The Bloodhounds Bark (eBook)

An SA Police Series Suspense Story, Book 3

Gerrie Radlof, Pieter Haasbroek (Autoren)

Pieter Haasbroek (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
110 Seiten
Pieter Haasbroek (Verlag)
9780001021594 (ISBN)

Infos

A single gunshot shatters the midnight silence.

A guard is dead and a nation's defense secrets are stolen.

For Detective Kobus Roode, the trail of a killer leads deep into the South African wilderness... where a far deadlier conspiracy lies in wait.

In the rugged, untamed bushveld of the North-West Transvaal, Detective Sergeant Kobus Roode, a man more at home in the wild than the city, is on the hunt. His target is Albert Goernich, a ruthless spy who has stolen the nation's most sensitive military secrets and will kill anyone who gets in his way.

But as the chase deepens, Roode discovers the stolen data is only one piece of a terrifying puzzle. A hidden base, a deadly conspiracy, and an innocent woman's life hang in the balance. Failure means more than letting a killer escape. It means leaving his country vulnerable to an invisible enemy with the power to launch a devastating attack from the shadows.

A relentless page-turner of espionage, action, and suspense, this novel combines the classic adventure of a wilderness manhunt with the high-stakes tension of a modern spy thriller. Perfect for fans of Lee Child, Alistair MacLean, and pulse-pounding mystery.

The chase is on! The Bloodhounds Bark unleashes the thrilling third chapter in the SA Police Series, delivering an explosive mix of pulp, action, and mystery. For fans who crave relentless pursuit, your next adrenaline rush starts now.

Textauszug

3. THE BLOODHOUNDS BARK

Chapter 1

THE FIRST SHOT

Albert Goernich folded the ledger neatly. Then he picked it up, along with the few other documents he had spread out on the desktop, and swept the flashlight’s single, powerful beam before him towards the small safe against the wall. He slid the documents inside and pushed the heavy door shut. He spun the knob with its numerous small numerals a few times in rapid succession and then moved noiselessly across the thick carpet to the passage door.

Here, he listened attentively for a moment. All was quiet in the large house, and he quickly opened the door. It swung back without a creak, and he stepped out into the passage as soon as he had ascertained that it was still dark. The flashlight’s beam traced an arc against the opposite wall towards the lower end of the passage. Then he switched it off while pulling the door closed behind him, once more feeling in his pocket to ensure the small camera was secure. His right hand slid into his jacket pocket and he drew out the heavy revolver with the silencer.

Even before he realised that the passage was suddenly brightly lit, he heard the click of the switch. He drew a sharp breath as he swung around and saw the man standing at the upper end of the passage.

“What are you doing there?” the question came sharply.

Albert Goernich’s eyes followed the man’s hand as it moved with lightning speed towards the leather holster on his hip, beneath his jacket. Without hesitation, he took careful aim with an outstretched arm.

“Are you…!” The man’s words died on his lips. He tried to leap aside, but his features slackened and, in the same motion, he struck the wall and slid down to the floor.

Somewhere in one of the rooms leading off the passage, Goernich heard footsteps. He spun around and sprinted down the passage to the top of the stairs. Here, he switched on the flashlight which he still held in his left hand and, with the sharp light of the thin yellow beam preceding him, he bounded down the stairs three at a time. He sped through the large entrance hall towards the front door. Behind him, he heard a startled cry and then heavy footsteps.

“Brent… Brent’s been shot!”

He threw back the bolt and yanked on the handle. The door swung inwards.

“There’s someone at the front door!” The words echoed loudly down the stairs and in his ears.

He stormed across the stoep and down the long driveway towards the street gate. The gravel crunched under his shoes.

As he wrenched the gate open and ran out onto the sidewalk, a shot rang out from the stoep. A bullet sang past a good few paces away from him and struck the wooden trellis on the other side of the street. Then there were footsteps on the driveway behind him.

He ran along the sidewalk and around the first corner. His car was parked about a hundred paces from there, on the opposite side of the road. He had not locked the front passenger door. He was slightly out of breath as he slid behind the steering wheel, and his left hand trembled lightly as he fumbled for the ignition.

His hands and feet moved quickly and precisely through the necessary sequence of motions to start the car. Automatically, he also pulled the knob to switch on the lights. As the tyres of the heavy, black Jaguar shrieked on the tar, he pushed the light switch back in. At the same time, he glanced in the small mirror and saw the dim figure of a man down at the street corner. It was possible that he could have seen the car’s number plate in those few moments the lights were on.

Albert Goernich muttered under his breath. He had known, after all, that someone was following him and that the man would reach the corner before he could pull away. It had been foolish to switch on the lights.

He cut around the first corner and shifted into top gear. Then he leaned back slightly against the cushion and relaxed. It did not matter much. He ought to be over the rise and in Pretoria-Noord before a call could reach the police patrol cars. After that, the road northwards lay open before him, and he doubted whether anyone would happen to see him so late at night.

The speedometer touched eighty every now and then, but he deliberately drove no faster. Haste could draw the attention of an officer of the law on his rounds. The powerful car glided silently through the streets, and only the singing of the tyres was audible.

Albert Goernich sighed. It was a pity that he had encountered this unexpected setback at a moment when his great task was, so to speak, complete. During the months of preparation, which had often tested his patience, every possibility and detail had been taken into account. The habits of everyone in that large house had been meticulously studied. Notes had been made of regular visitors, and all announcements from the Department of Defence had been closely monitored. Information had been obtained or purchased from numerous sources and, in the end, it was almost a matter of simply walking in, unlocking the small safe against the wall, of which he knew the secret combination, and photographing the documents.

Again, his hand slid to his left jacket pocket where the small apparatus rested. On the thin black spool were prints of documents with information on every military station, magazine, and other defence points of interest, and maps indicating their locations.

It had been his assignment to get his hands on this data, and he had succeeded completely. The success of his undertaking would have been so perfect that no one in the world besides himself and his collaborators would have known about it, were it not for the unexpected appearance of the man in the passage! From the revolver in the holster on his hip, Goernich had deduced that he must have been a guard, posted on duty there without the knowledge of those from whom he had received his information. He ought to have prepared himself for such a possibility, for it is seldom that such a complete summary of the country’s defence measures is gathered in one place.

But Albert Goernich did not reproach himself for the oversight. They would never dream that he had had access to the safe in the wall. If they opened it, they would find the documents and maps there, just as they had been left. The only conclusion they could possibly reach was that he might have been trying to get to the information, but that he had not succeeded, and that the guard had come upon him in time.

There was thus no doubt that he had indeed succeeded in his task. He smiled. Rayder Brön was not yet halfway with his work, but he would not be able to keep Albert here any longer. His part of the job was done. In any case, he was tired of the soulless existence in the wilderness. In a few days, he should be out of this country and on his way back to relax and rest for a time, the earned reward that was his due. After this, he should be held in high esteem in the Service, and next time he would most likely not just have to do part of the dirty work, but would be in charge of an enterprise, just as Rayder Brön was in this case.

The Jaguar’s powerful headlights threw a large white patch against the cool haze of the night. On either side of him, bushes, fences, and telephone poles swept past in an unbroken grey streak. The speedometer touched ninety.

Albert Goernich lit a cigarette. During the excitement of the past few hours, he had completely forgotten to smoke. He took a deep drag and then his eyes drifted to the speedometer.

He had crossed the Pienaarsrivier a little while ago and should now be passing through Warmbad at any moment.

When he saw the lights of the town ahead, he took his foot off the accelerator. He knew how it was in these small places. There might just be a constable on night duty who would think nothing of noting his number if he sped through the streets at a dangerous velocity. In any case, he did not want to draw any attention to the car, as Dreyer Jantz still had to take it through to Pietersburg that night, where the number plates would be changed.

He saw the small police station on his left. Under the blue lamp on the stoep, and in the glow of an electric light shining through the open door, stood two constables. They were looking in his direction, but he assumed it was merely curiosity born of the boredom of their long hours of night duty. Directly opposite the stoep, he saw movement to his left. He glanced briefly in that direction and then he also heard one of the constables call out. The man waved and ran into the street towards him.

Albert Goernich drove on at his ease, without accelerating or reducing his speed. As soon as he turned left onto the Nylstroom road, he pressed the accelerator flat against the floorboards. The Jaguar lurched forward and shot through the night.

There was a frown on Goernich’s forehead. He tried to analyse the constable’s actions. Perhaps the fellow wanted to draw his attention to something; maybe one of the lights was out. He pushed the light switch in and immediately pulled it out again. They were both working.

Then it dawned on him that the man who had pursued him from the house had indeed seen the number. The police in Warmbad had obviously been notified, and that would mean the road ahead could now be blocked for him.

The Warmbad police would immediately telephone Nylstroom and they would intercept him. If only he could get through the town, no police car would catch him before he reached his destination…

Suddenly, Albert Goernich swore loudly. If it were indeed the case that the Jaguar’s number would now be used to notify Pretoria that the car was heading in that direction, Goernich’s plans would be completely thrown...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 18.9.2025
• Übersetzer: Pieter Haasbroek, Ai
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-13: 9780001021594 / 9780001021594