Jaeger glanced at Narov, then back at Konig. ‘So, before the two of us do our Cinderella act, is there anything else we need to know?’
Konig shook his head morosely. ‘No. I think that is it. It is enough, yes?’
The three of them made their way back towards the vehicle. When they reached it, Narov stepped across and embraced the big German stiffly. It struck Jaeger that he had rarely seen her offer anyone simple physical closeness. A spontaneous hug.
This was a first.
‘Thank you, Falk – for everything,’ she told him. ‘And especially for all that you do here. In my eyes you are… a hero.’ For an instant their heads collided, as she gave him an awkward farewell kiss.
Jaeger climbed into the Toyota. Urio was behind the wheel with the engine running. Moments later, Narov joined them. They were about to pull away when she put out a hand to stop them. She gazed at Konig through the open side window.
‘You’re worried, aren’t you, Falk? There’s more? Something more?’
Konig hesitated. He was clearly torn. Then something inside him seemed to snap. ‘There is something… strange. It has been torturing me. This last year. Kammler told me that he had stopped worrying about the wildlife. He said: “Falk, keep alive a thousand elephants. A thousand will be enough.”’
He paused. Narov and Jaeger let the silence hang in the air. Give him time. The Toyota’s diesel engine thumped out a steady beat, as the conservationist mustered his courage to continue.
‘When he comes here, he likes to drink. I think he feels safe and secure in the isolation of this place. He is near his warplane in his sanctuary.’ Konig shrugged. ‘The last time he was here, he said: “There’s nothing more to worry about, Falk, my boy. I hold the final solution to all our problems in my hands. The end, and a new beginning.”
‘You know, in many ways Mr Kammler is a good man,’ Konig continued, a little defensively. ‘His love of wildlife is – or was – genuine. He speaks about his worries for the earth. Of extinction. He talks about the crisis of overpopulation. That we are like a plague. That humankind’s growth needs to be curtailed. And in a way, of course, he makes a fair point.
‘But he also enrages me. He speaks about the people here – the Africans; my staff; my friends – as savages. He laments the fact that black people inherited paradise and then decided to slaughter all the animals. But you know who buys the ivory? The rhino horn? You know who drives the slaughter? It is foreigners. All of it – smuggled overseas.’
Konig scowled. ‘You know, he speaks about the people here as the Untermenschen. Until I heard it from him, I did not think anyone still used that word. I thought it had died with the Reich. But when he is drunk, that is what he says. You know of course the meaning of this word?’
‘Untermenschen. Sub-humans,’ Jaeger confirmed.
‘Exactly. So I admire him for setting up this place. Here, in Africa. Where things can be so difficult. I admire him for what he says on conservation – that we are ruining the earth with blind ignorance and greed. But I also loathe him for his horrific – his Nazi – views.’
‘You need to get out of here,’ Jaeger remarked quietly. ‘You need to find a place where you can do what you do, but working with good people. This place – Kammler – it’ll consume you. Chew you up and spit you out again.’
Konig nodded. ‘You are probably right. But I love it here. Is there any place like this in the world?’
‘There isn’t,’ Jaeger confirmed. ‘But still you need to go.’
‘Falk, there is an evil here in paradise,’ Narov added. ‘And that evil emanates from Kammler.’
Konig shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But this is where I have invested my life and my heart.’
Narov eyed him for a long second. ‘Falk, why does Kammler feel he can trust you with so much?’
Konig shrugged. ‘I am a fellow German and a fellow lover of wildlife. I run this place – his sanctuary. I fight the battles… I fight his battles.’ His voice faltered. It was clear that he was reaching the absolute heart of the matter now. ‘But most of all… most of all it is because we are family. I am his flesh and blood.’
The tall, lean German glanced up. Hollow-eyed. Tortured. ‘Hank Kammler – he is my father.’
60
High above the African plains the General Dynamics MQ9 Reaper drone – the successor to the Predator – was preparing to gather its deadly harvest. From the bulbous head of the UAV – unmanned aerial vehicle – an invisible beam fired earthwards, as the drone began to ‘paint’ the target with the hot point of its laser.
Some 25,000 feet below, the distinctive form of a white Land Rover – ‘Wild Africa Safaris’ emblazoned on its doors – ploughed onwards, those inside utterly oblivious to the threat.
Woken in the early hours, they had been sent on an urgent errand. They were to drive to the nearest airport, at Kigoma, some three hundred kilometres north of Katavi, to collect some spares for the replacement HIP helicopter.
Or at least that was what Konig had told them.
The sun had not long risen, and they were just an hour or so out from the airport. They were intent on getting the errand done and dusted as soon as possible, for they planned an unscheduled stop on their return. They had prize information to pass to the local poaching gang, information that would earn them good money.
As the Reaper’s laser beam secured ‘lock-on’ with the Land Rover, so the calipers holding a GBU-12 Paveway laser-guided bomb released their grip. The sleek gunmetal-grey projectile dropped away from the UAV’s wing and plummeted earthwards, its homing system locking on to the hot point of the laser reflecting off the Land Rover’s upper surface.
The fins on the rear section folded out to better perform their ‘bang-bang’ guidance function. Adjusting minutely to every move made by the vehicle, they steered the smart bomb in a snaking flight path, constantly correcting its trajectory.
According to Raytheon, the Paveway smart bomb’s manufacturers, the GBU-12 yielded a circular error probable of 3.6 feet. In other words, on average the Paveway struck within less than four feet of the hot point of the laser. As the Land Rover Defender barrelling through the African bush was five feet wide by thirteen long, there should be ample room for error.
Bare seconds after its release, the Paveway cut through the dust cloud thrown up by the vehicle.
By chance, this bomb wasn’t quite as smart as the majority of its brother munitions. It ploughed into the African earth three feet wide of the Land Rover, and just off its front nearside wing.
It didn’t particularly alter the outcome of the kill mission.
The Paveway detonated in a massive punching explosion, the blast wave driving a storm of jagged shrapnel into the Land Rover and flipping it over and over, as if a giant hand had grabbed it and was pounding it into oblivion.
The vehicle rolled several times, before coming to rest on its side. Already, hungry flames were licking around the twisted remains, engulfing those unfortunate enough to have been riding inside.
Some eight thousand miles away in his Washington DC office, Hank Kammler was hunched over a glowing computer screen, watching a live feed of the Reaper strike.
‘Goodbye, Mr William Jaeger,’ he whispered. ‘And good riddance.’
He reached for his keyboard and punched a few buttons, pulling up his encrypted email system. He sent a quick message, with the video from the Hellfire hit as a low-resolution attachment, then clicked his mouse and fired up IntelCom, a secure and encrypted US military version of Skype. In essence, via IntelCom, Kammler could place untraceable calls to anyone anywhere in the world.