The Delta (49 page)

‘Sonja, please don't hate me, but I couldn't go through with it.'

‘Go through with
what
, Stirling?' He was making no sense.

‘That plan. The dam. I don't know how much I should say over the phone, but … oh, to hell with it. I called the Namibian government, Sonja – their ministry of defence. I told them there was an imminent plan to blow up the dam. I wanted to warn you. Please, Sonja, wherever you are, don't let Steele drag you into this. This has to end, now. Tell him, if you like, that the Namibians know what the CLA is planning. I don't care whether you save him, but just save yourself. And please don't tell him it was me who told the Namibians.'

To think, she had wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He hadn't stood up to the other safari operators, or to Steele, and now he had ratted them out. He was scared Steele would kill him.

‘Have you told anyone else what you've done?' she asked.

‘No. No one. Who would I tell?'

‘Good. Keep it that way.'

‘Sonja,' he said, ‘I don't believe the dam should ever have been built and I hate to think what effect it will have on the delta, but innocent people will get killed in this war they're trying to start. It's not worth it, Sonja … it's just not worth it.'

‘Where's my daughter?'

‘Um … hang on.'

He put the phone down and she heard Tracey's voice in the background, then Emma saying ‘Coming …' A couple of seconds later she picked it up. ‘Mum?'

‘How are you?'

‘Annoyed, is how I am. Uncle Martin has disappeared and you're off somewhere you couldn't tell me about. Mum, look I'm not stupid enough to think that all you do is bodyguarding, but this is weirding me out. When am I going to get out of here?'

‘Soon.'

‘I'm not an idiot and I'm not a child. I deserve to know what's going on, and there isn't any internet access here.'

‘What do you need the internet for? Go on a game drive, or get one of the guides to take you out on a boat.'

‘I don't fancy African men. But thanks for the idea …'

Sonja held the phone away from her ear and breathed. In. Out. ‘Emma, don't taunt me. Just listen to me. All right?'

‘All right.'

‘I should be with you in a couple of days' time. If I'm not at Xakanaxa or you haven't heard from me by Saturday, I want you to get Stirling to put you on a plane to Maun. Change your return flights and get to Johannesburg and then back to London as quick as you can. All right?'

‘No. Not bloody all right. What's going on, Mum? What's all this “if you haven't heard from me” crap? Where are you and what are you doing?'

‘I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about.'

‘Well I am bloody worried. Where's Martin? Are you up to something with him?'

‘Emma, I just wanted to tell you …'

‘What?'

‘I love you, Emma.'

‘Whatever.'

Her father gave his orders and Sonja marvelled, again, at the transformation from the wreck he had been.

‘The first helicopter sortie, with two birds, will lift the recce platoon, with me leading it, to M'pacha airstrip, here.' He used a long straight stick to point to the black ribbon on the ground to his right. ‘We catch the air force detachment asleep and we deal with the sentries as quickly as possible. Our intelligence tells us there is a Hind gunship there, two Mi-6 troop-carrying helos
and three fixed-wing light aircraft. One and two sections destroy the aircraft with explosive charges and three and four sweep through the barracks. Understood?'

The officers and noncommissioned officers of the Caprivi Liberation Army – about thirty in total – sat and stood two deep in a semicircle around him and the mud map and models he had placed on the ground. They all nodded.

‘By this time Alpha and Bravo companies will already be in position, south of Katima Mulilo, here.' He scribed a line along one side of the collection of wooden offcuts that represented the largest settlement in the Caprivi Strip. Several of the blocks had pieces of paper stuck to them, reminding the audience what they represented. ‘Key targets, in order, are the police station, government offices and the NBC broadcasting studios.' He tapped each of the blocks in turn. The men in the audience nodded. ‘Charlie Company will move up in reserve and take and hold the Zambezi Shopping Centre.'

There were a few muttered jibes among the ranks as those in the lead companies ribbed their comrades who had the comparatively easier task of seizing the Pick n' Pay supermarket and, no doubt, the nearby bottle store in the new low-rise shopping mall.

‘Enough,' Hans said. There was silence. ‘We don't know how long we'll have to hold the town against counterattacks. The shopping centre will be our headquarters and our commissary for the duration of any siege. The core precinct we need to defend will stretch to here,' he used his pointer again, ‘down the street to the broadcasting offices. We don't need to hold the police station, but we do need to neutralise it, and empty its armoury so it's of no use to the enemy.'

Sonja nodded to herself. The police station and government offices were on the road out of town that led to the Ngoma border crossing with Botswana, on the Zambezi River, about a
kilometre from the main commercial strip of the town. She looked over at Steele and saw he was making notes.

‘Delta Company,' her father continued, ‘will lay an ambush on the B8, covering the main road on the Kongola side of Katima Mulilo. If the enemy sends a reaction force by road, it can only come from that direction. Questions?'

Steele looked up from his notebook. ‘It's a good plan, Hans, for taking and holding the town, but what about breaking out, if things go according to plan – pushing down the strip towards Kongola and even Divundu?'

Kurtz's mouth creased in annoyance.

‘Well,
Martin
, if we hadn't been forced by circumstances outside our control to launch this mission earlier than planned, we would have had time to recruit and train enough troops to take over more of the Caprivi. I know what the rush is all about – your rich safari operators are worried the hydro-electricity plant is going to be completed ahead of schedule and the Namibian government will be showing journalists around the world all these poor African people getting access to cheap electricity and pumps to irrigate their bone-dry fields. Your backers can't bear to think anyone might benefit from the dam, and you're blackmailing us into launching now because we need the heavy weapons and ammo those fat cats are paying for. As it is – and I don't need to remind you – our infantry companies are companies in name only. They're little more than platoon-plus groupings. I've got enough men to take and hold Katima, and put M'pacha out of operation, but that's about it.'

Her father looked away from Steele and swept his men with his green eyes. ‘Remember, men, this war is as much about politics as it is guns and bullets. Every day we hold Katima Mulilo is another day that strengthens the legitimacy of our claim on our homeland. If we can fight off the inevitable counterattacks then
the Namibians will have to negotiate with our political leaders. We are buying them a seat at the government's table, and we need to buy them time, as well. The world, too, will be watching us, thanks to our
friends
here.' He pointed at Rickards and Sam with his stick. ‘I do not need to tell you all that the majority of the people in Katima Mulilo are your people – your family in some cases – so every care must be taken to avoid civilian casualties. Rest assured, gentleman, that if one of your men does mistreat, wound or kill a local, then our representatives of the media will see it and film it. Likewise, Mr Rickards and Mr Chapman are not to be harmed or mistreated in any way.'

Sonja was mad at Sam for staying, and terribly afraid for his safety, but she had failed to convince him to run. She didn't think he was being brave or noble – just stupid.

She'd gone to him, the day after they'd made love, and sat with him in private by the banks of the river. She'd told him that she had enjoyed the night before but that she did not love him. She told him she did not want to live in the United States or take her daughter there, and that she would not be the kept woman of a TV star. She wanted, she said, to continue working as a military contractor rather than living the life of a courtesan.

He'd remained silent, tossed a rock into the water, got up and walked away from her. She'd hugged her knees and swallowed back her tears. She was angry her lies had failed to convince him.

‘Men,' her father said, his voice rising as he drew her back to the present, ‘in this world divided by hatred and fear and ignorance and intolerance, you are about to fight for the two things that are, above all, sacred to any warrior, and the only things truly worth fighting for. You leave here to fight for freedom and for your homeland. May your God and your families, past, present and future, be with you all and keep you safe. Caprivi!'

‘CAPRIVI!'

*

Most of the CLA soldiers left straight after her father's morning briefing. They had a long way to travel, out of the Linyanti swamps by
mekoro
to the border with Namibia. There they would lie up for the afternoon before sneaking across when it became dark. From there they would move to their assault positions.

Hans was talking to a young man with lieutenant's pips on the epaulettes of his camouflage shirt. He was laden with a pack, water bottles, and an AK-47. Her father clapped the man on the arm and sent him on his way. She wondered if he was going to his death.

‘Hello,' she said.

Hans nodded. ‘Hello.'

She looked him in the eye. ‘We need to talk.'

‘Yes, we do.'

‘I spoke to Miriam. She told me what happened to you.'

He nodded and pulled a cigarette packet from his pocket and offered it to her. She took one and he lit it for her, then one for himself. ‘So many bad things you've inherited from me.'

She tried a small smile. ‘And some not so bad ones. I'm a good shot.'

‘Sometimes I wish I'd died in the war against SWAPO.'

‘No,' she said, exhaling. ‘You can't say that. You got us to safety, to Botswana, and it was an OK place for me to finish growing up, in peace.'

‘It didn't work,' he sighed. ‘You still went off in search of a war. Because of me.'

‘I probably would have gone even if things hadn't ended the way they did between us. I wished you dead for a long time.'

He nodded and drew on his cigarette.

‘But I've been to some of the places where you went,' Sonja said. ‘I know about the nightmares, and if I hadn't been pregnant with Emma I might have tried to drink my problems away, like you did.'

‘Tell me about your daughter. About Emma.'

She nodded. ‘She's a handful. She doesn't like me, most of the time. She hates that I'm away so much. I remember missing you, during the war years, when you were away.'

‘Sit,' he said. They moved to a log and sat beside each other. ‘I gave up the right to give you advice years ago, but you know what I'm going to say to you, about her, don't you?'

Sonja nodded. ‘Go to her. Give up this life. I know you think I'm wrong doing what I do, but I'm working for her – for Emma – for her future.'

‘It won't be much of a future if she hasn't got a mom, Sonja. Anyway, it's not you being a mercenary that I'm worried about right now. We have bigger problems.'

It might have been the nerves, but the cigarette was tasting vile. She ground it out and put the butt in her pocket. When she looked up she saw her father smiling at the action. ‘We do have bigger problems. We need to talk about this plan.'

‘Agreed,' he said, pinching off the end of his cigarette and doing the same. ‘But first I need to know something.'

She looked at him. ‘What?'

‘Will you please be my daughter again?'

Sonja shrugged. ‘I can't say I love you, if that's what you want, or even that I forgive you. Not yet. But I never stopped being your daughter. And I think I understand, a little, of what you went through, though it excuses nothing.'

He placed his hand on her knee, and she didn't recoil from his sandpapery touch. She swallowed hard, then placed her hand on his.

‘That will do me for now, Sonja.'

‘The plan,' she said, ‘to take Caprivi. It's not going to work. Stirling's already tipped off the Namibian government that there's going to be an attack on the dam.'

He grinned at her and his eyes glittered. ‘I knew someone would talk. This is the worst kept secret in Africa.'

‘We've got a lot to talk through,' Sonja said, ‘but first, tell me what you know about this supposed roving missionary, Sydney Chipchase.'

His look changed. ‘I can tell you everything about that murderous bastard.'

The bush raced past her dangling feet, seemingly close enough for the toes of her boots to brush the tops of the trees. She watched the long, dry yellow grass flatten in waves as the helicopter's downwash passed over it. The air blowing in through the open door cooled her face and chilled the sweat that lingered under her black long-sleeve T-shirt and matching jeans.

Beside her in the Bell 412 were Gideon, in the green overalls of an ambulance paramedic, and two other CLA soldiers dressed as Namibian policemen.

The afternoon sun burned red as it was engulfed by the layer of dust that hung above the horizon. She saw the Okavango ahead, the river the colour of blood.

‘Two minutes.' The pilot's voice crackled in the headphones she wore. She held up two fingers to Gideon and his comrades and they all nodded and flashed the V sign back to her in acknowledgement, grinning to hide their nerves.