Читать книгу Through the Devil’s Eye - C.R. Cummings - Страница 13

Chapter 7

WHO IS THAT?

Willy froze, every muscle tensed and his heart hammering in fear. Movement! Only fifty metres ahead! His panicked eyes tried to focus and then his ears took over as a drumming, rustling sound came to his ears. Large whitish objects bobbled among the trees, moving as a pattern which suddenly stilled except for a few peripheral movements.

Then Willy recognized what he was seeing and hearing. Cattle, he thought with relief. Brahmins. He stopped and sighed, then leaned on a tree. “It is a cattle station,” he told himself, adding in his mind, At least as a cover.

But what were the men so desperate to hide that they would shoot almost on sight? That nagged at Willy and he guessed that whatever it was, it was something big.

For a few minutes, he stood until thirst and dizziness urged him to move. Cautiously he tried to detour around the cattle, not wanting to cause a stampede. He was also afraid of them attacking him and was ashamed of such emotions.

We eat cattle. They don’t eat us, he told himself. But it didn’t help much. The thought of being trampled or gored by a large bull was enough to make his stomach turn to water.

And as soon as he moved the cattle also moved. Some began to run and then the infection of fear cause others to follow until the whole herd was racing off through the bush. All Willy could do was stand against a big tree and curse.

At least they aren’t running towards me, he thought. Or towards the homestead.

The noise of the stampeding cattle sounded very loud to him in the stillness of the evening but the sound soon faded, the cattle vanishing off to his right into the bush. Even after all the trampling and crashing noises had died away Willy remained listening. His eyes scanned the bush in the direction of the homestead, watching for any headlights or movement that might indicate that someone had heard and was coming to investigate.

But nothing unusual happened so he took heart and resumed walking. Once again, the stars were his guide and he was able to keep a relatively straight course. Out of fear he moved slowly and carefully, not wanting to disturb any more cattle or stumble into a trap. So he moved slowly from tree to tree and frequently crouched behind logs, anthills or bushes and scanned the dark bush.

All the while his whole being seemed to be in pain. His right shoulder throbbed, his left was numb, the gunshot wound stung, his legs and knees had sharp twinges and he felt very thirsty. His skin felt hot and dry and he was aware he had long since stopped sweating, even though the night air was hot.

I will come down with heat stroke if I don’t find water soon, he thought.

He hoped to find a cattle trough at a windmill but all he discovered were a few more cattle that trotted away as he got closer. Then there was more bush before he suddenly stumbled onto a graded road. For a few seconds, he stood in the middle of it looking both ways in a state of near stupefaction. Then the truth dawned on him and he hurried on across and slumped under cover in the grass.

For a couple of minutes, he tried to place the road on his mental map and finally decided that it must lead east out of the homestead.

So the river must be somewhere ahead of me, he reasoned.

He struggled painfully to his feet, the pain so bad he had to bite his lip so as not to gasp out aloud. Then he stumbled on. Only after he had gone about fifty paces did the thought occur to him that he should have wiped out his tracks where he had crossed the road.

“You bloody drongo!” he muttered.

Angry at himself for making such an elementary mistake he turned and began walking back. But when he came to the road again he was unsure if he was at the same place. Hurting and annoyed he stood and stared at the grey of the road surface. But in the starlight he could not make out either boot prints or crushed grass.

Finally, he gave it up and shrugged. I will just have to hope that they don’t notice, he decided. But the decision left a niggling swill of gut-churning fear in his stomach. Reluctantly he turned north and started walking towards the river.

After a few minutes of walking a light suddenly appeared ahead to his right front. Willy stopped behind a tree and stared at it. After determining that it was not moving he continued slowly on. After another hundred paces, he saw two more lights appear next to the first, square ones that looked like the windows of a building. That gave him pause as he had felt sure he was now well to the east of the homestead area.

But it was definitely a house. Willy crept forward again, aiming to the northwest to angle away from the house. But in doing so he saw more lights almost dead ahead. Once again, he crouched and worried. It was another building.

In fact several buildings, he noted, seeing another cluster of lights off to the left of the second building.

Through his mind played an image of the station from the air; of buildings being scattered along the river bank and he decided that this must be some of them. His problem now was that he had walked in between two of them. They were each at least two hundred metres from him but it still did not seem like a good place to be. Once again, he stopped to consider the situation and his options.

The most sensible option was to backtrack and then to circle even further to the east. But he was now very dry in the throat and knew he was starting to have blurred vision. A savage headache was starting to hammer in his skull and he was dimly aware that his reasoning might be affected.

But I need water. Besides, they won’t come looking for me in among their base, he tried to reassure himself. So he pressed on northwards, aiming between the two groups of buildings.

After another fifty paces, he came to a dirt road that obviously led to the buildings off to his right. This time Willy was alert and he crept across backwards, brushing out his tracks with a handful of grass. On the other side he resumed his search.

Suddenly a dog barked at the buildings over to Willy’s right and a stab of pure terror coursed through him. He froze in fright and crouched in the long grass. The dog barked again but it was not a frenzied yapping that indicated that he had been detected.

More of a warning bark to another animal, he thought hopefully. But the fact that there was a dog there made him even more anxious to avoid the buildings.

Almost gasping now with thirst, he resumed walking. Ahead of him a line of darker vegetation appeared and it turned out to be what he hoped—the trees lining the river bank. At that point he was directly between the two groups of buildings and the ground began to slope away. He continued on into the trees. There were clumps of rubber vine and lantana among them but he soon found an animal pad and was able to slowly grope and slither his way down to where a line of huge paperbarks overhung the river bed.

The last couple of metres were steep but he slithered safely down and found himself standing on the edge of a wide strip of sand. This was not unexpected as most rivers in that part of the world had dry, sandy beds, especially at that time of year. So Willy plodded a few paces out onto the flat sand, his head swivelling to look both ways in the starlight.

He saw that the river bed was at least a hundred metres wide and that it was about a hundred metres to the dark line of big trees lining the far bank. A few small islands of sand, rocks and trees stood in the dry bed near the far bank. But there was no sign of water. He was about to walk across to the other bank when the thought came to him that he would leave an obvious trail of footprints in the sand.

Better not risk it, he thought.

Remembering that he had seen water near the main homestead buildings he turned left and began walking in that direction. He stayed on the sand but in under the overhanging trees.

It was hard trudging on the dry sand and Willy stopped several times to get his breath back. In the starlight, his vision seemed blurred and he had several giddy spells that brought him to a panting standstill. His tongue felt swollen and he knew he was on the edge of heat exhaustion.

Or heat stroke. I’ve got heat exhaustion now, he decided. I must find water fast.

After another hundred metres his boots began to crackle on small plates of dry mud. Then he saw that the sand had changed colour and in the distance he saw the sparkle of starlight reflected on water.

Good! Nearly there, he thought.

But in the next twenty paces he ran into soft mud and began to sink to his ankles. The mud clung to his boots and they became so heavy he had trouble lifting them.

Bugger! he swore. The water looked tantalizingly close but he saw that there was still about fifty metres of mud. It will be easier if I go along the bank, he reasoned.

He found what looked like a cattle pad that led up under the trees and went up that. The cattle pad then led on along the bank and was easy to follow so he continued along it. But then a light came into view on top of the bank to his left and he stopped behind a tree, heart beating with fright. Then he relaxed as his vision focused. It was the first of the buildings.

Damn! I’m getting a bit close here, he thought.

But a quick search of the river bed beside him still showed dry sand and mud instead of water so he knew he had to take the risk. He was now too exhausted and thirsty to be able to detour back and across to the other bank.

Very slowly he moved from tree to tree. As he did he stared carefully in all directions. The night was very still with no breeze and apart from the hum of insects and the occasional night bird’s call it was very quiet. Then, as he crept along the bank below the building he heard the faint sound of music.

Classical—Beethoven, Willy thought. Very classy for this bit of bush.

He was about seventy-five metres from the building and as he moved more of it became visible until he saw that it was a long, low structure with a covered patio and glass doors facing the river. He also noted that there were only a few trees between him and the building and that there were no bushes. The grass appeared to be very short and he presumed that the owner had mowed it to make a back lawn.

Willy edged on along the bank, keeping in among the trees but this became harder as they thinned out to a single line with wide gaps between them. Then he saw a path leading down to what looked like a small beach. His gaze moved across it and he sighed with relief. There was water there. He could see it reflecting the starlight as ripples moved its surface.

Trembling with relief and exhaustion Willy made his was down the gentle grassy bank and crept across to the water, moving on hands and knees to try to hide his tracks. That hurt his knees and he was thankful he still had his shirt as it saved his right hand. The shirt was obviously getting dirty and smeared with mud but he decided that was a good thing.

Make it harder to see, he reasoned.

And then he was at the water. It felt warm to the touch and smelt but it was water and he was too far gone to be fussy. So he crept out into it until he was kneeling in water that lapped his chest. A glance in both directions showed a sheet of rippling black water extending away to his left and dry sand and mud off to his right.

Trembling with emotion Willy began to drink. The water was like muddy soup and he realized he had stirred it up.

Be full of cow poo too, he thought. But he didn’t care. I need it. If I get an upset stomach tomorrow too bad. It means I have lived until then, he thought.

It took him several minutes to drink his fill and to rinse the salt and sweat from his face and eyes. He became aware that his shirt was now soaked. Holding it up in the starlight he saw that it was now coated in mud. For a moment, he considered discarding it but then he shook his head.

I will need it to protect me from the sun tomorrow, he told himself.

Carefully he pulled it on, the wet cloth immediately soothing his sunburnt back and shoulders. Most of the buttons were gone but he did up the couple that remained. As he crouched in the water doing this he kept looking around but the only small alarm was caused by some night bird taking sudden flight off to his left.

Satisfied he could drink no more Willy edged back out of the water, now regretting that he had not taken off his boots as they and his socks were soaked.

Too bad! I’ll just have to put up with a few blisters, he decided. His whole aim now was to get away from here and start walking to Muldarga.

As he retreated across the small beach Willy carefully smoothed out the sand as best he could until he reached the grassy bank. Along this section of river bank, it was very gentle and led up to the back of the house. Willy presumed that the inhabitants often walked down for picnics and pleasure.

Once he was back up on the bank Willy turned left and began creeping back the way he had come. But he had only gone a few paces when the sound of human voices sent him into a heart-hammering crouch behind the nearest tree.

Anxiously he stared up towards the building, straining his eyes to try to detect the people. It quickly became obvious that the people had not noticed him.

They are arguing, he thought.

Then he distinctly heard one of the people and he stiffened. It was a woman’s voice and she cried out, “I won’t do it again!”

Is that the girl who tried to escape? Willy wondered.

He stood up and looked around the side of the trunk to get a better view. As he did he remembered his resolve back at the limestone ridge to try to rescue her.

I had better take a look, just in case, he thought.

The notion that a good reconnaissance would aid the police in rescuing her came to him but then he felt ashamed, sensing that was just an excuse for not taking action himself.

So he went down to his belly and began crawling up the lawn. As he did he saw movement against the lighted doors and windows. There were two people moving around but they seemed all fuzzy and hard to see. It wasn’t until Willy had crawled twenty-five metres up the slope that he understood why. Between him and them was a high chain-link fence.

There was a large paperbark tree a few metres to his left so Willy went down on his belly and began crawling across to it. As he did lights suddenly came on under the patio roof. Willy froze in fear and trembled as a spasm of terror lanced through him. He pressed himself flat with his face hard into the grass and prayed he had not been seen.

But there were no shouts of alarm. Instead Willy heard the clink of plates and cutlery being placed on a table. Cautiously he lifted his head and looked. Now that the back patio was well lit he was able to see that there was a large table there and the two people, both dressed as waiters with white shirts and black bow ties, were busy setting it.

The size and splendour of the table quite surprised Willy. It was covered by a white table cloth and by the sparkle on the decanters he thought they might be crystal.

A formal dinner? Willy thought. The idea was so bizarre ithat he experienced an Alice-in-Wonderland feeling of unreality.

And it is the same girl! he noted.

She was an attractive brunette, her beauty marred by a livid bruise across her face where Zoltan’s rifle had struck her. She looked very sulky and unhappy but worked quickly and efficiently.

The man with her positioned three silver candelabra and began lighting candles. Willy stared in disbelief and shook his head.

I don’t believe this. This is surreal, he thought.

But he was also aware of just how exposed he was so he began to inch sideways across the lawn in an attempt to get into the shadow of the tree trunk. He had almost made it when he heard more voices. After a panicky glance, which took in that the two waiters were looking into the building, he slithered the last few metres and hunched in the shadows of the big tree.

But from there he could not see up over the curve of the ground, the table mostly being obscured from view. Curiosity drove Willy to a crouch and then he stood up and peeked around the shady side of the trunk. What he saw made him gape in surprise.

Through the back doors had come five men and three women. All of them were formally dressed, despite the tropical heat. Three of the men were in white dinner jackets and wore long black trousers, white shirts and black bow ties. The other two, both black men, wore splendid full dress military uniforms—scarlet jackets with medals and gold badges.

Willy stared in amazement. His eyes flicked from one person to another as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Then he felt a chill of fear. One of the men in a white dinner jacket was Mr Dragovisic! Ghastly memories of the man callously shooting Mr Drew swirled in Willy’s mind and he felt both nauseated and terrified.

Another of the men was familiar and Willy named him as Mr Carter, the manager. The third he had never seen before. He then shifted his focus to the two black men.

Africans, he thought.

The biggest, a hugely fat man with a bald bullet head wore dark blue uniform trousers adorned by a red stripe on each side. The man wore a multi-coloured belt around his waist. Gold braid encrusted the shoulders and cuffs of his scarlet uniform jacket and he wore a row or medals that shone and reflected the light.

Who is he? Willy wondered. He felt sure he had seen the man before. Where have I seen that man? he puzzled.

Then the man let out a great booming laugh and lifted a glass from the tray held by the female waitress. He drained it in one gulp and placed it back down, then leered at the girl and said something that Willy did not catch. Whatever it was it amused the other people as they all laughed. Then, as the girl turned to offer drinks to the other guests, the huge African groped her buttocks and chuckled. To Willy’s surprise the girl made no protest but her body language suggested she was not happy.

This was confirmed when Mr Dragovisic moved aside and took the girl firmly by the elbow. He led her away from the others and down the lawn towards Willy. Once he was away from the main group Mr Dragovisic hissed at her, “Don’t you cause any more trouble woman, or I vill send you to der man up at der next villa.”

That idea seemed to terrify the girl as she let out a gasp and sobbed, her voice cracking with fear. “No, please! No! I will behave. I will do what you say.”

The note of terror in her voice chilled Willy but also enraged him. You bastard! he thought as Mr Dragovisic strolled back to the table.

The girl also returned to her duties and Willy was able to study the other guests. The other black man was much younger. He wore a similar uniform but from the right shoulder hung aiguillettes of woven gold cord that made Willy’s mind form the concept ‘Aide-de-Camp’.

He is just a junior officer, a lieutenant or captain, he decided.

The women were harder to place. They were all young, in their twenties he estimated. They were all very well dressed and they sparkled with jewellery. They were very attractive and wore evening gowns that exposed ample cleavages. But they also seemed to be acting, as though they were nervous or anxious and trying not to show it.

I wonder if they are here voluntarily? Willy speculated.

Then the big African chortled with laughter again and Willy heard one of the men address him as General. At that the penny dropped. Images from ten years of television news seemed to click through his head.

He is General Tambo, he thought.

For several seconds, Willy stared in bemusement. General Tambo, former dictator of Kadonga, the megalomaniac of Central Africa. He was ousted in a coup a few months ago. What is he doing here? How did he get here? he wondered.

As Willy puzzled over this the dinner guests continued their pre-dinner drinks and chatter. Willy studied the group intently and after watching for a few more minutes he had absolutely no doubt that the man was General Tambo.

Tambo got away and is supposed to have taken a fortune in diamonds, platinum and gold with him, Willy remembered.

He also remembered that Tambo had a fearsome reputation as a killer. He was reputed to have shot dead a cabinet minister during a conference and was repeatedly named as having personally tortured and executed hundreds of his enemies.

He had secret police called the Midnight Machete Men. They specialized in cutting up the opponents of the regime and feeding them to crocodiles, Willy thought.

At that moment, a dog began to bark—a big dog. It came racing around the corner of the house and down the lawn towards Willy.