Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur (книги серия книги читать бесплатно полностью .txt) 📗

Connie, I've got the truck.  He's stashed it in a clump of ebony about

half a mile down the bank of the Luzane stream.  Your best route is to

follow the road to the bridge, then go down into the dry river bed and

try and cut him off before he gets to the truck.  'Okay, David.  'Move

it, man.

I'm moving.  David saw the Land-Rover's dust above the trees, Conrad

must have his foot down hard.

I'm going to try and spot the man himself, chase him into your arms.

You do that? David started a long climbing turn towards the hills,

sweeping and searching, up and around.  Below him the pools granted and

he opened the throttles slightly, seeking altitude to clear the crests.

From the highest peak, a tiny figure waved frantically.

Sam, he grunted.  Doing a war dance.  He altered course slightly to

pass him closely, and Sam stopped his imitation of a windmill and

stabbed with an extended arm towards the west.  David acknowledged with

a wave, and turned again, dropping down the western slopes.

Ahead of him the plain spread, dappled like a leopard's back with dark

bush and golden glades of grass.  He flew for a minute before he saw a

black mass, moving slowly ahead of him, dark and amorphous against the

pale grass.

The remains of the buffalo herd had bunched up and were running without

direction, desperate from the harrying they had received.

Buffalo, he told Debra.  On the ran.  Something has alarmed them.  She

sat still and intent beside him, hands in her lap, staring unseeingly

ahead.

All!  David shouted.  Got him, with blood on his hands!  In the Centre

of one of the larger clearings lay the black beetle-like body of a dead

buffalo, its belly swollen and its legs sticking out stiffly as it lay

on its side.

Four men stood around it in a circle, obviously just about to begin

butchering the carcass.  Three of them were Africans, one with a knife

in his hand.

The fourth man was Johan Akkers.  There was no mistaking the tall gaunt

frame.  He wore an old black Fedora hat on his head, strangely formal

attire for the work in which he was engaged, and his braces crisscrossed

his tan-Coloured shirt.  He carried a rifle at the trail in his right

hand, and at the sound of the aircraft engines he swung round and stared

into the sky, frozen with the shock of discovery.

You swine.  Oh, you bloody swine, whispered David, and his anger was

strong and bright against the despoilers.

Hold on!  he warned Debra, and flew straight at the man, dropping

steeply on to him.

The group around the dead buffalo scattered, as the aircraft bore down

on them, each man picking his own course and racing away on it, but

David selected the lanky galloping frame with the black hat jammed down

over the ears and sank down behind him.  The tips.  of the propellers

clipped the dry grass, as he swiftly overtook the running Akkers.

He was set to fly into him, driven by the unreasoning anger of the male

animal protecting his own, and he lined up to cut him down with the

spinning propeller blades.

As David braced himself for the impact Akkers glanced back over his

shoulder, and his face was muddy grey with fright, the skull eyes dark

and deeply set.  He saw the murderous blades merely feet from him, and

he threw himself flat into the grass.

The Navajo roared inches over his prone body, and David pulled it round

in a steep turn, with the wing-tip brushing the grass.  As he came round

he saw that Akkers was up and running, and that he was only fifty paces

from the edge of the trees.

David levelled out, aimed for the fugitive again but realized that he

could not reach him before he was into the trees.  Swiftly he sped

across the clearing, but the lumbering figure drew slowly closer to the

timber line and as he reached the sanctuary of a big leadwood trunk,

Akkers whirled and raised the rifle to his shoulder.  He aimed at the

approaching aircraft; although the rifle was unsteady in his hands the

range was short.

Down, shouted David, pushing Debra's head below the level of the

windshield, and he pulled open the throttles and climbed steeply away.

Even above the bellow of the engines David heard the heavy bullet clang

into the fuselage of the aircraft.

What's happening, David?  Debra pleaded.

He fired at us, but we've got him on the run.  He'll head back for his

truck now, and Conrad should be there waiting for him.  Akkers kept

under cover of the trees, and circling above him David caught glimpses

of the tall figure trotting purposefully along his escape route.

David, -can you hear me?  Conrad's voice boomed suddenly in the tense

cockpit.  What is it, Connie?  We've got trouble.

I've hit a rock in your Land- Rover and knocked out the sump.  She's had

it, pouring oil all over the place.

How the hell did you do that?  David demanded.

I was trying a short cut.  Conrad's chagrin carried clearly over the

ether.

How far are you from the Luzane stream?  About three miles.  God, he'll

beat you to it, David swore.  He's two miles from the truck and going

like he's got a tax collector after him.

You have not seen old Connie move yet.  I'll be there waiting for him,

Berg promised.

Good luck, David called, and the transmission went dead.

Below them Akkers was skirting the base of the hills, his black hat

bobbing along steadily amongst the trees.

David kept his starboard wing pointed at him and the Navajo turned

steadily, holding station above him.

Other movement caught David's eye on the open slope of the hill above

Akkers.  For a moment he thought it was an animal, then with an intake

of breath he realized that he was mistaken.

What is it?  Debra demanded, sensing his concern.

It's Sam, the damned fool.  Connie told him not to leave his post, he's

unarmed, but he's baring down the slope to try and cut Akkers off. Can't

you stop him?  Debra asked anxiously, and David didn't bother to answer.

He called Conrad four times before there was a reply.

Conrad's voice was thick and wheezing with the effort of running.

Sam is on to Akkers.  I think he's going to confront him.  Oh God damn

him, groaned Conrad.  I'll kick his black ass for him.

Hold on, David told him, I'm going around for a closer look.  David saw

it all quite plainly, he was only three hundred feet above them when

Akkers became aware of the running figure on the slope above him.  He

stopped dead, and half-lifted the rifle; perhaps he shouted a warning

but Sam kept -on down, bounding over the rocky ground towards the man

who had burned his children to death.

Akkers lifted the rifle to his shoulder and aimed deliberately, the

rifle jumped sharply, the barrel kicking upwards at the recoil and Sam's

legs kept on running while his upper torso was flung violently backwards

by the strike of the heavy soft-nosed bullet.

The tiny brown-clad body bounced and rolled down the slope, before

coming to a sprawling halt in a clump of scrub.

David watched Akkers reload the rifle, stooping to pick up the empty

cartridge shell.  Then he looked up at the circling aircraft above him,

David may have been mistaken but it seemed the man was laughing, that

obscene tooth-clucking giggle of his, then he started off again at a

trot towards the truck.

Connie, David spoke hoarsely into his handset, he just killed Sam.

Conrad Berg ran heavily over the broken sandy ground.

He had lost his hat and sweat poured down his big red face, stinging his