While Colonel Aucamp was conversing
with his colleagues, Sam walked up to the fence. The body had
already been removed and no sign remained of the previous night’s
violence.
Sam stood on a boulder and stared into
Mozambican bush. ‘I know you will be back, you bastard,’ he
whispered. ‘Please hurry. I am waiting for you.’
Chapter Six
As Joao entered the Foyer of the Hotel
Polana, the only respectable hotel left in Maputo, he
absentmindedly touched the small of his back to make sure that the
Tokarev was there, ready for a fast draw. In the unlikely event of
this being a trap, he had no intention of getting abducted back
across the border. He had no illusions about his fate should the
South Africans get their hands on him again. Poaching was one
thing, but killing two cops had upgraded him to a different league
altogether.
He walked through the lounge and out to the
pool area, continuously scanning his surroundings for anything that
might look suspicious. There were very few people around at eleven
on a Tuesday morning, tourism not being very high in the Frelimo
government’s priority list. The hotel was used mostly by foreign
businessmen, all trying to get their feet in the door early, as the
winds of change have started stirring ever so slightly. A year ago
the place had been practically deserted but as the government’s
attitude to private enterprise had started changing, more and more
doors that had been closed for twelve years had started opening,
and a wide variety of businessmen and opportunists were clamouring
to get in early.
A few people were scattered around the poorly
maintained pool, and Joao immediately spotted Courie at a table
near the open-air bar. The tables in the immediate vicinity were
unoccupied, and there was no way anyone could approach without
being obvious.
‘So, Joao, we meet again,’ Courie said,
rising and extending his right hand in greeting.
Joao had come into town the previous week to
have the wires removed from his jaws, and had found an urgent
message from the Chinese trader awaiting him at his favourite
watering hole, the Marco Polo Bar and Grill.
Entering the Chinaman’s shop, he had
immediately been shown into the small back office, where serious
business was always conducted.
‘Mr Courie wants to see you urgently,’ the
Chinaman had informed him excitedly.
‘Courie? The lawyer? You must be bloody
crazy. I’m not seeing any South African lawyers.’
‘He is coming to Maputo to see you. And he is
not a South African. He’s got a Belgian passport.’
‘He can have a passport to heaven for all I
care. It can only be a trap. How the hell do you know about him,
anyway?’
The Chinaman shifted uncomfortably. ‘Don’t
talk about Mr Courie that way. He’s a very big man.’
‘Looked more like a little runt to me.’
The Chinaman had winced, holding up his hands
as if to ward off a physical attack. ‘Please, please, Joao. He is a
much more powerful man than you could imagine. He has got contacts
everywhere. And soldiers. Be very careful. I think he is in with
the Mafia as well.’
Joao roared with laughter. ‘The Mafia? You
want to tell me he is a big man in organised crime, and he is
practising law in Nelspruit. Come off it, man!’
‘He shifted eighteen tons of ivory last year.
And nobody knows how much rhino.’
‘Ah, now I see. He is close to the Kruger
Park, close to Mozambique, close to Swaziland . . . So he is the
big man behind all this. Why does he want to see me?’
‘He instructed me to tell you that it is in
connection with your brother.’
Rui! Hate and visions of revenge had flooded
his thoughts, and he had known immediately that he wanted to meet
Courie.
‘Have a seat,’ Courie invited. ‘Beer?’
‘Laurentina, please. The Chinaman said you
wanted to talk about Rui,’ Joao came to the point immediately.
Courie sighed. ‘Yes, a tragic business,
that.’
‘Yes, I know. You didn’t come all the way
with his colleagues, Sam walked up to the fence. The body had
already been removed and no sign remained of the previous night’s
violence.
Sam stood on a boulder and stared into
Mozambican bush. ‘I know you will be back, you bastard,’ he
whispered. ‘Please hurry. I am waiting for you.’
Chapter Six
As Joao entered the Foyer of the Hotel
Polana, the only respectable hotel left in Maputo, he
absentmindedly touched the small of his back to make sure that the
Tokarev was there, ready for a fast draw. In the unlikely event of
this being a trap, he had no intention of getting abducted back
across the border. He had no illusions about his fate should the
South Africans get their hands on him again. Poaching was one
thing, but killing two cops had upgraded him to a different league
altogether.
He walked through the lounge and out to the
pool area, continuously scanning his surroundings for anything that
might look suspicious. There were very few people around at eleven
on a Tuesday morning, tourism not being very high in the Frelimo
government’s priority list. The hotel was used mostly by foreign
businessmen, all trying to get their feet in the door early, as the
winds of change have started stirring ever so slightly. A year ago
the place had been practically deserted but as the government’s
attitude to private enterprise had started changing, more and more
doors that had been closed for twelve years had started opening,
and a wide variety of businessmen and opportunists were clamouring
to get in early.
A few people were scattered around the poorly
maintained pool, and Joao immediately spotted Courie at a table
near the open-air bar. The tables in the immediate vicinity were
unoccupied, and there was no way anyone could approach without
being obvious.
‘So, Joao, we meet again,’ Courie said,
rising and extending his right hand in greeting.
Joao had come into town the previous week to
have the wires removed from his jaws, and had found an urgent
message from the Chinese trader awaiting him at his favourite
watering hole, the Marco Polo Bar and Grill.
Entering the Chinaman’s shop, he had
immediately been shown into the small back office, where serious
business was always conducted.
‘Mr Courie wants to see you urgently,’ the
Chinaman had informed him excitedly.
‘Courie? The lawyer? You must be bloody
crazy. I’m not seeing any South African lawyers.’
‘He is coming to Maputo to see you. And he is
not a South African. He’s got a Belgian passport.’
‘He can have a passport to heaven for all I
care. It can only be a trap. How the hell do you know about him,
anyway?’
The Chinaman shifted uncomfortably. ‘Don’t
talk about Mr Courie that way. He’s a very big man.’
‘Looked more like a little runt to me.’
The Chinaman had winced, holding up his hands
as if to ward off a physical attack. ‘Please, please, Joao. He is a
much more powerful man than you could imagine. He has got contacts
everywhere. And soldiers. Be very careful. I think he is in with
the Mafia as well.’
Joao roared with laughter. ‘The Mafia? You
want to tell me he is a big man in organised crime, and he is
practising law in Nelspruit. Come off it, man!’
‘He shifted eighteen tons of ivory last year.
And nobody knows how much rhino.’
‘Ah, now I see. He is close to the Kruger
Park, close to Mozambique, close to Swaziland . . . So he is the
big man behind all this. Why does he want to see me?’
‘He instructed me to tell you that it is in
connection with your brother.’
Rui! Hate and visions of revenge had flooded
his thoughts, and he had known immediately that he wanted to meet
Courie.
‘Have a seat,’ Courie invited. ‘Beer?’
‘Laurentina, please. The Chinaman said you
wanted to talk about Rui,’ Joao came to the point immediately.
Courie sighed. ‘Yes, a tragic business,
that.’
‘Yes, I know. You didn’t come all the way
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