Chapter 8

(Let’s eavesdrop on Roland, Max and Günter.)

“Max, what are you doing here? The bloody South African will hear and see you,” Roland said.

“Making sure you don’t double-cross me. I want that girl and I want her soon,” Max replied.

“Then get the hell out of here and wait. If that Afrikaner Boer sees you or just gets a sniff of you in the air, he will act. You should not have had Günter manhandle the girl like that. See what it got him? And now you have alerted Windsor. I think he is soft on the girl, and she on him. That could pose a problem.”

“Twice he foiled my men getting the girl. Why is he so in the way? Can’t you handle him?” Max said.

“You bungled it. Like you lost her parents in the desert. It took us nearly three years to find them again! There were plenty of opportunities to take her when she was alone.” Roland retorted. “Now it looks as if she has talked to him and swayed him to her side.”

“Is that why he went and took her to the bank in Lüderitz?”

“What! When was that?”

“Yesterday morning. I was informed that they were in the bank, and she left with debit and credit cards.”

“Shit! I didn’t know that. Why are you only telling me this now?”

“I wasn’t aware of it myself until this afternoon.” Max hissed.

“We’ll have trouble if she gets access to the accounts. I must check to make sure she did not transfer funds to another account.”

“You do that! And inform me the moment that creep takes off with the aircraft.”

“I will. You know it. We have to get to your grand pappa’s loot. You just have to get the location out of those two. Don’t screw this up again!”

“Okay! You just see to it that the girl is on her own, and the deal still stands. Three quarters for me and a quarter for you. It will be enough for you. Then you dissolve into the air. Get out of Namibia. Stay on your side of the fence in South Africa,” Max said. “I’ll keep feeding you merchandise from up north. In the meantime, I’ll keep trying to get them to talk. Use the girl to pressure them.”

“Good! Now just get out of here and stay away until I contact you. We won’t leave straight away after he takes the aircraft out of the pan.”

“Good. It gives me time to secure the girl and get to the aircraft in Lüderitz. Maybe we don’t need to have the girl go on a little vacation with us if we find the stuff in the aircraft. Else, we’ll have to use the girl to get to the other party and my inheritance.”

“What then? How are you going to secure their silence?”

“Leave that detail to me. Silence her together with mommy and daddy. There’s plenty of places around here that bodies won’t be discovered.”

“Yes, now go! Get away!”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Max retorted and turned back towards the helicopter. Günter followed Max and Roland started to retrace his path towards the way he came. He’ll follow his footpath back to the camp. The Helicopter took off and flew in the direction of Sossusvlei.

(Let’s get back to Angie and Ash on the dune.)

“Ash, what are they doing?” Angie whispered.

“I don’t know, and I don’t trust them together,” I said. “Seems like they are just talking.”

“Looks like they are breaking up,” Angie whispered.

“Let’s get back down before we’re spotted. The moon is bright and the sand reflects the light.”

Both Angie and I slid backward, and as soon as we were safe from being detected from below, we got up and went down the dune as fast as we could. It was a slide and stumble for both Angie and me, but we made it back without falling.

Back at the tent, she looked at me with a question in her eyes.

“Oh, come on. Let’s share our body heat and sleep.”

She giggled and crawled into my tent. I followed, and we both took up our previous positions in the sleeping bag. Luckily I had this oversize one, but still it’s a tight fit for two, even if one of them is a little on the small side. Petite is the word.

“Again, good night, Ash,” Angie said as she rolled over away from me and snuggled with her back into me, spooning me. I placed my arm over her midriff and pulled her tightly to me. Angie purred.

Sleep did not come for me right away. I was still pondering the significance of this midnight visit of Max. What are they planning? Another kidnapping?

I felt Angie relax, and I knew she was away in dreamland. The mad scramble up and down the dune didn’t help our energy levels either, and soon I felt my eyelids closing.

I woke up just as the grey of dawn started to tinge the inside of the tent with just enough light to be able to see. Angie was up and she had her boots on.

“You went back to your tent?” I asked.

“Yeah, and I think we better go look at the sunrise from the top of last night’s dune.”

“Why?”

“Because, duffus, our tracks up and down the dune are visible. Roland might see them and place two and two together, and might just get five or six.” Angie said. “The desert wind did not wipe out our tracks during the night. Here, put on your boots.”

I took my boots from Angie and pulled them on. “You’re right. I better go show you the sunrise in the desert.”

Giggle. “I’ve seen it before but thank you for the thought.”

Ten minutes later we were again on top of the dune. The vastness of the desert unfolded before us, as the sun peeked out over the distant dunes to the east. The red orb of the sun changed to a brighter white the higher it rose.

Almost immediately the temperature climbed as the sun rose. One could feel the heat rising by the minute. Although the desert looked dead and empty, I was astounded by the beauty of it all.

I looked down towards the place of last night’s meeting. There was no trace of the helicopter ever landing there; the rotor wash having eliminated the skid marks in the sand. Half of Roland’s footprints were gone too.

The desert sand had a rust-brown colour, getting redder on the lower slopes. That has to do with the high concentration of iron coating on the sand grains. They actually rust, thus giving the dune a rust-brown colour. The lower you go, the deeper the colour depending on how long the sand had been laying there.

It seems counterintuitive that the iron coating on the sand grains rust without water. It’s got something to do with the oxygen in the air. But we’re not on a scientific expedition, are we?

Still, the desert is desolate and vast, and is unforgiving and deadly while it possesses a beauty that one cannot describe. You need to experience it.

“I see life starting to wake up down in the camp. Better we go back down,” Angie said.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I sighed.

“The desert has got under your skin, didn’t it?”

“Yes, you’re right. It has a beauty I can’t describe. So peaceful, yet so deadly. And listen to the sound of silence. It’s deafening.”

“And my words, like silent raindrops fell, and echoed in the wells of silence ... And deadly, yes! Don’t you step on a sidewinder or a scorpion. It won’t be good for your health,” she giggled.

“You’re a poet.”

“Nope! Simon and Garfunkel. Many years ago,” Angie said. She looked at me with those emerald green eyes that looked even greener this morning. The desert breeze was blowing strands of her ginger hair across her face.

“Come, let’s go,” I said.

“Ash?”

“Yes, Angie?”

“No ... No. Never mind,” she said, and started down the slope, splaying out her arms to keep her balance, her ginger hair bouncing on her back and shoulders. I just looked at her departing downwards and wondered what Angie wanted to ask or say. A moment later I followed her down.

About three quarters of the way down, Angie tumbled sideways and started to roll and slide down the last few paces. As Angie reached the beginnings of the pan, she sat up. She then proceeded to shake and dust the sand out of her hair.

As I reached Angie, she giggled like a schoolgirl.

“What the hell, did you lose your footing? Are you hurt?” I asked, concerned.

“No, duffus! I just wanted to roll down the dune. It’s fun!” Giggle. “You should try it sometime. Now, Help me up. My head is spinning.”

She held out both her arms and I took her hands and pulled her up. Her head was still spinning, because unstable on her feet, she stumbled forward into my arms. For a moment I saw a question forming in her eyes. I held her against me, and she placed her arms around my waist. We stood like that for a few moments, and then she looked away, dropping her arms to her sides.

“You, you can let me go now ... I’m okay,” Angie said and I dropped my arms to my sides, letting go of her.

“Angie...?”

Yes?”

“Never mind.” We both turned and strode towards the camp, Angie casting a casual sideways glance at me. She said nothing.

Roland saw us approach and stopped beside the first Land Rover, parked near his tent.

“Morning you two. Cookie said something about coffee and a desert breakfast to be served shortly. How’s the view from the top of that dune?”

“Hi, Roland. Breakfast will be welcome, I’m starving,” I said. “And Miss Muffet’s idea of morning exercise ain’t working on an empty stomach.”

“Yip. Cookie’s usual, scrambled eggs on bread? Could be fun.” Angie purred.

“I’ll eat anything now, but scrambled eggs on bread here in the desert seems like a luxury,” I replied.

“Yes, that’s why I keep holding on to Cookie. He can do magic with simple eggs and bread. But what were you two doing on top of that dune? Morning exercise?” Roland asked.

“Looking at the sunrise. The desert seems to hold a beauty of its own.” I said.

“Like the sea,” Roland said. “Just the sea is water, and this is sand. Both shifting and moving, the one just way slower than the other.”

“At least I can stand on this one and can climb its swells without the aid of a boat.”

“Come, let’s get cracking. There’s a full day’s drive ahead of us,” Roland said, and we moved over to a tent that was erected for the ‘feast’ that Cookie was brewing up.

With coffee and a light breakfast out of the way, we broke camp, mounted up, and took off through the desert. Angie insisted on driving. I found it to be a good arrangement. She knew desert driving, and it gave me a chance to keep an eye out for any lurking visitors who had the idea and the intent to spoil my day.

Angie kept on doing her “dune sailing” like the day before, taking on each dune with the expertise of a rally driver; up the dune on a sideways route. Not going straight up, but rather traversing it sideways. Angie used the 4×4 low range and the engine revs in an even and stable way.

Then, she built momentum and speed to crest the dune in an explosion of tan and brown sand. Sometimes the slope of the dune was so steep that as we crested the dune we went over, all four wheels airborne! No wonder she insisted I buckle in.

Then down the dune on the other side, not causing an avalanche of soft sand, but blasting the sand in a wave that looked like muddy water spray. Sometimes weaving the Land Rover from left to right to counter any roll of the vehicle. I can see why she said this is fun. Looking at the concentration on her face, I took it that it looked easier than it was. So, let’s leave the driving to the professionals.

Midday lunch was in the lee of a dune; just some sandwiches Cookie prepared in under 20 minutes. Angie saw to it that I had some of her electrolyte-containing juice.

“Coffee ain’t good for you now. Raises the blood pressure and heats up your body. You need to stay cool now,” she said.

“Yes, mother!” I responded and nearly got swatted. She lifted her hand, but with Roland watching us she didn’t go further, and it saved me from that little pain.

“Watch yourself! I might feed you to the desert lions.” Angie said. “They are starving this time of year and will eat anything. Even you!”

“Yeah, Ash, be careful around this fire-eater,” Roland said.

“I can handle her, don’t worry about it, Roland,” I said.

“Oh, you think you can handle ME,” Angie said, looking sideways at me. Her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, the floppy hat, casting a shadow over her face.

“Yeah, before breakfast with one hand tied behind my back,” I said, and Roland burst out laughing.

“Hmph!” she snorted. “You can always try. It will be good to roll you up and use you like a bowling ball! Roll you over to the lions.”

“But you need to find the lions first. I hear they are hard to find, and there’re few of them left. So, happy hunting.” I said, smiling at Angie.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll find them. They will come after the smell of blood. Your blood.”

“Let’s eat up and be on our way,” Roland said. I wondered about Roland’s sudden friendliness. Could it have to do with me slugging him? Was it the way I handled the confrontation with Max? Last night’s midnight rendezvous with Max could have something to do with it. I did not trust the peace. Roland knew something, and I was not at ease. I wished I could have heard what the two of them discussed.

After lunch, we resumed our journey east of north, slowly creeping along the dunes towards Dooievlei. Angie let me drive this time, ever keeping up her commentary and instruction to me about the dune sailing stuff. After a while of doing everything she advised, I got the knack of it and started to enjoy the driving. Especially sailing over a dune and finding yourself suspended in mid-air. Then dropping in a shower of flying sand as the wheels bit into the soft surface of the dune on the other side. Yes, this was fun!

We were halfway down a dune when Angie sat forward in her seat, taking off her sunglasses, and stared at something in the distance.

“At the bottom of this dune, pull the Land Rover diagonally with the dune and stop.”

“Why? Don’t you like my driving?”

“No, silly. I want to show you something,” she said and placed her sunglasses back on her eyes. “Darn, the sun reflecting off the dunes is bright.”

At the bottom of the dune, I did as was instructed, parked the Land Rover on a diagonal with the dune, and switched it off. We got out.

“Come, a little walk up the side of this dune,” Angie said, and I followed her up the incline to some sort of bush halfway up the dune.

“Look here, Ash. A living fossil. This is the Welwitschia Mirabilis plant, endemic to the Namib. You won’t find it anywhere else in the world.”

“This thing! It’s a welwitschia? I’ve heard about it, seen pictures, but I never saw one in the flesh,” I said.

Angie giggled.

“Judging by the length of leaves of this one, I’d say, it’s between 500 and 1000 years old!” she said and smiled at me.

“What! You’re joking,” I said, amazed at her claim. “You mean to say, we are now looking at maybe the oldest living thing in the world?”

“No. The Sequoia trees of California, USA, are much older. This one, also known in Afrikaans as ‘tweeblaarkanniedood,’ (two-leaved-can-never-die.) or by its Nama name, !kharos.” (“!” represents a tongue-twisting click sound in the Nama/Damara language.)

“You make the click sound of the name just like the Nama people,” I said.

Giggle. “I live here, remember? I can click just like the Nama, I just can’t speak their language. Too many clicks and tongue twisters.”

“Yeah, like the language of the Khoi and the San people, out in the Kalahari,” I said.