The Leopard Hunts In Darkness Part 44

"You were perfectly correct, Mr. Mellow, my orders from General Fungabera were to take you and Miss Jay into the bush and execute you. And you were also correct in guessing that your disappearance would be blamed on the Matabele dissidents."

"Well, why didn't you obey your orders?" Before replying, Timon handed the bottle back to Craig, and then glanced over his shoulder at Sally-Anne.

"I am sorry that I had to go through the preparations for your execution, without being able to rea.s.sure you, but my men speak English. I had to make it look real. It galled me, for I didn't want to inflict more on you, after what you have already suffered."

"Captain Nbebi, I forgive you everything and I love you for what you are doing, but why, in G.o.d's name, are you doing it?" Sally-Anne demanded.

"What I am about to tell you, I have never told a living soul before. You see, my mother was a full-blooded Matabele. She died when I was very young, but I remember her well and honour that memory." He did not look at them, but concentrated on the track ahead. "I was raised as a Shana by my father, but I have always been aware of my Matabele blood. They are my people, and I can no longer stomach what is being done to them. I am certain that General Fungabera has become aware of my feelings, though I doubt that he knows about MY mother, but he knows that I have reached the end of my usefulness to him. Recently there have been small signs of it. I have lived too close to the man-eating leopard for too long not to know its moods. After I had buried you, there would have been something for me also, an unmarked grave or Fungabera's puppies." Timon used the Sindebele, amawundhla ka Fungabera, and Craig was startled. Sarah Nyoni, the schoolteacher at Tuti Mission, had used the same phrase.

"I have heard that expression before I do not under, stand it "Hyena," Timon explained. "Those who die or are executed at the rehabilitation centres are taken into the bush and laid out for the hyena. The hyena leaves nothing, not a chip of bone nor a tuft of hair."

"Oh G.o.d," said Sally-Anne in a small voice. "We were at Tuti. We heard the brutes, but didn't understand. How many have gone that way?" Timon Nbebi said, "I can only guess many thousands."

"It's scarcely believable."

"General Fungabera's hatred for the Matabele is a kind of madness, an obsession. He is planning to wipe them out.

First it was their leaders, accused of treason falsely accused, like Tungata Zebiwe "

"Oh naP Sally' Anne said miserably. "I cant 3ear it was Zebiwe innocent?"

"I'm sorry, Miss jayTimon Nbebi confirmed it. "Fun, gab era had to be yew careful when he tackled Zebiwe. He knew if he seized hi In" for his political activities, he would have the entire Matabele tribe in revolt. You and Mr. Mellow provided him with the perfect opportunity a non-political crime. A crime of greed."

"I'm being stupid," said Sally-Anne. "If Zebiwe wasn't the master poacher, was there ever a poacher? And if there was who was it?"

"General Fungabera himself, "said Timon Nbebi simply.

Ak

"Are you sure?" Craig was incredulous.

"I was personally in charge of many of the s.h.i.+pments of 0, animal contraband that left the country."

"But that night on the Karoi road?" "That was easily arranged. The general knew that sooner or later Zebiwe would be going to Tuti Mission again.

Zebiwe's secretary informed us of the exact time and date.

We arranged for the truck loaded with contraband, driven by a Matabele detainee we had bribed, to be waiting for him on the Tuti road. Of course, we had not antic.i.p.ated Tungata Zebiwe's violent reaction that was merely a bonus for us." Timon drove as fast as the track would allow, while Sally' Anne and Craig hunched down in their seats, their artificial elation at their escape rapidly giving way to fatigue and shock.

"Where are we heading?" Craig asked.

"Botswana border." That was the landlocked state to the south and west which had become an established staging post for political fugitives from its neighbours.

"On our way I hope you will have a chance to see what is really happening to my people. No one else will bear witness. General Fungabera has sealed off the whole of south-western Matabeleland. No journalists are allowed in, no clergymen, no Red Cross-" He slowed for an area where ant bears had dug their holes in the track, burrowing for the nests Of termites, and then he accelerated again.

"The pa.s.s I have from General Fungabera will take us a little further, but not as far as the border. We will have to use side roads and back roads until we can find a crossing place. Very soon General Fungabera will learn of my defection, and we will be hunted by the whole of the Third Brigade. We must make as much distance as we can before that happens." They reached the main fork in the track and Timon stopped, but kept the motor running. He took a large, scale map from his leather map-case and studied it attentively.

"We are just south of the railway line. This is the road to Empandeni Mission Station. If we can get through there before the alarm goes out for us, then we can try for the border between Madaba and Matsurni. The Botswana police run a regular patrol along the fence."

"Let's get on with it." Craig was impatient and becoming fear fill the comfort of the weapon across his lap beginning to fade. Timon folded the map and drove on.

"Can I ask you some more questions?" Sally-Anne spoke after a few minutes.

"I will try to answer,"Timon agreed.

"The murder of the Goodwins, and the other white families in Matabeleland were those atrocities ordered by Tungata Zebiwe? Is he responsible for those gruesome murders?"

"No, no, Miss Jay. Zebiwe has been trying desperately to control those killers. I believe that he was on his way to Tuti Mission for just such a reason to meet with the radical Matabele elements and try to reason with them."

"But the writing in blood, "Tungata Zebiwe Lives"?" Now Timon Nbebi was silent, his face contorted as though he fought some inner battle, and they waited for him to speak. At last he. sighed explosively, and his voice had changed.

"Miss Jay, please troy to understand my position, before you judge me for -what I am about to tell you. General Fungabera is a persuasive man. I was carried along by his promises of glory and reward. Then suddenly I had gone too far and I was not able to turn back. I think the English expression is "riding the tiger". I was forced to move on from one bad deed to another even worse." He paused, and then, in a rush, "Miss Jay, I personally recruited the killers of the Goodwin family from the rehabilitation centre. I told them where to go, what to do and what to write on the wall. I supplied their weapons, and arranged for them to be driven to the area in transport of the Third Brigade." There was silence again, broken only by the throb of the Land-Rover engine, and Timon Nbebi had to break it, speaking as though words were an opiate for his guilt.

"They were Matabele, veterans, war-hard men, men who would do anything for the return of their personal liberty, the chance to carry weapons again. They did not hesitate."

"And Fungabera ordered it? "Craig asked.

"Of course. It was his excuse to begin the purge of the Matabele.

Now perhaps you understand why I am fleeing with you. I could not continue along this path."

"The other murders the killing of Senator Savage and his family?" Sally-Anne asked.

"General Fungabera. did not have to order those," Timon shook his head. "Those were copycat murders. The bush is still full of wild men from the war. They hide their weapons and come into the towns, some even have regular jobs, but at the weekend or on a public holiday, they return to the bush, dig up their rifles and go on the rampage. They are not political dissidents, they are armed bandits and the white families are the juiciest, softest targets, rich and helpless, deprived of their weapons by Mugabe's government so they cannot defend themselves."

"And it all plays right into Peter Fungabera's hands.

Any bandit is labelled a political dissident, any grisly robbery an excuse to continue the purge, held up to the world as proof of the savagery and intractability of the Matabele tribe," Craig continued for him.

"That is correct, Mr. Mellow."

"And he has already murdered Tungata Zebiwe-" Craig felt old and tired with regret and guilt for his old comrade you can be sure of thad"

"No, Mr. Mellow." Timon shook his head.

"I do not believe that Zebiwe is dead. I believe General Fungabera wants him alive. He has some plans for him." Wiat plans?" Craig demanded.

"I do not know for certain, but I believe Peter Fungabera is dealing with the Russians."

"The Russians? "Craig showed his disbelief.

"He has had secret meetings with a stranger, a foreigner, a man who I believe is an important member of Russian intelligence."

"Are you sure, Timon?"

"I have seen the man with my own eyes." Craig thought about that for a few seconds, and then reverted to his original question.

"Okay, leave the Russians for the moment where is Tungata Zebiwe? Where is Fungabera holding him?"