Zambezi (11 page)

He peeled off the green notes. He was in no position to argue and in no mood to go searching for a cheaper alternative.

After a porter had shown him to his room, Jed made his way to a terrace overlooking the lake. A few guests, most of them African, were sitting down to dinner at candlelit tables. Jed took an empty table at the edge of the terrace, next to the wrought-iron railing. A waiter sped to his side. The place was only about a third full. Business was bad, so the service was good.

‘Beer, please.’

‘Zambezi Lager, sir?’

‘Whatever, so long as it’s cold.’

When the waiter returned with his beer, Jed ordered a fillet steak and a second drink. The night was humid and the green beer bottle was slippery with condensation. The glass that came with it was frosted, straight from the freezer. He’d really had no idea of what Africa was going to be like, and things like chilled glasses and elephant roadblocks came as pleasant surprises. The ice-cold amber fluid was a balm and he reached in his shirt pocket for cigarettes and lit one as he drank.

‘Excuse me, have you got a light?’

He turned around at the sound of the woman’s voice and was momentarily taken aback. Everything about her was a surprise. Her red hair, her American accent, her smile.

‘Sure.’ She leaned closer as he flicked the Zippo and he smelled her perfume. ‘It’s surprising finding another American here.’

‘I know what you mean. We’re thin on the ground in these parts – it’s not exactly a tourist Mecca any more,’ she said, exhaling. She made no move to leave. ‘So, are you a tourist?’

‘No. It’s complicated. I’m looking for someone.’

‘Well, I hope you find her, or him. Sorry to intrude.’

‘No, not at all,’ he said quickly It had been a long day and he ached from the drive, but, as tired as he was, he found himself wanting to keep the conversation going. ‘Are you here alone?’

She laughed and said, ‘That’s one step removed from “Do you come here often?”. Yes, I’m alone.

You?’

‘Travelling solo. Divorced, a long time ago.’

‘Oh, I see. Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. We made a great kid, so it wasn’t all bad. Look, would you like to join me for a drink?’

‘Sure. I wouldn’t mind catching up on some news from home.’

‘If it’s home-town gossip you want,’ he said, ‘you might find me lacking. I spend more time away from the States than in ‘em.’

‘What do you do?’ She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

‘Government work.’

‘Sounds mysterious, or boring, depending on the type of work.’

He studied her. He guessed her to be in her mid-thirties. Attractive. Very attractive. She wore a sleeveless shirt with the top three buttons undone. Her breasts strained pleasingly against the fabric.

Her arms were toned and slender. Her green eyes glittered. He thought her ancestry might be Irish.

‘I could work for the IRS for all you know,’ he said.

‘You look like you pound more than a keyboard.’

He smiled and wondered if she was flirting with him. ‘I get paid a pittance to sleep in the dirt, get shot at and eat crap food.’

‘Army or marines?’

‘Please. I might not be a genius, but I’m not a retard.’

‘Army it is then.’

‘But that’s enough about me, except for my name. Jed. What brings you to Zimbabwe?’

‘Jed?’

‘That’s right. And you’re supposed to tell me yours at this point.’

‘Not Jed Banks?’

‘The very same. How did you know that?’

‘My God, I’m so sorry I didn’t ask sooner. I’m Chris … Christine Wallis. I don’t know if Miranda …’

Jed was surprised. He drained his beer to buy himself some time.

‘Miranda’s mom told me about your email,’ he said eventually.

‘I see. Mr Banks … Jed, please understand how sorry I am … I can understand how you must feel.’

‘Do you have kids?’

‘No.’

‘Then you haven’t got a fucking clue how I feel.’

She looked down at her lap. ‘You have every right to be angry I know what you must think of me.’

He said nothing.

‘I wouldn’t have sent her here if I didn’t think it was safe. Please understand how bad I feel about this.’

‘How you feel isn’t exactly at the top of my list of concerns, Professor.’

She looked up now, and he saw something flash in her green eyes. ‘Don’t you think I’m hurting too? She’s a smart girl and if anyone can handle themselves in the African bush she can! Don’t come in here and tell me I’ve done something terrible. Miranda is a grown woman who makes her own choices.’

It was Jed’s turn to be taken aback. ‘You spoke about her in the present tense. Do you think she’s still alive?’

Chris sipped her Scotch. ‘I don’t know, and that’s the truth. There was a lion shot yesterday that had attacked a local woman.’

‘You think it might be the same one that supposedly attacked Miranda?’

‘I took it to the police. They’ve got it in the local morgue and they’re going to get a vet to open it up tomorrow.’

‘Jesus.’ Jed shook his head.

‘I want Miranda to be alive just as much as you do, but if she wasn’t taken by a lion it’s hard to know where she went or what happened to her. There are some remains too. Not much.’

‘Would madam care to order something from the menu?’ The waiter had slipped in behind Chris without either of them noticing.

‘I don’t know,’ Chris said, looking at Jed.

Jed was in two minds. As much as he seethed at the woman’s decision to send his daughter to such a dangerous place, she was his only source of information. Plus, she was disarmingly attractive.

‘Be my guest,’ he said with a wave.

Chris glanced at the menu. ‘The bream. And a glass of Mukuyu Colombard, please.’

‘Is it any good? The wine, that is,’ Jed said.

‘Cheap, locally made, but drinkable.’

‘Sounds like my kind of beverage. Make it a bottle, please,’ he said to the waiter. ‘When did you last see her?’

Chris hesitated, glancing out at the lake. ‘Let me see, she was with me in Kruger for about a month, so she would have arrived here in Zimbabwe three months ago.’

‘When did you get here?’

‘Yesterday I drove here as soon as I could mothball my research operation in Kruger. I visited Miranda’s campsite briefly this morning, but didn’t hang around once we picked up some lion spoor.’

‘The one the ranger shot?’

‘Actually, I shot it,’ she corrected him.

He looked at her with grudging respect, but he would be damned if he’d praise her. ‘I thought you were into protecting big cats.’

‘A woman’s life was at risk. I won’t put animals before people, although I know a few zoologists and conservationists who wouldn’t agree with me.’

‘I’ve met a few people I wouldn’t put ahead of a snake.’

‘I know what you mean.’

She laughed and he felt angry with himself that he had relaxed around her. He wanted to stay mad for a little while longer. Besides, it was impossible to forget why he was here – why both of them were here.

‘So, what happens tomorrow? With the lion?’ he asked.

‘I know the local vet here. The police will get him to do the … the autopsy.’

‘What time and where?’

The waiter arrived with the wine. Chris tasted it and nodded. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, if you’re planning on being there. I can have the police let you know -’

‘I don’t care about what you say, I’ve got more right to be there than you and I
will
be there. I want to view the remains that were found at the scene as well.’ He took a sip of wine, then asked, more gently, ‘What will you do after the lion’s been examined?’

‘That depends on the result, I guess. I need to collect some equipment I loaned to Miranda, as well as some reports she was working on for me, but the authorities won’t let me near her stuff. It’d really help me if you gave the police permission to release Miranda’s things to me. I’ll make sure you get all her personal effects.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

Chris looked confused.

Jed refilled her glass, then his own. ‘You won’t need to pass anything on to me, because I’ll be with you.’

‘Look, Jed, I’ve spent a lot of time in this part of the world. I know some of the police here, I know the vet, I know the National Parks people. I can get a lot done by myself, using my personal connections, and -’

‘And if you try to keep me out of this you’ll regret it.’

‘You can’t order me around. I’m not one of your soldiers, you know.’

‘I know that. But you can’t get your stuff back without me. Also, I wonder how long your funding would last if the press learned how you sent an inexperienced college girl out on her own, ill prepared, unprotected and alone in a dangerous country.’

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, it won’t wash. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. You don’t have all the facts.’

‘Fill me in,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘What facts am I missing?’

‘How I run my research projects is none of your business. Suffice to say that they meet the most rigorous safety and academic standards applicable for this sort of work.’

‘Then you won’t mind the press asking you a few questions. I’m surprised they haven’t already.’

Chris looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘I don’t think we need reporters sniffing around here.

You don’t want any more publicity about Miranda’s disappearance, do you? Won’t that just add to the burden your ex-wife must be carrying?’

Bullshit, he thought to himself. She was hiding something and that only made him all the more determined to follow her every move. The waiter arrived with their meals and he let the conversation drop while the man slowly but attentively served them.

She looked out over the lake and he studied her profile in the candlelight. Pretty, for sure, but there was a steely strength within Professor Christine Wallis evidenced by the set of her jaw and her unwavering gaze when she had locked eyes with him. Her body was lean and toned, as though she worked out. He remembered Miranda complaining that it was almost impossible to exercise in the African bush. One could hardly go off jogging or power-walking amidst wild animals, and there were certainly no gyms. It would have taken a strong will and a good deal of self-discipline for Chris Wallis to stay in shape, and she obviously did.

He left the argument about him accompanying her – anyhow, she would have no choice once he confronted the police in the morning – and changed the subject. ‘How far away was the lion when you shot it?’

She swallowed a mouthful of fish, took a sip of wine and wiped her lips. ‘Oh, about two hundred metres.’

‘Moving?’

‘It didn’t exactly pose for me. It was charging the woman and had just started to leap on her when I fired.’

‘What weapon did you use?’

‘An AK-47. It belonged to the ranger who was supposed to be protecting me. But he was taking a dump.’

He didn’t detect any bravado in her simple account. The AK was a reliable, sturdy weapon, but to hit a moving target at anything over a hundred metres required a good measure of skill or luck. In her telling, though, it was as if taking the shot was simply part of her everyday work, something she had no qualms or excitement about.

‘Quite a shot. Where did you learn to fire a rifle?’

‘The eighty-deuce.’

‘Eighty-Second Airborne Division?’ He couldn’t mask the surprise in his voice. ‘You didn’t tell me you were a soldier.’

‘We haven’t done a lot of talking about me.’

‘Touché. When did you serve?’

‘Eighty-nine to ninety-four. I stayed in long enough to pay for my college tuition.’

‘What was your MOS?’ Every soldier had a military occupational specialty, a primary job he or she was trained for.

‘I was a clerk, in C1 – personnel. My drill instructor at basic training told me I would have been a sniper if I’d been a man.’ A touch of pride there, he noted, and resentment too.

‘Why didn’t you try for officer candidate school? You must have had the grades.’

‘I never planned on making a career out of the Army. It was a means to an end. I figured I’d do my time and get out. I had my sights set on other things. Besides, they wouldn’t let me be a sniper.’

He smiled. He sensed that in other circumstances they might hit it off. However, she was holding something back from him and for some reason didn’t want him nosing about. He guessed that his bluff about going to the press was a very real concern in her mind. Conservationists lived on public donations and corporate sponsorship and couldn’t afford a whiff of controversy.

‘How did it feel when you killed the lion?’ he asked.

She answered without a pause. ‘I didn’t want to do it – hated it, in fact – but after it was done I didn’t feel a thing. There was no joy, if that’s what you mean. Men and women are both capable of killing, but they do it for different reasons. It’s the same as in nature. A female lion will kill to provide for her pride or to protect them. A male lion, on the other hand, will kill to meet his own ends, to demonstrate his dominance. Did you know that when a male takes over a pride, as well as killing or vanquishing the old male, he also kills all the cubs his predecessor has sired?’

‘I’ve heard that stepchildren are a pain.’

‘Not very funny.’

‘Best I could do at short notice.’

‘Have you ever hunted?’

‘No.’ He took a drink.

‘Why not?’

‘I never saw the need to kill an animal. I’ve never had to hunt for food, never been threatened by an animal in the wild.’

Chris looked at him with those penetrating green eyes again. ‘But you’ve been in combat?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘Have you ever killed a man?’

‘Most people are too polite to raise that question.’

‘How did it feel?’

‘I’m sure I saw on Discovery Channel that male lions also kill to protect their prides.’

‘What’s your point?’

‘I like to think that what I do is about protecting people – innocent people. It’s how I manage to sleep at night.’ In fact, there were some nights when he didn’t sleep at all, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Christine Smart-Ass Wallis.