CHAPTER 19

Niassa Game Reserve

Mozambique, Africa

March

THE FLIGHT TO CAMP took them an hour and a half, with Geoff playing the part of tour guide over the headsets as they flew. He pointed out rivers, towns, and villages along the green and brown landscape, giving Reece the lay of the land. The last town of any size before camp was Montepuez, but from the air it looked to be nothing more than a few buildings. Geoff indicated the river that formed the boundary of the hunting area as they passed it, and it still took ten minutes of flying to reach the runway. He had certainly chosen one of the most remote spots on the globe to come to die.

Reece noticed a white pickup parked alongside the red dirt runway, which Geoff circled to approach into the wind. The pilot lowered the flaps and eased back on the throttle, dropping the Cessna on a glide path toward the earth below. The plane touched down gently and bounced along the runway until it slowed to a stop in front of the vehicle. Through the plane’s windshield, Reece immediately recognized the man standing by the white Land Cruiser as Rich Hastings, Raife’s uncle and the owner of RH Safaris.

He had aged quite a bit since Reece had seen him last; it was hard to believe that almost twenty years had passed since that summer in Zimbabwe. His short hair was stark white, which contrasted drastically with his deeply tanned skin. He stood more than six feet tall and had the lean build of an endurance athlete, the ropy veins of his muscled forearms visible below the rolled-up sleeves of his starched green safari-style shirt. He wore short shorts and sandals without socks. His face broke into a wide smile when he saw Reece descend from the plane’s cabin and walked forward to meet him.

“James, good to see you, young man! ” He shook Reece’s hand with an iron grip and slapped him on the back with his other hand, greeting him as he would a long-lost nephew.

“Great to see you, Mr. Hastings. Thank you so much for, well, uh. . . for not turning me away. ”

“Of course, James, you are like family. Family is always welcome, especially when they are in need. ” The twinkle in his blue eyes told Reece that Mr. Hastings was well aware of his fugitive status. “Do you have any bags I can help you with? ”

“I can get them, thanks. ” Reece climbed into the Cessna’s cabin and handed his duffel down to Richard, who was standing in the doorway. He slung his pack over one shoulder and approached the cabin to thank Geoff for the ride.

“Thanks so much for getting me here, Geoff. I really appreciate it. ”

“No worries, eh, mate. Hopefully I’ll see you again. If you need a ride anywhere, Rich knows how to get hold of me. Best of luck to you. ”

“Thanks. ”

The men shook hands and Reece climbed down the steps to the dirt runway. His bag was already loaded into the bed of the Land Cruiser and Rich Hastings motioned for him to get on the passenger side. The older man started the truck and pulled onto a track that led away from the runway. Reece was taking in the landscape in silence when Hastings spoke.

“I’m only going to mention this once, James. Bloody awful business about your family. I read up on it. A young reporter seemed to have the inside scoop. I tried asking Raife about it, but you know him, elusive bastard, ” Hastings said with a smile while shifting gears. “The reports mentioned something about brain tumors in your men? ”

Reece remained silent.

“Well, you’ll let me know if you need a doctor, eh? And you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. I’d say the chances of them finding you in Mozambique are pretty slim so long as you don’t stick your head up too high. ”

“I appreciate it, sir. I really do. ”

“We don’t get much in the way of outside news here, James. Our focus is the land and its game. I guess that’s why we’re all out here. The camp doesn’t even have Internet. All our bookings come through a hunting concierge service out of Georgia, and they call us the old-fashioned way, on the telephone. There’s only one in camp and it’s in the main office. That’s a big attraction for clients, actually. Here they can forget about the modern world that has them constantly connected. No choice out here. If you want to be off the grid, this is your place. ”

“Thank you. That suits me just fine. ”

“You struck me as a good lad when you were here last. We won’t speak of it again, ” Hastings declared, pulling into the safari camp. “You look like a bloody skeleton. We’ve got a big dinner cooking. We’ll see if we can put some meat back on those bones. ”

“I can’t wait. It has been a long time since I’ve had a decent meal, or a beer. ”

“We’ll get you caught up on both then. You can get washed up, and then we’ll eat. ”

Camp was a series of structures made of stone, timber, mud, and thatch. There was a massive barnlike common building with an open-air dining room, bar, and seating area. A detached kitchen building sat nearby and a series of guest cottages were strung laterally along the ridge that faced the river below. There was also a shop for maintaining the vehicles, a skinning shed, walk-in refrigerated storage, and staff quarters. Hastings led Reece down a stone path to one of the guest cottages and showed him the amenities. It was basic, but it was clean and well maintained, and the view was amazing. Home sweet African home.

Reece had just enough time to get his bags situated when a polite female voice from outside his hooch told him that it was time for dinner. He headed for the bathroom to clean himself up and barely recognized the man who stared back at him in the mirror: long sun-bleached hair, bronze skin framing the pale white where his sunglasses had blocked the rays, a visibly broken nose from its meeting with the ship’s wheel, and a beard that nearly touched his chest. His eyes were set deep by the drastic loss of body weight, the rest of his face obscured by his gray-streaked facial hair. He didn’t figure on dinner being too formal in this corner of the world, but the last thing he wanted to do was offend his generous hosts.

He turned on the shower and dropped his clothes to the stone floor before stepping into the stream of warm water. Nothing in his life had ever felt better. Standing still for what seemed like an eternity, he let the water wash the salt and grime from his matted hair. There was shampoo and a bar of soap on a shelf cut into the stone wall and he lathered himself carefully, making sure to hit every inch. He stepped out of the shower feeling more human than beast and toweled dry. Using his fingers, he worked the tangles out of his wet hair, slicking it back as best he could without the benefit of a comb or brush. A toothbrush and toothpaste had been laid out for him, and after rationing toothpaste throughout his transoceanic voyage, he enjoyed the luxury of squirting a giant dollop onto his brush and scrubbing away.

He found a short-sleeved white polo shirt and a pair of lightweight pants that looked to be about his size laid out on his bed when he emerged from the shower. Obviously, Rich had canvassed the camp for clothes that might fit his guest. Donning his new apparel, Reece declared himself as presentable as possible and exited into the cool evening air.

He assumed that dinner would be served in the open-air dining room he’d seen on the way in, so he followed the stone path in that direction. Sure enough, he entered the massive thatched-roof living and dining area to find Hastings standing by a small bar with three younger men. Despite Reece’s visions of colonial Africa, none of the men were dressed any more formally than he was. Hastings spotted Reece as he entered the room and waved him over.

“James, come, come. ” He motioned toward the younger men. “James, this is Louie, Mike, and Darren. They are my PHs here in this concession. ”

Anywhere else in the world they would be known as hunting guides, but in Africa they are known as professional hunters and are subject to various licensing standards. To be a PH in Mozambique you have to meet the requirements of neighboring Zimbabwe, which had the toughest PH standards in all of Africa. These men knew their business.

The three men, each at least as tall as Reece, extended their hands and greeted him warmly and politely. They looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties and all had the same long and lean build as Hastings. They were deeply tanned, with sun-beaten skin that gave them the faces of men in their forties or fifties. These were hard men.

“What are you drinking, James? We have plenty of booze, beer, wine? ”

“A beer would be great, thanks. ”

Richard motioned to the youngest looking of the men. “Mike, get Mr. Reece here a beer, please. ”

What little alcohol had been on the sailboat had been consumed in the Azores, and Reece hadn’t had a drink in what seemed like an eternity. The young man handed him an ice-cold can of beer.

“Cheers, mate. ”

Reece took a long drink that disappeared at least half the can. He couldn’t remember a better-tasting beer in his life.

“First sip is the best, eh? ” Hastings said, smiling. “James here has had a long trip. He is a friend of my nephew Raife, whom you all know, and he is going to be spending as much time with us as he likes. He needs to keep a bit of a low profile, though, so he will stay out of sight when we have clients in camp, eh? I know that each of you will respect that. ”

Each man nodded soberly at his boss’s request.

“James, it’s our honor to have you here but we’re going to put you to work. I want you to rest up and eat for the next few days. Then you can go out scouting with Louie and we’ll make a plan from there. ”

“I appreciate it, Mr. Hastings. ”

“Rich, please call me Rich. You ready for another beer? ”

Reece had been around Australians and New Zealanders on multiple deployments and had come to respect their ability to consume quantities of alcohol that would put most men in the hospital. It became immediately apparent that this was a talent shared by his new African friends.

After a few minutes, dinner was served for the five men at a dining table that looked like it could hold at least twenty. This camp was primitive, but Rich made sure that it maintained an air of first-world civility complete with white tablecloths, linen napkins, and crystal wineglasses that were kept full with a seemingly endless flow of South African pinotage. A salad of fresh vegetables was served along with a medium-rare filet of some of the best meat Reece had ever tasted, which turned out to be eland.

After surviving on a small supply of canned goods and fresh-caught fish for weeks, Reece’s body was starving for vegetables and red meat. The food was amazing, and not just due to Reece’s hunger. His host served him seconds and thirds from the family-style platter until Reece could not eat another bite. A waiter then brought out heaping portions of bread pudding, which he somehow found room to devour.

The mood at dinner was laid-back and friendly. The men whom Reece had just met treated him like an old friend and put him immediately at ease. The reserved confidence of those around the table reminded Reece of the men he’d worked with in the SEAL Teams, a fact that helped dispel any nervous feelings regarding his new surroundings. As odd as it was, Reece felt more at home in this faraway corner of the world than he had since before his last disastrous deployment and the events that followed. As it turned out, the PHs were natives of bordering Zimbabwe, a country that Reece knew had a turbulent history.

Rather than talking politics, they focused on the rivers, the terrain features, and the game of Niassa, casually briefing Reece on what to expect during his time on the reserve. They didn’t ask any personal questions, though Reece assumed that they already knew exactly who he was. Men like these were the last of the cowboys. They believed in personal freedom and had no desire to complicate their lives or anyone else’s by reporting the surprise guest, a friend of their employer, to the authorities.

“Let’s have a drink and talk, James, ” said Hastings, handing the younger man a glass of brown liquid, neat.

The PHs bid them both good night as Rich motioned for Reece to follow him into the darkness outside the dining area. He led Reece down a series of stone steps toward a small sitting area, illuminated by the dancing light of a blazing fire pit. The men took adjacent seats and stared silently at the fire for a moment.

“Africa Channel One, we call it. ”

As Reece’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the reflection of the full moon on a river below. The sitting area was situated on a high bluff overlooking the river. He thought maybe he’d had too much to drink when he saw the silhouettes of elephants bathing in the reflective waters.

“Are those elephants down there? ”

“Yeah, cows and calves. ”

“Do you guys hunt them here? ”

“We hunt a few old bulls, but we don’t do any hunting within a mile of camp. This area is safe for them, and they know it. Have you spent much time in the bush, James? ”

“I did a lot of hunting with my dad and grandfather when I was a kid, but haven’t done much lately. Raife and I hunted as much as we could in college in Montana, deer and elk mainly. We obviously hunted with you in Zim that time I came to visit. I also spent some time up in Kodiak, Alaska, in the Navy and hunted every chance I got. I loved it up there. ”

Rich nodded. “It’s tough to find the time when you’re busy doing what you and Raife were doing for the past decade. ”

“Did you fight with Raife’s dad? ”

“Not together, no. His dad, Johnathan, was my older brother. He was the reason that I became a soldier. He was eight years older and joined the army before the war really got kicking. Our father had served in the Long-Range Desert Group in the war and later in C Squadron in Malaya. I guess he was our inspiration to join the regiment. ”

“So, you were SAS? I thought Reece’s dad was a Selous Scout? ”

“Oh, he was. We both were, actually, though he was in longer. ”

“I studied the Scouts when we were deep into our counterinsurgency efforts in Iraq. What an incredible time in special operations history. ”

“Ah, it was bloody fun, eh. We’d go out dressed like the enemy and trick them into thinking we were insurgents traveling into the area. ‘Pseudo-operations, ’ we called them. We had all of the passwords and knew their SOPs, so we could talk the talk. I obviously couldn’t get too close no matter how much face paint I put on. They’d show us where all of the terrs were hiding and then we’d call in the Saints. ”

“They the cavalry? ”

“Indeed. The RLI, the Rhodesian Light Infantry. They’d parachute or chopper in and sweep up the enemy in fire-force ops. I’d be on the high ground with a radio guiding them in. It was tremendously effective. ”

Reece was too young to have had any real perspective on the politics of the Rhodesian Bush War, but there was no doubt that it involved some of the most effective counterinsurgency efforts the world had ever seen. He hoped that history would remember his own men’s bravery and tactical acumen rather than whether they fought for Iraq’s oil or Afghanistan’s lithium. He also knew what it was like to fight an enemy whose PR machine was agile and relentless.

“We fought hard but, in the end, it came down to politics. I still think about the boys we lost, both white and black. What do you say we drink one for those boys and their widows? ”

Reece looked Rich in the eye and extended his glass. “To them. The brave ones. ”

Both warriors sat in silence for several minutes, each paying respect to their fallen brothers.

Reece cleared his throat and said, “How did you end up here in Mozambique, Rich? ”

“Well, you were there in Zim. You saw them harass us. ”

“I remember it well. Did that start as soon as Mugabe took over? ”

“Not right away, no. It was all pretty civilized at first. Bob and his crew were stealing everything they could, of course, but they left us alone for a while. Mugabe sent his Fifth Brigade, men trained by the North Koreans, to slaughter his rival tribe the Ndebele, and the world paid no attention. They tortured, starved, and shot them by the thousands. No one even knows how many they killed, but it was something upwards of twenty thousand people. All civilians, men, women, children, and all because they belonged to the wrong tribe. Where was the international outrage then? Anyway, once they realized that no one gave a shit about what happened inside Zimbabwe, they started taking our farms and anything else that had any value. My brother was smart: he left as soon as the war was over and took his family to the Cape. He started with fuck-all and made himself a bloody fortune. When things started to turn in South Africa, he did the smart thing again and moved to the U. S. ”

“Yeah, I met Raife not long after that. ”

“That’s about right. What year was it that you visited us? ”

“Nineteen ninety-eight. It was the summer before my senior year in college. I’ll never forget it. That place was so beautiful. ”

“It was that. Anyway, I stayed on the farm as long as I could. My family had spent decades building it, and I wasn’t about to let the ‘War Vets’ poach all of those animals. I stayed for them, really. It got bad for a couple years after your visit, so I sent the family down south to live to get them away from the violence. They’d seen enough of that. When our farm was burned in 2000, I knew it was over. I took what I could and bid on a concession in Botswana, where we hunted for about ten years. After they shut down hunting there, we found this place. Pretty damn ironic to be back in Moz, where I did so much fighting. ”

“So, you’re a man without a country? ”

“You know how that feels, don’t you, James? ”

Reece paused. Staring into the fire, he nodded and took another long sip of his drink.

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