Emma dropped her spade and closed on the older men, reaching between them. Her fingertips were just centimetres away from the grip of the pistol when Andre lurched forward and Professor Sutton"s sizeable bulk fell on top of him, propelling them both into the cavity which had just been exposed.
Sebastian fired two shots. "Stand back."
Emma withdrew two steps, her opportunity missed as Andre angrily elbowed Sutton off him. Sebastian had, mercifully, fired into the air, but he now pointed the barrel of his rifle at Alex who had dropped his shovel and raised his hands.
"Everyone take a deep breath," Sebastian said. "Alex, go join Emma. The pair of you, sit down by the tail where I can see you, hands on your heads."
Alex moved to where Emma was and they both sat down, but Alex seemed intent on placing himself between her and Sebastian.
"Very gallant, Alex, and very stupid of you, Emma, to try and take Andre"s pistol." Sebastian went to Sutton, who was on his feet, dusting himself off, and pushed the academic to one side. Andre was looking into the Dakota"s cargo hatch, his torso out of sight. Sebastian strode to him and pulled the exposed pistol from his belt.
"Hey!" Andre spun around and was confronted by Sebastian, waving his pistol at him.
Sebastian slipped the gun into his own shorts. "I"ll hold on to this. Watch your back next time."
Andre snorted with indignation.
"Sutton, get in there with Andre and see what you can pull out. You two," he motioned to Alex and Emma with his rifle, "don"t move or you"ll go to heaven together."
Andre had disappeared inside the partly buried aircraft and Sutton squeezed his bulk through the gap in the sand after him. "It"s here," Andre called from inside the Dakota a couple of minutes later.
Sutton backed himself out into the fresh air, coughing and sneezing.
"What is it, Professor?" Emma asked.
Sutton took off his gla.s.ses and rubbed the lenses on the tail of his shirt, then put them back on. He sat down, heavily, in the sand. "Boxes, wrapped in plastic, with parachutes attached to them." He held his hands, palms up, as if to say he had no further idea. "And it still smells in there, terribly."
Emma shivered despite the overpowering heat.
"Come back in here, Sutton," Andre said, his face animated in the doorway.
Sutton seemed not to hear the other man at first, then turned to him, his expression blank. "I think I"ll just sit a moment, if it"s all the same to you. I"m feeling a bit faint."
"Bahler, get in there." Sebastian waved his AK-47 at Alex and then at the Dakota, to reinforce the command.
When Alex stood up, Emma did too.
"What do you think you"re doing?" Sebastian asked her.
"I"ll help."
Sebastian shrugged. "Many hands and all that. Try anything, though, and you"ll be joining the dead pilots inside there."
"Your threats are becoming more comical by the second," Emma said.
Sebastian laughed. "Just behave. I told you, if you play nice then we"re all going to get out of this alive. The sooner we move the cargo, the sooner Andre and I can get away and you can go back to your mommy."
Emma seethed at his mention of Sonja. "She"ll kill you, you know, if she ever finds you."
"If being the operative word. She"s a pre-menopausal ex-mercenary and from what I hear, a bit of a basket case. I"m not overly worried."
Emma glared at him through slitted eyes. She thought no, fantasised briefly about what her mother might do to a man who spoke to her that way, and bit back her reply. She followed Alex through the crawl s.p.a.ce into the interior of the Dakota.
Inside, the darkness was strobed by a head torch Andre had produced from somewhere. He turned back to them and grinned like a demented cyclops. "Here it is! Still here after all these years. Help me undo the cargo straps and we"ll carry it out."
Emma sniffed. Sutton was right, the air smelled of something old but rancid. The odour was coming, she imagined, from whatever was left of the pilots up the front in the c.o.c.kpit, beyond the dust, the sand that had blown in through the shattered windows, and G.o.d alone knew whatever other desert-dwelling creatures lived in this crypt.
"Hey, we need some more light in here," Emma called out.
"Sutton," Sebastian barked, "go get a couple of torches out of the Land Cruiser and the Hilux."
Emma felt her way around in the darkness. As Professor Sutton had said, the cargo seemed fairly ordinary at first touch. There were bulky crates or, rather, plastic-wrapped bundles, each about a metre by two metres. On top of each one was a dusty, spongy bag, which the prof had identified as a parachute. Emma traced a fabric cord from the top of the parachute she was touching upwards to a steel wire cable that ran along the inside of one wall of the fuselage. Emma had done a parachute jump once in LA. She"d been attached to an instructor, in a tandem jump, but he"d later explained to her that if she wanted to jump by herself but didn"t have the confidence to do a freefall jump she could jump with a static line parachute. This was the same sort of rig, she realised, with the line running from the "chute to a fixed cable inside the Dakota. When the cargo was pushed out the door the line was pulled tight and that then pulled the parachute from its bag, which was tied to the top of the bundle.
Andre had gone to the front of the aircraft, to the c.o.c.kpit, but was now coming back to the rear.
"What did you see up there?" Emma asked him.
Andre swallowed. "Nothing. None of your business, in any case."
"The pilots?"
"Get to work," Andre said.
Alex was running his hands over the cargo. "These boxes are tied down with cargo straps. I"ve tried working the buckles, but they"re corroded. They won"t budge. I need a knife."
"Very funny," Andre said. "Back up, both of you."
Emma and Alex retreated aft, towards the light streaming in through the open hatch and the semi relief of the dry, hot desert air. Emma coughed and sneezed, as Sutton had, from the dust. Andre pulled a Leatherman from the pouch at his belt and unfolded a serrated blade. He cut quickly through a series of straps on the bundle closest to Emma and Alex. "Shift this one out, while I free the others."
The light behind them was blocked by a head and torso silhouetted by the sun. "Natangwe, is that you?" Emma asked.
Natangwe ducked his head and entered the fuselage. He held a hand to his head. "Sebastian says I must come help you move the cargo."
"Your head"s still bleeding. You might have concussion," Emma said.
"That"s the least of his problems," Alex said under his breath.
"Stop whispering down there." Andre continued sawing through the old restraint straps.
Emma and Alex got their hands on the bundle nearest them and tried sliding it. "There"s some sort of roller system underneath," Emma said, hearing the protesting screech of no longer lubricated wheels.
"You push, I"ll pull," Alex said.
With Natangwe"s help they half rolled, half dragged the bundle to the window of light. Alex knelt on the floor of the aircraft. "Hey, look at this." He held up a strap, with buckle still attached, that Andre had not cut. It had been left by the side of the roller system.
Emma looked down and picked up another restraint, then cast her eyes upwards. Hanging from the wire cable that ran the length of the fuselage was a folded and st.i.tched canvas line, the same as the one attached to the parachute on the bundle they had been rolling.
"That must be off the bundle we found further back in the desert," Alex said.
"Less talk, more work," Andre said. He moved to them. "Let"s get this one outside."
With Andre, Natangwe and Alex all lifting together there was no room for Emma to get a handhold in the confines of the fuselage. She didn"t care. She had no interest in helping Andre and Sebastian get rich, and hastening her own death. She was under no illusion that they would let her, Sutton, Natangwe and Alex go with a promise not to tell the police about what they had found.
Emma backed slowly into the darkness, towards the still buried nose of the Dakota. As she moved, feeling her way past the remaining cargo bundles, the musty, foul smell she"d first noticed became stronger. She swallowed hard and steeled herself for what she might find. The sole of her boot landed on something metallic. She carefully lifted her foot and then dropped to one knee. Feeling on the deck she closed her fingers around the object. It was a bullet casing. She held it close to her face so she could make it out in the gloom. "Nine millimetre," she mouthed to herself. The discovery made her heart beat faster.
Andre was cursing and the three men were heaving and grunting. The cargo bundle had to weigh more than a hundred kilograms at least, she reckoned. They were making slow progress, with both Andre and Natangwe scooping away sand from inside the aircraft that was blocking the way out. Emma crept further forward. She ran a hand along the interior wall of the fuselage and inspected her fingers. It wasn"t just dusty; her skin was black. There had been a fire in here, which may have contributed to the crash. On the floor she noticed a spent fire extinguisher, which reinforced her theory. In other circ.u.mstances this piecing together of a historical puzzle might have been exciting and fun; now it was a matter of life and death.
Seeing the spent extinguisher she realised it could have made a good weapon, to blind Andre or Sebastian with so that she could steal one of their guns. No, she countered, after this many years the pressure in the extinguishers would have dropped. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the bullet casing and slipped it into the pocket of her shorts.
The further she walked the darker it became and the more she relied on touch. She stepped on something soft and reached down to pick it up. The fabric was cotton, dry, crumbling in her hands, and there was a pad attached; it was a bandage of some kind. As well as a fire there had been people shooting on board and later a wound was dressed. Emma stood and walked with her hands outstretched. She was stopped by something metal. She ran her hand over it and felt canvas and padding of some kind. It must be a seat, she thought; the pilot"s or co-pilot"s. She kept feeling and then gasped, fighting back a scream. There was something firm but yielding.
Emma needed light. Sebastian had frisked her, Natangwe and Alex, but perhaps out of some vestige of decency he had not run his hands across her breast. Even though her phone had not worked for days, thanks largely to Andre"s portable jamming device, she habitually kept it in her bra; it was the only place she had found she could keep it without forgetting it. She reached into her shirt and turned it on, praying there was some battery power left.
As she fully expected, the jammer was not needed out here in the desert as there was no signal. Her battery was in the red. She opened messages and tapped a quick SMS to her mother, telling Sonja they had been kidnapped by Andre Horsman and Sebastian Lord and were being forced to excavate a lost aircraft full of illegal cargo. I"m scared they are going to kill us, Mum. If you can"t find us somewhere in the Skeleton Coast National Park, west of Palmwag, then please know I love you, always.
She choked back a sob and then selected the light app on the phone. She shone the weak beam ahead of her and took another sharp breath. The dead pilot"s skin was still largely intact, mummified by the heat and dryness surrounding his metal sarcophagus. His lips were stretched in a gruesome smile, his teeth visible.
Emma was trembling, scared, although she knew the man could not harm her. She leaned closer to him, playing the light over his tormented features. There, at his temple, she saw the neat hole in the dry skin. Emma leaned around him and saw the exit wound on the other side of the skull.
The other pilot"s seat was empty.
Emma played the weak light from the phone down over the pilot"s chest, arms and bony hands.
"Come on you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, push," Andre called from the back of the aircraft.
Emma knew she had to be quick. At the pilot"s waist was a canvas webbing belt. She leaned over the body, gagging again at the ancient but still present smell of decay, and ran her fingers along the belt. "Yes," she whispered quietly as she felt the holster at his side. She leaned further over and saw the flap that would cover the pistol, but when she lifted it she found that it was not fastened and, to her dismay, there was no gun in the holster.
"s.h.i.t."
Emma dropped to her hands and knees and started feeling around her. She squeezed between the two pilot"s seats and felt below the pedals and, almost retching in the process, around the dead pilot"s legs. She found another bullet casing, but nothing else. She backtracked and moved to the dead man"s side. Her phone flashed twice and the battery died. Blinded, she kept feeling away.
"Aagh!" The scream escaped her without warning as she felt something brush her face. She recoiled, then summoned the strength to reach out and touch it. She felt dry, papery skin on lifeless fingers. The pilot"s arm was hanging down. She felt on the floor beneath his fingers and her hand brushed the angular shape of the man"s pistol.
Chapter 27.
Sonja rolled out her improvised bedroll, a couple of blankets and a pillow, on the sandy dry riverbed they had chosen as a campsite for the night. They had driven as late and as far as they could, to the western boundary of the Palmwag Conservancy. From here they would soon enter the dunes that bordered the Skelton Coast. It would be hard enough in daylight with a GPS, impossible at night.
She went to the campfire that Stirling had lit and was tending and took the black metal kettle off the flames. She poured water, now boiling, into four tin cups, and added two-minute noodles and flavouring. She pa.s.sed the mugs and forks to the men and sat down on the ground, cross-legged, in front of the fire.
Sonja wouldn"t admit it to the others, but she was feeling dejected. The enormity of the odds against them finding Emma and her colleagues was weighing on her. She was in no doubt that her daughter was in dire danger, if she wasn"t already dead, but the more she thought about the vast empty tracts of desert around them the less sure she was that they had even a hope in h.e.l.l of finding Emma.
"We should be able to pick up the road construction crew early tomorrow, once we hit the Skeleton Coast," Stirling said from across the flames, trying to sound positive.
Sonja looked at him and nodded. If they could find out even though the Namibian police had been unable to where the Chinese road workers had found the rhino horns, it might lead them to the wreck. That was, of course, if the horns had even come from the missing Dakota. The Chinese road workers had provided no information to the police about how or where they had bought the rhino horns, according to Stirling, but Sonja was certain that if she could get to them they would talk.
Brand had been chatting to Allchurch in the gloom, but he came to the fire now and sat down beside her, eating his noodles in silence. When he had finished he said, "Thanks. Great meal."
She smiled. "Fuel."
"Yup, you got that right. Matthew"s gone to sleep in the back of the truck. His hand"s OK."
Sonja nodded. Allchurch still seemed like a burden to her, but if he could fire a weapon he might be of some use to them. And even if he couldn"t shoot, if they could ambush the people who had Emma there would be four armed bodies for their enemy to confront; that might be enough to scare them into submission. However, she could not be optimistic; these people had already had two serious attempts at taking out Brand and Allchurch, and her, and Sonja did not think they would roll over without a fight.
She would be ready. She was mentally prepared for the mission ahead and, having stayed away from hard drink for a brief period at least, in better physical shape than she had been.
"Stirling, are you coming with us tomorrow?" Hudson asked across the fire.
Stirling set his tin mug down. "I"ve been thinking about that. I wasn"t going to, as you"ll be illegally entering the Skeleton Coast Park, but I"ve decided I"m coming along with you."
"It"s not up to you to decide," Sonja said. "It"s my mission, not yours."
"I know this country," Stirling said.
"I was born here."
"Yes," Stirling agreed, "but not in this part. Also, I know many of the parks people in the Skeleton Coast. We get together for regular coordination meetings. I can help smooth things over if you get caught by the rangers."
Sonja wasn"t convinced that Stirling would be able to get them out of trouble.
"Sonja"s right," Brand intervened. "Thanks for the offer, Stirling, but I"m sure between us Sonja and I will be able to find the route and talk our way out of any trouble we find ourselves in. We"ll play dumb tourists; probably just get a slap on the wrist."
Now that surprised Sonja Brand taking her side. She wondered if the handsome American had an agenda of his own. "I"m going to bed."
Stirling looked up at her as she stood. "So am I coming or not?"
Her childhood sweetheart was and always had been indecisive and over-cautious. "That"s up to you. We"ve been in a lot of kak on this trip, Stirling people have tried to kill Brand and Allchurch twice, and me once. It"s probable they"ll try again if they can target us. Are you sure you want to take the risk of being shot, just to tag along?"
"I wouldn"t be tagging along. I told you, I know this part of Namibia better than any of you, and if your daughter"s in trouble I want to help out."
"You"re not coming."
"You said it yourself, Sonja," Stirling said, "someone"s out to get you guys. If you"ve got a spare gun I"ll help even the odds. What do you say, Hudson?"
Brand rubbed his chin and looked at Sonja. "Well, we do have an extra rifle."
Sonja ran a hand through her hair. "OK, whatever. Stirling, if you want to get yourself killed in your first firefight, then by all means join us. You don"t know what you"re in for, but if you think you can handle it, then I don"t care."
Stirling stood. "Sonn, I know you think I"m a coward, but I"ve faced down a charging lion and I shot a rogue buffalo that would have killed one of my guests if I hadn"t fired quick enough."
"It"s different killing people," she said.