” Chippy called back after finding the man’s wallet.

“Well, Kristoff, I hope you like Namibian jails,” David said quietly. “I wouldn’t.” He turned back to Jonah. “Put the guns in the backseat, please—and do be careful about it—and let’s get these two inside the car.”

Jonah did as he was told and then helped David and Chippy haul the two unconscious men into the trunk. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. They would transfer the Baron to the caves first, and then Chippy would take Klaasens to the police station.

David slammed the back door shut.

Kloot received the phone call from Klaasens at three thirty
P.M.
He had somehow ended up in police custody and was about to be charged with attempted rhino poaching. He didn’t know what had happened to the Baron.

Kloot crashed his massive fist down on his desk with such force that there was an audible crack as something gave way. Now they had the trading records
and
they had the Baron. The records wouldn’t talk. The Baron might. “Say nothing,” he barked into the phone. “I will have you out of there, but you must complete the job.” He slammed the phone down. It was time to call on the network once more. He opened an old black leather diary and searched for the phone number
of a senior member of the South African government.

He snatched the phone up and dialed the number. When he gave his name, he was put straight through. Quietly, he explained that a South African national had been detained by the Namibian police. He wanted him to be released. The minister said he would do what he could. Kloot explained that that wasn’t enough. His man needed to be out of custody this afternoon. If he wasn’t, Kloot told him, the minister might find life a bit more difficult in the future. This time the minister understood.

Kloot hung up the phone, sighing. He couldn’t leave Klaasens to finish the job alone. He would have to send Amelia in there. The Baron might have been a great trader, but he wasn’t as resourceful as his daughter. After all, she was willing to use
all
of her natural assets to her advantage. He stood up from his desk and went to find her. She would not fail.

Inside the cave,
the Baron had been alone and awake for ten minutes when he felt a hand on his face. He recoiled and cried out through the thick rope gag in his mouth. He felt fingers undoing the rope and then a cup being pushed against his lips. The liquid was warm and sweet, some kind of tea. He drank it greedily and gratefully. It wasn’t enough to quench his burning thirst, but it seemed to confirm that he was alive. He had been concerned that he wasn’t. He had no idea where he was nor how he had got there. His last memory had been lying in the tent waiting to go to sleep. There were things crawling on him and flying past him. Was this the holding room for hell?

“Where am I?” he asked but received no reply, only the rope being shoved back into his mouth and then nothingness once more. He heard no footsteps and no breathing except his own. Had it been a ghost?

Chippy repeated the process every half hour for the next four hours, never speaking and never removing the blindfold. By now the Baron was murmuring to himself, dreaming things he didn’t want to dream. The tea had seen to that. It was a powerful psychotropic mix of herbs laced with honey to sweeten it, one of the tools of a witch doctor’s trade. The Baron was now ready for the interrogation.

Chippy returned to Main Camp to collect Jonah and David.

Klaasens walked out of the police station at five thirty, all charges dropped; pressure had been applied from someone very high up. There was a car waiting to take him back to the Luipaard Hunting Reserve so that he could rendezvous with Amelia. She arrived at six thirty, bringing sophisticated heat- and sound-detecting equipment along with her. They drove straight to the fence and from there headed to the hill by the cave. It was time to show the Lightbody family that Apollyon was not to be trifled with.