Chapter 9

BEFORE WE START: Here is the Walwitschia.

I closed the camera app on my cell phone. This was no time to be taking any pictures, I need to get to Angie and warn her to be vigilant. There’s no guarantee what Max and his cronies will be up to, and this would be a good time to hit the camp while the inhabitants are intoxicated.

Slowly, I made my way back along the inside of the aircraft, being cautious not to bump against something in the half-light. Out the back door, I closed it without locking it. I was hoping that whoever was watching us was concentrating on the goings-on at the fire and the main camp.

Back at my tent, I retrieved my sleeping bag and the AK-47 that Angie gave me and went back to the aircraft, deposited the AK and sleeping bag inside, and headed for the kitchen tent.

Angie was just finishing up with Cookie in the kitchen tent. As I entered the tent, she looked up and smiled.

“Dishes done!” she said and wiped her hand over her brow.

“So, are you now free to pursue some more entertaining stuff?” I asked.

“What do you have in mind, Mister Windsor?” she countered with raised eyebrows.

Cookie, busy drying his hands on a kitchen towel, just looked at us smiling.

“Oh, I could go show you how to make a decent fire or something like that,” I said.

“Mister Windsor! I’ll show you how to make a fire.”

“Miss Rothman, thank you for helping me, but I can cope from here on. Please go and show Mister Windsor how to make a fire,” Cookie said and then laughed.

“You both underestimate me,” I sighed.

“Come, let me go and humiliate you,” Angie said and giggled.

Outside and away from the bright gas-fired light of the kitchen tent, I took Angie’s arm and steered her away towards the Land Rover parked near the DC-3.

“Ooo! You’re going to take me for a drive.” Giggle.

“No, we are going to sit in the Land Rover for a while. I need to show you something.”

Giggle.

“No. Get your mind out of the gutter! We are being watched.”

“We’re being watched? How do you know?”

“Get in. I’ll show you.”

I opened the Land Rover door for her, and she got in. After getting in myself, I took out my cell phone.

“Look over to the west side dune. Near the top.”

“What am I supposed to see? All I see is the dark outline of the dune against the lighter skyline.”

“Now look here,” I said, and raised my cell phone screen to her face. The dull, out-of-focus light sprang into view along the top of the dune.

“What is that, Ash?”

“An infra-red light source. Someone is watching us through night vision glasses,” I said, and lowered the cell phone, closing the camera app and placing the cell in my pocket.

“Ash, what do we do?”

“Nothing drastic. You are going to get out of the Landie and shut the door with force. Then I am going to get out too. You are going to come around the Landie and strike me across the face and walk off to your tent.”

Giggle. “What will that achieve?”

“It will focus those watching you on your actions and where you are going.”

“To my tent?”

“Yes, to your tent. Only you will go into the tent and close it. Get your Glock and your AK, go out the back of the tent and go to the back door of the DC-3. I’ll be there to help you into the aircraft.”

Giggle. “Okay, I get it. If those watching us see me go into my tent, they will think I am cross and will be going to sleep.”

“Yip. Only we are going to sleep in the aircraft, so remember to take your sleeping bag,” I said.

“So, if they try something tonight, they will be in for a surprise?”

“A big surprise! I’ll be watching the tents...”

“ ... and light up their asses if they try to kidnap me,” she finished for me.

“You bet I will!” I said.

“How did you spot that light in the first place?” Angie asked.

“I wanted to take a picture of the camp when I picked it up by accident.”

“Brilliant! And also very fortunate for us that you saw it and identified it.”

“So, are you ready?” I asked.

Giggle. “First time someone gave me permission to whack them.”

“Make it convincing but remember my tender jaw!”

Giggle. “You bet it will be convincing! But what about your AK and sleeping bag?”

“They’re already in the DC-3,” I said.

“Good! Now let me go practice for my Oscar.” Giggle.

Angie opened the Land Rover door, got out and slammed the door hard! I followed her in getting out. I went up to the front of the Land Rover as if trying to placate her. She came around from her side.

“Beast!” She yelled, and the next moment I saw stars as she slapped me with her left hand across my right cheek. With that, she turned and stalked off to her tent. I was still recovering, but I must say: Steven Spielberg must not get hold of this girl; she’ll is a natural actress.

I shook my head to clear my vision, then opened the Land Rover driver’s door and shut it again, hard. Ducking low and I moved into the shadow of the DC-3 looming about ten paces away from the Land Rover.

Cautiously, I made my way towards the rear of the aircraft. I was in shadow and hidden from sight of the rest of the camp. I was also hidden from the observers on the top of the westward dune. I was also counting on their distance from us. There are certain limitations to night vision glasses: one being that the further the distance to the object, the lesser the detail that is shown. It all depends on the strength of the infra-red light source. The frequency of infra-red light is very low. So low that the human eye can’t detect it, therefore the penetration of the light ain’t very far. The apparatus depends on the light that’s reflected off the object being looked at. The further the object, the less light reaches the object.

Of course, all objects give off infrared radiation as a result of their own internal heat. The sun has been down for a few hours, therefore the infrared heat signature from the desert sand and the aircraft would now be lower. The brightest spot would be that of the fire, followed by body heat from the people walking around. Thus, to shield our body heat signature from the observers, Angie and I had to keep the fire between us and those creeps out on the dune. This will give us only a small area in which to operate, but enough space within to shield our movements.

I reached the back cargo door and waited. About six or seven minutes later, a shadow appeared next to me.

Giggle. “How’s your jaw?”

“It has seen better days. Come, let me get you up into the plane,” I said, taking her backpack and AK-47.

“Oh, thanks, but it’s not high. I’ll jump up,” Angie said and the next moment she jumped, caught the sill of the open cargo door, and scampered into the craft. I looked around. All seemed to be good. The party over at the main camp looked like it was shifting into high gear. I just hoped and prayed that those slime balls up on the dune did not pay too much attention to our doings. Although we were hidden in deep shadow, the movements could be spotted by a night vision apparatus.

Once inside the aircraft, I closed the door and turned around. Angie stood there looking at me, her eyes looking shiny from the light reflection filtering into the dark inside the fuselage.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now we relax. Sit down and wait,” I said, and she sat down on the floor of the aircraft. “Get into your sleeping bag and go to sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

“You can’t stay up the whole night.”

“Maybe not the whole night. I suspect that if they want to make a move, it will be just after midnight,” I said.

“And if they don’t?”

“Then we wait till daybreak and go back to the tents.”

“Why?”

“Because in the light of day they can see that we did not sleep in the tents, and they can alter their plans to get to you.”

“You really want to keep me safe, don’t you?”

“Yes, I fear what those shitheads are planning for you.”

“Thank you, Ash. It’s good to know there’s someone on my side.”

“Let’s get comfortable until the party outside dies out,” I said.

“Shift your sleeping bag here next to mine,” she said and slid into her sleeping bag.

“You go to sleep, Angie. I’ll sit here a while and see what goes down outside.”

“Brr ... It’s getting cold in here,” she shivered, looking at me with just her eyes and nose peeking out of the sleeping bag. “And the damn floor is hard.”

“Be glad you’re not lying on a cargo roller,” I said. “Cover your head with the headcover, you’ll be warmer then.”

“You see anything outside?”

“Nope. But the wind’s picking up. We might be in for a little blow.”

“The wind’s out of the north-west. We might get some dust.”

“Do you reckon on it?” I asked.

“Could be, but I’m not sure. I ain’t a weather prophet, but dust storms are not unusual for this time of year. Even though the southern part of the desert is richer in sand, the northern part of the Namib Desert can also get dust storms, thanks to sandy terrain hugging the coast. We’re halfway, therefore yes, there’s a possibility.”

“Yeah, not normally, but not unheard of...” Angie said. “It happens. I’ve seen it.” Her voice was getting fainter.

“I wouldn’t know. I trust you. You live in these parts.”

“Yeah...” Angie sighed, and I heard her voice getting softer, and her breathing slowed as she slipped away into dreamland.

The wind did pick up quite a bit, blowing out of the north-west and sometimes varying to due north. As the wind blew harder, the dust came. A blinding bellowing of dark red sand and dust curtain rolled over the camp out of the north, wiping out any way that I could see past the wingtips of the aircraft. I could not even make out our tents anymore.

The dull glow of the fire that showed through the dust died out and I could not hear the sound of the party voices. With the fading of the firelight, the lamps also went out. Oh well, seems like everyone decided to call it a night. It was approaching midnight and Angie was sleeping, occasionally mumbling something in her sleep.

The dust storm lasted way past two ‘o clock, and I became drowsy by that time. If I could not see, I presumed no one else could see either, and they could get lost trying to come out to the DC 3. Spatial disorientation when flying into a cloud has been many pilots’ downfall; especially pilots that were not instrument rated. The urge to trust your feelings and instincts, and not the instruments, has resulted in many trained pilots flying into the ground. So much more with someone who is not a pilot. “Controlled flight into terrain,” is the official verdict on many accident investigation reports.

With that thought in my mind, I relaxed a bit. The dust storm was something of a blessing. Those creeps out on the dune will be bogged down, not knowing if they are coming or going. Even if they used the direction of the blow to determine where north is located, they could miss the camp by as much as 200 metres or more. Disastrous for them, fortunate for us. I hope those creeps are clever enough to realize that.

Well, I relaxed, and with the relaxation came sleep. I drifted away with the sound of the wind blowing and the rhythm of the sand grains scraping over the aircraft. My last thought was that lucky the dust covers were in place on all the vital parts of the DC-3.

It must have been the silence that woke me, or had it to do with the green eyes watching me and the rosy lips that smiled? The hard blow of the wind was gone. I shifted up from my slumped position and instantly felt the cramp and pain of sitting still for too long.

There was a greying of the horizon over the “Big Daddy” dune that told me that I have overslept. I wanted to be moving long before this time.

“Slept well?” Angie asked and stretched inside her sleeping bag.

“Must have dozed off. How about you, slept well?”

“Not too bad. I sort of shifted onto my side, and that made the hard floor a bit better.”

“Come, let’s get you back to your tent,” I said.

“Won’t we be seen?”

“It’s a gamble we’ve got to take. I just hope those creeps on the dune were blown away last night.”

“Let’s get going before the rest of the camp wakes up. I believe Cookie will be up and going already,” Angie said.

We both got going and slipped out of the back cargo door of the aircraft. I made a quick scan of the camp area, and all seemed to be quiet. A light came from the kitchen tent, indicating that Cookie was doing what Cookie does best. Breakfast and COFFEE.

I used my cell phone camera function to scan the dune to the west. Although it was still relatively dark, I saw no indication of any infra-red light on the dune. Something was up. Maybe my prayers were answered, and those scumbags had been blown away. I, for one, would not stay out on that open dune with a dust storm blowing. Maybe they left.

Ducking low, as if someone was watching, Angie and I scampered off to the two tents next to the nose of the DC-3.

“Okay, now make a show of getting out of your tent and face the day,” I said to Angie. She disappeared into her tent from the back end, out of sight of anyone watching from wherever. I did the same.

I hid the AK-47 under my sleeping bag and got ready. As an afterthought, I pushed my Beretta into the waistband of my cargo pants.

“Wake up sleepy head! Cookie’s got the coffee going!” I heard from outside the tent. Unzipping the front of the tent I crawled out.

“There you are! Come on. There’s a day to conquer!” Angie said as she stood in front of her tent and stretched, sweeping her hair with both hands over her shoulders and looking towards the kitchen tent. Her words not corresponding with her actions. No one could hear her, so I thought that by acting cool towards me, those watching will be convinced that Angie is cross with me.

“Morning Miss Angelique. Slept well?” I asked, just if someone was around to hear.

Giggle. “Race you to the kitchen!” Angie said softly and sprinted off towards the kitchen tent. Someone must have had a good night.

After breakfast the festivities began. First on the agenda was to get the new tyres onto the aircraft. Roland had come through on his promise and all the jacks and supports for the aircraft were there. Chief Johann choreographed the men with precision and in about an hour and a half, the new tyres were fitted to the DC-3 and inflated to the correct pressure. As I predicted, the old tyres did not hold air, as they were cracked and perished. So, the new ones were fitted.

While the crew was replacing the tyres and inflating them, I had a look around the aircraft. It bothered me that all the safety equipment was stored and in the correct places. Even the handheld ELT (emergency locator transmitter) was stowed and in correct working order. And the ELT batteries were still good. This was odd, very odd. It was as if the aircraft was parked there to be flown off shortly. There was even eighty-five percent of fuel remaining in the two main fuel tanks.

The new batteries for the aircraft were fitted by Chief Johann, and I was astounded to see this man’s skill. Obviously, he knew his trade. Whether a ship, an aircraft, or a motor vehicle ... electrics, diesel or petrol, he knew them all.

Now started the task of turning the craft around to face the southeast. There was method in my madness. The DC-3 was about a hundred and eighty metres from the south end of the pan. To get maximum length out of the “runway,” I wanted the aircraft facing to the southeast. Also, Angie would be invisible from the camp and the west dune, when she needed to get on board.

With the aircraft turned and placed to my instructions, Chief Johann and I got to work on the fuel lines, hydraulic lines, and the control surface wiring and cabling. The turning around of the DC-3 was acomplished by hooking a towbar to the tail wheel assembly, and pulling the aircrapt with a Land Rover to the new position. All that warried me, was that the tents were now exposed to sight from the western dune. But not a problem. I’ll park the Land Rover to blind that corner as well.

By mid-afternoon, the engines came on the agenda. We checked every nook and cranny of the engines for anything suspected to be, or could be, faulty. There was no trace of any sand or dust inside or on the engines. This was a good sign and I elected to start first the left-side engine for a test run.

During the day I saw Angie a few times. She was mostly helping Cookie and only came around a few times to see how I was coping and to bring some welcome drinks.

Roland was hovering around but stayed mostly in the shade of his tent. That, I preferred. I might let something slip about the knowledge of him meeting with Max and Günter, or that someone was watching us. If Roland knew about the spying party, I didn’t know. If he did not know about it, then so be it.

It was late afternoon before I could get into the pilot seat and start to check the instruments. There are a hundred and thirty-eleven switches, dials, and monitors to check. The ground power unit (GPU) that Roland so cautiously carted from Lüderitz to here would come in handy. By using the GPU I would not need to run down the batteries. Switching the circuit to GPU uses external power, and I could keep the batteries charged at the same time.