The bullet ploughed into the gravel between Daniel's boots. I mean it, Danny. I swear it. I'll kill you before I let you suck me any further into this business. You saw Johnny. . . Daniel shook his head and held his ears, but the muzzle blast had temporarily stunned him. I also saw you threaten to emasculate this man. That's enough. Give me the keys or the next shot is through one of your knee-caps. Daniel saw that he meant it and reluctantly tossed him the keys. All right, now stand well back, Jock ordered. He kept the rifle pointed at Daniel's belly as he unlocked one of the cuffs from Gomo's wrist, and handed him the key.
You bloody idiot, Daniel swore with frustration. Another minute, and I would have had him. I would have found out who killed Johnny and what happened to the ivory. gomo unlocked his other wrist and swiftly pulled up his trousers and closed his tunic. Now that he was unchained and dressed, gomo recovered his bravado. He is talking shit! His voice was loud and defiant. I didn't say nothing. I don't know about Nzou. He was alive when we left Chiwewe. -'All right. You can tell all that to the police, Jock stopped Gomo. I'm taking you to Harare in the truck.
Fetch my camera and bag from the Landcruiser. They are on the front seat.
Gama hurried back to where the Landcruiser was parked. Listen, Jock.
just give me another five minutes, Daniel pleaded, but Jock waved the rifle at him. You and I are finished, Danny. First thing I'm going to do when I reach Harare is make a full report to the police. I'm going to give them chapter and verse. Gomo came back, lugging the Sony video recorder and Jock's canvas duffel bag. Yes, you tell the police you saw this mad white shit-eater cut my cock, Gomo shouted. You tell them no ivory. . Get in the truck, Jock ordered him. And start up.
When Gama obeyed he turned back to Daniel. I'm sorry, Danny.
You're on your own. You get no more help from me. I'll give evidence against you if they ask me to. I've got to cover my own arse, man. You can't help being a yellow belly, Daniel nodded But weren't you the one always sounding off about justice, what about Johnny and Mavis? What you were doing didn't have anything to do with justice, Jock raised his voice above the rumble of the truck's diesel engine.
You were playing the sheriff and the posse and the hangman, Danny.
That wasn't justice; it was vengeance. I want no part of it. You know my address. You can send the money you owe me there. So long, Danny.
Sorry it had to end this way. He climbed up to the passenger side of the cab. Don't try to stop us again. He brandished the AK 47. I know how to use this. Jock slammed the door and Gomo swung the truck back on to the highway.
Daniel was left standing in the darkness, staring after the bright red gemstones of the tail-lights until a bend in the road hid them.
His ears were still singing from the concussion of the rifle blast. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He staggered slightly as he walked back to where Jock had left the Landcruiser parked, and slumped into the driver's seat.
For a little longer his anger sustained him, anger at Cheng and his accomplices, at gomo, and most of all at Jock and his interference.
Then slowly his anger evaporated and the seriousness of his own predicament began to sink in. He had acted wildly and dangerously. He had made accusations which he could not support; he had damaged property, and he had endangered life and committed aggravated assault on a government official, if not grievous bodily harm. They could get him on half a dozen charges.
Then once again he thought of Johnny and his family, and his personal peril was of no significance.
I was so close to breaking the whole scheme, he thought bitterly.
Another few minutes with Gomo and I would have had them. I almost had them for you, Johnny.
He had to decide on his next actions, but his head was aching, and it was hard to think logically. There was no point in chasing after Gomo.
He was alerted, and he had somehow managed to get rid of the ivory.
What other courses of action were open to him? Ning Cheng Gong, of course. He was the key to the entire plot. However, the only connection to him, now that the ivory had disappeared, was Johnny's cryptic note and the footprint he had left at the murder scene.
Then there was Chetti Singh. Gomo had tacitly admitted that he knew the Sikh. What had he said when Daniel had tried him with the name?
Yes, I tell you about him, if you don't cut me. . .
There was also the band of poachers. He wondered if Isaac Mtwetwe had been able to intercept the gang on the Zambezi crossing, and take prisoners. Isaac would not have the same scruples as Jock. Johnny had also been Isaac's friend. He would know how to get information out of a captured poacher. I'll ring Mana Pools from the police post at Chirundu, he decided, and started the Landcruiser. He U-turned and headed back down the escarpment. The Chirundu bridge police station was closer than Karoi. He had to make a statement to the police and make sure that a police investigation was under way as soon as possible. The police must be warned about Johnny's note and the bloody footprints.
Daniel's head still ached. He stopped the Landcruiser for a few minutes while he found a bottle of Panadol tablets in the first-aid kit and washed down a couple of them with a mug of coffee from the vacuum flask.
While he drove on the pain abated and he started to put his thoughts into order.
It was almost four o'clock in the morning when he reached Chirundu bridge. There was a solitary corporal in the police charge office.
His arms were folded on the desk in front of him, cradling his head.
He was so soundly asleep that Daniel had to shake him vigorously, and his eyes were swollen and bloodshot when at last he raised his head, and blinked uncomprehendingly at Daniel. I want to report a murder, a multiple murder. Daniel began the long laborious process of getting the official machinery in motion.
When the corporal seemed unable to decide upon the correct procedure, Daniel sent him to call the member-in-charge from his rondavel at the back of the station house. When the sergeant came into the charge office at last, he was dressed in full uniform, including Sam Browne belt and cap, but he was still half asleep. Ring CID in Harare, Daniel urged him.
They must send a unit to Chiwewe. First you must make a statement, the sergeant insisted.
There was no typewriter in the charge office; this was a remote rural station. The sergeant took down Daniel's statement in halting childlike longhand. His lips moved as he spelled out each separate letter silently. Daniel wanted to take the ballpoint away from him and get it down himself.
Damn it, sergeant. Those dead people are lying out there.
The killers are getting away while we sit here. The sergeant went on placidly with his composition, and Daniel corrected his spelling and turned with exasperation.
However, the pace of the dictation allowed him to phrase his statement carefully. He set down the timetable of the previous day's events: the time that he had left Chiwewe and said goodbye to Johnny Nzou; the time he had found the signs of the raiding party and decided to return to the headquarters camp with a warning; and the time that he had met the refrigerator trucks on the road in company with the ambassador's Mercedes.
He described his conversation with Ambassador Ning and hesitated, wondering whether to mention the bloodstain that he had noticed on his blue slacks. it would sound like an accusation.
The hell with protocol, he decided, and described in detail the blue slacks and the training shoes with fish-scale patterned soles. They'll have to investigate now. He felt a grim satisfaction, as he went on to describe his return to Chiwewe and the carnage he had found there.