‘So?’ Tom had already deduced the kidnappers had rendezvoused with a vehicle.
Duncan dipped a finger in the liquid and, just as he did, Tom registered the significance of what he was seeing. ‘It hasn’t sunk into the dirt yet!’
‘Even better,’ Duncan said, his eyes echoing Tom’s excited look. ‘Feel.’
Tom reached out and touched Duncan’s fingers. ‘It’s still bloody warm!’ It was the best news he’d had since waking. The vehicle had been there a very short time ago. ‘Follow the tracks to the tar road, Duncan. I’ll call for some help.’
Tom had his mobile phone out as he jogged down the dirt road towards the entrance gate. He scrolled through his address list and called Sannie’s mobile number.
‘Van Rensburg.’
‘Sannie, meet me at the entrance gate — now. We’ve found the tracks of the getaway vehicle. They only left half an hour or so ago.’ He didn’t stay on the line long enough for her to object.
She was frowning when he met her at the gate. ‘Tom, I’ve called the detectives at Nelspruit. They’ll be here soon.’
‘Christ, Sannie, we can’t wait. They must have hidden in the bush waiting for sun-up, though I don’t know why.’
‘I do,’ she said. ‘Private citizens can’t drive in the park after dark. If they were seen by a ranger they would have attracted attention to themselves immediately. More likely they hid up in the bush nearby and, when the kidnappers had your guys, radioed for a pick-up. The rest camp gates open at five-thirty and Skukuza’s close by. Tinga’s game drives don’t get onto the public roads until about six-thirty.’
Tom checked his watch. It was six-twenty. ‘So what you’re saying is they could have left some time in the last forty-five minutes or so and not aroused suspicion?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s possible.’
‘Then we’ve got to act now.’
She looked back over her shoulder towards the lodge. He could understand her conflicted loyalties. On one hand she, like him, would want to get on the trail of the abductors as soon as possible, but at the same time her prime job was to protect the South African defence minister. Also, she had to wait at Tinga for Isaac Tshabalala to arrive, as well as the detectives from Nelspruit. ‘Tom, you’ve got no jurisdiction here.’
‘I’ve also lost the two men I was supposed to be protecting. There’s nothing more I can do here, Sannie. Can’t you see?’ He told her about the number of men, and the discovery of the Mozambican matchbox. He handed it to her.
Duncan trotted down the road towards them, his rifle held loose in his right hand. His tight, short green shorts, cut high above the knee, and his brown ankle boots emphasised his well-developed thigh and calf muscles. He was barely perspiring, while Tom was wiping his brow with the back of his shirt sleeve. ‘They went left onto the tar road, heading north-east. That’s all I can tell you about the vehicle right now. I can’t track it on the sealed road. Also, I had another look at the point where they met the vehicle. There were two spots of oil. The front drops were from the engine — it was black sump oil, very thin. The rear stains were gear oil, from the diff.’
Tom nodded. ‘An old vehicle, you think?’
Duncan nodded too. ‘There was one more set of footprints — the driver. There were drag marks and footprints at the back of the vehicle, and footprints only on the sides of the vehicle where they got in.’
Tom was already building a mental picture of the getaway car. ‘That’s five suspects, plus the two victims. Drag marks at the back, you say? That means Joyce might still be unconscious. Were they loading him into the rear of a vehicle?’
‘Yes, a bakkie, I think.’
‘A what?’
Sannie interjected, ‘What you would call a pick-up or a utility vehicle. Sounds like a double cab. Two men in the front, two or three in the back. Maybe one guy in the load-carrying area to keep a gun on the two victims.’
‘That makes more sense. The rear area could be enclosed with a canopy, probably with tinted windows. That narrows down the possible range of vehicles.’
Sannie shook her head. ‘A double-cab bakkie with a canopy on the back, old enough to be dripping oil from the engine and the rear diff? Tom, that describes about every second vehicle in South Africa!’
‘It’s something, damn it. Not every holiday car in this park is going to have five or six men crammed into it.’
Sannie was already on the phone to Isaac, giving a description of the likely vehicle and number of occupants, along with a suggestion — she couldn’t issue orders — that the description be radioed to all police officers in the park and all entry and exit gates. ‘There are security guards at every gate,’ she explained to Tom after hanging up. ‘They check vehicles on the way out for plant and animal products that people might have illegally picked up.’
‘I need a map.’
‘There’s one in the Cruiser. I’ll go and get the vehicle,’ Duncan said, sprinting off.
Sannie looked as though things were rapidly moving out of her control, but she was not quick enough to stop Duncan. It was incredibly frustrating for Tom to think that he had possibly missed Greeves and Joyce by mere minutes. ‘I’ve got to get rolling, Sannie. There’s mobile phone reception in most of this part of the park — you told me that — so you can keep in touch with me and I can keep in touch with London. If I do catch them — and that’ll be a miracle — I’ll call for back-up.’
‘Okay.’ Sannie pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and closed her eyes for two seconds. She took a deep breath. ‘You know it’s the wrong thing to do in this situation, but it also makes the most sense.’
Duncan pulled up and jumped from the Land Cruiser but left the engine idling. He opened his Kruger map book to the pages that showed the southwest corner of the park and laid it on the vehicle’s bonnet.
Sannie pointed to Tinga Legends Lodge, just north of Skukuza, near the border of the park in a section that bubbled out to the west, like the toe of a long boot. Otherwise, the park was roughly a long, narrow rectangle stretching north along the Mozambican border. She traced the route out from the lodge to the tar road, which was shown in red on the map. ‘Okay. They’re heading north-east, possibly towards Mozambique, though we’re basing that on a discarded matchbox. From here there are two official border crossings within a day’s drive. They could head south-east,’ Sannie’s finger moved off the map at the bottom right-hand corner, ‘and leave the park via the Crocodile Bridge Gate and cross into Mozambique at Komatipoort. That’s the main crossing for people travelling from South Africa and very busy.’
‘Would that make it harder or easier to smuggle through two guys bound and gagged in the back of your vehicle?’ Tom said.
‘Harder. The customs guys are thorough on the other side. They hate South African holiday-makers taking their own drinks and groceries into Mozambique instead of buying locally, so they always check the boot looking to make you pay duty on something. The other crossing is up here,’ she flipped over a couple of pages of the map book and traced a route to the north-east, ‘about midway up the park, through the new Giriyondo border post. This one was created to allow access into the new transfrontier national park which has been set up opposite Kruger. It’s quieter and the customs guys might be more relaxed, but I can’t imagine kidnappers risking using the official crossings.’
‘Could they just drive through the bush?’
‘Not drive all the way, but maybe walk.’
Tom was surprised as Sannie briefly described how many Mozambicans illegally crossed into South Africa via the wilds of the Kruger Park, in search of work and a new life. ‘Some are killed by lions and other game on the way, but enough of them think it’s worth the risk.’
‘So they could cross anywhere, if they abandoned their vehicle?’
‘Sure,’ Sannie agreed, ‘but there aren’t many roads on the Mozambican side and they wouldn’t want to be on foot with two prisoners for several days.’
Duncan leaned in to study the map. ‘I know this area. My parents were from Mozambique originally. The nearest towns on the other side are Machatunine, Macaene and Mapulanguene.’
Sannie peered closer at the map. ‘There’s a tar road south of Kruger’s Satara rest camp that ends very close to the border, near the Singita private lodge — the old N’wanetsi National Park camp. That last village you mentioned is not far across the border from there.’
‘Mapulanguene,’ Duncan repeated, nodding. ‘No more than twenty kilometres.’
