which it was capable.
David flew the corridors of open sky alone and at peace, wrapped in the
euphoria of flight which never failed for him. He altered course at
intervals to avoid the mountainous upsurges of cloud; within them lurked
death and disaster, great winds that would tear the wings from his
machine and send the pieces whirling on high, up into the heights where
a man would perish from lack of oxygen.
He landed at Grand Central where a hire car was waiting for him, and
spent the journey into Pretoria reading through the morning papers. It
was only when he saw the meteorological prediction of a storm front
moving in steadily from the Mozambique channel that he felt a little
uneasy.
Before he entered the conference-room he asked the receptionist to place
a telephone call to Jabulani.
Two-hour delay, Mr. Morgan. Okay, call me when it comes through When
they broke for lunch he asked her again.
What happened to my call?
I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan. I was going to tell you. The lines are down.
They are having very heavy rainfull in the low veld. His vague
uneasiness became mild alarm.
Would you call the meteorological office for me, please?
The weather was down solid. From Barberton to Mpunda Milia and from
Lourenro Marques to Machadodorp, the rain was heavy and unrelenting. The
cloud ceiling was above twenty thousand feet and it was right down on
the ground. The Navajo had no oxygen or electronic navigational
equipment.
How long? David demanded of the meteorological officer. How long until
it clears?
Hard to tell, sir. Two or three days.
Damn! DAmn! said David bitterly, and went down to the canteen on the
ground floor of the government building. Conrad Berg was at a corner
table with two other members of the Board, but when he saw David he
jumped up and limped heavily but urgently across the room.
David, he took his arm, and his round face was deadly serious. I've
just heard, Johann Akkers broke jail last night. He killed a guard and
got clean away.
He's been loose for seventeen hours.
David stared at him, unable to speak with the shock of it.
Is Debra alone?
David nodded, his face stiff with scar tissue, but his eyes dark and
afraid.
You'd better fly down right away to be with her. 'The weather, they've
grounded all aircraft in the area. Use my truck! said Conrad urgently.
I need something faster than that. Do you want me to come with you?
No, said David. If you aren't there this afternoon, they won't approve
the new fencing allocations. I'll go on my own.
Debra was working at her desk when she heard the wind coming. She
switched off her tape recorder and went out on to the veranda with the
dog following her closely.
She stood listening, not sure of what she was hearing.
It was a soughing and sighing, a far-off rushing like that of a wave
upon a pebble beach.
The dog pressed against her leg and she squatted beside him, placing one
arm around his neck, listening to the gathering rush of the wind,
hearing the roar of it building up swiftly, the branches of the morula
forest beginning to thrash and rattle.
Zulu whimpered, and she hugged him a little closer.
There, boy. Gently. Gently, she whispered and the wind struck in a
mighty squalling blast, crashing through the treetops, tearing and
cracking the upper branches.
It banged into the insect screen of the veranda with a snap like a
mainsail filling, and unsecured windows and doors slammed like cannon
shots.
Debra sprang up and ran back into her workroom, the window was swinging
and slamming, dust and debris boiling in through it. She put her
shoulder to it, closing it and securing the latch, then she ran to do
the same to the other windows and bumped into one of the house servants.
Between them they battened down all the doors and windows. Madam, the
rain will come now. Very much rain. 'Go to your families now, 'Debra
told them. The dinner, madam? Don't worry, I'll make that, and
thankfully they streamed away through the swirling dust to their
hutments beyond the kopje.
The wind blew for fifteen minutes, and Debra stood by the wire screen
and felt it tugging and whipping her body. Its wildness was infectious,
and she laughed aloud, elated and excited.
Then suddenly the wind was passed, as swiftly as it had come, and she
heard it tearing and clawing its way over the hills above the pools.
In the utter silence that followed the whole world waited, tensed for
the next onslaught of the elements.
Debra felt the cold, the sudden fall in temperature as though the door
to a great ice-box had opened and she hugged her arms and shivered; she
could not see the dark cloud banks that rolled across Jabulani, but
somehow she sensed their menace and their majesty in the coldness that
swamped her.
The first lightning bolt struck with a crackling electric explosion that
seemed to singe the air about her, and Debra was taken so unawares that
she cried out aloud. The thunder broke, and seemed to shake the sky and
rock the earth's very foundations.
Debra turned and groped her way back into the house, locking herself
into her room, but walls could not diminish the fury of the rain when it
came. It drummed and roared and deafened, battering the window panes,
and striking the walls and doors, pouring through the screen to flood
the veranda.
As overpowering as was the rainstorm, yet it was the lightning and the
thunder that racked Debra's nerves.
She could not steel herself for each mighty crack and roar. Each one
caught her off balance, and it seemed that they were aimed directly at
her.
She crouched on her day bed, clinging to the soft warm body of the dog
for a little comfort. She wished she had not allowed the servants to
leave, and she thought that her nerve might crack altogether under the
bombardment.
Finally she could stand it no longer. She groped her way into the
living-room. In her distress she had almost lost her way about her own
home, but she found the telephone and lifted it to her ear.
Immediately she knew that it was dead, there was no tone to it but she
cranked the handle wildly, calling desperately into the mouthpiece,
until finally she let it fall and dangle on its cord.
She began to sob as she stumbled back to her workroom, hugging the child
in her big belly, and she fell upon the day bed and covered her ears
with both hands.
Stop it, she screamed. Stop it, oh please God, make it stop.
The new national highway as far as the coal-mining town of Witbank was
broad and smooth, six lanes of traffic, and David eased the hired
Pontiac into the fast lane and went flat, keeping his foot pressed down
hard.
She peaked out at a hundred and thirty miles an hour, and she sat so
solid upon the road that he hardly needed to drive her. His mind was
free to play with horror stories, and to remember Johan Akkers face as
he stood in the dock glaring across the Court Room at them. The
deep-set muddy eyes, and the mouth working as though he were about to
spit. As the warders had led him to the stairs down to the cells he had
pulled free and shouted back.
I'm going to get you, Scarface, he giggled. If I have to wait
twenty-nine years, I'm going to get you, and they took him away.
After Witbank the road narrowed. There was heavy traffic and the bends
had dangerous camber and deceptive gradients.
David was able to concentrate on keeping the big car on the road, and to