The desert east of Lüderitz, Namibia, the present day
‘Stop the car!’ Anja had seen the Hilux pick-up on the side of the road, with no one in sight.
The bonnet was not up, indicating engine trouble, and a quick inspection when Anja got out showed that none of the tyres were punctured. Ray and Anne, the English tourists who were driving her, had suffered a blowout before picking her up. The hired vehicle’s jack and wheel spanner were sitting on the backseat next to her, where they had been tossed, awaiting proper stowage.
On the far side of the Hilux Anja had seen a single set of footprints leading away into the desert.
Anja had been in two minds. There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for the vehicle being there, but she couldn’t think of one. She looked out into the desert and a glint of light, a reflection on glass, caught her eye.
‘Go to the police in Lüderitz!’ she said to Ray as she reached into his vehicle and grabbed the wheel spanner. ‘Get them to send someone back here, immediately. Tell them it’s murder. Send an ambulance as well, just in case.’
‘What about my spanner?’
‘I’ll give it back to you when you bring the damn police!’
Ray drove off, probably grateful to be rid of her, Anja thought. She walked into the desert and saw now why the bakkie was parked where it was. Ahead of her was a dune that ran perpendicular to the road. It was high and would have an unobstructed view over the point where Joanne had stopped, less than half a kilometre away.
An easy shot for a trained sniper.
Anja remembered her time hunting with her father. She stooped low as she moved, which she did as quickly and as quietly as she could. The sand muffled her footprints.
She saw the man’s boots first, just below the crest of the dune. He had nestled his body into the sand and was peering intently through the rifle’s telescopic sights. She caught sight of his right hand and recognised the liver spots and scar she had seen on the man who had assaulted her.
Anja saw the slight jerk of the man’s shoulder and heard the muffled report of the bullet leaving the barrel. As her father had told her, there was no such thing as a truly silenced rifle.
Anja started to run. She prayed she would not be too late.
The man was still peering through his scope. As Anja got closer she could see over the ridge of the dune. Joanne was standing, a hand outstretched. Both Scott and Nick were lying on the ground. Anja felt a wave of nausea wash over her. Did this mean she was seconds too late? Rage overtook her and she ran at the prone man.
He must have heard the squeak of her shoes on the sand because he started to roll, but not before Anja swung the spanner and brought it down hard on the side of his head.
The sniper fell back, either out cold or dead from the blow. Anja didn’t have time to check his pulse. She lay down behind the rifle and sighted through the scope. As the figures below came into focus she could see that Nick was moving a little, lifting one hand as if gesturing while speaking, though his other hand was over his belly.
Joanne raised her pistol and took aim at Nick.
Time suddenly seemed to slow down. Without thinking anything at all, Anja stilled her breathing, worked the bolt on the rifle to chamber a round, took aim, and fired.
Joanne fell to the ground. Anja studied her through the scope. Her heart was racing and her brain was not quite able to process the fact that she had just shot someone, and possibly killed her. She watched Joanne for a few seconds, but the woman did not move. Nick crawled across to Joanne, obviously in pain, and took the pistol from her hands.
Anja set down the rifle and went to the man she had hit. She checked his pulse and found he was still alive, but unconscious. Casting about for something she could use to secure him with, she saw that he was wearing a bracelet made of braided parachute cord. She pulled it over his hand and quickly unravelled it before using it to tie his wrists behind his back. Then she checked his pockets and found the keys to the Hilux. Anja picked up the rifle, ran down the dune to the bakkie, got in and sped down the road to Nick.
She would need something to treat him with, she realised. Jumping out, she searched the back of the Hilux and found a first aid kit which she ran with to Nick.
‘You . . .’ he said as she dropped to her knees next to him, almost out of breath.
‘Yes.’ She took out a wound dressing and unwrapped it. ‘Place the pad against the bullet hole and hold it there, as hard as you can.’
‘The sniper?’
‘He’s out cold, tied up.’
Anja couldn’t help but notice the look of admiration on Nick’s face. ‘Where . . . where did you learn to shoot like that, to do first aid, to beat up and tie up a gunman?’
She smiled. ‘Africa.’
*
As Anja had hoped, they met a police car and ambulance with lights flashing on their way back to Lüderitz.
Paramedics carried Nick out of the Hilux, where Anja had helped him lie across the back seat, and loaded him into the back of the ambulance. After giving the police a brief rundown of the crime scene that awaited them further along the road to Aus, Anja got in the back of the vehicle with Nick.
While a paramedic checked him and ran an IV line into his arm, Nick managed to hang on to consciousness. ‘Anja . . .’
‘Yes, Nick?’ She took his hand and squeezed it, as hard as she dared. Anja looked into Nick’s eyes and had the sudden realisation that she did not want to let go of him.
‘Read the ending for me, please,’ he said, ‘but don’t let go of my hand.’