Storms Over Africa (10 page)

Joseph had held many rallies. This one, at first, had a textbook feeling to it. He could count on recruiting at least two dozen men. But as he spoke there was unusual movement
in the crowd. Men were shuffling aside to make way for others. He glanced down at his audience and was reassured to see nothing more than newcomers who were obviously anxious to hear his words. But something about the men pushing their way through the crowd alerted him. They were too sure of themselves, too confident in the way they stood. A warning buzzer sounded in his head. These were not simple villagers. He turned to the man at his side, his brother, Jacob. ‘Take over,' he instructed curtly, and stepped out of the ring of onlookers, through the crowd, until he reached the back. His skin was crawling and his scalp itched. He was convinced the men were Selous Scouts.

He melted into the bush and skirted around until he had adequate cover but could still see his brother addressing the crowd. The newcomers stood impassively, arms folded, listening. He tried to identify them in the crowd. They were easy to spot. They were placed strategically so they virtually surrounded the speaker. They all bore the aura of authority. None of them looked like simple rural villagers. Some of them did not even look like pure-blooded Africans. He had heard of the Selous Scouts' ability to disguise themselves and mingle with a crowd.

Joseph had a field radio hidden in the bush which he always carried with him in case of
emergency. He was about to set off to use it, to bring backup should it be necessary. He left it too late, however. As he watched, one of the men slowly revealed a rifle he had hidden under his coat. For one frozen moment the voice of his brother and the shouted support of the crowd disappeared and was replaced by a chilling silence. He was helpless. The man raised his rifle and shot Jacob through the head. Pandemonium broke out. Other men opened fire on the crowd as they fled in every direction. The Selous Scouts, taking advantage of the chaos, slipped to the back of the crowd and disappeared into the bush.

Joseph took a bearing on where they had gone. Ignoring the cries for help from the terrorised villagers, he moved with experienced stealth through the bush. Once away from the village, tracking the men became easier. So relaxed were they they had not bothered to conceal their tracks. He came across them in a sheltered clearing. One of them was using a radio, giving a bearing on the village and asking for another unit to come in and clean up. He was speaking English. As Joseph watched, the man who had shot his brother and who appeared to be their leader wiped a weary arm across his face. The man's disguise smeared off on his sleeve. Joseph looked into the eyes of the white man, disguised as a black man, and swore he would never forget those eyes.
He watched one of the others pat the man on the shoulder and say, ‘Good one, Richard.'

The man, Richard, grinned and replied, ‘That should teach the bastards a lesson.' As he lay in the bush and hated the white man he heard their radio burst into life and a disembodied voice enquire if Major Dunn was there. Joseph had heard enough. The name Richard Dunn was burned into his memory. The arrogance in the man's eyes would act like salt on a wound to him. The man's casual shooting of Joseph's brother would forever sour his opinion of the white man. Joseph backed carefully away. They would meet again. When the time was right.

They did meet again during the war. Joseph and several of his men walked into a Selous Scouts ambush. They were marched for several hours to a field camp and interrogated at length by a young captain. Their story was one prepared and memorised for such an occasion and they succeeded in convincing the captain they were innocent victims of the war and had been out hunting for meat. The fact they were dressed in rags and carried bows and arrows lent authenticity to their cover. The young captain wanted to let them go but, at the last moment, thought it best to contact his superior officer. Major Richard Dunn spent fifteen minutes questioning them but he appeared distracted and finally let them go,
saying, ‘Try to stay out of our way.' His arrogant dismissal added fuel to the fire already burning in Joseph Tshuma's gut.

Drifting off to sleep upstairs, Richard spared a few seconds trying to remember where he had seen Tshuma before. But the events of the war were carefully locked away or complicated by memories of Kathy's illness. He was more concerned with the thought that his unwelcome house guest might try to sneak upstairs to be with his daughter.

And downstairs, Joseph flicked his cigarette away and went inside. He was tired. Concealing his hatred of Richard had taken its toll. That, and hiding his dislike of Penny who was, in his opinion, a spoiled brat and a lush. He had bedded Penny in Harare it was true and she had an exciting body and was, in a European way at least, attractive, but his involvement with her was a means to an end. When he had learned who she was, he had gone out of his way to become her friend. The fact that she wanted more, wanted him as a lover, was an added bonus as far as he was concerned. And now he had finally come face to face with the man he hated above anything else. He had plans for Penny and he had plans for Richard. He intended to bring Richard Dunn to his knees, one way or another. Or, preferably, both ways.

The Department of National Parks and Wildlife Management in Harare, commonly referred to as Game Department, had suspected Gabriel Tenneka's activities for several years. However, because the man had been a legal businessman for a long time, his contacts, lines of communication and methods of routing monies were well established and difficult to penetrate. So the department had taken another tack. They decided to find the source of Tenneka's illegal dealings. A lucky break about six months earlier had led them to suspect Janie Roos.

Two years previously Joseph had learned of Richard's whereabouts. When Janie Roos had come under suspicion and Joseph realised that the Roos property adjoined Richard's, he wondered if Richard had also been involved in poaching. Excited at the prospect, he had checked into Richard's finances and discovered that the man had been a virtual bankrupt after the war. Miraculously, he had managed to pull himself out of the financial mire over the space of two years. Joseph knew this would have been impossible unless the man had either hidden money or was involved in something illegal. When he discovered that Janie had also managed to save his property around the same time he became convinced that this man he hated above all others was poaching. He held the destruction of Richard Dunn right in his hands.

Joseph bided his time, savouring the moment he would send Richard Dunn down for poaching. And his daughter would go down too, in a different way. She was his second string to a bow already tensed for action. He could almost hear the snap of Richard Dunn's arrogant spirit.

Richard woke at dawn the next morning, as was his habit. Prohibited from enjoying a cup of coffee on the verandah because Joseph Tshuma was sleeping in the downstairs guest room and he did not feel like bumping into him, he took the Land Rover down to the shed which had been broken into. Not that he expected to find anything. As he cleared up the mess with Samson he had looked for a clue as to who could have broken in. He had found nothing then and found nothing now. There were Land Rover tyre tracks at the front of the shed but they could have been made by Samson. Everyone drove Land Rovers, used them as farm vehicles, so he dismissed them. The windows and door showed no sign of a forced entry, the wooden planks on the walls had not been tampered with and the roof was solid. Whoever broke into his shed either had a key or had expertly picked the lock.

He was less bothered by the break in itself
than he was by the fact that someone had broken into that particular shed. He toyed briefly with the idea that Janie might have been looking for evidence that Richard was tampering with his traps. But Janie's mind was so fuddled with alcohol, Richard doubted it. Driving back to the house he wondered about Joseph Tshuma. The man was with Game Department and, last night, Penny had made a point of telling him of his interest in poachers. Richard had met him before, he was sure of that. Somewhere out of the context of his day-to-day life. But for the life of him, he could not remember where.

Penny was on the lawn, playing with Winston. The dog was addicted to fetching a tennis ball and she was obliging him. She looked fresh and relaxed, a different girl from last night. She walked over to him and they stood, side by side, next to the Land Rover. Richard looked at her lovely face, into her deep brown eyes, and marvelled at her ability to be so vibrant, so healthy. ‘Morning, poppet.'

‘Morning, Daddy. Sorry about last night. I guess I had too much to drink.'

He had heard it before. ‘Forget it.' Then he had to spoil things. ‘But why did you bring him here?'

‘I'm seeing him.'

‘How can you?'

‘What's that supposed to mean?' She threw the ball and Winston bounded away.

‘You know what I mean, Pen. He's black. You know how I feel about it. For Chrissakes, I fought him, fought to save the country from people like him. How could you?'

Penny's looked up at him. ‘Things change, Dad. The old Rhodesia ended over ten years ago. If you can't stand the heat . . .' She left the rest for him to pick up.

‘I know things have changed, damn it.' He felt his temper stir. ‘I know it's their country now. I know they call the shots. But by all things holy, Penny, do you have to shove it down my throat?'

Her mouth was set in a straight line, a sure sign she, too, was getting angry. ‘Get with the times, Dad. I don't have a problem with his colour.'

‘Well I do. I'm telling you, Pen, don't bring him back. I don't have to like it. The bloody man probably has AIDS,' he added ruthlessly.

‘That's disgusting. How dare you. There's no need to be crude.' Penny was deeply offended. ‘He's a very nice person and I like him. If you dropped the colonial white man myth and gave him a chance you'd like him too.'

‘Penny, you forget how well I know you. You're getting at me for some reason. I swear to God, there are times when you behave like a child.' He saw she was about to argue so went on hurriedly. ‘Sure, he's probably a very nice man. Sure, he's educated. Sure, he's
civilised. But God damn it, Penny, he's a black man.'

Penny lost her temper. ‘I'll see who I like, when I like, how I like. You can't stop me. And be warned, Daddy, whether you are poaching or not, you can still get into trouble for it.'

‘Is that it? Is that why you're seeing him, why you brought him here? To warn me?'

She tossed her head. ‘Of course it would never occur to you that I'm seeing him because I like him, really like him, would it?'

‘He's a kaffir.' He used the outlawed South African expression on purpose. He knew it would offend her. Just as she knew he was offended. Well, that was hard luck, two could play that game. He braced himself for an outburst.

She chose to ignore it. ‘He's charming and well educated and extremely good fun. I like him more than anyone else I've met. The fact that he's with Game Department is incidental.' She glared at him. ‘It wouldn't hurt you to listen to me for a change, would it? If he finds out about your poaching it will put him in an awkward position.'

‘To hell with him.'

‘That's right! Play God. You're a white man, the rules don't apply to you.' Her fear for him made her reckless. ‘Fuck it, Daddy, listen to me. You'll end up in prison.'

‘Don't you dare use that language in front of me.'

‘Why not? You use it.' She took a deep breath. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!' she said, her voice rising each time.

Richard went very white. His eyes narrowed and he was having trouble with his breathing. His hand ached with the desire to slap her, hard. Yes, he said the word in the company of men. Yes, he knew he was old-fashioned. He hated hearing women swear and he particularly hated to hear them use that word. Especially his daughter. And she knew it.

This last thought brought him round. She was deliberately trying to provoke him. With a supreme effort of will Richard slowed his breathing, shrugged and said with exaggerated calm, ‘Do stop behaving like a whore.'

Penny's head snapped up. She could not believe her ears. Her father had called her a whore! There were tears in her eyes as she breathed deeply, looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘And fuck you too', before spinning around and running back towards the house.

Richard rubbed his hand over his eyes. ‘Oh, God, why did I say that? Why? She's my little girl.' He looked up to see Joseph Tshuma, leaning over the railing on the verandah, his eyes shining with something like triumph. Richard ignored him and stumped into the house, calling Wellington for breakfast, hating
himself, hating Penny and—above all—hating Joseph Tshuma. David was at the table.

‘Nice of you to wait for everyone.' Richard took his anger out on his son. ‘We have guests, or hadn't you noticed?'

Startled, David put down his knife and fork. ‘Sorry.'

‘You're always bloody sorry.'

David stood up, leaving his food half-eaten.

‘Oh, sit down,' Richard snarled, sitting down himself. ‘Sit down and finish your breakfast. Stop being so bloody . . . so bloody-well amenable.' Wellington appeared and put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. Richard attacked his food savagely, mauling the eggs into an unrecognisable slimy jumble, hacking his toast into jagged pieces and stabbing his bacon ferociously. He was aware, as he ground his teeth around his meal, that David was sending sidelong glances at him.

Suddenly the anger left him. It was always like this. It would flare in an instant and, just as quickly, die away. ‘What are you planning to do today?'

David knew his father was no longer angry. He was tempted to throw his sarcastic words back at him and say, ‘We have guests, Dad, or hadn't you noticed?' What he said instead was, ‘If you don't need me, Thomas and I want to go back into the reserve.'