?Ma?am, he?s wounded. The way Da Costa talks??
?Wounded, you say??
?Yes. Da Costa says it?s serious, his stomach or his leg. Little Joe got some rounds off before he was shot. It will slow him down. He has to rest. And drink. That gives us time.?
?Tiger ??
?Ma?am, just me. Alone. I can be in Ellisras in two hours. In three hours at Mahalapye. All I need is a vehicle? .?
?Tiger ??
?It gives you an extra option.? He played his trump card.
She vacillated and he saw opportunity in that. ?I swear I will keep a low profile. No international incident. I swear.?
Still she hesitated and he drew breath to say more but stopped. Fuck her, he would not plead.
?On your own??
?Yes. In every way.?
?Without backup and communications and official approval??
?Yes.? He had her; he knew he had her. ?Just a car. That?s all I ask.?
?Oryx Two, this is Rooivalk Three. We are two hundred meters behind you with missiles locked in. Land, please, there?s lots of places down below.?
He had swallowed the painkillers with lukewarm water, but they had not kicked in yet. The wound was clean now, the bandage stretched tight around his middle, pulling heavily on his side. It was still bleeding in there, he did not know how to stop it, hoped it would just happen. The pilot asked, ?What now??
?Stay on course.?
?Oryx Two, this is Rooivalk Three. Confirm contact, please.?
?How far are we from the Botswana border??
The two officers merely stared ahead. He cursed quietly stood up, feeling the wounds? Lord, he should keep still. He hit the copilot against the forehead with the barrel of the Heckler, drew blood, and shook the man who raised his hands protectively. ?I am tired of this.?
?Seventy kilometers,? said the pilot hurriedly.
Mpayipheli checked his watch. It could be true. Another half an hour.
?Oryx Two, this is Rooivalk Three. We have you in our sights, you have ninety seconds to respond.?
?They are going to shoot us down,? said the copilot. He had wiped his forehead and was looking at the blood on his hand now, then at Mpayipheli, like a faithful dog that has been kicked.
?They won?t,? he said. ?How do you know??
?Sixty seconds, Oryx Two, we have permission to fire.?
?I?m going down,? said the pilot with fear.
?You will not land,? said Thobela Mpayipheli, the HK against the copilot?s neck.
?Do you want to die??
?They won?t fire.?
?You can?t say that.?
?If you do anything but fly straight, I will shoot off your friend?s head.?
?Please, no,? said the copilot, his eyes screwed shut.
?Thirty seconds, Oryx Two.?
?You?re fucking crazy, man,? said the pilot.
?Stay calm.?
The copilot made a strangled noise.
?Oryx Two, fifteen seconds before missile launch, confirm instruction, I know you can hear me.?
Two innocent lives and a helicopter of millions of rand, they would not shoot, they would not shoot, they would have heard an official order over the radio, this kind of decision was not made at the operational level, they could not shoot. The seconds ticked by, they waited for the impact, all three rigid, instinctively bracing for the bang, for a sign, waiting. They heard the Rooivalk pilot. ?Fuck,? he said.
Relief.
?you?'ve got balls, you black bastard, I?ll give you that,? said the Rooivalk pilot.
37.
He made the Oryx land near a road sign to make sure they were over the border. The Rooivalks had turned back; the main route between Lobatse and Gaborone was quiet and the night warm. He made the men lie facedown on the blacktop while he struggled mightily to get the big GS up from the floor of the helicopter. There was no help for it, he would have to start it and ride it out, hoping not to fall in the jump from
