‘Once you’re in, don’t move around. If I jump out it’s because staying on board is the worst option.’
I watched while he walked round the machine, checking out the rigging and engine. It didn’t look much, but if he used it on a daily basis for running the reservation fences and checking for poachers, it was the best I would get. The tyres were bigger than I recalled from the army flight, like giant doughnuts.
He noticed me looking. ‘They’re called Tundras — they’ll cope with most terrains: sand, rocks, grassland — even beach if we get close to the water.’ He kicked the nearest tyre, then showed me where to stow my sports bag. ‘We can’t get your rifle out here — they’ll arrest you. I’ll put down later somewhere quiet so you can run your eye over it and check the sights.’
‘Fine.’
He buckled me in and checked my helmet intercom was plugged in, then climbed aboard in front of me, the machine bouncing under his weight. We had developed an audience. The guard from the terminal building came over to watch, along with a couple of guys in mechanics’ coveralls. The guard grinned and held up his thumb, and took a photo of us on his cell phone. A kid of about ten appeared from behind a small storage shed, and Piet shouted and waved at him to keep clear before he got turned to mincemeat.
Getting airborne took seconds, once we were given the all-clear, and Piet levelled out over the town and headed north.
All I could do was sit there and admire the view, while trying to ignore the shattering noise of the engine behind me and a tiny voice of unease that was niggling away at my brain.
The voice continued to niggle for the first hour out of Malindi. Then Piet signalled that we were going down. He circled once, peering over the sides to check the ground, then put us down on a deserted patch of grass and scrub. The landing was bouncy and short, and I figured he knew this area well enough to judge exactly where he could land safely.
I unzipped the sports bag. The longest of the three packages provided by Khaban in Mombasa held an AK-47 sniper rifle. Of Hungarian design, it had an extended barrel compared with the weapon’s usual stubby design, a wooden skeleton butt and came equipped with a suppressor, optical scope and bipod. It fired 7.62mm rounds with a declared effective range of up to 600 metres. It wasn’t new, but looked clean and ready to go.
I was hoping I wouldn’t get to use it.
The next package was smaller, and I put that to one side for later. The third package held a Vektor SP1 9mm pistol with spare magazines. Like the AK-47, it was commonly available in the region and wouldn’t point towards the origins of the user if they fell into the wrong hands. There was no suppressor, which Khaban had warned me about, but it was too late to go hunting for one now.
‘You planning on starting a war?’ Piet was transferring fuel from a spare tank, but had one eye on the guns. With his background, he must have used both weapons himself over the years.
‘I hope it won’t come to that.’
I looked around. I needed to check the sights on the rifle. We seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, but I didn’t want to find a unit of local police popping up if I let off a few rounds. ‘Are we alone out here?’
Piet nodded. ‘As alone as you’ll ever be.’ He pointed at a rock about two hundred metres away, and another further back. Both were set against a sandy outcrop with a scattering of dry bushes. ‘If you hit those, I’ll buy you a drink when we’re back in ’Lindi.’
I checked the scope on the AK-47 and inserted a magazine. Folded out the bipod and dropped into the firing position. Wiped the lens and set the butt against my shoulder. It felt familiar and easy. The rock jumped into view through the lens. I breathed out and squeezed off a sighting shot. A puff of sand flew up to the left and back of the rock. A couple of birds followed, disappearing into the sky with shrieks of alarm. I adjusted my stance and fired twice more. Two hits and a near miss, and bits of rock flew into the air. I shifted again, this time aiming at the second rock without adjusting the sights. One hit and a miss.
Piet swore. ‘Damn. I shouldn’t have been so generous. One thing, though; you want a piece of advice from an old border hand?’ He was referring to the guerrilla incursions over the years from South Africa’s neighbouring lands. They had become increasingly bitter and hard fought, and the army had learned some valuable lessons in bush warfare.
‘I’m always happy to listen.’ I took out the magazine and put the rifle to one side.
‘Make damn sure you hit what you aim at first time out. The Somalis don’t go in for targeted shots; they spray everything with as much ordnance as they can get. You don’t want to be on the receiving end, trust me.’
‘Why do you mention Somalis?’
‘Because at this end of the world, my friend, there’s only one group you’ll come up against — and it ain’t the Kenyan army.’ He hesitated then said, ‘What are we talking about here — pirates?’
‘Something like that. Didn’t Vale say?’
‘Vale doesn’t say more than he needs to, which suits me fine.’ He shifted his feet, a sign he had something on his mind. ‘I have to say this, Portman — I carry a rifle, too. But it’s legal and for self-defence — not like that thing you got there.’ He nodded at the sniper rifle. ‘That’s a man killer.’
‘What’s your point?’
‘My point is, I’ve got a wife and kid in Mombasa and I don’t want to leave them alone in this world. I’ll get you in and get you out again, I’ll even come in and move you on further, if you need it. But that’s all I can do. I ain’t the cavalry so don’t count on any suicide missions.’ He waited while I loaded the Vektor and fired off three rounds at a spindly acacia tree about fifty metres away. Two lumps of bark shot off into the bush and I figured that was good enough.
A man at the same distance would be a much bigger target.
‘That’s fine with me,’ I said. He was right. Now we both knew where we stood, there would be no confusion if things got hot. I put the gun under my jacket; the rifle went into a sling at my side. I transferred the other package and some essentials along with water, a small medical pack and some energy bars, to a folding backpack, and I was ready to go.
Piet grunted and climbed on board.
As we took off, the earlier niggle that had been tormenting me suddenly mushroomed into something real. I wondered why the airport guard, who must have seen Piet taking off and landing hundreds of times, had suddenly decided that today was a good day to take a photo.
Twenty-One
There wasn’t much to do while we flew, save listen to Piet’s occasional commentary, check out the scenery, and try not to dwell on the fact that I was sitting in an open bucket seat with bits of aluminium tubing, fabric and wires holding us in the air. I occupied myself instead by counting the number of people or vehicles down below, and wondering what kind of reception committee we might run into if we got unlucky.
‘Where do they come from?’ I said over the intercom. ‘The people on the track.’ The ant-like figures were moving slowly in line along a thin trail of bare earth, heading towards Malindi. I couldn’t see any signs of habitation and wondered how far they had walked. It was a common enough sight in Africa, where people had to walk kilometres for food, water, medicines or schools — all stuff we take for granted in the west. But it still amazed me every time.
‘Some are traders off the offshore islands, like Lamu and Kiswayu,’ he said shortly. ‘The rest are mainland locals. Any heading south are probably Somali illegals. If they’re lucky and miss the army and police patrols, they’ll get through to Mombasa and disappear.’
I wondered how he could tell. To my untrained eye the walkers were dots against the landscape. He’d said earlier that we would be flying at 1,500 feet, which gave us a spectacular view of the countryside below, but no real detail save for endless patterns of greens and reddish-brown, of grassland and scrub through a shimmering haze. Off to our right was a silver sheen where the sun was reflecting off the sea, and I could just about make out the curved scimitar-shapes of sails as local boats moved offshore. The sky above us was a brilliant blue all the way to the horizon.