Piranha. Rudie van Rensburg

      ‘How is the horn taken? It gets ground down, right?’

      ‘Yes. Once the horn’s been ground, it’s drunk with warm water. There are literally hundreds of drinks and recipes for dishes containing horn. People even market rhino wine, which is supposed to put punch into a man’s sexual performance. The horns are usually sawn up into tiny pieces and that’s how it’s sold to users. In Vietnam it’s a status symbol to have a rhino horn mounted on your wall. Rich businessmen sometimes give small pieces of horn as corporate gifts.’

      Karel whistled through his teeth as he scribbled madly. An hour later, he was satisfied he had enough for a feature. He closed the notebook and leaned forward.

      ‘I spoke to a friend of mine in Cape Town yesterday. He picked up a story, confidentially, from a friend of his in The Hawks. Apparently, The Hawks’ poaching unit got a tip from an anonymous caller last week.’

      He spoke in a whisper, which Natasha found amusing since there was no one else around.

      ‘Called himself Deep Throat, this caller,’ Karel went on. ‘Alleged that a certain big shot at the Vietnamese consulate in Cape Town was involved in the rhino-horn trade. They’re watching his every move now.’

      Natasha shook her head. ‘Can you believe it? A diplomat!’

      Karel put his notebook back into his pocket and got up. ‘See you tomorrow evening. I believe you’re the guest speaker.’ He was referring to an event at the local business chamber.

      ‘Yes. I should have made an effort to attend in previous years. You never know where you might find potential donors.’

      ‘That’s for sure. Anyone who’s anyone around here is usually there.’

      * * *

      ‘I see you’re famous now, Kassie,’ said Colonel Daniels. He was standing at Kassie’s desk, holding a newspaper up for all to see.

      Kassie laughed. He was embarrassed. ‘Ja. I don’t know how they picked up the story so quickly.’

      ‘You looked very chuffed with yourself in that photo,’ said Da Silva. ‘All your teeth on display, hey!’

      ‘Did you win any money?’ Rooi asked.

      Kassie shook his head. He had to admit he was pleased with the photo and the small report. When the journalist called him yesterday afternoon to set up an interview, he couldn’t wait to get back to the flat. He was at the shop first thing this morning to buy a paper. He’d just about gone through the whole of it before he found the article. He lingered happily over the headline: Local collector wins major international stamp award.

      He’d bought five copies.

      ‘Here. Have this one,’ said Daniels, putting his newspaper on Kassie’s desk. ‘I’m sure you’ll want to keep this.’

      ‘Thanks,’ Kassie mumbled sheepishly.

      Daniels was turning around to leave when he paused. ‘I see you and Rooi have a missing persons. Ex-cop.’

      ‘Ja. Barnie and I used to work together at Bellville.’ Kassie filled Daniels in.

      ‘Tik is a bitch,’ Daniels said sadly. ‘Keep me updated.’ He left the detectives’ office.

      Kassie’s mood took a dip. The next twenty-four hours were critical. With Barnie’s photo, physical description and personal information at all the police stations, morgues and hospitals in the Peninsula, he might get a call any minute … a call that was unlikely to be good news. News Maria and her little boy wouldn’t want to hear.

      No feedback at all might mean there was a small chance of finding Barnie alive.

      He and Rooi had decided not to do anything that day. If there was no news, they’d go back to speak to Maria again. She might know something about Barnie’s get-rich-quick scheme.

      * * *

      I studied hard. Not that I had much time. In the third term of my first year, I found a job as a waiter in a coffee shop in the afternoons on top of the dishwashing job at the restaurant in the evenings.

      Between classes, I went to the library to study, because it was impossible to do so at the flat. There was a constant stream of visitors and sometimes the partying would start early in the day. Smiley was always surrounded by a bunch of loudmouths. They made themselves very comfortable in the flat, some of them even using my bedroom for privacy when they were with a girl.

      My status was low. I had zero privileges.

      The only thing that drove me on was a determination to pass my course. It was my passport to independence and, more importantly, to a life free of Smiley.

      He wasn’t much interested in academics. He seldom came to class and started missing tests. His saving grace was his exceptional sporting achievements – star bowler in the under-20A cricket team and captain of the Maties under-20A rugby team. His father flew in from Uganda twice to watch him play at Newlands and the two of them were invited to dinner at Danie Craven’s house one night. Smiley was, in sporting and social circles, a campus celebrity.

      The fact that he was only allowed to sit one exam at the end of our first year didn’t bother him in the least. He wasn’t at university for a degree. He was there to squeeze every last drop of pleasure from life.

      I passed everything. Due to my limited studying time and my bad Afrikaans, my marks weren’t particularly good, but I started my second year filled with the knowledge that I’d overcome the first hurdle to my freedom.

      12

      Natasha watched everyone find a place for themselves in IESA’s cramped offices. Their eyes shone. Everyone smiled. They had such enthusiasm for the task at hand, it made her feel guilty. Most of them had been unemployed three years ago and, in a few months’ time, half of them might be unemployed again because of the budget cuts.

      She didn’t want to tell them about the budget yet, but she’d have to in about a month’s time. It would only be fair to give them a chance to find other employment. But for the next thirty days she wanted their full cooperation so that they could achieve to the fullest of their capabilities and channel every grain of energy into a single focus. The only way they were going to make the Americans change their minds was to achieve unprecedented success where the crisis was at its worst – in the Kruger National Park.

      She’d called in the two teams from Zim, the three from Mozambique and the one in Botswana. She’d withdrawn another two teams from areas adjacent to the Kruger. With the teams already working in the Kruger, it meant there would now be thirty-three IESA rangers deployed in the game reserve.

      Initially, Werner was dead set against her strategy.

      ‘Mozambique’s elite anti-poaching unit helps to keep poachers from entering the Kruger from the Limpopo National Park,’ she’d said. A white lie – the Mozambican poachers were their biggest problem. ‘It’s going to be hard to stop them from Zimbabwe, but we’ll wait for them in the north on the Kruger side of the border. Just give me a trial run of a month,’ she’d pleaded until he’d given in, unconvinced that her plan would have any effect at all on the Americans’ budget decision.

      Natasha briefly explained her plan of action to the group.

      ‘SANParks is extremely excited about the extra support we’re going to be giving them. We can rely on their full cooperation.’ She motioned towards the map of the game reserve. ‘The red stickers are the rhino-poaching operations that have taken place in the last three months.’

      There was a chorus of shocked exclamations.

      She nodded. ‘Yep. That’s how bad it’s been. Altogether 179 rhinos killed and fourteen mutilated.’

      ‘And the black stickers?’ asked one of the Mozambican team leaders.

      ‘Those are the ones where we believe The Silencers were involved. If our