Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) (15 page)

‘They’re not doing very
much,’ whispered Henri as he crouched with the others, peering through
Connor’s binoculars. The pride of four lions lay listless under the shade of a
tree, their tails flicking every so often at the buzz of flies.

Amber looked sideways at her brother and
tutted. ‘You’re never satisfied, are you? Buju’s guided you to lions
and all you can do is moan.’

‘But on TV they’re hunting or
doing something exciting,’ Henri muttered. ‘Not just
sleeping
.’

‘Well, why don’t you go for a
run and see if they’ll chase you?’ suggested Amber with a sardonic
smile.

‘I wouldn’t if I were
you,’ cut in Gunner. ‘Lions are mostly nocturnal hunters, resting up to
twenty hours a day, but they’ll still attack if they spot an opportunity. And
you’d make a fine snack, Henri.’

‘If lions hunt for themselves, why did
they steal the leopard’s kill?’ questioned Laurent.

‘Because out of every five attempts a
lion will only make one kill. That’s why scavenging is a vital food source for
them.’

‘I feel sorry
for the leopard,’ said Cerise. ‘It did all the work and these lions reaped
the benefit.’

‘Don’t be. Leopards are the
great survivors,’ said Gunner. ‘They may be slower than a cheetah and weaker
than a lion, but they’ll beat them all in the end.’ He pointed to the
grassland surrounding them. ‘At this very moment there could be a leopard only a
few metres from us and we wouldn’t even know.’

As if there’d been a sudden drop in
temperature, the atmosphere within the group became tense as their eyes darted from bush
to grass to shrub, wondering if there
really
was a leopard nearby.

‘They’re superbly camouflaged
hunters. Also excellent swimmers and climbers and they can leap long distances,’
Gunner went on. ‘A male leopard can drag a carcass three times its own weight –
including small giraffes – up a tree. No prey is safe from a leopard. Believe me, of all
the cats, a leopard is the most cunning and dangerous. The perfect predator.’

‘Would they ever attack humans?’
asked Cerise anxiously.

‘Absolutely,’ replied Gunner.
‘A leopard is easily capable of killing any one of us. It might drop out of a tree
or pounce from behind a bush, then seize you by the throat and suffocate you between its
jaws.’ Connor could see that the ranger was enjoying the looks of horror on their
faces. ‘Leopards eat whatever form of animal protein is available, from termites
to snakes to waterbuck. But, when there’s a shortage of regular prey, a leopard
may resort to hunting humans. A few are
true
maneaters, having got their taste from scavenging on human corpses
during the civil war. Such leopards are truly to be feared.’

Connor and the others were stunned into
silence. The savannah no longer seemed a perfect paradise – rather a hunting ground
where
they
were the prey.

Gunner checked his watch. ‘Well, time
to head back,’ he announced cheerily. ‘Dusk is only an hour off. And we
don’t want to become dinner for these lions.’

With uneasy looks at the surrounding trees
and bushes, Connor and the others hastily followed him. Buju led the way, guiding them
back along the banks of the Ruvubu River. The late afternoon sun had turned the waters
golden, and hippos wallowed in the meandering current, snorting and making strange
muh-muh-muh
sounds. Every so often Connor would spot the snout and black
slit-eyes of a crocodile as it broke the water’s surface. A few basked on
mudbanks, their saw-toothed jaws wide open.

‘Those crocs are trying to cool off as
they sweat through their mouths,’ explained Gunner. ‘They’ve the
strongest bite of any animal in the world and one of the quickest too – able to snap
their jaws shut round prey within fifty milliseconds!’

‘It seems everything in this country
is lethal,’ remarked Connor.

Gunner laughed. ‘Survival of the
fittest, my friend. Oddly enough, though, the muscles that open a croc’s jaws
aren’t so powerful. A reasonably strong person like yourself could
hold a croc’s mouth closed with just
their bare hands. The problem is most victims never see the croc coming, since it uses
surprise rather than speed in an attack. That’s why you should never take water
from the same spot twice on a river. Crocs watch you the first time, then get you the
next –’

‘Ow!’ cried Amber.

Connor spun, fearing the worst. Then he saw
her camera strap had become entangled in a thorn bush. Amber struggled to free herself
but merely became more entwined within its branches.

‘Careful, that stuff’s like
barbed wire,’ said Gunner, heading back along the trail to help her.
‘It’ll rip your clothes to shreds, as well as your skin.’

With great care, the ranger began to work
her free, unhooking the thorns one at a time. Connor tried to help too, but only
succeeded in pricking his own thumb.

Amber gritted her teeth as the thorns
scratched at her bare skin.

‘Sorry,’ said Gunner.
‘This is why it’s called a wait-a-while bush. The South African Special
Forces used it to snare prisoners and stop them escaping.’

‘I can believe that!’ said
Amber, inspecting the blood seeping from her cuts.

When she was finally free, Connor took out
an antiseptic wipe from the first-aid kit and offered to clean up her scratches. She
willingly let him hold her arm and wipe off the blood. Amber smiled at him – her first
with genuine warmth. ‘Thanks.’

‘Any
time,’ replied Connor, putting his first-aid kit back in his Go-bag.

‘Right, let’s move on,’
said Gunner.

‘Wait, where’s Henri?’
asked Cerise.

Connor glanced around. The boy was nowhere
to be seen. Connor had been so absorbed tending to Amber that he hadn’t kept an
eye on her brother. He cursed his lapse of concentration.

‘
Henri!
’ called his
father. But he got no answer.

Connor retraced their steps back down the
trail. But the tall grass and thick undergrowth meant anyone straying even a few feet
from the path could easily disappear from view and become lost.

‘Buju and Alfred, spread out,’
instructed Gunner. ‘Everyone else stay with me. We don’t want to lose anyone
else.’

Cerise started to sob. ‘You
don’t think he’s been taken by a –’ she glanced at the bushes –
‘a leopard?’

‘Don’t fret, Mrs Barbier,’
said Gunner. ‘He’s probably just wandered off. My men will find
him.’

But it was Connor who spotted Henri first,
through a gap in the bushes. He was standing on a mudbank overlooking the river. A
crocodile’s head broke the surface.

‘Henri! Stay back from the
water!’ shouted Connor, rushing over to him, the others close behind.

‘I found another dead gazelle,’
said Henri, oblivious to the panic he’d caused and the predator eyeing him.

Connor peered over the lip of the bank. A
carcass was washed up at the water’s edge. It wasn’t much more than a
bloodied ribcage with a few flaps of skin hanging off. Then
Connor realized the skin was actually khaki-coloured and
made of cloth.

‘I don’t think that’s a
gazelle,’ said Connor, drawing Henri away from the dismembered corpse.

‘A dead body isn’t exactly good
PR for the park,’ said Minister Mossi sarcastically, turning his gaze on Minister
Feruzi, slouched in the leather armchair of the lodge’s smoking room. ‘Come
to Ruvubu, swim with man-eating crocodiles!’

‘It wasn’t a crocodile that
killed the man,’ stated Gunner, who stood beside the stone fireplace, his safari
hat in his hands.

‘What do you mean?’ said
President Bagaza, stiffening in his chair.

‘He was shot first.
Before
the crocodiles ate him.’

Minister Feruzi stubbed out his cigarette in
a silver ashtray. ‘How did you come to that conclusion?’

‘Buju found a bullet embedded in the
ribcage.’

A haze of tobacco smoke hung in the air as
the president and his ministers sat silent, contemplating this fact.

‘So do we know who the victim is
yet?’ asked Minister Rawasa quietly. ‘A local villager?’

‘Impossible to tell for certain,
considering what’s left,’ replied Gunner, his expression grim. ‘But I
am guessing it’s
either Julien or
Gervais. The khaki cloth matches our park uniform and both rangers have failed to report
back.’

‘This is a disaster! The last thing we
need on the ambassador’s first visit.’ The president got to his feet and
gazed pensively out of the window across the valley. ‘Who do you think did
it?’

‘Poachers, most probably.’

‘What sector were the two rangers
patrolling?’ asked Minister Feruzi, lighting up another cigarette.

‘Sector eight, north-east,’
replied Gunner.

‘Keep your men clear,
Gunner.’

Gunner frowned. ‘What about catching
these murderers?’

‘We will. But wait until we’ve
the necessary reinforcements.’

‘It’ll likely only be a small
group of poachers,’ pressed Gunner. ‘I can lead a unit of rangers; while
their tracks are still fresh, Buju can follow them to their camp.’

‘Let
us
decide on the best
course of action,’ said Minister Feruzi firmly.

Gunner’s jaw tightened. The president
came over and laid a reassuring hand on the ranger’s shoulder. ‘I promise
you, Gunner, we will find these criminals. But your job is to ensure the French
ambassador and his family have the best safari possible.’ He led Gunner towards
the door. ‘When you do confirm the body’s identity, pass on my condolences
to any relatives and, if there’s a wife, inform her that she’ll be suitably
recompensed for her loss.’

‘Yes, Mr President.’

‘Oh, and Gunner,’ called
Minister Feruzi, ‘I’d advise
against saying anything to the ambassador and his family at
the moment. Leave that to us. No need to worry them unnecessarily.’

‘Understood,’ said Gunner before
leaving the room.

When the door closed, President Bagaza
looked to his ministers. ‘So, how should we handle this?’

Minister Feruzi coughed into his fist.
‘Tragic as it is, a dead ranger might give us leverage in requesting more aid to
combat poachers.’

‘I don’t think that’s the
point here,’ responded the president. ‘What if the rangers stumbled across
the diamond field and paid for it with their lives?’

‘We should send in a unit of soldiers
to search sector eight,’ suggested Minister Mossi.

‘Isn’t that a bit of
overkill?’ argued Minister Feruzi, flicking ash from his cigarette.

‘I agree,’ said Minister Rawasa.
‘We don’t want the ambassador spooked by an increased military
presence.’

‘I hear you all,’ said the
president, ‘but the priority is to secure any diamond field within the park. If
the rumoured return of Black Mamba is to be believed –’ he glanced round at his
ministers – ‘we need to take steps
now
to protect our country’s
interests.’

‘They’re insisting there’s
nothing to worry about,’ Connor relayed to Charley back at HQ. ‘A tragic
accident, but one they say is all too familiar over here.’

‘I suppose swimming in a river has its
dangers, especially within a national park full of wild animals,’ replied Charley,
her image pixelating on the phone’s screen as the internet connection slowed.
‘Do they know who the victim is?’

Connor shook his head. ‘They’re
guessing it’s a local.’

‘You don’t look so
convinced.’

Charley read him too well. ‘I get the
sense they’re hiding something. Or at least not telling the whole truth,’ he
explained, keeping his voice low even though he was alone in the lodge’s
reception. He walked over to the entrance just to make sure. ‘I didn’t study
the corpse for too long, but bits of clothing looked very much like the park
rangers’ uniform. Plus our ranger appeared more concerned than I’d expect
him to be for someone he didn’t even know.’

Charley pursed her lips thoughtfully.
‘Maybe there is more to it, but remember this safari is meant to be a goodwill
exercise for the Burundian government. They’re
probably wanting to gloss over the incident and move on. How
are the Cubs taking it?’