African Dawn (40 page)

There was so much she had wanted to talk about with George when she had seen him again, and yet so much more that they could never share. She had been both grateful and disappointed that the short notice of the meeting had left her genuinely unable to reshuffle her schedule to spend more time with him. George would probably fly back to Australia, now that she had secured a deal to give her father and Paul and Philippa Bryant control of Kiabejane ranch, and Thandi imagined she would never see her former lover again.

‘Quilter-Phipps?’ Thandi said to Agent Makoni. ‘I don't know that name.’

‘He is an associate of Bryant, a mercenary who has been working as security at Kiabejane ranch in Matabeleland. He is wanted in connection with the murder, last night, of your father.’

Thandi dropped the paper onto her desk. She looked up at Makoni again, her mouth agape. What had the man just said? Tiny pinpricks of bright light appeared at the periphery of her vision and the room felt as if it was swaying around her. ‘What?’

Makoni looked confused now. ‘Minister? You haven't heard? My God …’ He sounded almost sympathetic.

‘Did you say … did you say my father had been murdered?’

‘Minister, I am sorry. I assumed you had been informed already, because …’

It was too much to process, but the terrible truth was out there, circling her like a man-eating lion. ‘Because my brother told you all this.’

‘I'm afraid I cannot divulge any more information,’ Makoni said.

Thandi tried to stand, but she couldn't make her legs work, and she dropped back into her chair. ‘I don't understand … You tell me my father is dead and that I am accused of conspiring with a suspect in the killing. This is ridiculous.’

‘I am sorry, Minister, for your loss, but I have my orders. We are to escort you to your home and keep you under house arrest, pending a full investigation. I expect there are things you need to organise as well, given the circumstances. Let us take you home.’

Thandi looked up at the men and they loomed like giants over her. Her head was spinning and tears began to well in her eyes. Her precious father … Makoni reached out a hand and, not ungently, took her by the forearm. She wanted to shrug it off, to order him out of her office, and ordinarily she would have. However, she knew who had ordered this sham of an investigation and why he had done it.

And if Emmerson had done what she was sure he had done, then her whole world had just fallen apart.

*

Tate was on his way back to Kariba when he got the call from Paul Bryant telling him Kenneth Ngwenya had been killed and the future of the ranch was once more in jeopardy.

‘I'm in Gweru, Paul,’ he said into his cell phone. ‘I stayed the night with some friends who are still running a dairy farm near here. Where are you now?’

‘I'm at your mother's but soon I'll be heading out to the ranch, to the security office. The police are there,’ Paul said. ‘The security guards called me, but they're playing dumb, Tate. They say they can't remember what the poachers who tied them up looked like. I'm betting that Emmerson's behind this.’

‘You think he killed his own father?’

‘I wouldn't put it past him. Four rhinos were killed last night, too, Tate. It's a bloody disaster. I also spoke to Kenneth's driver. He didn't actually see the killing, but he has confirmed that Kenneth was confronting Emmerson before the shots were fired.’

‘My God. That settles it, I'm coming back to Bulawayo now.’

‘Put foot, I need you here as soon as you can make it.’

*

Emmerson Ngwenya and his three remaining men, Henry, Nicholas and Simba, shared the driving as they travelled through the night and arrived in Harare in time for breakfast with Nguyen van Tran at the Deli Café in the Borrowdale Village shopping centre, not far from the Vietnamese embassy in Avondale.

Emmerson rubbed his face. He'd slept part of the way but was still exhausted. He had nothing to fear from the diplomat, and having extra muscle with him might only attract more attention, so he dismissed the trio of hired guns to get their own breakfast. All three were former comrades who had fought with him during the liberation war. They were tough, ruthless men, driven by their pursuit of the dollar, and Emmerson knew he could count on their loyalty.

He felt a little lightheaded as he walked past the shoppers in the mall. He had killed his own father. But his father had been a weak man, who had needed his wife to prop up his convictions. Emmerson had cherished his mother and been devastated when she died. She was a true heroine of the struggle, unlike his
mtengisi
father. His father pandered to whites, like the Bryants, who had been responsible for sending Emmerson to the hell of the juvenile prison. Emmerson forced himself to suppress the memory of the terrible, shameful things that had been done to him there, and that he had been forced to do.

Nguyen, dressed in chinos and an Armani shirt, stood when he saw Emmerson approaching, and extended a hand. Emmerson shook it, noticing the expensive watch and the chunky ring on the man's right hand. Nguyen was a communist comrade from a country not as poor as Zimbabwe, but not much better off, yet he sported the trappings of a wealthy businessman. And he was about to get wealthier. So, too, was Emmerson.

‘I was not expecting to hear from you,’ Nguyen said.

‘You thought we would no longer have a deal?’

Nguyen leaned back in his seat as he sipped his coffee. ‘Let us just say that you have had some, ah, problems delivering in the past. There was the unfortunate business of you being intercepted by the police near Victoria Falls, and when I heard your father had taken over the ranch you spoke of, I assumed there would be nothing coming from that venture. So, it was good to get your call last night. Will there be trouble?’

‘There will be no more trouble from now on. My father is no longer in control of the ranch – I am,’ Emmerson said. He was famished and had ordered bacon and eggs. ‘We now have a reliable supply for the foreseeable future.’

‘Good, I am pleased. You have something for me?’

Emmerson nodded. ‘I will leave the bag under the table when I go.’

Nguyen slid across a copy of the
Herald
. The front-page story was the allegation that MDC politicians were being investigated on corruption charges. Emmerson smiled to himself and wondered how his sister was feeling right now. The story in tomorrow's government-run press would be of the investigation into Thandi's links with some reactionary mercenaries. Emmerson took the paper and allowed the fat envelope hidden inside to slide into his lap. He then transferred it into his pocket. He didn't need to count the money, as he knew the Vietnamese man was now relying on him more than ever for future supplies.

34

W
hat seemed like a lifetime ago, but what was only twelve hours earlier, Braedan, Natalie, George, Paul and Pip had stood by the rhino
bomas
and watched as the ambulance left with Kenneth Ngwenya's body. Paul had put an arm around Pip's shoulders as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Natalie had felt like crying as well. There were half-a-dozen farm workers in one of the pens and they were chanting in unison as they heaved together to pull the dead rhino out into the open.

Even the other animals at the ranch had seemed to be aware of the senseless killings that had taken place. Gerry, a semi-tame giraffe with a head knobbled by calcium growths, had wandered over to the
boma
while the police forensics people were photographing Kenneth's body in situ. The animal had hovered on the periphery of the human activity, but it had seemed particularly interested in craning its neck to look into the rhino
boma
. Pip had started sobbing again. ‘Look at old Gerry,’ she'd said, nodding to the giraffe. ‘He knows there's been a tragedy here.’

‘What are you going to do, Dad?’ George asked Paul now as they sat glumly around Sharon's breakfast table, moving food around their plates. Once they'd taken Kenneth's body away, there hadn't seemed to be a lot of point staying at the ranch. With Kenneth dead the future of Kiabejane was once more in limbo. They'd quietly made their way back to Sharon Quilter-Phipps' house, shocked by the viciousness of what had taken place and collectively worrying about what further trauma the next day would bring.

Paul gave Pip a squeeze and Natalie thought that for the first time her grandfather looked all of his ninety-two years. ‘I don't think there's much point moving our stuff back to the ranch.’

‘I'll try Thandi's office again later to see if they have any more news,’ George said.

It seemed there was no one left for them to turn to for help. Thandi Ngwenya had been arrested that same morning.

‘Tate will be here soon,’ Paul said.

‘Isn't he part of the problem?’ George asked, looking at Braedan, who said nothing.

‘All right, all right,’ Paul said. ‘George, I don't know where you got this harebrained idea that Tate cut the horn off one of my rhinos and sold it, but I can guess.’ He looked at Braedan. ‘I don't think for a moment that your brother would do anything illegal when it came to wildlife – at least not without getting me in on the act. But even if Tate did immobilise one of them and pinch a horn, I still need him here today.’

‘Why, Grandpa?’ Natalie wasn't a hundred per cent sure she wanted to see Tate, especially after what had happened between her and Braedan last night. Oddly, she felt a little guilty, despite the fact that it had been the best sex she'd had in years. She felt embarrassed at the thought that Tate might somehow guess or, worse, that Braedan might let his brother know. She thought of what had happened with Aunty Hope and felt her cheeks start to colour.

Paul looked meaningfully at Pip before answering. ‘Because we've got a hell of a lot of rhinos to dart today and Tate's the only person other than me who's qualified to do that.’

‘Why do you want to dart them?’ Braedan asked.

Grandma Pip blew her nose and seemed to finally compose herself. ‘Because, Braedan, we're moving the rhinos. Today. As soon as possible before Emmerson Ngwenya takes over the ranch. We've found out he's gone to Harare on business.’

‘The business of selling rhino horns, probably,’ Paul cut in.

‘You're going to move nine rhinos?’ Her father sounded typically pessimistic.

‘Where to?’ Braedan asked. ‘Are you taking them to one of the other conservancies?’

Paul looked around to make sure there was no one else in earshot. ‘No. Even though that's what Tate's been suggesting for a long time, I don't think it's a good idea. The writing's on the wall. If thugs like Emmerson Ngwenya can take over Kiabejane, then the reality is that until Mugabe dies there is no farm or private game reserve in the country that will be safe from poachers.’

‘So where will you take them?’ Natalie asked. ‘Botswana?’

Paul shook his head. ‘As much as I'd like to get them out of the country, we'd never be able to organise the permits and these
are
Zimbabwean rhinos. Also, there isn't time to organise their release in a national park, where there would at least be a few rangers to protect them.’

‘So what are you going to do, Dad? Surely you're not just going to let them loose?’ George asked.

‘That, my boy,’ Paul said, ‘is exactly what we're going to do. We're going to dart the remaining rhinos, load them into vehicles and drive them to the other side of the country, up near Kariba, and we're going to release them all into the wilds of the Charara Safari Area without anyone knowing.’

George banged his fist on the table. ‘That's crazy. You're going to set your rhinos free in a hunting area, where they'll have no armed guards, no protection and no one to even keep track of them.’

‘That's it, don't you see?’ Pip said. ‘Tate found that there is at least one wild rhino that has lived in that part of the country for God knows how long – maybe forty years or more – without ever being discovered. Because no one even considered there could still be a rhino up near Lake Kariba, no poachers ever bothered to look for them there.’

‘And,’ Paul continued, ‘who knows … if one survived perhaps there are others there. This wild one might even be a good mate for one of our cows.’

‘Or he might kill a couple of your bulls if he sees them as competition,’ George said.

Paul nodded slowly. ‘That's quite true, George, and your mother and I discussed all of this late into the night last night. Look, these animals would have been released into the wild eventually anyway and territorial fights are always an issue with black rhino, but what's the option? If we leave them here or move them to another farm they'll be dead inside a year. All of them.’

‘I still think it's crazy.’

‘This whole country is crazy, Dad,’ Natalie said.

Paul cleared his throat and Natalie saw the old sparkle in his eyes. ‘I've called everyone I know in Bulawayo with a three-tonne truck and five are on their way as we speak. I can expect two more later this afternoon, and with our two that gives us nine – one per animal. I'll get one of the dart guns and the M99 and we'll dart and load as many as we can before Tate gets here. When he arrives we'll split us and the labour into two teams and do the rest. I hope to have them all loaded by last light today.’

‘I can do some darting, too,’ Braedan said.

‘You can?’ Paul adjusted his glasses. ‘Are you qualified to do game capture?’

Braedan shrugged. ‘I don't have a piece of paper, but Tate taught me how to prepare the darts and use the dart gun.’

Paul turned to Pip. ‘What do you reckon, love?’

Pip frowned. Natalie knew she didn't particularly like the brasher of the two Quilter-Phipps boys and she suddenly felt nervous that her grandmother had guessed what had gone on last night. ‘It's a risk, Paul, but time's more important than anything else now.’

‘All right, that settles it. I've only got two guns anyway, so Tate can take over from Braedan when he gets here, but if you can get a couple of them down, young fella, then that'll put us ahead of the game.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Braedan said, and Natalie liked the way he showed her grandfather respect.

‘Let's get going then,’ Paul said, standing up from the table.

*

By the time Tate arrived at the ranch three rhinos had already been darted and loaded into the trucks that would take them across the country to Makuti.

Tate took directions from the security guard on the gate and made his way along the dirt road past the big dam and the bird hide towards an open grassy
vlei
where he could see a lorry, two
bakkies
and a motorcycle parked in the distance.

He was by no means convinced of the merits of Paul's scheme – in fact, he considered it harebrained in the extreme – but he also conceded the point that the rhinos faced a grim future wherever they went. He might not have agreed with the old man, but Tate was privately looking forward to seeing Natalie again.

She'd been on his mind a good deal lately. It had been a very long time since he'd been so close to a woman, even if he had behaved so clumsily. Of course he felt urges now and then, but mostly his work kept him too busy to think about sex. Women were always around in the research camps, and he knew some were attracted to him, but when he thought of striking up a relationship with any of them, it always seemed so difficult, logistically.

Perhaps that's my problem, he thought as he drove up to where the capture party was doing its work.
I think too much
. His brother always had a girl hanging off his arm, and Tate wondered if his marriage had fallen apart because Braedan had been unfaithful. He told everyone who would listen about Lara leaving him for a doctor, but Lara had once told Tate that she loved Braedan more than anything else in the world. By contrast, Tate had once overheard one of Braedan's rugby mates telling of how Braedan had bedded the wife of an opposing team's captain on an away trip to Gweru. Tate wondered if Lara had been driven into the arms of another man by Braedan's infidelities. Despite his brother's bad-boy reputation, Tate had to admit to being a little envious of him. He wished, sometimes, that he could be comfortable with having sex with a woman and then walking away.

He could see Natalie in the distance. Again, the practicalities began clogging his mind, blocking up the emotions. She had a life in Australia and a seemingly good career as a journalist. She would be flying home soon and there was little he could offer in terms of money or employment that would tempt her to stay in Zimbabwe. Tate had an offer of some work in Botswana, but it would be poorly paid and would take him out into the bush for weeks on end. It was no place to try to start a relationship.

Tate gripped the steering wheel tight when he saw the block-like silhouette of his twin brother sidle up to Natalie and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘I don't believe it.’

Tate exhaled a long breath and forced his arms and hands to relax. He'd been right not to follow his foolish heart and try to get closer to Natalie again. She'd fallen for the ignorant brute and Tate was old enough and wise enough to accept that this was the way of the world.

Tate pulled up next to Paul Bryant, who was working at the back of a pickup, preparing darts on the folded-down tailgate. He looked up from his work and waved to Tate. Braedan and Natalie stood near a motorcycle, and Tate noted Braedan had taken his arm off Natalie's shoulders.
And so you should feel guilty, you bastard
, Tate thought. Natalie gave a little wave as Tate stopped the
bakkie
and got out. He acknowledged her with a curt nod and blanked his brother out.

‘Paul, howzit.’

‘Tate! Glad you could join us. We've got three loaded already and your brother here's proved a bit of a dab hand with the dart gun and the M99,’ Paul said.

‘He's not qualified to dart rhino. Paul, this is a very serious business and it's not something that should be undertaken by amateurs. You know yourself M99 is lethal if it's not administered properly.’

‘Don't get huffy with me, Tate,’ Paul said, standing up straight to ease the muscles in his back. ‘We don't have time for sibling rivalry. There's too much work to be done.’

‘Paul,’ Tate said, his tone conciliatory, ‘have you thought about what's going to happen to the rhinos once they're released? You can't just let them go wild.’

Paul slid a rubber ring onto the end of a dart he'd been preparing, then looked at Tate over the top of his glasses. ‘Yes, I can, Tate, and that's what I'm doing. But we're also fixing radio transmitters into the horns of the animals that don't already have them. Someone, sometime, with the right gear, will be able to find them later on if they've a mind to.’

Natalie walked over and said hello to Tate, interrupting the conversation. ‘Grandpa, Braedan was just saying that maybe we should think about setting up some sort of temporary
boma
for the rhinos when we get to the area where they're going to be released.’

Tate answered before Paul could. ‘Well, Braedan doesn't know what he's talking about. We want to minimise the stress these animals go through. If they were in
bomas
here it might make sense to move them to another
boma
– relatively familiar surrounds and conditions. But they're not. These rhino have been living free. Moving them into an enclosure would put them under some stress and we'll be moving them to a wild area where there are no facilities.’ He looked over at his brother and shook his head. ‘And there's no such thing as a temporary
boma
for rhinos. No, translocating from the field to the field is as good a way as any of introducing rhino to a different area. Ideally we might pick an area that has no rhino in it already, to avoid territorial fights, but I think the benefits of giving the old bull at Makuti some girls to mate with outweigh the risks of him killing one of the males.’

‘Time is a-wasting,’ Paul proclaimed. He whistled and a team of fifteen African guards and labourers roused themselves from the shade of an acacia where they had been sitting. ‘Tate, you go for Chengetai next. She's an old female. Watch her – she's been darted plenty of times in her life so she'll know what you're up to. She can be a bit of a handful. We'll go for Gomo, her young toy boy.’

Tate nodded. He was familiar with most of the ranch's rhino. ‘
Gomo
’ was a Shona word for hill or mountain and the three-year-old male was already growing quickly enough to match his name.

Pip spoke to the African men in rapid Ndebele and they divided themselves into two groups. ‘Braedan, you can come with Paul and me and the first group of men, and Natalie, you go with George and Tate and the second group.’

Tate noticed Natalie look to Braedan for some sort of confirmation. His brother just winked at her. Tate quietly seethed, but Natalie was not his to lose, so he said nothing.

‘Right, let's go,’ he said to George and Natalie, then ordered his group of men to climb on the back of a three-tonne truck fitted with a winch and carrying a steel-framed wooden crate. The crate was about three metres long, two metres high and a metre and a half wide.