Night Of Knives

Chapter 38

As far as Veronica can tell from the skid marks and trail of debris, the falling Suzuki smashed nosefirst into the road about ten feet in front of the black Land Rover. The Land Rover hit the carcass of the Suzuki, then skidded across the road and away from the cliff, taking the Suzuki with it, until both collided with a big tree and their intermingled remains bounced halfway back onto the road again. Whatever vehicle was following the Land Rover collided with this mangled wreckage, spun off the road, and tumbled down the steep slope, scraping and flattened a rough trail through the vegetation and small trees beneath the road before disappearing into denser bush. The third collision knocked the Suzuki and Land Rover back to the edge of the road, which, amazingly, is still navigable, although dusted with shards of twisted metal and broken glass. The air above this debris is warped with sizzling heat.

Veronica stares amazed and triumphant at this field of wreckage and fragments. It reminds her a little of the scrapyard in Kampala. She can smell oil and seared metal. It's hard to fathom that she and Lovemore caused all this destruction themselves, just by sending a small car over a forty-foot cliff. It looks like a bomb has gone off. There is something beautiful about it. She has a new and sudden understanding of the allure of wanton destruction.

"We must go down," Lovemore says. "We must be certain."

Veronica knows it is dangerous, but part of her actually wants to inspect her demolition handiwork in greater detail. They scrabble back through the bush to the dirt road and down to the asphalt. The naked blade of the Leatherman glints in Lovemore's fist. He cleaned it after killing the Suzuki's driver, but it is still spotted with blood.

The Land Rover is upside down, and crumpled on all sides, but surprisingly intact. She doesn't recognize the driver, or the uniformed man in the passenger seat, both of whom lie motionless. But the two men in the back are Casimir and Athanase. They were not wearing seat belts. Blood flows freely from their heads, jagged bone protrudes from Athanase's arm, and they lie slumped together on the ceiling of the inverted Land Rover, but Veronica can tell by the movement of their chests that both are still alive.

She walks around the vehicle. The tank has ruptured, and gasoline is trickling out from the Land Rover and down the slope, forming little pools and rivulets. Its occupants are lucky nothing has struck a spark. The smell of oil is intense. The back window is intact, and Veronica sees two shining metal containers within, etched with Cyrillic inscriptions. She looks up at Lovemore. Then, almost in slow motion, her hand dips into a side pocket of her cargo pants, and emerges holding her Zippo lighter.

He nods. They back away from the ruins of the Land Rover to the shelter of a nearby tree. She sees Casimir, the man who murdered Derek, begin to stir within, to disentangle himself from Athanase. Veronica ignites the flame of her Zippo and tosses it gently, underhand, towards the shimmering pool of gasoline just outside the Land Rover's ruptured gas tank.

It's not like Hollywood, the vehicle does not explode, but the gas goes up immediately with a loud whoosh. Heavy, black smoke billows up, quickly obscuring the Land Rover. Even at this distance the fire is searingly hot and after only a few seconds they have to move further away. It occurs to Veronica that there are missiles full of high explosive within the Land Rover. She wonders if fire alone will be enough to set them off.

"We have to hurry," she says. "Come on."

She leads Lovemore down the bush, following the trail of flattened bushes and broken trees. The vehicle is a black BMW, and it must have tumbled, it lies propped at a 45-degree angle against a big tree with its tires in the air. It is not as battered as the Land Rover, and all its windows are intact. Veronica supposes they're bulletproof. All its air bags have deployed. Again she doesn't know the driver, but she recognizes Susan in the passenger seat by her long blonde hair, now bloodstreaked. The passenger door is a dented concavity. There is no one else in the car. One of the back doors has crumpled shut, but the other has been opened.