The entreaty was met with silence. Then a crackle came from the intercom on the door and a woman’s voice followed it. ‘You’re real funny. Come back at Halloween, you sick jerk.’

  ‘Look at me!’ Roland shook his head. ‘This isn’t a joke. I’m Roland Ballantyne.’

  ‘Yep, there you are, public enemy number one. And you’ve come to give yourself up on local TV! Cute,’ she said, her voice deadpan. ‘Thing is, there’s only me and my content producer in the building. Why don’t you go bother News 24? I hear they have a canteen.’

  ‘Please,’ Ralph said, standing in front of his father so the camera got a clear view of him. ‘Just see us for a few minutes. We don’t have the virus, we don’t have masks, but –’

  ‘All right. We have masks in reception.’ The woman’s tone had changed; she sounded wary all of a sudden. ‘Sit down in the chairs in the far‑left corner. We’ll be down.’

  The doors sighed open.

  ‘Good.’ Roland turned to Ralph. ‘It took you to convince her, though.’

  ‘I have an honest face,’ said Ralph, ‘and it’s splashed over WANTED signs, same as yours is.’

  ‘Two fugitives for the price of one.’ Roland paused. ‘She could be calling the cops.’

  ‘She’d want to get her cameras ready to interview us first,’ Ralph argued. ‘I mean, we’re newsworthy, right?’

  ‘Right.’ Roland scooped up his jacket and strode through the open doors.

  With a last look back at the motorhome, Ralph took a deep breath and followed his father inside.

  Grant was sitting in the warehouse again with his dad and the van Roks. He had told the others what had happened, and all four had been elated. But over time, the mood had changed, and Grant found he felt all but forgotten about. Gerhard had vacated his makeshift workstation some time before, and who knew what Zuma and her soldiers were planning now.

  ‘What do you think they’re gonna do?’ Luke asked.

  ‘They’ll have to let us go,’ Max reassured him. ‘Of course, they may make us sign something to say we won’t take legal action against them, but –’

  ‘What?’ Mr van Rok frowned at him. ‘You think they’re worried about solicitors? Did you see my son’s face?’

  ‘Leave it, Dad,’ Luke said, his hands straying self‑consciously to the scars he’d got from Gerhard’s creations.

  ‘These animals need to be killed!’ van Rok snarled. ‘That evidence must be used . . .’ He trailed off as Gerhard came back into the room, this time with Mbato. Though it sickened him, Grant still felt an instinct to stand, or nod or show respect to the president. But he made himself stay very, very still.

  Mbato marched up to Max Khumalo, his face hard. ‘I knew that crap about the safari park in Addo was a coded message.’

  Max shook his head. ‘Roland Ballantyne and I were there –’

  ‘That much is true,’ Mbato agreed. ‘I’ve reviewed the reports and footage of that day. You opened the park, and Ballantyne may even have attended in some capacity, but there was no rhino, no Jacaranda . . .’

  Max waved away his protest. ‘I assure you –’

  Mbato swung the back of his hand into Max’s face, knocking him clear out of his chair.

  Grant jumped up. ‘Don’t you –’

  ‘Don’t what?’ Mbato grabbed Grant by the throat. ‘Well, Max? What secret message were you trying to get through to Ballantyne? Answer me.’ He tightened his grip; Grant’s breath came out in a throttled gasp as his windpipe was slowly crushed. ‘Answer me quickly.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake.’ Max wiped blood from his mouth and got to his knees. ‘Let Grant go. I’ll . . . I’ll tell you.’

  ‘No need,’ said Gerhard brightly, standing beside Mbato. ‘He’ll keep lying to you. Stalling for time. I’ve found out where Ballantyne must be.’

  Grant pulled himself free of Mbato’s grip and collapsed to the floor, his temples pounding, wheezing for breath.

  Mbato had already turned away to face Gerhard. ‘Well?’

  ‘I heard Zuma being told that a motorhome was stolen from a dealer’s in Malelane. If Ballantyne left Crocodile Lodge by river, then he could reach Malelane.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Mbato.

  ‘The last reported sighting of the motorhome was on Delfos Road. That’s not far from Pretoria’s dreary public access TV station –’

  ‘Jacaranda,’ Mbato broke in, with a sneering look down at Grant’s dad. ‘He must believe that someone will take notice of his evidence, even after everything we’ve done to destroy his reputation.’

  ‘It’s possible that they will,’ said Gerhard. ‘I think you need to arrange some damage limitation, Julius.’

  ‘Like I did in Gauda, you mean?’ Mbato shot back. ‘Wiping out a whole village to try to contain your virus? That failed.’

  ‘Well, yes, I never expected that your sledgehammer approach would work,’ said Gerhard mildly. ‘But by doing things my way this time . . . success is guaranteed.’ He crossed to his workstation. ‘I’ll make some calls, get some equipment brought in. In the meantime, get Zuma to keep the station under surveillance – discreetly. No need for them to know we’re on to them yet.’

  Mbato nodded slowly and turned to his prisoners. ‘The four of you can go along too, as hostages. If we threaten you, we can force the Ballantynes to come out.’

  ‘Or to stay inside,’ said Gerhard quietly.

  Still feeling dizzy and sick, Grant saw Luke mouth to him, ‘What does he mean?’

  He had no answer.

  24

  In the kitchen compartment, Robyn rubbed her stiff back, watching through the window for signs of movement while Niko checked Tanky. The woolly rhino’s breathing was rasping, and he seemed listless, his red eyes barely showing beneath drooping lids.

  ‘Something’s affecting his upper airway,’ said Niko. ‘Maybe some sort of laryngeal paralysis from the acid fumes? Or an infection? Then again, what the hell do I know? This animal needs a vet.’ She got up wearily. ‘I’ll say one thing, though. Tanky’s coped with a whole lot more than any human patient would.’

  ‘So far,’ said Robyn, her heart heavy. ‘I’m worried about what will happen to him when he’s taken away from us. We’ve been through so much together . . .’

  ‘He’s not a pet, Rob,’ said Niko. ‘He’s a predasaur. Programmed to be a killer.’

  ‘That’s not his fault,’ Robyn insisted. ‘They won’t destroy him, will they?’

  ‘He doesn’t belong in today’s world,’ said Niko sadly. ‘There are no others like him, no native habitat, no other animals he can learn behaviour from . . . If the laboratory lets him go, I suppose he’ll end up a freak exhibit in a zoo.’

  ‘What a great story!’ came a man’s voice from outside the motorhome. ‘Would you care to come into the studio and share with me? Your shaggy friend too.’

  Robyn and Niko froze.

  ‘It’s all right.’ It was Ralph’s voice. ‘This is Benni – he’s the station’s content producer. He works with Mayeni, the station controller. She’s talking to Dad right now.’

  Robyn opened one of the rear doors and peered out. Ralph, wearing a mask, was standing a few metres away, with a tired‑looking middle‑aged man with dreadlocks. His mask drew attention to his smiling eyes; he had the soft, inquiring expression of one in love with life’s ability to surprise. ‘Whoa!’ He looked at their combat gear, one eyebrow raised. ‘Ready for war, huh? You must be Robyn and Niko,’ he said. ‘I’m Benni Radebe. Nice to meet you.’

  Robyn found herself smiling back. ‘Sorry, we don’t have masks,’ she said. ‘For what it’s worth, we’ve both had the virus.’

  ‘And survived?’ Benni kept his mask on. ‘Well, everyone says it’s your virus, after all. Makes sense it goes easy on you.’

  From his tone and the crinkle around his eyes, Robyn could see he was still grinning.

  ‘Forgive me. Misplaced levity, I know. Sure, you’ve been through enough. But it’s so rare that I meet real celebrities! Oh, you too, sir,’ he added, doffing an imaginary hat to Tanky, then laughing. ‘I’m serious – can we get this hairy fellow inside for the cameras? He’s gorgeous! And an opportunity like this doesn’t come along often. Not at Jacaranda TV at least.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Niko, ‘but how are you taking all this in your stride? I mean, us being here, Roland, an extinct species of rhinoceros . . .’

  Benni nodded. ‘Let me tell you. Local news has dropped off a bit since the new lockdown started, as you can imagine. Me and Mayeni have kept going, helping people feel connected, you know? We’ve had more time on our hands than usual and –’

  ‘Guys, you know Gerhard’s deepfake footage of us? Seems that bit with Dad was sourced from Jacaranda TV!’ Ralph broke in, and Robyn brightened to hear how excited he sounded

  ‘Your main man gave a talk at an anti‑hunting rally,’ Benni said. ‘We were shooting there. Cameras, I mean. Anyway, Mayeni noticed that the original had been messed around with. Words were taken from the speech he made and put in a different order . . .’

  ‘So they were already suspicious about the rest of the story,’ Ralph went on, excited. ‘Mayeni’s looking at the footage with Dad right now.’

  ‘Do you mind!’ Benni cried with mock severity. ‘I haven’t talked to anyone new face to face in an age, young man – won’t you let me milk it a little?’

  ‘You believe us, then?’ Robyn said, hugging herself. ‘You don’t think we’re the ones who started this?’

  ‘If that’s really a woolly rhinoceros, then I believe you,’ said Benni. ‘Now, if we could get him ready for his close‑up . . .’

  ‘He needs to be looked over by a vet before he does anything,’ Robyn asserted, with a quick look at Niko for support. Niko nodded. ‘He’s already been through so much.’

  ‘I think you all have,’ said Benni with a sigh. ‘All right. I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, come inside where it’s more comfortable.’

  Robyn felt suddenly afraid. Benni seemed so warm and friendly, but was it a trick? A trap? She looked at Ralph.

  ‘I think we have to trust them,’ he said.

  Benni nodded slowly. ‘Likewise,’ he said. ‘We want to be nice to you, so you’ll be nice to us. Like, exclusive media rights, you know? You could put Mayeni and me on the map.’

  ‘I’m more afraid we could wipe you right off it,’ said Niko. ‘Sounds melodramatic, I know, but we have –’

  ‘Powerful enemies?’ Benni nodded sympathetically. ‘And a distinct lack of caffeine in your lives, I reckon? Let’s take this inside and talk. Flat whites all round. Cappuccino for the rhino.’

  Niko looked at Ralph, amazed. ‘Is this for real?’

  ‘Well.’ He considered. ‘I definitely smelled coffee.’

  ‘It’s better that we’re caught inside with Dad than out here alone,’ Robyn said. ‘If Tanky’s OK with it, I say we go.’ Tanky looked up at her and made a thick snuffling noise.

  ‘Close enough,’ she declared.

  Ralph couldn’t remember ever having enjoyed a coffee more. They were sitting in the TV station’s only studio. The space was quiet, softly lit and smelled of fresh paint and new carpets; it looked as if it had been set up for a news programme. Ralph sat in a comfy chair on a small, raised stage; beside him was the presenter’s desk with a green screen behind it. Two lightweight Sony HD cameras stood on slim but sturdy tripods to capture the broadcast from different angles. The ceiling was about six metres high and soundproofed with black foam panels: spotlights hung from it, controlled by a high‑tech mixing desk for sound and video positioned to the left of the doors. Microphones attached to boom poles stood in a rack, but Ralph noticed a small pile of wireless clip‑on mics in a plastic box on the desk. The space looked ready to be used, except for a tangle of cables dangling from the ceiling.

  Ralph felt a strange feeling in his chest, and wondered at first if it was due to the caffeine. Then he realised with a shock that it was actually optimism.

  Just by articulating it, he crushed the feeling dead.

  He started as the double doors to the scene dock opened, where props and other gear that the station’s staff needed easy access to were stored, but it was only his dad and Mayeni, the station controller. She was a woman in her thirties. She sat in a wheelchair, and had close‑cut hair and a deadpan manner. Ralph found her dry charm made him want to do his best for her; he imagined she would be an inspiring character in a busy TV studio.

  He had been with Mayeni and his dad when she’d viewed the footage of Mbato and Gerhard, and they couldn’t have hoped for a more rewarding reaction. She’d sat bolt upright in her chair. ‘You know, if I could jump up in amazement, I would. It’s not pretty when my jaw bounces off my lap,’ she’d said.

  Their footage, and Benni’s excitement over the woolly rhino in the motorhome, had convinced her to run with a ‘breaking news’ announcement.

  Roland was asking Mayeni now, ‘Are you sure you can’t post the footage online straight away?’

  ‘Not a good idea. The “fake news” brigade will be out in force. The president’s office will rig an army of bots to discredit the news so when we do go on air, the public will doubt our story. Trust me, Roland, an announcement like this has to be handled carefully, with context.’ Mayeni rolled her chair up the ramp to the presenter’s desk. ‘First, we run a special bulletin. I reveal the doctored footage designed to incriminate you and your loved ones, comparing it to the original. Then we show your woolly rhino – give him a starring role as we expose the predasaurs, and your kids can talk about their ordeal at the hands of Gerhard and his shock ally, President Mbato.’ She pulled a pantomime horror face, then looked at Ralph. ‘You gonna be all right with that, kid? I know you’ve been through some stuff.’

  ‘I’m good,’ said Ralph, nodding. ‘We can tell you what we went up against – giant hyenas, cave lions, crocodile monsters resurrected from ancient DNA –’

  ‘Whoa, whoa.’ Mayeni waved her hands. ‘Too much, too quick. I’ll ask you easy questions, and you keep the answers brief. Play things down a little, OK? People are gonna find it tough to swallow all this in one go. I mean, me? I’m gonna have indigestion for a month.’

  ‘So, when you’ve talked to my children,’ said Roland, ‘then it’s my turn?’

  ‘Yeah, and you get to introduce the main attraction,’ said Mayeni. ‘The CCTV footage of Mbato and Gerhard.’ She reached for one of the clip‑on wireless microphones. ‘What time is it now, Ralphie?’

  Ralph checked his watch. ‘Coming up for one‑twenty.’

  Mayeni nodded. ‘Then I reckon we can schedule our big announcement to the world for two o’clock, when we go national over satellite.’

  ‘Two o’clock?’ said Ralph unhappily. ‘If we’re gonna have max impact, wouldn’t the evening be better?’

  ‘I don’t think you can afford to wait,’ said Mayeni. ‘As soon as Benni gets here, I’ll put out a local teaser trail.’

  Roland frowned. ‘Mbato and Gerhard are bound to hear about it. They’ll move to shut you down at once.’

  ‘Well, no publicity is bad publicity,’ Mayeni said wryly. ‘I’ll just say we’ve got something that’s gonna throw a hella hand grenade into pandemic and politics. A scandal that’s gonna blow what people thought they knew so far out the water it’ll land somewhere in Mali.’

  ‘Surely,’ Roland persisted, ‘it’s safest to post the footage online? You can watermark the footage with the station logo if you’re worried about other news stations stealing it and using it.’

  ‘Cynical, much?’ Mayeni arched a plucked eyebrow, then shrugged and started scribbling notes on a piece of paper. ‘But you’re right. I’m taking a risk on you. So forgive me if I want some personal visibility in my quest for truth and justice. But I’ll make this material open source, yeah? I’ll post the raw files online, freely available to any network to show and for experts to study.’

  Ralph could hardly dare believe it; their story would be out at last. If only Grant and Luke were here to share the moment. He wondered where they were, and if they were all right.

  They can handle themselves, he thought. They’ll be all right. But he knew the stakes couldn’t be higher for Gerhard and the president. What wouldn’t they try to cling on to power and freedom?

  The earthy smell of manure wafted through the scene dock doors as Benni came in with Tanky, Robyn and Niko. While Robyn gripped the lead rope in both hands, Niko had improvised a second lead from a canvas strap looped through a ring anchor on the other side of the harness. Together, they were able to hold the juvenile rhino steady enough.

  ‘How are you going to stop him running around trashing the place?’ Benni asked, his features creased in concern.

  ‘Can we tie him to something?’ Robyn wondered.

  ‘Woman in a chair here,’ said Mayeni, not looking up from her scribblings. ‘Use a grab rail – they’re all over. Keep it tied up tight, though, please. We don’t want it getting into shot. Benni, I want to go live with a newsflash.’

  ‘Titles already cued up,’ Benni said, suddenly smooth and professional. ‘Let’s just frame you nicely . . .’

  Ralph got out of his chair, making sure he was out of shot. He helped Niko and Robyn secure Tanky to the grab rail by the scene dock, making sure that Tanky had enough rope to move about a bit, but not so much that he could break free and terrorise the studio.

  ‘OK, Benni, get me close‑up on Camera One.’ Mayeni brushed down her jacket as Benni moved the camera, placing her in shot. ‘Ready when you are.’

  ‘Good to go,’ said Benni, crossing to the mixing console. ‘In five, four . . .’ He counted down the remaining numbers with his fingers then hit a green button, which lit up. On a monitor, Ralph saw an animated title sequence start up and the news programme’s urgent, driving theme tune blasted from the studio speakers. A logo for Jacaranda News spun into focus, then the title faded to a shot of Mayeni at the desk, looking serious.

  ‘This is an urgent news announcement,’ she said. ‘At two o’clock, Jacaranda TV will bring you a special programme that reveals incredible truths about the current media narratives around the pandemic and the presidency. Everything you think you know is a lie. To discover the truth, join me, Mayeni Marten, at 2 p.m. South Africa Standard Time.’