My internal compass told me we had made a turn to the West, even if my driver didn't tell me. I cracked my left eye open - the one away from Bogani - we definitely weren't headed to Malesbury. The flatlands were covered with low, dry vegetation with mighty hills in the distance. I'd been in this type of situation before and knew I could handle myself. That was, until the vehicle came to a screeching stop  as 3 trucks raced onto the road from behind the brush to stop us. As assortment of vz. 58's made their appearance as a motley group of "gentlemen" exited the trucks. Things had just taken an interesting turn...  

The plane touched down in Cape Town and I chuckled to myself, Alu had thought of everything. I exited near a logistics building rather than the main terminal. Fewer questions that way. A stout young man introduced himself as Bongani and ushered me through a chain link fence gate and towards an old Range Rover...a '67 I guessed. My bags, hastily packed back home were brought up and unceremoniously dumped in the back of the vehicle. I didn't expect anything different. He told me our trip was about 59 klicks north as we started out on the M7. I was excited, but needed to get some shuteye. Bongani wasn't much company as he idly hummed a tune called Sarie_Marais. I pulled my Ball Cap down over my eyes dozed lightly.  

          

The phone rang. It was 3am. A raspy voice on the other end that I immediately recognized as Alu, a South African scout I've known for some 20-odd years tells me to get there as soon as I can. I bolted up in bed, my head swimming..."He's found it!", my brain exclaimed. "Gimme 24 hours, maybe a little less", I told him, "People owe me a few favors". I hung up, wasted no time in grabbing a few essentials. Now, somewhere nearing the Equator I have a few minutes to write...my trusty Belem backpack at my feet and my eyes staring out towards what will be Cape Town and touch down...