you murdering bastard. it took a few seconds for him to recover his breath. All right.
Now get up, slowly. Gama came to his feet, clutching his injured genitals. Daniel forced him back against the side of the truck, the knife still pressed to his throat. You've got the ivory in the truck, he accused.
Let's have a look at it, my friend. No, Gomo whispered. No ivory.
I don't know what you want. You are mad, man. Where are the keys to the hold? Daniel demanded, and Gama swivelled his eyes without moving his head. in my pocket. Turn around, slowly, Daniel ordered. Face the side of the truck. gomo obeyed Daniel whipped his arm around his throat in a stranglehold from behind and shoved him forward so that his lumped forehead cracked against the steel hull. Gomo cried out with the pain.
Give me an excuse to do that again, Daniel whispered in his ear. The sound of your pig squeals is sweet music. He pressed the knife into gomo's back at the level of his kidneys, just hard enough to let him feel the point of it through the cloth of his tunic. Get the keys. He pricked him a little harder and Gomo reached into his pocket. The keys tinkled as he brought them out.
Still holding him in a strangler's grip, Daniel frog-marched him to the rear of the truck.
the lock, he snapped. Gomo fitted the key and the Open mechanism turned easily. Okay, now get the handcuffs off your belt, he ordered.
The steel manacles were regulation issue for all rangers on anti-poaching duty. Snap one link over your right wrist, Daniel told him. And give me the key. The cuffs dangling from his wrist, Gomo passed the key over his shoulder. Daniel slipped it into his pocket, then snapped the second link of the handcuffs over the steel bracing of the hull.
Now Gomo was securely chained to the bodywork of the truck and Daniel released his grip on him and turned the locking handle of the rear double doors.
He swung them open. A gust of icy air flowed out of the refrigerated interior and the smell of elephant meat was gamey and rank. The inside of the hold was in darkness, but Daniel jumped up onto the tailgate and groped for the lightswitch. The striplight on the roof flickered and then lit up the refrigerated compartment with a cold blue glow. Hunks of butchered carcass streaked and marbled with white fat hung from the rows of meat-hooks along the roof rails. There were tons of flesh, packed in so closely that Daniel could see only the first rank of carcasses. He dropped on his knees and peered into the narrow space below them. The steel floor was puddled with dripping blood, but that was all.
Daniel felt a sudden swoop of dismay in his guts. He had expected to see piles of tusks packed beneath the hanging carcasses. He scrambled to his feet and pushed his way into the compartment. The cold took his breath away, and the touch of the raw frozen flesh as he brushed against it was loathsome and disgusting, but he wriggled his way deeper into the hold, determined to find where they had concealed the ivory.
He gave up after ten minutes. There was no place where they could have hidden such a bulky cargo. He jumped down to ground level. His clothing was stained from contact with the raw meat. On hands and knees he crawled under the chassis of the truck, searching for a secret compartment.
When he crawled out again, Gomo crowed at him gleefully, No ivory, truck.
I tell you, no ivory. You break government You beat me. Plenty trouble for you now, white boy. We haven't finished yet, Daniel promised him. We haven't finished until you sing me a little song, the song about what you and the Chinaman did with the ivory. No ivory, Gomo repeated, but Daniel grabbed his shoulder and swung him around to face the side of the truck.
With one deft movement he unlocked the link of the cuffs from the bodywork, twisted both Gomo's wrists up behind his back and locked them there. Okay, brother, he muttered grimly. Let's go where we have a little light to work in. He lifted Gomo's manacled hands up between his shoulderblades and marched him to the front of the truck. He handcuffed him to the front fender between the headlights. Both Gama's hands were pinned behind his back. He was helpless. Johnny Nzou was my friend, he told Gomo softly. You raped his wife and his little daughters. You beat his son's brains out all over the wall. You shot Johnny-'No, not me. I know nothing, Gomo screamed. I kill nobody. No ivory, no kill..
Daniel went on quietly, as though Gomo had not interjected. You must believe me when I tell you that I'm going to enjoy doing this. Every time you squeal, I will think of Johnny Nzou, and I'll be glad. I know nothing. You mad. Daniel slipped the knife-blade under Gomo's belt and sliced through the leather. His khaki uniform trousers sagged down around his hips. Daniel pulled the waistband open and thrust the blade into his trouser top.
How many wives have you got, Gomo? he asked. Four?
Five? How many? He slit through the waistband and Gomo's trousers slid down around his ankles. I think your wives want you to tell me about the ivory, Gomo. They want you to tell me about Johnny Nzou and how he died.
Daniel pulled the elasticised top of Gomo's underpants down around his knees. Let's have a look at what you've got. He smiled coldly. I think your wives are going to be very unhappy, Gomo. Daniel took the front tails of Gomo's tunic and ripped them apart so violently that the buttons popped off and flew away into the darkness beyond the headlights. He pulled the separate flaps of the tunic back over Gomo's shoulders, so that he was naked from the throat to the knees. gomo's body hair covered his chest and paunch with tight black balls of wool.
His genitals were massively bunched at the base of his belly, nestled in their own flocculent pelt. Sing me a little song about the ivory and Mr.
Ning, Daniel invited, and used the flat of the blade to separate gomo's dangling penis from the bunch.
Gomo gasped and tried to shrink away from the cold metallic touch, but the radiator grill pressed against his back and he could not move.
Talk, gomo, even if it is only to say goodbye to your own matondo. You are mad, gomo gasped. I don't know what you want.
What I want, said Daniel, is to cut this off at the root.
The thick tube of flesh was draped over the flat of the blade.
It looked like the trunk of a new-born elephant, long and dark, knotted with veins and with a wrinkled and hooded tip. I want to cut this off and force you to kiss it goodbye, Gama. I didn't kill Johnny Nzou.
Gomo's voice broke. It wasn't me. What about his wife and daughters, Gomo? Did you use this big ugly rod of yours on them? No, no! You are mad. I didn't. .
Come on, Gomo. All I have to do is turn the knife a little, like this.
Daniel rolled his wrist slowly, bringing the razor edge uppermost.
