Chapter 13

Kismayo Airport, Kismayo, Somalia. June 19, 08:30 GMT +3.

The sun was already beating down hard. From the sea-side in the east, a breeze came at about one knot. That’s one point eight-five kilometres an hour. But as I looked up at the sky, a few clouds drifted by. Now and again the puffy, misty clouds would block out the sun, bringing a slight reprieve from the harsh light and burning heat.

At Mai-Loan’s insistence, we opened both the hangar doors and the side door, letting the breeze blow through the hangar, driving the heat out. A chirpy Roxy fluttered around with Darya in tow, arranging snacks, and an ice chest with some chilled drinks in it. Darya herself was in a cheerful mood, like a schoolgirl on steroids. I wonder why?

Lorie, Mai-Loan, and I were reconfiguring the bird, taking off the gun mounts and unscrewing the bolts holding the gunner seats in place. The gunner seats, and the middle ammo box between the seats will be replaced with the four-seat bench.

Then the BO-105 becomes a six-seat aircraft. With the guns and their mountings off and the ammo box and gunner seats replaced by the four-seat canvas seats, the 105 will be a little lighter. Also, the drag will be less with the guns and mountings removed.

While heaving the one gunner seat out, I noticed Darya, Mai-Loan, and Lorie chatting a little away from the aircraft. They were huddled over something Mai-Loan had in her hand.

The mystery was soon solved with Darya sidling up to me, holding her hand out with a small cardboard box.

“Here, for just in case of fire...” She said, and I took the box from her. It was a box of twenty-five 9-millimetre rounds. Puzzled, I looked at her.

“I have ammo?” I questioned.

“Not these. Look closer...” She said, and I opened the box. Okay, I do recognise 9×19-millimetre ammo, but these looked a little strange. The projectiles were slit along the sides up to the casing and in the front were holes. Jagged pointy tips made up each hole.

“What’s this?”

“I’m surprised you did not encounter them before. They’re frangible hollow points. They will penetrate a human body but not exit it. The bullet will fragment on first impact and thus won’t cause collateral damage to anything in the surrounding area. Tender aircraft skin and such things included,” And she giggled.

“So, this is what air marshals use?” I asked.

“Sometimes, yes,” she said.

“And why should we need it?”

“For if the parcels that we are going to carry misbehave...”

“Oh! Okay...”

“Lorie, and I will be using them. So, join the club for when ... it’s needed.”

“You don’t trust sweet cherry-top-baby, do you?”

“I don’t like her, nor the packages.”

“Thanks, Dar. Whose idea was this?”

“Mai-Loan’s, just don’t ask where she got them. Maybe in a dark corner of that big toolbox she always has with her,” she chuckled.

“The mystery lady. Always prepared and mobile under all situations,” I said, putting the box of funny ammo in my pocket.

“You are sweating. Let me go get you a cold energy drink...” Darya said, turned and went over to the cooler box on the fold-out table in the corner of the hangar.

About an hour later I was done with the reconfiguration and spent some time looking over the bird again, casting a wary eye towards the little bit of corrosion I found earlier yesterday.

By scratching at the corrosion, I found that it was only on the surface of the plate beneath the hydraulic pump, and came away cleanly. Okay, I’ll clean it off good, but the plate needs to be checked out by an engineer very soon. Structurally, it seems solid.

Closing the covers and replacing the dust covers, I saw Ash walk into the hangar. He had a stern look on his face, and that spelled nothing good.

“Ron! Come look here,” he said and waved a newspaper over his head.

“What’s up?” I asked as I was cleaning my hands on a piece of waste cloth.

“Someone took out that fake priest last night!”

“What? But why?”

“To keep his mouth shut, I suppose.”

“But did he not blab to the police yet? I thought they would have questioned him by now...”

“They did question him, but he did not make a formal statement yet.”

“Damn! So, all is still speculation and hear-say evidence?”

“That’s it, Ron.”

“But although considered hear-say, we can unofficially use it to put the puzzle together...”

“We can ... But it does not prove anything to stand in a court of law.”

“Do Nadia, Darya, and Mai-Loan need prima facie proof?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I say ... Make your own deduction.”

“Do you mean to imply...”

“No! All I said was that we don’t need to prove anything beyond reasonable doubt that the priest was involved with stuff. We’ve seen it. So how much proof do you need? A video of his actions? I believe what I have seen. A priest doesn’t carry guns. Neither does a priest use that gun to shoot at people.”

“You got a point...”

“Good! Now get me those packages before I change my mind!”

He looked at me for a long time, then shrugged his shoulders and clucked his tongue.

“You were a policeman. You should know that one needs positive proof.”

“I was an airborne law enforcement officer. Not a policeman.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I was the taxi driver for the real policemen...” I said and chuckled. “I did not catch the crooks; I only facilitated their demise.”

“Like running cars off the road with helicopters?”

“I rest my case ye ‘onner...”

“I still say we need proof,” Ash said.

“Tell me, Ash. If a policeman gently taps you on the shoulder, and politely asks you for your driver’s licence, why would you run?”

“Because the ‘I’ in the example, don’t have a driver’s licence...”

“See! How much proof do you need? The running just reinforces the smell of a rat somewhere in the works.”

“Yeah, but it was not established yet!”

“Then use a car, a helicopter, a truck, a bus, and run the blighter off the road. Find the corpse in the trunk of the runners’ car. Now, arrest the blighter; he is a suspected murderer! It’s not for the policeman to decide that the guy did not know about the body in the trunk. Oh, he can only have taken the car to go put fuel in it. Still, it’s not the policeman’s duty or job the listen to the excuses. That’s why the courts are there. But, while on the scene, treat him as the perpetrator. Use your gut. It is always right.”

“I don’t agree with you, but your argument makes sense.”

“Yeah, like Olivia in the trunk of a priest’s car. I don’t think he wanted to take her to Sunday mass...”

“Ronny! Go play on the railway tracks!”

“So, who did the priest in?”

“A ghost.”

“A ghost? What ghost?”

“The bodies of the priest and the policeman guarding him were found shot. Both headshots. No cartridge casings or bullets on the scene or in the bodies. Nobody saw anything or heard anything.”

“A professional hit?”

“A professional hit. Something al-Shabaab could not have done on their own.”

“Someone from outside?”

“Yeah. But who?”

“I can’t think of a suspect or someone that would want the priest out of the way...”

“Only al-Shabaab itself. Silence the priest ... No witness, no case.”

“That means ... the packages are in danger too.”

“You said it. So, be careful, Ronny. Be very careful ... There now seems to be someone else on the game field. Someone else in the shadows...” Ash warned, then gave me the newspaper. “I think I need to speak with Ahmed and Charley”

“Speaking of Charley, he called me. He wants me to go and get the Puma from Durban Docks and fly it to Brits.”

“Why?”

“He said we, the two of us, and maybe Don and Dave can use her until he needs her again.”

“So, Charley is going through with his plan...” Ash said, getting a far-off look in his eyes.

“Do you know something about it?”

“Charley is always full of surprises, but yes, he mentioned swapping out the Puma for something else.”

“Two BK-117 Kawasaki helicopters.”

“TWO?”

“He said they were cheaper to operate than the Puma.”

“I wonder...”

“What do you wonder about?”

“I wonder if the Ocean Wanderer ain’t coming back to South African waters. And that you, my friend, end up flying those 117s.”

“Why me?”

“You are current on them. In fact, it was what you were flying when we met you. Besides John Bolton is going into retirement soon.”

“You think?”

“It’s a maybe. With Charley, you never know...”

“Oh, brother!”

“I’m not saying it is so, but you could end up a sailor in the South Atlantic, or even the North Sea!

“Nope! I love braaivleis, rugby, sunny skies, and Paarl Perle!” I said, referencing the old Chevrolet radio advert, changed to include the cheap wine of the Paarl region in South Africa.

“If you breathe a word of this, I’ll have to kill you, but Charley is a major shareholder of BP, British Petroleum, and has interest in some of the world’s richest oilfields out in the North Sea. Where do you think he gets his money from? Peddling security services? The Foundation for Law And Order is just a sideline for him; a hobby and a tax write-off!”

“And I thought he was just a grumpy old man...” I sighed. “I should keep up my shares with him, stay in his good books...”

“He loves the Angels; they are the daughters he never had. He created the Foundation to keep Mai-Loan and the others occupied; to sort of give them an outlet for their wild ways and have them get an income. What do you suppose Mai-Loan’s real last name is?”

“I would not know...”

“Someday, when the time is right, and you earned her trust, she might tell you her story, or where Charley found her: naked, injured and raped, in a burned-out shack somewhere south of Ho Chi Minh City. She was mistaken for a prostitute. They cut off her hair and stripped her, raped her, beat her, and left her for dead. She was only fifteen at that time.”

I stood open-mouthed, looking at Ash. No wonder Mai-Loan has a thing against those on the other side of the law and won’t think twice before she pulls a trigger; or has a direct line to Grumpy. I’m getting a clearer picture of the man. That of a caring man, someone who will put his life on the line for those he cares about. And also, why the Angels come first with him.

“You would not think that Vietnam could still be so cruel eighteen years after the fall of Saigon...” Ash said, then turned and walked off to the icebox on the table. “It’s not beer, but it’s cold. Let’s get some, Ron!”

After Ash and I had our refreshments, he went back to the compound, and I did some last-minute stuff around the helicopter. Still, curious about the shooting of the priest, I scanned the newspaper article.

Darya and Roxy came over to where I was standing next to the 105, reading about the priest and his demise.

“We’re going back to the compound,” Darya said.

“Yeah and getting rid of these hot head-scarves and full length dresses!” Roxy chuckled.

“Okay sweeties, go and relax. I’ll bring back the icebox and stuff,” I said.

“I’m cooking for tonight, so don’t get side-tracked anywhere!” Roxy replied.

“Okay, but no horse meat!” I teased.

“I fluttered my eyelashes at the other Kenyan chef and got some nice mutton chunks!” Roxy shyly smiled. “Get your taste-buds in place, I’m making Cape Malay Mutton Breyani. This time the yellow rice would be from the colour of the curry and the turmeric!”

“Oh, boy! Something tells me it’s going to be hot!” I said.

“Nope! I know how tender your stomach is, therefore it will be ... mild...” Roxy giggled. I thought her mild, and my mild might not be the same. Darya was conspicuously quiet.

“Catch you guys then later. I’m nearly done here.”

“You can have your last beer at 20:00. I’ve checked!” Darya chuckled. “Eight hours from the bottle to the throttle...”

As Roxy walked off to Mai-Loan, I softly said to Darya:

“Nope. No beer bottle to suck on tonight. I have something else in mind...”

“Darya giggled, blushed and kissed me on the lips.

“See you later, Studebaker!” And she walked off to join Roxy.

UN Compound, Kismayo, Somalia. June 19, 11:00 GMT +3

After looking into the Mirage hangar just to see if all was still well, I took the drive back to the bungalows. It’s only 800 metres, but I was glad I did not need to walk in the blistering sun.

Parking the Land Rover, I saw Ash reclining in a chair on the small, shaded porch on his and Angie’s bungalow, and he waved me over.

“What’s up, Dude?” I asked.

“Funny business about the priest. I spoke to Ahmed, and he said that they had no leads.”

“We know too little about the ‘who’s who in the zoo’ around here. Anyone could have done it.”

“Ahmed seems to agree with me. It was a professional hit. Not something al-Shabaab could have done. They are more prone to run in and shoot at random.”

“That would have been a nice cover to take out the priest, if you think about it.”

“How so?”

“Well, like the attack on that hotel. If they went in shooting and then the priest got killed in the process, it would have been just another terror attack, and no-one would have been wiser. Now, it is confirmed that the priest was a target...”

“But now it opens the can of worms about who did it?”

“The ‘who’ is long gone by now. Did his job, got his pay, and off to the sunny shores of the Caribbean.”

“You think?”

“What else? I don’t think we should worry too much about the priest and his departure to the gates of hell. We should just get our mission over and take our Mirages home,” I said and dropped into the other vacant chair on Ash’s shady porch.

“Want an ice-cold one?” Ash asked. I looked at my watch.

“You having one?”

“Yeah! Be back just now...” And he got up and walked into the bungalow.

“How’s life with your neighbours?” A voice asked, and Angie leaned out a window.

“Oh, hi, Angie! I did not see you there.”

“So?”

“Well, they are quiet and not...”

“That’s not what I meant! You know there was a small war on before you came in with the Mirages.”

“What small war?”

“You told the two rascals to get good digs, well, that’s what they did! When Roxy and Darya saw that interconnecting door between your bungalow and the one next door, they fought like demons to get the next door one.”

“Oh!”

“Yes!”

“But why? They could have taken any other place and still be around.”

“Gmph! Those two! If you have not connected with one of them, or maybe both...” Angie looked at me, crossing her arms and leaning on them on the windowsill. “ ... I’m Julia Roberts!” It seems like Ash told Angie about my ‘God Save The Queen’ bit.

“Now, why should a gentleman like me go and seduce innocent girls like those two? Do you think so little of me?”

“I’m not blind...” Angie chuckled. “I see things. And it’s not you seducing them. I think it’s the other way around. Those two are like ostriches with red heels. Hormone enraged teenagers! Ask Nadia; she saw it first.”

“Angie ... I’ve come to like them...”

“What one? Darya or Roxy?”

“Both!”

“Well, good luck. I think you must get a larger cabin at the airfield back home,” Angie chuckled. “Room for TWO women! At least Ash will be safe from those two if they move in with you. Now, let me leave you. Here comes your beer.” And she disappeared out of the window back into the shadows inside the bungalow.

“I heard voices?”

“Yeah, the love of your life entertained me with her witty remarks.”

“Angie, sweet Angie. I never knew that the two of us would hit it off.”

“How so, she seems sweet and dear?”

“Well, when we met it was like fuel and fire. I was led to believe that she was only seventeen, but in fact she was twenty, going on twenty-one, and a little fire-eater...”