Burning Angels

42

A cry rang out across the water. ‘Stay right where you are! Do not move!’

Jaeger stiffened. The accent was European-sounding. Not a native English speaker, certainly. German, maybe? The word ‘where’ had been pronounced with a slight ‘v’, suggestive of a Germanic tongue.

Was it Kammler? It couldn’t be. The people at the Falkenhagen bunker were keeping very close tabs on Hank Kammler, ably assisted by their contacts at the Central Intelligence Agency. And anyway, the voice had sounded far too young.

Plus there was something wrong about the tone. It lacked the arrogance that one would expect of Kammler.

‘Stay right where you are,’ the voice commanded again, a clear hint of menace lying behind the words. ‘We come to you now.’

There was the snarl of a powerful engine, and the form of a RIB drew out from its place of hiding. It cut through the lake’s surface, shortly arriving at Jaeger and Narov’s feet.

The figure in the prow had a shock of untidy sandy hair above a straggly beard. He had to be a good six foot two inches tall, and he was white, as opposed to the rest of the men in the boat, who were local Africans. He was dressed in plain green combat-style fatigues, and it hadn’t escaped Jaeger’s notice that he had an assault rifle cradled in his arms.

The rest of those in the boat were dressed and armed likewise, and they had Narov and Jaeger covered with their weapons.

The tall man fixed them with a stare. ‘What are you doing here? Some mistake that you are here, I think?’

Jaeger decided to play dumb. He thrust out a hand in greeting. The figure in the boat didn’t make a move to take it.

‘And you are?’ he demanded icily. ‘And please – explain why you are here.’

‘Bert Groves, and my wife, Andrea. We’re English. Tourists. Well, more adventurers, I guess. Couldn’t resist the lure of the crater – had to take a peek. Cave drew us in.’ He gestured at the warplane. ‘Then this thing drew us further. Kind of incredible.’

The figure in the boat frowned, suspicion further creasing his brow. ‘Your presence here is remarkably… adventurous for tourists, to put it mildly. And it is also dangerous, on many levels.’ He gestured at his men. ‘I had reports from my guards that you were poachers.’

‘Poachers? No way.’ Jaeger glanced at Narov. ‘We’re newly-weds. I guess we were swept away by our African adventure and maybe not thinking straight. Call it honeymoon spirit.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m sorry if we caused any trouble.’

The figure in the boat readjusted the hold on his rifle. ‘Mr and Mrs Groves – the name is familiar, I think. You are booked into the Katavi Lodge, for an arrival date of tomorrow morning?’

Jaeger smiled. ‘You got it. That’s us. Tomorrow morning at eleven. For five days.’ He glanced at Narov, trying his best to act like the world’s most besotted husband. ‘Newly married and determined to live life to the max!’

The eyes of the man in the boat remained cold. ‘Well of course, if you are not poachers then you are most welcome.’ There was little corresponding welcome in his tone. ‘I am Falk Konig – the head conservationist at the Katavi Game Reserve. But this is not the recommended route via which to begin a honeymooner safari, or to make your way to our lodge.’

Jaeger forced a laugh. ‘Yeah, so I figured. But like I said, couldn’t resist the draw of Burning Angels Peak. And once you’re on that ridge, well – you just can’t stop. It’s like a real-life Lost World out there. Then we saw the elephants heading into the caves. I mean, that’s one awesome spectacle.’ He shrugged. ‘We just had to follow.’

Konig nodded stiffly. ‘Yes, the caldera shelters a very species-rich ecosystem. A truly unique habitat. It is the breeding reserve for our elephants and rhino. And that is why we make it off-limits to all visitors.’ He paused. ‘I have to warn you, we have a free-fire policy within the breeding reserve. Intruders can be shot on sight.’

‘We understand,’ Jaeger glanced at Narov. ‘And we’re sorry for any upset caused.’

Konig eyed him, suspicion still lingering in his gaze. ‘Mr and Mrs Groves, this was not the wisest thing to have done. Next time, please come via the normal route, or you may not enjoy such a peaceful reception.’

Narov reached out to shake Konig’s hand. ‘My husband – it is all his fault. He is headstrong and always thinks he knows best. I tried to dissuade him…’ She smiled, apparently adoringly. ‘But it’s what I love about him too.’

Konig seemed to relax a little, but Jaeger found himself choking back a suitably cutting response. Narov was playing her part to perfection. Maybe too well – he almost got the impression that she was enjoying this.

‘Indeed.’ Konig offered Narov hand the barest of handshakes. ‘But you, Mrs Groves – you do not sound so English?’

‘It is Andrea,’ Narov replied. ‘And these days, as you know, there are many English who do not sound very English. For that matter, Mr Konig, you do not sound so very Tanzanian.’

‘Indeed, I am German.’ Konig glanced at the massive warplane tethered in the water. ‘I am a German wildlife conservationist living in Africa, working with a local Tanzanian staff, and part of our responsibility is also to safeguard this aircraft.’

‘It’s Second World War, right?’ Jaeger asked, feigning ignorance. ‘I mean… unbelievable. How in the name of God did it end up here, so far beneath the mountain? Surely it’s too wide to have made it through the cave entrance.’

‘It is,’ Konig confirmed. There was a wariness to his gaze still. ‘They removed the wings and hauled the aircraft in here during the height of the rains, in 1947, I believe. Then they hired local Africans to bring the wings in afterwards, in sections.’

‘Mind-blowing. But why here in Africa? I mean, how did it land here, and why?’

For the briefest of instants a dark shadow flitted across Konig’s features. ‘That I do not know. That part of the story is long before my time.’

Jaeger could tell that he was lying.