A Twist of Sand

I twisted his arm. He held on with the strength of a maniac, but he said nothing. I felt one tendon start to tear. The knife moved back from three inches from my right eye to six. ' I threw myself against his weight. I felt his muscles tear. But he wasn't going to get away with it as Hendriks did. I forced the arm still farther back. His eyes were frantic with terror. I marched him remorselessly back past the dead woman towards the precipice at his back. The knife now hung back over his right shoulder in a grotesque parody of a strike. I knew exactly what I was going to do. Like a released spring, I ducked back, freeing my arm and shoulder, in one movement and kicked him in the stomach. I give him credit. Any other man, with the bite of that heavy seaboot in his vital parts, would have fallen over backwards. Johann stood swaying, his face grey-green with terror and pain. For a second we stood panting in great gasps facing one another. Then I stepped forward and administered the coup de grace. I hit him twice with my right forearm across the side of the neck. He pitched and rolled dustily backwards. I never heard the final crump of the body far below. The dead woman gazed at me sightlessly.

I picked up the knife from the path and sagged down on a rock, my breath coming in frantic inhalations. I felt no remorse, no sorrow, no triumph even. My mind kept saying: Stein! Stein!

What had she said?  "I would like to be buried there."

It came to me like fire amid the icy clarity of my lust to kill. I looked down at the quiet face and eyes whose pupils I would never see again. I'll carry you there, I vowed. You'll lie forever beside those other lovers. And then, like a scream of taut nerves: but I'll kill Stein first! Give him time, and he would come looking for either Johann or myself. He came, hours later. I withdrew up the narrow path, flanked with boulders. There was simply no way of deviating from it. I caught the glimpse of sun on metal before I actually saw Stein himself. He was making sure. He had the Luger out. I crouched down as low as I could and withdrew from boulder to boulder until eventually on my right I found a slight cleft, wide enough to take a man's body. I balanced the heavy knife. At least I had something on my side. I stood sweating between the hot rocks. I reckoned he'd take another half an hour to reach Anne's body. I'd lost my cap in the struggle and the sweat poured off me, as much reaction and anticipation as heat.

I'd never thrown a knife before, and it's a tricky business at the best of times. He'd see me yards before he reached the cleft, and there was no hope of an ambush from above. I forgot all about that. I clutched the knife until my fingers ached.

I flicked a glance down the path and then jerked my head back. Stein was coming on like a cat, holding the Luger, There was a jagged boulder which I had judged would be my best marker for a throw before he saw me.

I whipped out of the cleft and cast the heavy knife. The shot followed simultaneously. I reeled back streaming blood as the bullet tore through my right shoulder.

I bit down the searing pain.

Then Stein's voice came.  It was strained.

"Step out of that hole, Captain Peace, unless you want me to come and ferret you out."

I remained where I was.  But he had courage, had Stein.

He came forward until he could see me propped against the hot stone wall.

The knife projected from his left arm. It must have bitten deep, for his face was grey, but it was low and anything but fatal. That fact passed through my mind with quick, bitter realisation.

In the other hand he pointed the Luger steadily at me.

"So you killed Johann at last," he said. "At least I presume you did ?"

There was no point in denying it.  I nodded.

The voice gained some of its earlier sneering quality.

"Brave, resourceful Captain Peace!" he said. "No histrionics on my part about shooting you, I assure you, Captain. No confessions, no deathbed gloating."

He raised the Luger and fired. But I saw him flick the barrel aside from me as his finger whitened on the trigger. I saw his face contort and he fired again and again and again.

The first zebra galloping down the path stumbled as the heavy bullets struck home, but its impetus swept both itself and Stein over the precipice beyond. It was a small group of about fifty and they thundered by without a pause. How many of them went over the edge with Stein I do not know. In less than a minute the path was clear and the dust was filtering down into the red-gold hair by the rock. The animals had not touched her as she sat back from the pathway. I could hear their clatter down the mountain towards the camp.