Читать книгу Piranha - Rudie van Rensburg - Страница 14

‘The four poachers got six months each. That’s it,’ said Karel Koster, Musina’s busy environmental journalist. He swept his fringe out of his eyes, pushed his thick-lensed glasses higher up his nose and flipped open his notebook.

‘Yes, it’s an outrage,’ said Natasha. ‘And the worst part is that the mastermind is sitting high and dry somewhere, planning the next poaching expedition.’

‘Precisely. We don’t have a hope in hell of winning this war.’

Natasha nodded and sighed. The poachers might be getting off lightly, but at least they’d be out of circulation for a while. And the fact that these four had been arrested as a result of information IESA had gathered was another reason the Americans might reconsider the budget cuts. She wanted to overwhelm them with success stories. She’d sent her recommendations about how the rangers could improve their operations to SANParks last night and had cc’d Tim and the donors. They needed to know the full extent of IESA’s contribution. She had a suspicion that Werner Erwee hadn’t passed all her reports on to the Americans in the past.

‘What do you want to talk about today?’ she asked Karel.

‘Vietnam.’

‘Fine with me.’

The journalist could be a pain sometimes and he took up a lot of her time, but what he wrote was good publicity for IESA. These past few months he’d been working on a series of pieces about rhinos for his little Afrikaans newspaper. It had a limited readership, of course, but he translated his stories into English and sent them to various international conservation magazines for extra income. Through him, IESA and the rhino crisis were getting regular international exposure.

‘Just as background for the readers: how long were you in Vietnam?’

‘I was there for a month, but at that point I was still with the Conservation Act Trust. That was four years ago.’

Karel wrote, adjusted his glasses. ‘Why the great interest in rhino horn in Vietnam? Have they always been the big market?’

‘No, China was always the biggest culprit. Rhino horn has been an integral part of their traditional medicine for almost two thousand years. Until 1993, they were the biggest users of horn. Hong Kong dominated the rhino-horn market at one stage, mostly for Chinese use. Taiwan was another major end-user, mostly supplied by South Africa. But China introduced some stringent laws against horn trade in the mid-nineties, which made the numbers drop drastically. They’re still big users, but they let the Vietnamese do the dirty work for them now.’

‘When did they jump on the bandwagon? And why them?’

‘Since 2003, rhino poaching has increasingly been traced back to them. The main reason is Vietnam’s unusually strong economy, together with a widespread revival in the belief that rhino horn is a miracle cure not just for cancer but for a host of other things.’

‘Like what?’

‘Anything under the sun … arthritis, back pain, headaches, convulsions, fever, infection, hangovers, poisoning. The idea is that it improves the quality of your blood. The problem is many of the state hospitals and medical centres endorse the use of traditional medicine. I recently read that adverts on Vietnamese websites recommend rhino horn for more than seventy medical conditions. The demand seems to grow by the day.’

‘What do people pay for rhino horn?’

‘Ridiculous money … up to forty thousand dollars per kilogram. And on the Chinese and Thai black markets sometimes even more than that. That’s what makes this such a lucrative industry for the syndicates, especially when you take into account that they pay the actual poachers peanuts.’

‘How is the horn taken? It gets ground down, right?’

‘Yes. Once the horn’s been ground, it’s drunk with warm water. There are literally hundreds of drinks and recipes for dishes containing horn. People even market rhino wine, which is supposed to put punch into a man’s sexual performance. The horns are usually sawn up into tiny pieces and that’s how it’s sold to users. In Vietnam it’s a status symbol to have a rhino horn mounted on your wall. Rich businessmen sometimes give small pieces of horn as corporate gifts.’

Karel whistled through his teeth as he scribbled madly. An hour later, he was satisfied he had enough for a feature. He closed the notebook and leaned forward.

‘I spoke to a friend of mine in Cape Town yesterday. He picked up a story, confidentially, from a friend of his in The Hawks. Apparently, The Hawks’ poaching unit got a tip from an anonymous caller last week.’

He spoke in a whisper, which Natasha found amusing since there was no one else around.

‘Called himself Deep Throat, this caller,’ Karel went on. ‘Alleged that a certain big shot at the Vietnamese consulate in Cape Town was involved in the rhino-horn trade. They’re watching his every move now.’

Natasha shook her head. ‘Can you believe it? A diplomat!’

Karel put his notebook back into his pocket and got up. ‘See you tomorrow evening. I believe you’re the guest speaker.’ He was referring to an event at the local business chamber.

‘Yes. I should have made an effort to attend in previous years. You never know where you might find potential donors.’

‘That’s for sure. Anyone who’s anyone around here is usually there.’

* * *

‘I see you’re famous now, Kassie,’ said Colonel Daniels. He was standing at Kassie’s desk, holding a newspaper up for all to see.

Kassie laughed. He was embarrassed. ‘Ja. I don’t know how they picked up the story so quickly.’

‘You looked very chuffed with yourself in that photo,’ said Da Silva. ‘All your teeth on display, hey!’

‘Did you win any money?’ Rooi asked.

Kassie shook his head. He had to admit he was pleased with the photo and the small report. When the journalist called him yesterday afternoon to set up an interview, he couldn’t wait to get back to the flat. He was at the shop first thing this morning to buy a paper. He’d just about gone through the whole of it before he found the article. He lingered happily over the headline: Local collector wins major international stamp award.

He’d bought five copies.

‘Here. Have this one,’ said Daniels, putting his newspaper on Kassie’s desk. ‘I’m sure you’ll want to keep this.’

‘Thanks,’ Kassie mumbled sheepishly.

Daniels was turning around to leave when he paused. ‘I see you and Rooi have a missing persons. Ex-cop.’

‘Ja. Barnie and I used to work together at Bellville.’ Kassie filled Daniels in.

‘Tik is a bitch,’ Daniels said sadly. ‘Keep me updated.’ He left the detectives’ office.

Kassie’s mood took a dip. The next twenty-four hours were critical. With Barnie’s photo, physical description and personal information at all the police stations, morgues and hospitals in the Peninsula, he might get a call any minute … a call that was unlikely to be good news. News Maria and her little boy wouldn’t want to hear.

No feedback at all might mean there was a small chance of finding Barnie alive.

He and Rooi had decided not to do anything that day. If there was no news, they’d go back to speak to Maria again. She might know something about Barnie’s get-rich-quick scheme.

* * *

I studied hard. Not that I had much time. In the third term of my first year, I found a job as a waiter in a coffee shop in the afternoons on top of the dishwashing job at the restaurant in the evenings.

Between classes, I went to the library to study, because it was impossible to do so at the flat. There was a constant stream of visitors and sometimes the partying would start early in the day. Smiley was always surrounded by a bunch of loudmouths. They made themselves very comfortable in the flat, some of them even using my bedroom for privacy when they were with a girl.

My status was low. I had zero privileges.

The only thing that drove me on was a determination to pass my course. It was my passport to independence and, more importantly, to a life free of Smiley.

He wasn’t much interested in academics. He seldom came to class and started missing tests. His saving grace was his exceptional sporting achievements – star bowler in the under-20A cricket team and captain of the Maties under-20A rugby team. His father flew in from Uganda twice to watch him play at Newlands and the two of them were invited to dinner at Danie Craven’s house one night. Smiley was, in sporting and social circles, a campus celebrity.

The fact that he was only allowed to sit one exam at the end of our first year didn’t bother him in the least. He wasn’t at university for a degree. He was there to squeeze every last drop of pleasure from life.

I passed everything. Due to my limited studying time and my bad Afrikaans, my marks weren’t particularly good, but I started my second year filled with the knowledge that I’d overcome the first hurdle to my freedom.