‘We don’t want violence,’ said Max, his voice strong and oratorial as always. ‘Simply safe passage out of here.’

  ‘Reports suggest the EMP has taken out all electronics systems within two square miles of here,’ Zuma said. ‘A massive military presence will be pouring in to provide aid and generators and keep the peace. There’ll be roadblocks. More checkpoints.’

  ‘You wouldn’t get half a mile,’ Gerhard added. ‘There’s only one way this can end.’

  Grant’s mind was racing. How do we get out of this?

  The shutters on the front of the studio cranked up, slowly and manually. Grant saw Zuma and her troops looking down at their weapons as though trying to summon them to hand with willpower alone.

  ‘We’re coming out,’ Ralph shouted from inside. ‘We’re not armed.’

  ‘We need medical help,’ Niko said hoarsely.

  ‘First, bring Mbato and Gerhard here,’ Robyn added. ‘We want to see them. Face to face.’

  Grant noticed Zuma looking past him at either Gerhard or Mbato inside the limo and nodding a fraction. ‘Don’t try anything,’ he warned her, then turned back to his real enemies. ‘Get out of the car and walk towards the studio. Slowly.’

  They did so: Mbato stiffly and carefully, Gerhard slinking along behind.

  The whirr of helicopters stole into the sky: aid and airlifting under way, Grant supposed.

  The doors to the darkened reception area opened slowly. Roland came out first, ducking under the half‑closed shutters, holding his bandaged hands in the air. Ralph followed just behind, limping badly. Grant saw Niko come out next, pushing a woman in a wheelchair who was slumped forward – dead or unconscious, he couldn’t tell. Finally, Robyn came out, a phone clutched in her hand. Her expression showed a mix of emotions. He saw fear and sadness, the snail‑trail of tears, but something more: strength, deep and warm, in the small smile that teased her lips.

  ‘You guys look like hell,’ Luke murmured.

  Ralph nodded. ‘Been there, got the T‑shirt.’

  ‘So, what now, Ballantyne?’ Mbato said gruffly, holding himself tall. ‘You want to kill me? Do that and your life, and your children’s lives, are over.’

  ‘They won’t kill us,’ Gerhard told him. ‘You served with Ballantyne, for God’s sake. His kind believe in infantile concepts like “good” and “justice”.’

  ‘Perhaps we’re not alone in that,’ Roland said, eyeing the helicopter in the sky.

  Grant saw now that it wasn’t a relief helicopter. It carried a news crew. A second helicopter had appeared, buzzing overhead, with a cameraman balanced on the skids.

  ‘How are they here?’ Mbato said, staring up at the sky. ‘We had a news blackout. The EMP took out the broadcast.’

  ‘Here at the studio, yes,’ Roland said.

  ‘But our friend Benni took the OB van,’ Ralph broke in. ‘It can receive broadcasts from here and transmit its own.’

  ‘And he must have driven out of range of the EMP,’ Robyn added, her face flushed. ‘Because at two o’clock, right on time, Jacaranda TV made its broadcast from the OB van!’

  Grant couldn’t yet grasp the bigger picture, but felt hope start to stir inside. ‘The CCTV footage went out?’

  ‘Fake news,’ said Mbato flatly.

  ‘Yeah. You could maybe brush that off.’ Robyn held up a phone that Grant didn’t recognise. ‘But Dad and me did a little rewiring in there. And Ralph patched in a new fibre‑optic cable to the master board thing that transmits sound and pictures from this studio.’

  Roland smiled. ‘That cable carried the signal from the security camera pointing down at you as you talked to us outside the building.’

  ‘As you boasted,’ Ralph said, defiant, looking from Mbato to Gerhard. ‘As you gloated and threatened us and shared your oh‑so‑clever plans . . .’

  ‘Tut, tut.’ Robyn’s smile was cold. ‘Looks like you missed the bigger picture.’

  Gerhard clenched his fists. ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘You’re finished.’ Robyn stalked forward and held up the phone to them.

  Even from a distance Grant could see and hear the footage of Mbato and Gerhard talking into the intercom. Zuma can see that too, he thought.

  ‘Benni only sent us an extract,’ Roland went on, ‘but thanks to Ralph’s speed at connecting the cable, most of our conversation was recorded.’

  ‘And put out nationally,’ Niko said. ‘He linked it all together himself, urging the authorities to act . . .’

  ‘And get down here to see for themselves.’ Ralph waved to a third and fourth helicopter joining the others in the sky. In the distance, there was the wail of sirens.

  The woman in the wheelchair stirred. ‘One helluva story,’ she muttered.

  Zuma had turned to her silent troops. They were watching her intently, and Grant felt a prickle of anticipation. What does this mean?

  ‘What these news crews see,’ Mbato said, ‘is their president being held at gunpoint by terrorist extremists led by Max Khumalo.’

  ‘No,’ said Zuma, stepping forward smartly. ‘I believe they see two traitors working to undermine decency and democracy in this country.’ She trained her gun on Mbato and Gerhard. ‘And so do I.’

  Grant swapped a speechless look with Robyn and Ralph, and saw they were all thinking the same thing: What?

  ‘Disobedience to orders, Zuma?’ Mbato breathed. ‘Your career just ended.’

  ‘My career ended when I complied with your unlawful orders, sir,’ Zuma said curtly. ‘I have no choice now but to –’

  Suddenly, Gerhard shoved Mbato violently from behind. Mbato fell against Roland, who with a soldier’s instincts kicked Mbato’s legs from under him and forced him flat to the ground as Zuma covered him with the gun. But Robyn’s instinct had been to dodge aside – and Gerhard snatched her wrist. She shouted in surprise and anger. Grant saw a small pistol in Gerhard’s other hand; he must have pulled it from inside his jacket.

  There was no time to react. In a heartbeat, Gerhard held Robyn in a neck lock, the pistol pressed against the back of her head.

  30

  Robyn struggled in Gerhard’s grip, but stopped when she felt the cold, hard muzzle scrape against the back of her neck.

  ‘It’s been said once today already,’ Gerhard said, ‘but I’d thank you all to lower your guns.’ Using Robyn as a human shield, he backed away towards the cover of the studio. ‘Please. No one try to play hero. It won’t end well.’

  How could I have been so stupid? Robyn thought miserably as Grant and Luke lowered their rifles and Mr van Rok did the same. We’d won! The tables were turned; the bad guys caught bang to rights. This was meant to be a happy ending.

  ‘I’m leaving,’ Gerhard went on. ‘And I’m taking the girl with me. If anyone tries to stop me, I’ll kill her.’

  Roland, one knee pinning Mbato to the ground, looked up, his hair blowing in the rotor wash of the hovering helicopters. ‘You’re many things, Gerhard, but you’re not a fool,’ he said. ‘You know the EMP fried every electronic device in the area. Short of flagging down one of those copters, where can you go?’

  ‘Oh, wait a moment, I’ll draw you a map,’ said Gerhard, jamming the gun harder against Robyn’s neck. ‘I can draw it in your daughter’s blood if you wish –’

  There was a low growl from the studio. Robyn turned her head a fraction and swivelled her eyeballs almost into her skull to get a glimpse of the source.

  Tanky stood, trembling, his head bowed, his eyes pink and dull. He snorted, and thick wet mucus bubbled out.

  Niko reacted first to the woolly rhino’s arrival; she quickly wheeled Mayeni clear, while Ralph crossed to stand beside their father. Grant and Luke each stood closer to theirs. They knew the power of the young rhino, even in his weakened state. Zuma and the soldiers just stared at this impossible beast, breathing hard in the doorway.

  ‘Perfect,’ breathed Gerhard. ‘My predasaur will create a distraction while we get clear.’

  Robyn saw Tanky lower his head. ‘He’s going to charge!’

  ‘It can’t hurt me,’ Gerhard gloated.

  ‘He’s got a data chip inside him,’ Ralph explained. ‘Stops any predasaur from getting too close.’

  ‘Except,’ said Grant, ‘the door to the limo was open when the EMP went off.’

  ‘I was still protected,’ Gerhard said. But Robyn thought she heard the slightest hint of doubt slide into his voice, a subtle harmonic that was the sweetest music to her.

  Tanky growled louder.

  ‘You’re hurting the one person who showed love for that poor animal,’ said Grant.

  Robyn nodded. ‘And you don’t control him any more!’ As she spoke, she elbowed Gerhard in the stomach with all her strength.

  He fell backwards – and the gun fired.

  Robyn winced, her ears ringing with the sound of the retort. In a second, Ralph had run to catch her, to pull her away.

  And the gunshot, to Tanky, was like a starter’s pistol. He bolted forward, charging at Gerhard. Gerhard stood his ground. He fired off two rounds before, his eyes bulging, he realised there was no stopping the thing he’d created. He turned and started to run.

  Head down, Tanky butted Gerhard in the back. Gerhard was slammed up against an old station wagon, and the rhino’s stump of a horn skewered his spine. A crimson stain spread through his expensive suit as Gerhard twitched and struggled. Then the woolly rhino sank slowly to the ground, blood oozing from the bullet wounds in its hump, and took Gerhard with it.

  Robyn ran forward to comfort Tanky, and Ralph did the same to comfort her. Gerhard turned his head to the side, eyeing them.

  ‘After all I’ve done . . . all I planned . . .’ He laughed. ‘Killed . . . by a juvenile?’

  ‘One of us was always gonna get you,’ Ralph said.

  ‘Get me?’ Gerhard sneered, as blood dribbled over his chin. ‘My team can bring a creature two hundred million years old back from the dead. How hard d’you think it will be . . . to resurrect . . . a genius . . . like me?’

  His eyes flickered shut.

  Robyn heard Grant come up behind her. ‘He’s dead,’ she said quietly. ‘Tanky?’

  ‘That vet,’ Luke said suddenly, turning to Zuma. ‘Where’s that vet? We need him!’

  Ralph couldn’t stop staring at Gerhard’s bloodied back. He’d dreamed of Gerhard dying in the most horrible ways, but now he was dead, Ralph didn’t feel anything except anger. Anger and bitterness at the scars he and his friends and family would carry for ever.

  Suddenly Roland yelled. Mbato must have been biding his time, for he had rolled over and shaken Roland free; he had fallen onto the concrete. And Mbato was already up and sprinting away.

  The world seemed to slow. Ralph ran to the assault rifle Grant had left on the ground. Fell to one knee. Picked up the weapon. His hand came under and charged it. One eye closed as he aimed and fired.

  The rattle of bullets beneath the rotor wash.

  Mbato went down hard on the concrete.

  The heel of his shoe had been shot to scraps of rubber.

  His dad’s bandaged hand hovered over Ralph’s shoulder. ‘Fine shooting.’

  ‘He can’t clear our names beyond any doubt if he’s dead,’ said Ralph. ‘Can he?’

  Zuma ran to Mbato and caught him just as he tried to rise. ‘Stay down,’ she shouted.

  ‘I’ll see you court‑martialled for this, Zuma,’ Mbato spat.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Sir.’

  Ralph followed his father over to them. By now, Zuma’s troops had recovered their weapons and had them trained on the Ballantynes. Ralph hesitated.

  ‘Stand down,’ Zuma ordered her men.

  Roland closed the distance between them. ‘Captain Zuma,’ he said, surveying the soldier.

  She’s the one who killed Xai, Ralph wanted to say, as if his father didn’t know. She did it.

  Zuma met Roland’s stare. ‘It’s over,’ she said.

  Roland looked down at Mbato, then back at her. ‘Over? Not quite,’ he said. ‘Ralph. In my shirt pocket, could you . . . ?’

  Ralph reached in. He pulled out Xai’s lighter.

  ‘I think you should take this,’ Roland told Zuma. ‘And buy yourself a good cigar.’

  Robyn knelt beside Tanky, Grant’s arm around her. The vet had done all he could, but Tanky could not be saved any more than Gerhard could.

  When the rhino’s tortured eyes had gazed up at Robyn for the final time, their redness had gone.

  They’d turned black.

  He had finally found peace.

  EPILOGUE

  Five months later

  In his bedroom at Crocodile Lodge, Ralph stared down at the old, leather‑bound book on his desk. The life story of the Ballantyne family over the centuries, written by its greatest and most notorious adventurists.

  The last words inked on the faded paper had been penned by his father, fifteen years ago, describing his time in the South Africa Recces.

  ‘The next chapter,’ Roland had suggested, ‘should be written by you . . . little rogue.’

  But the pages, even the blank ones, seemed to him as rich as they were old. Alive and almost bursting with the stories they contained. As for his own . . .

  Even now, Ralph felt like he was still processing what had happened.

  He looked out of his window over the dark forest, where animals whispered and chittered beneath the moonlight. Here, on the eve of Xai’s memorial celebration, which would be held here at the Lodge, in the land he’d given so much of his life to, the story felt almost too big to pin down in words.

  And it wasn’t just his story. He thought of everyone who would soon be gathering here. They all had their contribution to make.

  Xai’s funeral had been a quiet, socially distanced affair, but Roland had insisted that they hold a proper memorial after the pandemic, when people could honour Nqosa Xai fully and in person without distancing.

  Young Moth and Senosi were attending on behalf of the Bakho doctors who’d worked with Niko’s team. Once Gerhard’s company had been seized by the state during the investigation into Mbato and stripped of all its assets, they’d found a great deal of scientific research that proved vital in helping to perfect a vaccine and a range of treatments for the virus, saving the lives of so many people and offering hope that it would eventually be eradicated.

  Max Khumalo would be attending too – the country’s new president, Ralph reflected. After the full scale of Mbato’s misdeeds in office became known, Khumalo’s Green Freedom Party won the general election with a landslide. And one of Khumalo’s first acts had been to assure Senosi that he would pass a law permitting indigenous peoples to reclaim lands seized by the state, where they could live in safety for perpetuity.

  Ralph smiled. Just as well Khumalo did that, he thought. Moth was a damn good shot with a catapult, and it wouldn’t do to have the president sparked out in the canapés tomorrow with a lump on the back of his head.

  Of course, Grant Khumalo was coming too, but he was hardly a stranger to Crocodile Lodge these days. He and Robyn tried to protest that they were ‘just good friends’, but Ralph saw the way they looked at each other. He sensed that Roland’s nose was a little out of joint, now that Robyn turned more to Grant than to him for advice and guidance, but this change seemed to have created space for Roland’s relationship with Niko to deepen. Who knew? Perhaps a wedding might follow the memorial service . . .

  Mum would’ve been pleased, Ralph thought, that Robyn and Niko get on so much better now. His reflective mood darkened a little. And that Mbato will rot in prison for the rest of his miserable life.

  After a huge trial, which had become a media circus, the disgraced former president was settling into his new home: Pollsmoor Maximum Security Prison, where South Africa’s most dangerous criminals were held. The newly vaccinated crowds poured into the streets to celebrate as he was given consecutive life sentences for kidnap, murder and corruption, along with his trusted confidants who’d helped push through the sale of the Kruger National Park to Gerhard; they’d known what was going on and had shared in the blood‑tainted spoils. The new government had overturned the sale of the park, returning it to state control. Gerhard’s old facility, the site of so much horror and suffering, was to become a carefully managed private sanctuary for the remaining predasaurs: a place where veterinary doctors, specialists and indigenous people would work to heal the creatures and – eventually, perhaps – help manage their introduction to the African biosphere. Robyn’s skill in connecting with animals had led to the team asking her to stay involved with their rehabilitation project as it progressed. Indeed, Max Khumalo had insisted that Roland, Ralph and Robyn be present for the opening celebrations.

  Ralph hadn’t gone, though. The memory of losing Xai there was too fresh in his memory. But he was delighted when Robyn had texted to say that Max Khumalo was naming the place the Tanky Reborn Wildlife Reserve. It felt like a fitting tribute.

  Staring into space, Ralph thought of the other guests who would be joining them the next day. Many of Xai’s friends and former comrades would be there to send off the little rogue, including Frederick Yonker, who’d fought titanoboas and poachers alongside them in the Lebombo Mountains.

  Even Captain Zuma was coming to honour Xai and all those who’d fallen in the conflict their former president had brought about. She and some of her troops had testified against Mbato, telling how and when they had realised that his orders were unlawful – and she had been honoured for her bravery in standing up against him. She was a principled and honourable soldier.

  The Ballantynes had met privately with Zuma and a mediator to discuss Xai’s death, at Zuma’s request. It was one of the hardest things Ralph had ever done. They talked about what each of them had thought was true at the time, and Zuma had offered a heartfelt acknowledgement of the grief and loss her actions had caused. It hadn’t eased Ralph’s pain, but at least it had brought him some resolution. Some peace. He believed it might have done the same for Robyn and his dad too.