He climbed up on to the fuselage and quickly checked the tanks for fuel. He could barely see any, but it was notoriously difficult to assess visually how full a Cessna’s tanks were. He heard the sound of a vehicle and saw a Land Rover speeding towards him, driven by Darren, the ranger, with a bare-chested Cornelius in the passenger seat. Calder started up the engine. Cornelius jumped out of the Land Rover carrying one of the game reserve’s rifles and ran towards the aircraft. Calder opened the passenger door for him and he climbed in.
‘Let’s go,’ he said.
Calder did as many of the take-off checks as he could while taxiing to the threshold of the runway, lined up, and opened the throttle for full power. As the aircraft began its take-off roll, he glanced at the fuel gauges. Half full.
‘How’s Benton?’
‘We got him back to the main lodge. Phyllis is binding up his shoulder, she seems to know her first aid. An ambulance is coming, and the police, but they’ll take a while to get here.’
The wheels left the runway and Calder entered a low climb at full power. Zan had about five minutes on them, which in a Warrior equated to about eight miles. But she would not necessarily be flying at maximum speed. He hoped to be able to catch her before she realized he was on her tail.
As they climbed, he and Cornelius scanned the horizon ahead of them. It was hot in the small cockpit and there was a strong smell of Calder’s burnt hair, mixed with sweat. He opened up all the vents. The sky was mostly clear, with a few white puffy clouds about 6,000 feet up. Calder had been trained to scan the sky for small dots, but it was Cornelius who spotted Zan, about seven miles ahead and 1,000 feet above them. They were gaining on her. She was climbing; in a few minutes she would reach the Drakensberg escarpment.
‘Where’s she going?’ Cornelius asked.
‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s looking for a quiet airfield somewhere a long way from here where she can land and disappear. Has she much flying experience?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Cornelius. ‘She’s flown all over the country.’
‘Let’s follow her and see where she lands. Then at least we can tell the police. Here, pass me that.’ Calder pointed to a map on the coaming in front of Cornelius. He handed it over.
Calder glanced at it. South Africa was a huge country, covered in small landing strips. She could be going anywhere.
‘I’ll see if we can get some help,’ he said, pressing the mic button on his radio. He had no idea of the local channels: the radio was tuned to 119.0. ‘Mayday Mayday Mayday. This is...’ He glanced at the aircraft registration taped to the instrument panel ‘... Zulu Sierra Romeo Tango Oscar.’
‘Mayday, Zulu Sierra Romeo Tango Oscar, Lowveld Information, go ahead.’
‘Lowveld Information, I’m a Cessna 172 about fifteen miles west of the Kupugani game reserve. I’m pursuing a Piper Warrior about five miles ahead of me. The pilot was involved in an attempted murder at Kupugani. The local police have been informed. My intention is to track her and watch where she lands.’
There was a brief silence as the controller digested what must have been a very odd radio call.
‘Tango Oscar, squawk two-one-zero-seven for identification. We’ll contact the police now.’
Calder twiddled the knob on his transponder to 2107. The transponder would send out a signal that Lowveld Information could monitor to find his position.
‘Tango Oscar, we have you identified.’
‘Can you see the aircraft in front of me?’ Calder asked.
‘Negative, we have secondary radar only.’ That meant they wouldn’t pick up a signal from Zan’s aircraft unless her own transponder was switched on, which was highly unlikely.
‘Have you contacted the police yet?’
‘Tango Oscar, stand by.’
‘She’s changing direction!’ Cornelius was pointing up towards Zan’s Warrior. It had indeed altered course about thirty degrees to the north.
‘She must have heard our radio transmission,’ Calder said. ‘She’s looking for us.’
While they were directly astern and below Zan, it was impossible for her to see them, and they had been able to catch her on full power setting. Now they were no longer gaining as Zan, too, put on full power.
‘Damn. She’s heading for that cloud!’ They were climbing past 6,000 feet, the level of the white puffs of cloud. Zan’s aircraft was heading for the largest of these. Within a minute it had plunged inside. Calder throttled back and stayed beneath the cloud, craning his neck from side to side. No sign of Zan. They passed the length of the cloud, but the Warrior hadn’t emerged.
‘She must be circling in there,’ said Calder.
‘There she is!’ said Cornelius.
She was now heading south-west, climbing towards a larger cloud bank that was forming just above the Drakensberg escarpment. Calder turned tightly to follow her. Once again she entered the cloud. The mountains were too close below, so Calder climbed to try to get above the layer. A thousand feet higher he set up a wide circle pattern.
He couldn’t see her.
She’d got away.
‘Tango Oscar, this is Lowveld Information. We’ve spoken to the police and they have confirmed your story. Do you still have visual with the Warrior?’
‘Negative,’ said Calder. ‘I’m still looking but we lost her in cloud. She was heading south-west on two-three-zero, but God knows where she is now.’
‘I’ll see if Hoedspruit can help,’ said the controller.
‘Hoedspruit?’
‘It’s an air-force base with primary radar. Stand by.’
Thirty seconds’ more circling and then the radio crackled into life. ‘Tango Oscar, Hoedspruit has identified the other aircraft on their radar. It’s heading zero-four-zero about fifteen miles away from you, descending.’
‘Zero-four-zero!’ said Calder, examining the map. ‘That’s, towards Zimbabwe.’
‘Affirm,’ said the controller.
‘We’re going after her,’ Calder said, and turned his aircraft to the north-east. ‘Can you scramble a jet or something to intercept her?’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said the controller. ‘But scrambling fighters is a big deal.’
They were once more over the low bush, miles and miles of it stretching forward as far as the horizon. Although they couldn’t see Zan’s aircraft, the controller gave them bearings. She had descended to 300 feet, which would make her more difficult to spot, but it did slow her down. Calder stayed at 2,000, where the air was that little bit thinner, hence providing less resistance and better fuel consumption. The Cessna and the Piper had broadly similar cruising speeds, but they had a weight disadvantage in the shape of Cornelius, two hundred and something pounds of him.
Calder pulled back on the throttle a little. Maximum power meant maximum fuel usage. They could continue to follow Zan only if they had enough fuel to keep them up in the sky. Of course, Calder had no idea how much Zan had left.
‘You know, it’s a terrible day when you realize your daughter’s a monster,’ Cornelius said.
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Calder said. Cornelius might not have been the perfect father, but he hadn’t deserved what his daughter had visited on him.
‘She had me completely fooled,’ Cornelius said bitterly. ‘I thought she loathed apartheid. I never realized she was manipulating me; they were manipulating me. And I thought all these years she was angry with me for not supporting the struggle.’