CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
In the dawn light, they stood on the verandah in shock.
On the far side of the lake, three antelope lay dead.
d'Artagnan took off at a run, followed by Porthos and Aramis, while Athos, hindered by his injury, herded the few guests that were up back into the main house.
Waving his arms wildly at two approaching giraffe, d'Artagnan started yelling, turning them away. Making his way to the dead animals, he crouched down to examine them. There was foam in their nostrils; more flowed from their mouths. There was a faint, pungent smell in the air. He stood and looked out across the water; it was clear in the centre, but cloudy at the edge where he stood.
In the background, he could hear Aramis and Porthos herding the animals away from the water's edge. Three of the wardens were driving trucks toward the animals, keeping them away until they eventually lost interest and moved back across the bush.
"Poison," d'Artagnan murmured to himself.
This was cruel beyond belief and it brought tears to his eyes.
oOo
They all worked almost non-stop for the next three days and nights, using the generators and floodlights when it got dark. d'Artagnan analysed the water, taking multiple samples and finding the main contamination on the edges where the animals had been found. It had been intentional, aimed at killing those unfortunate early animals, so that the impact would be felt by those staying in the lodge. Word would spread that the Garrison was not a safe place to be, or to invest in. Treville had aged several years in the days that followed.
They had dug a deep drainage system when they had built the lake; and the large circular drain was located just under the surface of the water. To drain the whole lake, the water would be churned, leading to complete contamination. In a way, that was good, they would be able to dispose of all the water through the drain. The dry ground beneath would soak it up and they would then fence that area off until such time as the lake was safe once more. The spring that fed the lake had luckily not been tampered with and would help to flush the water away.
Treville reluctantly had to close the Garrison to outside visitors; the dead animals had been burned on a pyre and their carcasses rendered to ashes. It was a sad and worrying time.
Worse, the guests staying were some of Treville's present and potential backers, here to see progress and it had been a very productive visit. It had been their last day.
This had been a deliberate, timed action.
oOo
Koslov had already reported that Rochefort, as well as hiring some of the Red Guard, was taking matters into his own hands. He was setting up a potential business for himself, on-line hunting, and Koslov believed Rochefort also had suspicions that they knew more about the land than they were letting on.
Following their meeting in Johannesburg, Krupin had agreed to placate Koslov by sending him to Botswana to find and watch Rochefort.
All in all, Koslov had told Krupin that Rochefort was a liability.
Now, it was confirmed. The lake at their base had been poisoned. Rochefort was ringing too many alarm bells, when a calmer hand was required. Krupin had angrily agreed that it was too late now for that calmer hand, and he therefore ordered Koslov to find Rochefort and arrange a face to face meeting.
It was time for Rochefort to meet his paymaster.
He also gave the go ahead for the satellite surveillance over Heshima to commence.
oOo
Rochefort had no idea if the Russian he was speaking to was Yaroslav Krupin, the one who was paying him. He did not know this man's name; one Russian was very similar to another at this level. The man had slipped into the seat next to him unannounced, as he was sitting in a bar in Robertstown. Rochefort liked to move around, but this man had found him. Rochefort was obviously uncomfortable with the big Russian pressed up against him in the booth.
Koslov though, was enjoying himself. After his discussion with Krupin in Johannesburg, he had taken a step back himself. Their main business was in finding diamonds and Rochefort was a mere distraction. Koslov could see how Krupin could be amused by this man, who was so arrogant he had no idea what was really going on. He had agreed with Krupin that in the interim, it suited them to keep up Rochefort's involvement of chaos and distraction, although he had a feeling that on actually meeting him today, his suspicions would be confirmed; that Rochefort was a loose cannon. A very loose cannon indeed.
Time was running out for Rochefort and so he took some pleasure in announcing that Krupin wanted to meet him.
He slipped a piece of paper with an address and a time on it across to Rochefort.
"Do not disappoint him. He does not like to be disappointed," Koslov had said.
Then, he reached across and picked up the man's untouched bourbon, swallowing it down in one go before turning and walking out; leaving Rochefort staring at the address.
oOo
On the date and time specified Rochefort was met at the address on the piece of paper given to him by Koslov. The man had not spoken, but had taken his watch and indicated that Rochefort should follow him to the sleek car with blacked out windows, parked outside.
Once inside, Rochefort realised that as well as not being able to see in through the windows, he could not see out. Fear began to coil in his stomach as the car pulled slowly away. After what seemed like an hour or more, the car slowed and stopped. He flinched as the door opened, flooding the interior with bright sunlight. Stepping out and shielding his eyes, he saw that he was in front of a single building, in the middle of nowhere. He was escorted through a doorway by the silent man and followed him down several steps into the dark interior. The silent man slipped away, and Rochefort was alone.
Or so he thought.
There was a smell of the pungent smoke hanging in the air and he saw through the fugue at the back of the room that someone was sitting at a table, an opened bottle of vodka in front on them. Sitting in the shadows, only one hand was visible; the fingers holding a black cigarette. Occasionally the hand flicked ash into a crystal ash tray. The smoke billowed up as Rochefort slowly approached, attempting to appear nonchalant, but all the time fighting the urge to cough.
"Rochefort; finally, we meet," the heavily accented voice ground out, as the cigarette was stubbed viciously into the ashtray.
Rochefort recognised it as the voice on his phone. So this was Krupin. His mouth was suddenly dry and although he faced the shadow man, his eyes flicked around the room searching for the means of a possible escape.
There was none.
Before Rochefort could reply, Krupin banged his fist on the table, and demanded an explanation.
As the man leant forward, Rochefort saw the face of his paymaster for the first time.
oOo
It was an angry confrontation and Krupin finally realised what Koslov had long suspected, that Rochefort was irrational, absurd, illogical and most probably, insane.
And so, in a final act to finish it, Krupin promised him riches and told him to attack the Garrison.
"Try and make it look like a war, Rochefort. I am sure you can manage that," Krupin spat out, as the silent man returned and he was escorted out of the basement.
Krupin sat back and lit another cigarette and pulled out his phone. He had no intention of paying him, of course, he thought angrily, as he stabbed the keys.
Walking back up the steps, Rochefort's back straightened and the cockiness returned. He had probably underestimated Krupin, but if he wiped out the Garrison, he believed they could work together. By the time he entered the sunlight once more, he was smiling.
Unbeknown to him, Krupin was, at that moment, putting his second-in-command, Koslov, in charge. The land must be theirs and if that meant the destruction of the Garrison, and the removal of all witnesses, then so be it.
Koslov would ensure Rochefort was blamed.
Poachers, after all, were very violent men.
oOo
When Rochefort returned and ordered Rach Seko to go back to the Garrison on pretence of having his fingers rebound by their medic and then let them in when they came, Rach had finally had enough. He could not be part of such destruction.
When Athos woke up during the night, the familiar shadow was in his room.
"I was not dreaming. It was you who was in my room that night," Athos said quietly as he stared at Nkosi's brother. "And in the cave."
He threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, looking sadly at the young man in front of him.
Rach stepped forward. Athos was taken aback at the change in him. His eyes looked haunted; his shoulders hunched.
"I don't want a fight. I have come to warn you," he said, with a defiance his body language betrayed.
"Was it you who poisoned the lake?" Athos asked him.
Rach did not speak and Athos backtracked; wanting to get as much information as he could.
"Did Rochefort order you to set the snare, Rach?"Athos asked. "Was it meant for me?"
"You are not listening. I have come to warn you."
"'An' why should we trust you?" a new voice filled the room.
It was Porthos, standing in the doorway. He had been sitting quietly outside by the burnt out fire-pit and had seen Rach enter Athos's lodge. He had called Nkosi. It was time she found out about her brother. Then he made his way to the back of the lodge; letting himself quietly in.
"You set the snare on purpose, to catch Athos?!" Porthos growled, having caught the last part of the confrontation.
Looking at Rach's hand, Athos persisted. "Did he do that?"
"If you are in too deep, we can help you," he added, trying to get eye contact.
But Rach was not interested in being interrogated. He was still angry at Athos, but he could not condone what Rochefort was planning. Poisoning the lake had turned his stomach and he would do no more to assist a madman.
Just then, Nkosi stepped into the room behind them. She had heard everything. She froze in shock, and seeing her, Rach turned on Athos.
"You are not of the blood," Rach spat at Athos.
Athos looked at Nkosi, as it began to make sense, and saw that she also had made the connection.
Nkosi took a step closer, "Rach, neither am I, brother," she said.
Rach looked confused, and he faltered; looking from one to the other.
"He's going to attack the Garrison," Rach shouted then, his anger rising once more.
Porthos pulled out his gun.
"Tell us what's goin' on," he said. "And don't leave anythin' out."
Porthos pushed him down into a chair and stood over him. Rach told them everything, and then they locked him up. If they were going to be attacked, he could not be trusted.
Athos put his arm around a despondent Nkosi and pulled her into an embrace, kissing her hair.
Porthos grunted.
"Well, we better get ready, 'cos the Russians are comin'"
To be continued ...
A/N: I know I said this story was twenty seven chapters long – but its twenty eight now