Spring 2009, Volume 6

Creative Nonfiction by Douglas Evered

South Africa—Drakensberg

Wedged in beside Dr. Andrea Bogdanovich as she drove her BMER at high speed into the Drakensberg Mountains, probably the last place I ever thought I’d be headed, I examined why I was there. Starting out it was because she’d invited me and I wanted to be with her alone. She is a beautiful woman and we’d hit it off, secondly she’d sold me on the attributes, natural settings and the wild life. Third, my Cousin Gwen’s husband Geoff, dean of security at the giant Sasol coal oil plant, wanted me to keep an eye on her. He was worrying, fearing she was in danger and that I could help protect her. That was why he’d equipped me with a gun, the kind that fit into a holster strapped to my calf.

I fell in love with the Drakensberg Mountains, Dragons Caverns, so named by the Boers, there were so many caves with magnificent drawings, put there by Bushmen long before the Zulus arrived. They named the black, sharp mountain ridges, Barriers of Spears, since they sprang suddenly out of the green slopes. There’d been lots of blood spilled on the mountains. The warlike Zulu King, Shaka, used his Impalas to totally dominate the slopes beneath the peaks, killing people who tried to settle on the fertile land. The Boers on their trek north from the Cape provoked him. He sent his Impalas to wipe out their settlements, desperate; they sought help from the British at the Cape of Good Hope, who sent their regiments. The Zulu Wars ensued with many casualties for the British, Boers and Zulus, who using spears and knobkies, were unable to compete against rifles.

Andrea and I settled into her favorite resort and although the snow season was over, even at the twelve thousand foot level, there were other attractions, among them the second highest waterfall in the world. We rented a Jeep and toured the back country along the way looking for the Eland, a very large deer, the size of a buffalo. The herds moved up and down the mountain slopes following the rains and the grassland. The slopes of the Dragensberg had become large farms owned by Boers and English settlers.

The unspoiled beauty became a favorite spot for South Africans. Andrea was particularly fond of the high ranges. Some reaching twelve thousand feet and getting enough snowfall to make for good skiing. Andrea loved the remoteness of the Drakensberg even during its short skiing season. We’d driven, rather she’d driven her BMW, fast, up from the coast, and we’d settled in for a stay in her favorite hotel, noted for its wines. The ski season was over but we could roam around back country in hope of sighting an Eland herd. After a couple of outings we realized those elusive creatures were hard to catch, even to glimpse, so we hired a guide. With his knowledge he took us to a high vantage point where we looked down on a herd of forty or fifty magnificent Eland.

We were in a hot romance and while we had no idea where it was leading, that was fine, one day at a time. My concern about being overtaken by my Chinese pursuers no longer kept me awake and I felt free to rebuild my life, I could contemplate settling down. I had told Andrea about my attempts to evade the enemies I’d made back in the States. She wanted to look favorably on my antics but was skeptical, thinking I could have handled the jade issue more wisely. Nevertheless she was caught up in the heat of passion; a case of love is blind. She was also at the center of her own storm, one centered on her work as Chief Scientist at Sasol, the giant coal oil plant.

My Cousin Gwen’s husband, Geoff, Dean of Security Services at Sasol, was very concerned about Andrea’s safety. He believed she was at risk if the flow of oil from Sasol was curtailed. Large deposits of cheap coal were being refined into oil in a very profitable manner. If she succeeded in dealing with the CO2 issue it could make or break Sasol’s future. Sasol could use her formula themselves and sell the process. Her papers and presentations at international conferences dealing with CO2 were troublesome. Then again our romance might deflect her crusade. I saw that as a possibility.

Pillow talk had us share stories about our backgrounds, she a Yugoslav child, was sent to study in Germany and learned about the coal-oil process. She was invited to join the team of scientists working on the government SASOL project. Clearly she excelled in the technology but became obsessed with the CO2 issue. She did a good job of convincing me about the perils of greenhouse gases. I told her about growing in England, being caught up in the war, a PT boat skipper, years in India, some secret stuff, being offered opportunities in the US, escaping from bad guys and moving around and arriving in South Africa to be greeted by relatives.

Mostly, I wanted to help protect her from bad guys. Others had the same interest and I saw them at work. A couple of guests, they were hanging around, unobtrusively, but obvious to my trained eye. Amid the concern, Andrea and I continued our honeymoon pleasures. Coming back from one of our outings, the desk clerk caught Andrea’s attention, handing her a message slip. She handed it to me. It was very short, just four words from Geoff, ‘The Russian has flown.’

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“We should call and find out.”

Geoff came on the line, “He disappeared after breaking into Andrea’s lab, taking the contents of her secure files. I’d like you to come back and help us access the damage. Meanwhile we are in a lockdown at exit points around the country, hoping we’ll catch him.”

“Shall we leave now?”

“Soon as you pack and pay the bill.”

“Geoff, we’ll be out of here this afternoon.”

We got under way soon after he hung up, anxious about the trouble ahead.

“Andrea, what could he find of value?”

“Data on methods of dealing with CO2. Some quite promising, one about to be tested with a large scale pilot program.”

“Would bad guys try to jump the gun on your experiment with a similar idea if they had you on their team, willingly or as a captive?”

“I think that’s what Geoff worries about, that I might be kidnapped.”

I wrote a note and sent it over to the two fellows I thought were Federal Security Agents. It said, ‘We’re heading south at four”. I thought they’d follow and they did.

Up ahead on a lonely stretch of veldt we saw a flashing light. Men in uniforms stood outside a police car and slowed us to a stop.

“We got a report that the car you’re driving is stolen. You have to get out and show us your papers.”

I reached down and carefully eased the pistol out of its holster. I whispered to Andrea, “When I say go, drive around them and go like hell, I’ll cover our escape; they’re here to kidnap you, part of the plot.”

As they walked over towards the driver’s side door I said “Go!” and she did, the BMW was right for the job. Looking back I saw the FSA guys coming up to scene, they would deal with the kidnapping attempt.

The road across the veldt was straight and little traveled, ninety was an easy pace. After putting in about a hundred miles, we stopped for food and petrol. I called Geoff and told him about our encounter with the fake police. He already knew about the incident and wanted us back into a secure location. A police car, a real one that is, met with us close to Sasol and escorted us in. Andrea was shaken by the experience, while I felt a surge of excitement.

I was anxious to learn the Russian’s whereabouts and an assessment of what he’d taken from Andrea’s laboratory. Andrea still had not told me details of the experiment but I worried that vital information has been taken. She was well-guarded in her house that night and I stayed in Geoff’s on-site condo.

“Sounds like she’s really onto something in her search for a CO2 solution.”

Geoff nodded “Truth is I don’t know, nobody seems to know and she’s been left alone but I suspect the bad guys think she’s closing in on how to do the big job, getting rid of the CO2, and they want her to work on their parallel approach. I think they’re a bad bunch ready to use any means. Can I count on you to stay close to her? Of course, we’ll have our top notch guys guarding. If need be, you’re approved to use lethal force. It’s believed in our higher circles that you know how to deal with bad guys. Are you willing?”

“You bet, I probably should move in.”

He smiled, “I’m not surprised.”

If caught, the Russian could lead us to the people wanting to get Andrea. I packed my bag and had Geoff drop me off at her place. She was glad and welcomed me, believing that I had skills in hard matters. The next morning we went to her laboratory to see what had been taken. A number of files were missing including the one dealing with the test planned. I glanced through a copy of the plans and saw references to iron filings. Apparently CO2 gas was to be filtered through a bed of heated iron filings. A chemical interaction would take place altering the CO2 atoms which would have them sink to the ocean floor, harmless. Apparently seventy percent of the CO2 put into the earth’s atmosphere falls into the ocean, destroying marine life, the sustenance of most of the world’s population. The idea sounded good, but not practical on a large scale in my opinion.

Andrea was consumed by the belief that she could save the world, clearly wanting me to share that view. Her extreme ideas began to bother me and I began looking for other viewpoints. An article, among many, by an Australian scientist entitled ‘Sorry to ruin the fun, but an ice age cometh,’ caught my attention. Apparently, many shared this view and were reporting that earth’s temperature was remaining steady or declining. A close correlation between sunspots cycles and the Earth’s climate also supported the belief that an ice age was coming.

Geoff called to tell me that the Russian had been caught at a border crossing, tried to escape, and had died during interrogation, not surprising, knowing the regime. He was working for an Arab oil company.

I’d stay until the all-important test was run, but moving-on was now in the back of my mind.


BIO:  “I am Douglas Evered, I like words. I put them into poetry, fiction and biography (mine). I'm in the Library of Congress like a tree falling in the forest. I'm old but still out there among the animals. Aging is best met by keep moving, I do.”