Black Horn (15 page)

"Who
are those people?" Michael asked.

Again,
a silent survey of the skyline of Harare, and then the grey-haired African
said, "We have criminals in Harare. Very many. Some small and some big.
Among the big ones are a gang who carry out assassinations for money." He
smiled again slightly. "I suppose you could call them mercenaries. Most of
them came out of the war to find no place in our new society. They are led by a
man I know well. Ostensibly, he is a businessman, but that is just a cover. He
has political protection from certain quarters but, of course, so do I. Early
this morning, his gang was hired to murder Mrs Gloria Manners, yourself and
your father and MacDonald." He smiled again. "It will be difficult in
the extreme to find your father and the Selous Scout, because they have gone into
the bush, and even though they are white men, they are both men who know the
bush. After last night, I also realise that you would not be an easy target...
but Mrs Manners in her wheelchair at the Azambezi Hotel will be very exposed
... I know that two members of that gang took the lunchtime flight to Bulawayo.
From there it's a four hour drive to Victoria Falls. You can be sure that they
will make their move on Mrs Manners sometimes tonight." He paused and
watched Michael's face and could almost see his brain working. Then he
continued, "The beating drums also tell me that Commander John Ndlovu is
co-operating with Mrs Manners and her people, due to pressure from the American
government. He is an honest and efficient policeman." He pointed at the
phone on the desk. "That phone is secure. I suggest you phone John Ndlovu
immediately and have him put tight security on Mrs Manners."

Michael
looked at the phone and then shook his head. He asked, "Who hired this
gang of assassins and why?"

Monday
N'Kuku leaned forward and said very quietly, "A man from Binga, from where
I came from. A white man called Rolph Becker. His father came from South Africa
many years ago, and settled and eventually died in the Zambezi Valley. His
father was my first boss, who used to beat me as a fourteen-year-old, to give
him pleasure. I hated his father and I hate Rolph Becker and I hate Becker's
son, Karl, who thinks he is a bush man and who yesterday morning left the
family home at Binga and went into the bush." He pointed again at the
phone. "Now call Commander John Ndlovu."

"Why
did Becker hire this gang of assassins?"

The
African shrugged.

"There
is no proof to show that Becker arranged the killing of Mrs Manners's daughter
and her boyfriend Coppen. But since he has now hired people to kill you all,
you might say the circumstantial evidence points to him being behind those
first murders. Now, phone John Ndlovu."

Again,
Michael shook his head. He said, "If I phone John Ndlovu, he'll want to
know how I got that information. He will certainly want to talk to me and could
detain me at a time when I need to move quickly."

"That's
true," Monday conceded. "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm
going to ask a favour of you," Michael answered. "I want you to
arrange for John Ndlovu to receive an anonymous telephone tip-off from somebody
speaking Shona. Then, for sure, he'll arrange tight security on Mrs
Manners."

The
African thought for a moment and then said, "That's no problem. You're
right. The Azambezi Lodge will be swarming with policemen. I'm sure Ndlovu has
already arranged security, but after that phone-call it will be doubled or
tripled. But what about you?"

Michael
was thinking. He was trying to think as Creasy would think. He went through the
options. He could simply fly to Vic Falls and wait for Creasy and Maxie to come
out of the bush. He could, of course, go and see John Ndlovu and tell him what
he had learned without divulging his source, and then Ndlovu would definitely
bring the Beckers in for questioning, but there would be no proof. He went
through the facts of the situation and what he knew. Within the hour, Gloria
Manners would be totally protected. Yesterday, Karl Becker had gone into the
bush, presumably looking for Creasy and Maxie. He looked up at the African and
asked, "What can you tell me about this man Karl Becker?"

Monday
thought about it for a moment and then answered, "He comes from a long
line of evil men. As I said before, I have been involved with that family and
it was not pleasant. But Karl Becker is the most evil of them all. He enjoys
hurting people... and, above all, killing them. Age or sex matters not. Better
still, if they are black."

"How
good is he in the bush?"

"Very
good indeed, for a white man."

"As
good as Maxie MacDonald?"

The
African smiled. "Becker is a good amateur, but MacDonald was a Selous
Scout and therefore is a total professional. Do you play football,
Michael?"

Michael
nodded. "Yes. I used to play frequently and I still do occasionally."

Monday
spread his hands and said, "I used to, as well, and I still follow the
game worldwide on TV. The comparison between Karl Becker and Maxie MacDonald in
the bush is that of a good club player to Pele on the football pitch."

Michael
went back into thought and Monday waited patiently. Michael had to assume that
Maxie and Creasy would capture Karl Becker. They would question him severely.
Creasy's decision would not be to take him straight to the police but to take
him to his father, and also question the father. Creasy never liked involving
the police. Michael suddenly felt young. He just wished he could communicate
with Creasy but on this occasion he had to make his own decision. Another
minute passed. Then he made his choice. He would get to Binga, locate himself
close to the Becker household and be ready, in case Creasy and Maxie needed
back-up. He looked at his watch and said, "Monday, I would be grateful if
you could arrange to get me into Binga unseen, by dawn tomorrow."

"That
presents no difficulties. I have business there. In an hour, one of my trucks
will leave Harare with a trusted driver and with you hidden in the back. It's a
twelve hour journey. He will drop you off within a mile of Becker's house
before dawn. Meanwhile I'll have someone tip-off Commander Ndlovu that Mrs
Manners is in great danger."

Michael
stood up and held out his hand and the African rose to shake it.

"Thank you, Monday. As you say, you are a man who pays your debts."

The stewardess served the duck a l'orange and refilled the champagne glass.
Lucy Kwok gave her a conspiratorial smile of thanks.

Wherever
airline personnel travel in the world, they get massive discounts on their own
airline and others. It is a kind of mile-high mafia. Lucy had flown Cathay
Pacific to London, spent a free night at an airport hotel with the cabin crew
and then got a standby flight on British Airways to Harare. When she boarded
the plane, the senior stewardess had recognised her from a holiday she had
enjoyed in Hong Kong two years earlier.

She had
whispered in Lucy's ear, "Just wait by the staircase. I'll get the others
settled and then have a word with the captain."

Fifteen
minutes later, Lucy was ushered into the luxurious cocoon of first class, and
was given her first glass of champagne only seconds after settling into her
comfortable armchair.

There
were only three other first-class passengers. A black politician and his wife,
and a middle-aged white businessman who had tried to chat her up soon after
take-off. She gave him the standard brush-off, explaining that her husband was
waiting for her at the airport.

The ten
hours had passed quickly and comfortably, and with the good food and champagne,
she should have been relaxed. But as the plane swept down from the dark African
skies and landed at Harare Airport, Lucy's mind was in turmoil.

She had
travelled widely in her work and on her subsidised holidays, but this was her
first visit to Africa. There was a tension in her. She was not sure if she
would ever return to Hong Kong. With the death of her family and then Colin
Chapman's death and the destruction of her family home, she felt that her links
with the place were falling away. She mourned for her family with a constant
inner pain and mourned Colin Chapman with a sense of guilt. She kept telling
herself that the guilt was illogical, but there was no denying that he had died
protecting her.

The
first-class passengers went through immigration and customs first and the
wealthy white businessman looked somewhat surprised as he followed her out into
the arrivals hall and saw her being greeted by a tall well-dressed African.

Commander
John Ndlovu shook Lucy Kwok's hand and took her overnight bag, and nodded to
the porter carrying her other luggage to follow them. Five minutes later, they
were driving into the city, side by side in the back of an unmarked police car.

"It's
more modern than I had expected," she remarked, looking at the first
high-rise buildings.

"Well,
it's not Hong Kong," the African answered, "but perhaps it's the most
modern city in Africa north of Johannesburg." He suggested that after she
had settled into her room at the Meikles Hotel, they meet for a drink in the
bar.

Half an
hour later, in the newly-opened Explorer Bar of the hotel, she sipped a
highball and listened while John Ndlovu brought her up to date. It only took a
few minutes for her to learn that Gloria Manners was staying in a hotel at
Victoria Falls, that Creasy and Maxie MacDonald had disappeared into the bush
for several days, and that Michael, who was supposed to spend a few days in
Harare, had checked out that very morning and simply vanished.

"What
do you suggest I do?" she asked the policeman.

He
shrugged. "I'm afraid there's nothing you can do, Miss Kwok, except wait.
I expect that Creasy and MacDonald will stay in the bush no longer than a week.
If they haven't come across anything by then, they'll come out and everyone
will go home. I suggest that you wait at Victoria Falls with Mrs Manners. It's
much more pleasant than Harare and she'll be the first to know if anything
happens. After all, she's funding everything."

Lucy
thought for a moment and then said, "What sort of woman is she?"

The
African made a gesture with his hands.

"She's
in her sixties and obviously very wealthy. She spends her life in a wheelchair.
She lost both her husband and her only child, so her immense wealth means
nothing. I'd say she's a bitter lonely woman."

"Sounds
like good company," Lucy said ruefully.

The
African took a last sip of his drink and said, "Well you could spend time
looking at the MosiOaTunya."

"What's
that?"

"Victoria
Falls. The locals call it 'the smoke that thunders'."

"I'm not here on a tourist trip," Lucy said.

"I understand that. But there's nothing you can do for the next few days except
wait. That's what Mrs Manners is doing... and that's what I'm doing."

"Well, I can't get to Victoria Falls until tomorrow. I checked in London and all the
flights from Harare are booked."

He beckoned
to the red-jacketed bartender and said, "Joseph, please give me the
phone."

The
bartender lifted the phone on to the bar. Ndlovu dialled a number and then
spoke a few short words in Shona. Without waiting for an answer, he cradled the
phone and said, "You are booked on the 8.00 a.m. flight in the morning to
Vic Falls... Perhaps a tourist will have to wait another day before getting wet
from the smoke that thunders."

"I'm
very grateful to you, Commander."

He
glanced at his watch and then reached into his top pocket and gave her a card.
"I have to leave now, Miss Kwok. Call me if you need anything." She
took the card and thanked him and he asked, "Are you going to bed
now?"

She
shook her head. "I've got massive jet-lag from flying East to West and
then South. I'll have a couple more drinks here."

He
nodded solemnly and looked around the crowded room. It was filled with
well-dressed men, both black and white, and only a few couples. Again, he
beckoned the bartender, a huge East African.

He
turned back to Lucy and said, "Meet Joseph Tembo. He's been head bartender
here for many years. He will keep an eye on you while you are here."

"Is
that necessary?"

The
African nodded.

"A
single woman in Harare would not usually drink in a bar on her own unless she
is a little loose. Consequently, some of the men here might bother you. Joseph
will not let them bother you, unless you wish it. Tembo is Swahili for
'elephant' and he can sure charge at someone, if they annoy you."

"What
did you tell him?"

"I
told him to tell them that you were my sister."

She
lifted her head and, for the first time in a long time, laughed. "I doubt
they will believe him."

"Perhaps
not...but they will get the message."

Gloria
Manners felt trapped and irritated. It was early evening and, with the help of
Ruby, she had prepared herself to go down into the beautiful gardens by the
River Zambezi to watch the famed sunset. Later they would have dinner alfresco.
But five minutes earlier there had been an urgent knock on the door. It was
Inspector Robin Gilbert. He explained that he had just received a tip-off from
Commander Ndlovu that some criminals had left Harare to make an attack on her
person. She was therefore to stay in her room together with Ruby and take their
meals there until the criminals had been tracked down. Meanwhile, he had
received reinforcements. Many of them were already on the grounds of the hotel.
They were all in plain clothes or disguised as waiters or porters. The two men
who would bring their meals would be his men.

He had
left without giving Mrs Manners a chance to argue. She remained in a bad mood
throughout the meal, and until she finally fell asleep after drinking one
scotch too many.