Zulu Dawn
A faint glow appeared in the east. David had travelled the world and seen many sunrises. Few could rival those of South Africa. In most countries, mist and cloud obscured the early morning scene. Here, the air was crystal clear and the distant hills stood out sharply against the brightening sky. David narrowed his eyes as a point of light appeared and the blood-red disc of the sun rose to herald a new day.
He remembered an artist’s impression of sunrise at Isandlwana on the fateful day when fifteen-hundred British soldiers met their deaths at the hands of the Zulus. The sun was blood-red then. The artist made that point when he painted sunrise and he made it again when he painted the bloodied corpses of red-coated soldiers, lying in heaps, slaughtered by half-naked warriors armed with stabbing spears.
A lot had changed since then. The men sent to rescue Sipho’s family were armed with automatic weapons and wore flak jackets. They shot up the Cabal’s forces and were now on their way back to the kraal. The action lasted just a few minutes. The guns stopped firing. The phones went dead and David tried to get in some sleep. But deep sleep never came and he still felt tired.
The same could not be said of Big John. He had spent the night awake and showed no signs of slowing down. David watched as he made his way around the kraal, checking his men. Some were on guard. Others were lying on their sleeping mats with their weapons beside them.
The big man had an amazing ability to stay awake. David had seen him chewing leaves. He guessed they had narcotic properties and were similar to the pills armies give their combat troops. The drugs tell the body to ignore the signs of fatigue. They work until the body runs out of fuel and collapses under the strain.
David never relied on drugs. He believed in the power of mind-over-matter. That worked most of the time but could do nothing to correct his faulty eyesight. Laser surgery wasn’t an option and the only alternative was to wear hard contact lenses.
They gave him something like twenty-twenty vision when they were in place. Right now, he was wearing spectacles and his eyesight was rat shit. He had to get the lenses in or he would be useless in a combat situation … and that was on the cards.
He tipped his head back and squirted fluid from a small container into each eye. That was the first part of the process. Protein collects behind the eyelids during sleep and must be removed. He wiped his eyes, cleaned the first of the lenses and slipped it into place. The process was slow and couldn’t be hurried.
It was a ridiculous situation. No special forces unit would accept him into its ranks. He would be more of a liability than an asset.
‘David. I have not seen you with your glasses.’
Big John strode towards him as David slipped the second lens into place. He looked up and blinked.
‘I wear contact lenses …’
‘They no good for fighting.’
David couldn’t fault that.
‘I try not to fight,’ he said.
‘You try not to fight?’
Big John burst out laughing.
‘That’s right. I don’t like fighting.’
‘Man.’ Big John placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I saw you with the umnumzana. When you pulled him over and your hand went up … that was something. I have never seen him look so scared. He knew you could kill him if you want.’
‘You don’t need good eyesight for close fighting …’
‘What do you need, David?’
‘You must be a mind reader.’
‘How you do that?’
‘You watch your opponent. It’s the same with driving. You watch other motorists and you know what they are going to do by the way they drive. I saw the umnumzana warming up. I knew what he was going to do before he did. When you get good, you learn to give false signals and you learn how to detect them …’
Big John glanced at the AK-47 at David’s feet.
‘You know how to handle a gun. I saw you check yours out. You made sure the clip went in smoothly and you checked each of the rounds.’
‘That’s what you have to do.’
‘And you tell me you don’t like fighting.’
‘I try not to but if there is no choice then that’s what I do.’
‘Are you good with a gun?’
‘When I have my lenses in.’
‘And if the wind blows dust in your eyes?’
‘Then my eyes hurt like crazy and I’m fucked.’
‘How do you stop that?’
‘I wear swimming googles.’
‘Do you have any?’
‘One of the girls gave me a pair.’
‘Let us hope they will not be needed.’
‘Yes,’ David nodded.
‘That helicopter …’ Big John said.
‘You mean the one that attacked the farmhouse?’
‘Yes. It got away.’
‘Shit!’ David pulled a face.
‘They killed the men on the ground but the helicopter got away,’ Big John continued. ‘It will fly back to its base and tell the people what happened.’
‘Too right!’ David agreed.’
‘Do you think they will find out where we are?’
‘There is a serious risk.’
‘If they find Petra de Villiers here that will be bad.’
‘Very bad.’ David reached for his phone. ‘I’ll put through another call to my friend … tell her that things could get very serious and we need to be got out of here as soon as possible.’
The little lemurs reached for their bananas. Kate hoped Rodriquez wouldn’t forget to feed them. The sod was lying on his back in a drunken stupor and she had the keys to his plane. David had phoned to say he had to leave urgently. Lives were at risk and he couldn’t hang around any longer.
She considered her options and was left with only one. Stealing a plane from the gunrunners was suicidal and stealing a boat from the local fishermen didn’t make sense. Nothing short of a full-blown femme fatale act would save the day. Unfortunately, that meant going to bed with a man she detested.
When it came, the ordeal was even more disgusting than she had imagined. She did her best to switch off when he was doing it and get him to swig rum when he wasn’t. Rodriquez’s capacity for alcohol and sex was phenomenal. But he couldn’t keep it up. His passion remained strong but the rum took its toll. His final revolting act was to vomit over her and collapse onto the floor.
The keys to the plane were attached to his belt. She took it and every item of clothing she could find. If Rodriquez was going to come after her he would have to do it in the nude.