Burning Angels

52

Jaeger counted out the seconds. He figured seven minutes had passed, and still no sign of Narov. He was expecting her to reappear at any moment. He had his eyes glued to the sentries by the fire, but there was no sign yet of any trouble.

Still, the tension was unbearable.

Suddenly he detected a weird, strangled gurgling noise coming from the direction of the ivory pile. Momentarily he swivelled his eyes across to check. The lone watchman had disappeared from view.

He saw the sentries by the fire stiffen. His heart was beating like a machine gun, as he pinned them in the sights of his SIG.

‘Hussein?’ one of them cried. ‘Hussein!’

They’d clearly heard the noise too. There was no answer from the lone sentry, and Jaeger could make a good guess as to why.

One of the figures at the fireside got to his feet. His words – in Swahili – drifted across to Jaeger. ‘I’ll go take a look. Probably gone for a piss.’ He set off through the bush, moving in the direction of the ivory pile; in the direction of Narov.

Jaeger was about to raise himself over the lip and dash to her aid, when he spotted something. A figure was belly-crawling through the bush towards him. It was Narov all right, but there was something odd about the way she was moving.

As she got closer, he realised what it was: she was dragging a tusk behind her. Laden down like that, she was never going to make it. Jaeger broke cover, dashed across in a crouch, grabbed the heavy tusk and staggered back the way he’d come.

He lowered himself into the water, sliding the tusk in beside him. Narov joined him. He could barely believe they’d not been seen.

Without a word, the two of them began to move silently away. No words needed to be spoken. Had Narov not accomplished her mission, she’d have told him. But what the hell had she brought one of the tusks for?

Suddenly, gunshots split the night. PCHTHEW! PCHTHEW! PCHTHEW!

Jaeger and Narov froze. That was three rounds from an AK, and they’d been fired from the direction of the tusk pile. No doubt Narov’s handiwork had been discovered.

‘Warning shots,’ Jaeger mouthed. ‘Sounding the alarm.’

There was a series of irate yells, as figures woke all across the camp. Jaeger and Narov sank lower into the water, faces pressed tight into the mud. All they could do was keep utterly still and try to work out what was happening by hearing alone.

Voices cried out and boots pounded across the terrain. Weapons could be heard being made ready. The poachers yelled and screamed confusedly. Jaeger sensed a figure appear on the bank just a few metres away from where they were hiding.

Momentarily, the gunman’s eyes scanned the water, and Jaeger felt his gaze sweep across them. He braced himself for a cry of alarm; for gunfire; for the bite of bullets slicing into flesh and bone.

Then a voice – a commanding voice – yelled out: ‘No one’s in that shit pit, you idiot! Get searching – out there!’

The figure turned and dashed towards the open bush. Jaeger sensed the focus of the search melting away, as the poachers spread out to comb the surrounding terrain. It was sticking to this fetid, disease-ridden stretch of water that had saved them.

They moved off at a slow crawl, until finally they reached the point from which they’d started. Having checked that it was clear of poachers, they pulled themselves on to dry land, retrieving their backpacks from where they’d stashed them.

For a brief moment Narov paused. She pulled out her knife and proceeded to rinse its blade in the water.

‘One of them had to die. I took that,’ she gestured at the tusk, ‘as cover. To make it look like theft.’

Jaeger nodded. ‘Smart thinking.’

They could hear the odd yell, and an occasional burst of gunfire, echoing out of the darkness. The search seemed to have moved east and south, away from the waterhole. The poachers were clearly spooked, and chasing after ghosts and shadows.

Jaeger and Narov left the lone tusk hidden in the shallows and set off through the bush. They had a long trek ahead of them, and the dehydration was really starting to bite now. But there was one priority even more pressing than water.

When he figured they’d gone far enough to be safe from detection, Jaeger called a halt. ‘I need a pee. Plus we should check for leeches.’

Narov nodded.

It was not the place to stand on ceremony. Jaeger turned away from her and dropped his trousers. Sure enough, his groin was a dark mass of writhing bodies.

He had always hated bloody leeches. Literally. Even more than bats, they were his least favourite animal. After a good hour feasting on his blood, each of the fat black bodies was engorged to several times its normal length. He prised them off one by one and flicked them away, each leaving a stream of blood oozing down his leg.

Groin done, he pulled off his shirt and did a repeat performance with neck and torso. The leeches injected an anticoagulant that kept the blood running for a while: by the time he was done, his body was a bloodied mess.

Narov turned away from him and dropped her own pants.

‘Need a hand?’ Jaeger asked jokingly.

She snorted. ‘In your dreams. I’m surrounded by leeches, you included.’

He shrugged. ‘Fine. Bleed away.’

Once the de-leeching was done, they each took a moment to clean their gun. It was crucial to do so, for mud and moisture would have got into the working parts. Then they set out due east, moving at a fast walk.

They had no water or food remaining, but there should be plenty in the ruins of the helicopter.

That was if they ever made it back there.