2 Game Drive (9 page)

“W
ell, what do you think of South Africa, Sidney, now that you have left proper civilization behind in Cape Town?”

He took my arm and guided me down the steps and along the moonlit path.

My surprise at seeing him again and learning his identity had left me speechless.

“Is it as you expected?” he asked. “Do you like Leopard Dance?”

“I do, I really do. Very much. It is interesting, and so beautiful. I can see why you have chosen to live your life here.”

“Can you now?” he said, smiling, “I wonder. And how do you know how I live my life? You know nothing about me. We’ve only just met. Careful there, love, don’t trip.”

He pointed his light on a protruding root in the dirt path, then slipped an arm around my waist as if to guide me around it.

“Well. I don’t know how you l-live, of course,” I stammered, “I don’t really. I mean, I couldn’t, could I? But I think it must be wonderful to own and run a camp like this, even with all the danger from the animals.”

“It is very satisfying, that’s what it is. And danger is always exhilarating. Always. Life here may seem somewhat monotonous, once you have settled into our routine, but I can assure you that it is not. Much more goes on here than is apparent. There is far more to Africa than lions and tourist camps.”

Just then there was a rustle in the brush ahead. He stopped abruptly and pushed me behind him. Turning his light in the direction of the sound, he pulled a pistol from his coat pocket.

An antelope crossed the path on front of us. It paused to look at us for a long moment, and then bolted.

I didn’t move, staying where he had placed me behind him until the sound of the fleeing animal died away.

“You can come out now. It’s safe,” he laughed, turning to face me, slipping the gun back in his pocket and switching off the light.

“You look beautiful in the moonlight, Sidney, and just as frightened as that gazelle. Relax, lady. There is nothing to fear when you are with me.”

Isn’t there?
I thought.
I wonder.

“Come,” he said, putting his arm around my bare shoulders and guiding me on down the path. “Let’s just stop in at your hut and leave a note for Mr. Wilson. Then I will take you to my house, offer you a nightcap, and show you how one really lives in Africa.”

Yes!
I thought.
Oh, yeah
.

But it was not to be. Not that night, anyway, because we were met at my door by Felix, with his big rifle.

“Henrik, there is trouble! You must come, come quick. They need you at the guard house.” He burst into a torrent of Bantu.

“Thank you Felix,” van der Brugge said in English. “I will be right with you. You go along now. Tell the others I am coming.”

He unlocked my door for me as Felix ran back down the path. Then he smiled as he said goodbye, with a twinkle in those green eyes of his.

“Ah, well, dear
Sidney, it seems that work must come before pleasure. As you heard, there seems to be a bit of a problem that I must handle. Duty calls. Go inside now, and lock the door. Get some rest. We will have to postpone your tour of my house until another time. Sleep well, love.”

And with that he was gone, striding away into the darkness.

A
snuffling sound woke me just before morning, and I lay quietly in the splendor of my luxurious bed, trying to decide if it was just one of Jay’s exotic night sounds or a reason for alarm. I remained completely still, in the dark, listening.

There had been nothing quiet about Jay’s return to our hut sometime after midnight. I had heard him singing on the path long before Felix helped him through the door. I pretended to be asleep, though that would have been difficult with him crashing around the room and cursing as he became tangled up in the mosquito netting while trying to climb into his bed.

In the predawn light I couldn’t see Jay at all. The white mosquito nets draping my bed and his were too thick. I was reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of my lovely nest to solve the mystery of the noise.

The snuffling sound grew louder. I decided that the sound was headed our way and seemed to be coming from right outside of Hut No. 1, on the
river side.

Louder. Closer. And closer still.

Curiosity won out. I couldn’t stand it. I had to know what was out there.

I had left the sliding wooden shutters closed and latched on the
river side with the glass panels open so the evening breeze could pass through. The latch was stout. Jay had tested it when we first arrived, putting his full weight against it. I didn’t think anyone or anything could open that lock from the outside.

I parted the netting, slipped out of bed, tiptoed across the floor, and peeped out through the louvers.

The eastern sky was getting lighter, and a big bull elephant was standing just to one side of our deck. His trunk made a slurping sound as he drank from a little pool of water in the mostly dry riverbed.

“Well, hello there, big boy,” I whispered. “Are you going to come see us every morning? You must like Hut No. 1.”

Awed by his size and the delicacy of his movements, I watched him until he quietly moved off down the riverbed, sipping from the puddles in the first gray light of dawn.

It is shocking how quietly an elephant walks. You would think they would make great thuds when they move because of their size, but that is not true. You only really hear thuds when they cross something like a wooden bridge. Elephants make crashing sounds, of course, when they break something by stepping on it, but their footsteps alone are quiet.

Now fully awake, I silently slid my drawer open and pulled pants and a fleece on over my pajamas. Then I unlocked the latch, softly slid the glass wall open, and stepped out onto the little deck. Our elephant friend had left us more large brown souvenirs, but he was no longer in sight. The only sounds now were birdcalls and the chatter of monkeys.

I stood quietly, watching and waiting to see if we would have more visitors. The dry riverbed seemed to be a main thoroughfare.

Peering into the early morning mist, I let my thoughts drift back to my evening stroll through the dark night with van der Brugge’s arm around my shoulders. The mere memory of his nearness caused me to shiver. That stroll had ended way too soon, as far as I was concerned, when Felix called him away from my doorway.

The monkeys fell suddenly silent, bringing me out of my reverie. From up the riverbed, a beam of light from a flashlight appeared around the bend. I saw the lone figure of a man approaching. He walked quickly, but even so, he seemed to be looking for something or someone
. He didn’t point the light directly in front of him as he walked, but swung it side to side in constant motion.

I stepped back into the shadows just as the man passed below our deck. I didn’t know who he was, but I had seen him before, in the moonlit garden of the Mount Nelson Hotel in Cape Town. I recognized him as the short, powerful black man who had been engaged in intense conversation with a certain tall handsome Afrikaner. This time, instead of an expensive suit, he wore camo.

Now what is he doing here? I thought. Does he work here? What is going on? Is he following us or are we following him? And who is he?

He walked with purpose, and was shining his powerful light along the riverbed and up into the overhanging tree branches. I watched in silence as he headed toward the center of camp. He was walking in the direction of the dining pavilion.

A sudden flash of light from Hut No. 2 next door startled the man and caused him to walk faster and move from the middle of the riverbed to the side. There the overhanging branches and vines mostly hid him from view. He paused for a while, standing still under the cover of the bank, as if trying to pinpoint the source of the flash. A peal of giggles and another flash confirmed the photographer’s location, and for me, her identity. It was Wendy, with her ever-present camera and constant tittering.

The man moved quickly on, this time without his light, staying near the over-hanging earthen ledge. In seconds, he was out of sight.

Guess he didn
’
t like Wendy taking his picture, I thought.

Hands gripped my shoulders and I jumped and shrieked and then swore. Jay, delighted at having succeeded in
frightening me, shouted a laugh.

“Gotcha that time, didn’t I, Sid? What did you think had you? A big gorilla or something? What do you think you are doing out here before sunrise anyway? Tai chi in the jungle?”

I didn’t answer and he followed me back inside, sliding the glass panel closed and locking it.

“Are you still mad about last night Sidney?” he asked, now contrite. “I’m sorry if you are. I don’t know what got into me. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You
bet
I am, funny boy. Yes, you scared the hell out of me. You
are
a big ape. And yes, you hurt my feelings last night. But that’s okay because I’ll get you back eventually. What goes around comes around, remember?”

“Well, you
ought
to be scared, girl, being out on the deck in the dark by yourself like that. What if it wasn’t me? It could have been something big and bad, like that hungry leopard from last night. You’re just lucky it was only me, Sidney. No telling what might have gotten you out there by yourself if I hadn’t woken up and come to find you. I said I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. I feel bad about you having to walk back to the hut all alone last night. Like I said, I don’t know what got into me. I just got carried away.”

“I didn’t walk back alone.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t alone. Henrik van der Brugge walked me to the hut.”

“The owner of Leopard Dance?”

“Yes, and he turned out to be the same guy I met on top of Table Mountain. Remember, the one you said I better be careful of?”

“No kidding? Well, that’s still good advice, Sidney, because that also means that he is the guy you saw in the hotel garden with the dead man. We don’t know how that came out, do we, only that it was foul play and definitely not a heart attack. My advice stands. You know what your mother would say, babe.”

“I know, I know, the Marsh Curse—her catchall explanation of why the women on my father’s side of the family always hook up with losers. I’m tired of hearing about that.”

“Well, curse or no curse, most of the guys you pick out are the pits. Except, I guess, for sailor-boy, your ship captain, Captain Vargos. He
might not
be a loser.”

“Never mind about him, Jay, that’s none of your business. Boundaries, Jay, remember?
Boundaries.”

“Please. You are so touchy! Now don’t be in a snit. We have our whole day ahead of us. Our coffee’s coming and it will soon be time to head out.”

“You said last night that you weren’t going on any more game drives, Mr. Yellow Britches. I thought you were going to stay in camp from now on with Chase. He announced last night that he is not going on any more game drives, either. He said he was going to spend all the rest of his time guarding the pool and the spa.”

“Well, that was last night, in the dark, with blood on the path and all. This is today. The sun’s coming up. Daytime is okay. I can see stuff and run in the daylight. I just don’t like that night business with wild animals sneaking around sniffing for you when you can’t see them, hoping for a snack. And I still say that I do not like cocktails out in the open like that, either. I like my bars with walls. But it’s almost morning now and I’m going on the game drive, okay? So give me a smile and let’s get moving. It’s almost time to leave.”

* * *

We boarded the safari vehicles just after dawn. Jay rode in front by Vincent, with Connie and me next, and Fernando and George in the rear.
Anthony was the game spotter for the day, riding in the usual seat on the left fender.

“No Dennis this morning either, George? Where’s Dennis?” I asked as we roared off into the mist.

George looked as if his head hurt. He was wearing big, dark sunglasses, although it was barely light. His hat was pulled down low over his glasses and the collar of his jacket was turned up against the cold. The trucks all had their headlights on. Our Land Rover was the lead vehicle leaving camp, with the others following.

“No Dennis today or last night either,” he said. “He never came back. Thank you for asking. I
said something this morning to the camp people but they were busy. No one seemed to know anything about him or be too concerned, so why should I be? He’s not my responsibility. He doesn’t like me any better than I like him. Maybe he asked to be moved to another room. Enough already. I don’t want to think about Dennis. I don’t want to spoil my morning.”

I thought of the sight of Dennis, marching along the riverbed, clearly on a mission. Had he left camp then for good? Had he marched all the way back to the airport at
Hoedspruit?

I wondered if the others
shared my curiosity about Dennis’s whereabouts. I didn’t think so, because if they had any concerns about him, they weren’t voicing them. Maybe George was right—Rebecca had reassigned him. That still didn’t explain why he was absent from the morning game drive.

We all lapsed into silence. As before, conversation
became difficult at the speed we were traveling because of the wind. We had left the camp drive and were rocketing down the main road. It was quite cold and everyone was huddled in their blankets.

There was nothing to see really, as we rushed through the crisp morning. I didn’t know where we were headed or why we were going so fast. Vincent had not shared the plan with us, as usual, or even said hello. He certainly was not the chatty type.

Without warning, we lurched off the road, bounced through a shallow ditch, plunged onto a faint track through the thorn bushes, and then skidded down the sandy bank into the dry riverbed itself before rolling to a stop. The other vehicles followed.

“What the hell ...” Jay sputtered.

“Quiet,” Vincent said, waving his arm to silence us. “Quiet everyone. Do not make a sound. We seek the leopard in his home. A spotter reported seeing him headed in this direction less than an hour ago.”

“Oh God,” Jay whispered.

Vincent put the Land Rover in gear and we slowly, silently, rolled forward, with all of us scanning the trees that overhung the river bank.

With the wheels barely turning, we crept along in the first light of dawn, looking upwards. Jerome used his powerful light on the branches, playing it back and forth, shining it first on one side, then the other.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Vincent reached for his rifle with the other, laid it across his lap, and clicked off the safety.

I hoped Jay wasn’t going to faint. He was certainly hyperventilating.

“The leopard waits and watches from the limbs of the trees,” Vincent said softly. “When he sees something he likes, he leaps from the branch onto his prey and picks it.”

Jay blanched and shuddered. I could tell he was terrified. I looked up at him, hoping he wasn’t going to yammy all over the
jeep. He looked as if he might.

“There,” Jerome whispered, pointing ahead at a large tree. “He is there.”

Jerome swung the light around, fixing on the branches ahead. Just above us and to our left in the crook of a tree lay a magnificent leopard. His tail, with its distinctive white tip, rested along the top of the thick branch and his paws hung down.

He was still, with his powerful muscles clearly visible beneath the tawny spotted skin. He was apparently sleeping, satiated by the kill he was guarding.

But his meal wasn’t an antelope or a wildebeest or a warthog.

It was Dennis.