Keeping his gun thrust hard against her head, Pockface dragged Crys, struggling, towards a white pickup. Even in her desperate state, she made a connection.
Was this the white bakkie Bongani sent Michael to follow?
The thought chilled her to the bone.
When they reached the vehicle, Bongani was already there, held with a gun to his head too, by the man who’d been with Pockface at the camp.
Bongani and Crys looked at each other for a moment before pillowcases were pulled over their heads and they were shoved onto the backseat. She felt Pockface climb in next to her.
‘No noise,’ he hissed and jammed the gun in her ribs. Crys winced.
She was struggling to breathe and her heart was racing. Why had she trusted Petrus? She should have guessed he would take bribes from others if he took one from her. She couldn’t see her way out of this. All options were blocked, and she’d dragged Bongani with her as well.
As they drove, she tried to steady her breathing. If she drew in too deep a breath, the cloth of the pillowcase covered her mouth, and she felt like she was suffocating. She tried to retreat to the calm place she went during her meditation. But the gun in her side and the rocking of the car made it impossible.
After about ten minutes, they stopped. She guessed it must be on the outskirts of Giyani or maybe a bit further. There was no noise and no light.
She heard Pockface open the door and get out of the car. Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her after him. She could hear the other man dealing with Bongani. She tripped and fell, wrenching her arm, her chin hitting the ground with a sickening jolt that made her teeth slam together.
‘Get up!’ Pockface yanked on her arm. A shaft of pain shot through her shoulder. She staggered to her feet, and he pulled at her again.
A few moments later, the pillowcase was ripped from her head.
They were inside now. There was a lightbulb that blinded her, preventing her from seeing anything else. She screwed up her eyes against the light. Pockface’s accomplice grabbed her arm and tied a rope to her wrist. Then he pulled it behind her back and grabbed the other one. Again, pain lanced through her shoulder, and she closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she saw Pockface pull the pillowcase off Bongani’s head. Like an uncaged cat, Bongani burst into action, lashing out and knocking the gun from Pockface’s hand and smashing his fist into his face. Pockface yelled, and his accomplice let Crys go, darting over to Pockface’s aid.
Crys tried to run, but he was too fast for her. Instead of helping Pockface, he turned and grabbed her sore shoulder. She screamed in agony. The man stuck the gun to her head.
‘You stop or she dies!’ he yelled at Bongani.
She struggled, but he held her tightly.
At this, Bongani gave up, and Pockface grabbed his gun from the floor. His cheek was bleeding, but he was smiling. Taking his time, he stood square in front of Bongani and punched him in the stomach so hard he doubled over. Then hit him hard on the side of the head with the gun. Bongani collapsed, and Pockface kicked him in the stomach and then in the head.
‘Stop it! Leave him alone!’ Crys screamed.
Bongani wasn’t moving now. Pockface kicked him again, then stepped back and wiped the blood off his face.
‘Fucker! I need him now, but kill later.’ He added something in Portuguese to the other man, who yanked Crys’s arms behind her and tied her wrists properly this time. Very tightly.
Pockface approached her, patted her down and pulled Petrus’s cell phone from her pocket. He dropped it onto the floor and stamped on it several times until it was in small pieces.
Crys looked around. They were in a small room with two wooden chairs and a bed pushed against the wall. The only window had heavy curtains. She guessed it was barred. This wasn’t a bedroom. It was a cell.
‘Sit!’ Pockface pushed her towards one of the chairs.
As she sat down, he pulled her arms back so her hands were behind the back of the chair. Her shoulder throbbed.
Finally, he tied her feet together and to the chair. She wasn’t going anywhere. This was so much worse than the police cell. She was sure now she was going to be tortured. The pain in her shoulder seemed to travel into her head, and she couldn’t focus on anything else.
They dragged Bongani to another chair and tied him up too. He slumped forwards.
Was he dead? She couldn’t tell. And she could soon be dead too. The realisation helped clear her mind, holding off the agony for a second.
‘Where the money?’ Pockface pushed the gun into her forehead.
She shrank from it. ‘I don’t know about any money.’
He slapped her across the face. She was so dazed she almost didn’t feel the pain.
‘Where did you hide money?’
She shook her head. ‘The man from Vietnam must have hidden it, like I told you,’ Crys said, her words slurred now. ‘It must be near the plane.’
He slapped her again. Harder this time. She slumped sideways.
‘Tell me!’
‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know,’ she shouted hoarsely, bracing for another slap.
Instead, he took a couple of steps back and aimed his gun at her head. ‘I kill you if you don’t tell. Then I make the fucker tell anyway.’
Her head was swimming as she tried to think what she should do.
Crys knew – as she’d known all along – that they couldn’t tell anyone where the money was.
She shook her head. ‘Please … I don’t know…’ Her face was wet. She wasn’t sure whether it was tears or blood. She wished more than ever that they’d left the damned briefcase in the bush where it could be found. ‘Please … please don’t shoot.’
‘I count to three, then shoot.’
‘I don’t know. Please.’
‘One…’
With an effort Crys focused on his face. All she saw was anger.
‘Two…’
‘I … DON’T … KNOW…’ she screamed.
‘Three.’
And he fired. The sound was deafening in the small room.
But she was alive. He’d missed.
She looked at him. All she could see was him laughing, but she couldn’t hear a sound, and there was no humour in his eyes. At last her ears began to clear and she heard him say, ‘Good joke. No use to me if you dead right now.’
She collapsed into her restraints. She’d gambled right. He couldn’t kill them.
The two men walked to the door. Then one turned.
She raised her head.
‘Later, not so easy,’ Pockface said before they went out and locked the door.
Crys struggled to free her hands, but she only managed to make things worse. The pain in her shoulder had become excruciating and, with her hands tied, she couldn’t find a position that relieved it. And her wrists were burning from the chafing of the rope.
After a while, she gave up. She was there to stay. She breathed deeply, unable to focus on anything but pain.
There was a groan, and then a weak call: ‘Crys?’
She roused herself. ‘Bongani … are you okay?’
‘Everything hurts, but I think so.’
‘Bongani, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should’ve left you at the police station like you wanted.’
‘I decided for myself…’ There was a long pause. Then he spoke again. ‘We have to get out of here somehow.’
‘Our only hope is Mabula, and that’s a long shot. If he’s in cahoots with Pockface, he’ll think he’s been double-crossed. And if he’s not … Either way he’ll do everything he can to get us back … to get his share of the money.’
She saw Bongani nodding; his head looked heavy. ‘I think we’re still in Giyani, but if you’re right, it will take the police time to find us. And I don’t think we have that much time.’
It was true. They were soon going to find out how far Pockface and his accomplice would be willing to go to get the money, or whether their frustration would get the better of them.
‘We’re going to have to tell them,’ Bongani said.
She sat up now, staring at him in surprise. ‘They’ll kill us as soon as we do! It’ll be like pulling the trigger ourselves.’
‘I don’t think so. Maybe they’ll take us back to the camp with them – or at least one of us. That buys some time for Mabula to find us. And maybe we’ll get lucky again – like with the ellies.’
She didn’t think that would work twice. And if they gave them the GPS, they might just kill them at once. She didn’t know what to do. The situation seemed hopeless.
Time passed slowly – Crys guessed it was about an hour, but it could have been less, it could have been more. The pain in her body was almost unbearable. She must have fallen into unconsciousness, because every now and again, she came round, roused by the sound of a phone ringing, followed by muffled, shouted conversations. She couldn’t make out any words, but she could tell that it was Pockface yelling at someone.
At last the door opened, and he strode in. His face was flushed, and he was waving his gun around as though he didn’t know who to shoot first. But he ignored Bongani and said to Crys, ‘Boss very angry. Wants me to break every bone till you tell us where money is.’
‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know,’ she croaked.
‘Doesn’t matter. Must do what he says.’
‘Don’t touch her!’ Bongani yelled.
Pockface smiled. ‘Maybe the fucker likes you, hey?’ He leaned over and ran his hand over her face, making her pull away. ‘You tell me now, pretty girl.’
When she didn’t reply, he walked behind her and grabbed one of her wrists. She clenched her fingers as tightly as she could. He prised her little finger open and bent it back. She writhed and struggled, but had no leverage. He bent it further.
Then there was a crack. And agony so intense it erased all the other pain.
‘Úm ma ni bát ni hồng. Úm ma ni bát ni hồng.’
This time Crys shouted her mantra. And Bongani was screaming for Pockface to stop. His voice seemed to come from a long way away.
Then Pockface was in front of her again, slapping her hard across the face, over and over. ‘You have many bones. I give you five minutes to change your mind. If no answer, I break them one by one. Very painful. I will enjoy.’ He headed for the door. ‘You beautiful woman today. Tomorrow not so beautiful.’
The door slammed, and Crys heard the key turn in the lock. She clenched her teeth to fight the searing pain. It didn’t help. She realised that tears were streaming down her face. She was sobbing uncontrollably. They weren’t going to make it out of this alive.
‘We have to tell him, Crys,’ Bongani was saying. ‘I’ll tell him. I can’t watch him torture you. If we tell him, we may get some more time.’
She couldn’t think straight. If they told Pockface where the money was, he’d kill them. If they didn’t, he’d break her bones one by one. She let out a big sob. Maybe Bongani was right. They should tell Pockface and hope the end was quick. It was their only choice.
But another part of her mind fought that idea. She didn’t want to die. Somehow she had to buy some more time. Somehow she had to survive.
The door opened and Pockface walked back in.
With difficulty she held her head up and said, ‘I’ll tell you where the money is. I’ll take you to it. But you must promise to let us go. We won’t tell anyone.’
He looked at her and laughed his loud, mocking laugh. ‘You funny.’
She heard a ringtone. Pockface pulled a phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.
He put it to his ear. ‘Good news. She tell me where money is.’ He smirked into her face. ‘I go now to get it.’
He listened for a few moments, then turned away and walked to the window.
‘Not next Sunday,’ he said, looking serious now. ‘Sunday after. Need eight men.’
He listened again. She could hear a tinny voice, but she couldn’t make out what it was saying.
‘Three,’ said Pockface. ‘Yes, three. And more money. Same.’ He nodded as he listened. ‘Okay. See you soon.’ He disconnected, pocketed the phone and turned to Crys.
‘Good you decide to tell. So, where is it?’
‘It’s in the bush near the plane. I can’t tell you exactly because all the trees look the same. I have to find the GPS. The coordinates are in there. Then I can take you.’
‘Where is GPS?’
‘I left it in our Land Rover. We parked outside the police station, but maybe they moved it.’
‘Many Land Rovers in Giyani. How I know which one?’
The effort to explain almost felt too much. But she had to say, now she’d started. ‘It has Tshukudu Game Reserve on the side. Take off the spare wheel on the hood. The GPS is wrapped in a towel inside.’
‘Where in GPS?’
For a second her mind went blank. She couldn’t think. She wanted to give up, pass out…
‘Tell me!’ Pockface’s voice was a shout, and he took a step towards her.
‘When you turn on the GPS, go … go to the main menu. You … you might have to wait for it to … to triangulate. Then choose the option that says … W-Waypoints. Then…’
Pockface lost patience. ‘Too hard. We fetch GPS and bring it here. Then you show us. Better be there.’
He turned and walked out, shouting something in Portuguese.
Crys must have passed out after that, because the next thing she knew, both men were back in the room, Pockface carrying the GPS. She had no idea how long it had taken them to find the Land Rover.
He untied her good hand and gave her the GPS.
‘It’s much easier if we show you where the briefcase is buried,’ she croaked. ‘It’ll be hard to find, even with the GPS. It’ll only tell you the rough location, you need to know the exact spot. You’ll be digging for hours otherwise…’
She could see he was thinking about it. He called for his accomplice to come to the room, and they spoke for a few minutes in Portuguese. By the way they were pointing at her, she thought they were deciding whether they should take her along and leave Bongani behind.
Eventually, Pockface shook his head and turned back to her. ‘Too dangerous. Police look for you. Show me on GPS.’
Even in her daze she sat up a little. So that meant Pockface and Mabula weren’t in league together … or Pockface was trying to get all the money for himself…
‘Show me…’ Pockface repeated, slowly, putting his face close to hers.
What was the best thing to do? She turned the GPS on, trying to think hard how she could fool Pockface. He was watching her closely, though, so she couldn’t do anything that he wouldn’t see.
‘I have to wait for the GPS to pick up the satellites…’ she said, hoping he believed her. It was unnecessary for the information she needed – but it gave her a little extra time to think.
If she gave him the correct position, he’d end up with the money, then come back and kill them. If she gave him the wrong position, he’d come back, and who knew what he’d do before he killed them?
She shuddered.
Think, Crys, think!
She could give him the wrong location. That would buy them time. She’d already said the coordinates were a rough location and he’d need them to show the exact spot. Maybe when he came back, they could persuade him to let them show him where the money was. That would be a couple of extra hours.
When the GPS locked onto her position, Crys flipped to the main menu and selected Waypoints. There were eight showing. She selected the last one and deleted it, hoping against hope that Pockface didn’t understand what she was doing. He didn’t react. Crys breathed steadily, trying not to show her relief. Then she highlighted the last one, which she thought was the location of the camp, and handed the GPS to Pockface.
‘We buried the money on the track from the plane to the camp,’ she said weakly. ‘On the left side, about ten paces in. You’ll need something to dig with. It’s not deep. It’s in a silver briefcase.’
Pockface took the GPS and said something to the accomplice, then they left and Crys heard the door lock.
A few minutes later she heard a vehicle start and drive away. Then silence.
She looked up and saw Bongani staring at her.
They had four or five hours before they found out what their fate was going to be.