On the first night of the seventh week, Harris and the team arrived at Maun Airport aboard two buses rented from the training camp. They spent the night in a hangar located in a secluded corner of the tarmac.
To reduce weight, the African recruits carried no luggage. Only Semler brought a travel bag, which contained a satellite phone, an SDU-5E signal light, a few flares of various colors, and pull-trigger signal flares.
As when they first came to Botswana, their mode of transport was the same DC-6 cargo plane. The vintage propeller plane sat in the hangar, where they waited in the hot, stifling space, surrounded by anxiety, frustration, and other negative emotions, until Harris finally received the much-anticipated call at 7 a.m.
Shortly after the DC-6, carrying the hundred men, lifted off, an An-26 transport plane carrying Du Preez and three inflatable boats landed at Ivato International Airport.
Du Preez called the two pilots to a secluded corner of the tarmac, introduced them to Deng Shiyang, their “boss,” and explained the nature of the cargo to be transported to Madagascar.
The captain, a tall, heavyset middle-aged white man with a rough, red face that made him look more like a seasoned sailor than a pilot, listened silently to Du Preez, then spoke with some unease, “I’ve smuggled cigarettes and liquor, and even carried currency and gold bars on the side, but I’ve never dealt with drugs or weapons.”
“This cargo is entirely legal,” Deng Shiyang replied. “Though it wasn’t purchased here, the Malagasy government knows exactly what’s in these crates and has approved the transshipment. We have exit permits and all the necessary paperwork—not forged, nor obtained through bribes.”
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“That’s only here, though. What about our destination?”
“No need to worry about that. We won’t be landing in the country that’s set to receive this shipment of arms. After we depart from Antananarivo, you’ll just unload the cargo at a transit location, then fly back to South Africa empty.”
“Where will we unload?”
“Europa Island.”
“No way.” The captain’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Disputed or not, that island is still French territory. A plane from Madagascar landing there will definitely get inspected, and if the French find these weapons, I’m finished.”
“We’ve already arranged for that. There’s no reason for you to worry—I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life in Clairvaux Prison.”
At that, the captain scrutinized Deng Shiyang’s face, seemingly searching for a hint of uncertainty. After a long pause, he asked, “What exactly do you plan to do?”
Deng Shiyang smiled and replied, “That’s not something I can disclose, but I assure you there won’t be any problems.”
For the next hour, the two sides haggled until Deng Shiyang finally agreed to an additional payment of $10,000. Right there, he logged into his online banking account on his laptop and transferred $5,000 to the two pilots’ accounts, with the remaining half to be paid upon unloading.
After reassuring the pilots, Deng Shiyang sought out Lambert and spoke quietly with the visibly impatient customs officer. Soon, the loading process began.
At 10:15 a.m., over a dozen crates containing rifles, magazines, and maintenance tools were brought to the tarmac on an airport cargo trolley, then loaded into the cargo hold via the An-26’s ramped tailgate. Du Preez randomly selected five crates, opening each one to confirm the contents were indeed what they had ordered, rather than scrap tractor parts—this kind of trick was all too common in arms deals.
After verifying the crates, Du Preez stepped to the tailgate and signaled “all clear” to the outside. Seeing this, Deng Shiyang handed the shipping documents to Lambert, said a few words of thanks, and shook hands with him in farewell.
Watching Lambert pulling along a customs officer whose face was lit with smug satisfaction to leave, Deng Shiyang picked up his luggage and boarded the plane.