A Lion by the Mane

by Edna Dawes

  ‘No hard feelings,’ repeated Jan amicably, ‘but when I find you without two assistants to hold my arms, we’ll have a return match.’

  ‘My, my, the spirit of fire still burns despite the ordeal by rope. You do realize that is the method they use to tether their scrawny goats!’

  ‘Yes, and they let the vermin run loose.’

  Van Heerdon had had enough of this and put an end to it by indicating one of the beds and telling Margaret she could sleep there. ‘It’s a trifle primitive, I fear, but food will be sent up from one of the women before long, and there is plenty of water. I regret the need to stay here tonight, but the man I have come to see is away on a mission with a small explosives party and won’t be back until tomorrow. Because of that, he is not yet aware of the slight problem we have run up against. I also want to make sure he deals with the men who were insane enough to kill Russell Martin and leave the body as proof of the act. The authorities are well aware which tribe uses that method on murder victims, and there is bound to be a fever of checking at the various kraals in the vicinity.

  He lowered himself on to the other bed and sighed. ‘It’s always the same where they are concerned. A perfectly organized operation is endangered by a lightning reversal to tribal custom. It’s the one thing which keeps them from supremacy in this country.’

  While he was speaking, Margaret put her bag and the water bottles on the bed and looked around. The cave she was in was virtually a rocky arsenal housing the supplies of weapons and ammunition which Jan and other willing or innocent men had delivered to this part of Africa. Aside from the camp beds, several paraffin tins filled with water were lined along one side with earthenware bowls instead of cups, and upturned crates beside a small fissure provided a seat for look-out men. Margaret was no expert on military supplies, but there seemed to be enough to keep a large force well armed.

  The meal was some sort of stew which, despite its heavy flavour, suggested it might be better not to ask its ingredients. Margaret ate it all. Apart from the cheese and apples, she had had nothing since the previous evening and had reached the stage where hunger overcame caution. Without making it obvious she noted Jan had emptied his bowl, had it re-filled, and was rapidly making the second helping vanish. That was good; another sign of the return to complete normality. Deeming it prudent to remain in the background, she had ample time to study the men as they talked and it struck her that Jan was containing some sort of volcanic emotion beneath his quiet interest. That he was interested was beyond doubt, for the questions he asked were pertinent and razor-sharp enough to bring a gleam of triumph to Van Heerdon’s eyes.

  What they were planning was frightening! Chris was to be disposed of by a masterly combination of under-selling and business espionage which would leave him with the alternative of accepting Jan’s take-over, or bankrupting himself. Once Schroeder Freight was in Jan’s hands, Van Heerdon would staff it with trusted men, and provide aircraft which had a longer range. They planned to go international as soon as possible. At this point it struck Margaret that Schroeder Freight might be run by the two brothers, but it was owned by the entire family. Helen had told her each male member held shares so that any profits or losses were distributed among them . . . and hadn’t she also said the family usually outvoted Jan? How, then, could he sit there planning a future with Van Heerdon when he knew it was not a simple matter of getting rid of Chris to set them on the road to success?

  Van Heerdon had only recently broken into the gun-running business and was in danger of losing the contract from the American firm which supplied them because he had been unable to feed enough markets. As it was, he had a warehouse full of surplus weapons just waiting to be shipped out the minute Jan was ready. The buyers were there just begging for the chance to get their hands on the weapons, but Van Heerdon was no fool. Until he had a watertight set-up he was not going to risk being caught, even if it meant losing the contract. Maybe events had proved advantageous, after all. They had brought matters to a head and forced a decision from all concerned.

  ‘I don’t yet see what part I am to play in this organization,’ put in Craig. ‘Since I can’t go back to Myala, you must have something planned for me.’

  Van Heerdon put down his bowl and stretched. ‘I have, don’t worry! It will be essential to get you out of the country and it so happens I know of just the place. One of my future customers in the Suez area will find your services invaluable. Your job at Myala educated you somewhat in the clerical arts, I should imagine.’

  Craig darkened angrily. ‘Now look, I am a university graduate in animal sciences, not a bloody little clerk.’

  ‘I know, dear boy, but when you chose to panic and run last night you forfeited any claim to continue your profession. Had you kept a clear head you might be there yet.’

  ‘It’s easy for you to say that! There’s never any risk attached to the part you play, sitting there like a fat spider in the centre of a web. You don’t know what I’ve been through these past three days. When I heard Jan had come down in the veld it was a severe shock coming on top of Russell Martin’s discovery of the poaching, believe me. Then, when the Rangers turned up with that hideous corpse, it put the fear of God into me. I understood they were bringing him here to Mtubu as a prisoner, or I would never have let them take him over the border. It wasn’t necessary to kill him in that vile manner.’

  His voice had risen slightly and Margaret recognized the signs of subdued hysteria in the young man. He was reaching the end of his tether and turned on Jan as an escape route for his anger. ‘If you hadn’t put on such a heavy act of brotherly outrage and shown your true colours, none of this would have happened.’ He turned back to Van Heerdon. ‘What would you have done when Jan burst in driving a stolen police truck which would set the law hot on his trail?’

  ‘I should have joined forces with him instead of putting his back up. He needs special handling.’

  ‘Please stop analysing me as if I were not here,’ put in Jan.

  ‘Yes,’ sneered Craig, ignoring him, ‘and what would you have done about her!’ He nodded towards Margaret.

  ‘You ask me!’ jibed Van Heerdon, bringing another flush to the young man’s face. ‘It is perfectly plain you lose all your senses when in a tight corner . . . that’s why the office job will suit you admirably.’

  Craig stood up, unable to control himself. ‘I won’t do it!’

  ‘Then stay here and be charged with the murder of Russell Martin.’

  The ruddy colour drained from his face, leaving him looking like a living corpse in the harsh light from the paraffin lamps.

  ‘But I didn’t kill him!’

  ‘Your flight from Myala will convince the police that you did. Coming on top of the recovery of the body, it will condemn you without a trial.’

  ‘They have no witnesses, no proof. I’ll deny it.’

  ‘And what reason will you give for beating up a pilot (the Rangers witnessed that, don’t forget) and disappearing into the night with two accomplices? Don’t you think the penalty for gun-running will be as severe, when added to the charge of illegal poaching?’

  ‘What about them?’ he asked wildly. ‘Him and his flerric. What makes you think they can continue working in this country?’

  ‘They will earn all praise for their courageous pursuit of a desperate killer. Unfortunately, you slipped through their fingers across the border and vanished to an unknown destination. You do see you have no choice?’

  Craig stood for a moment, rocking slightly and clenching his fists in an empty threat, but contrary to Margaret’s assessment the breaking point had not yet been reached, and he muttered, ‘You’ve got everything neatly slotted, haven’t you?’ before slumping on to the crates by the fissure and gazing into the night.

  The atmosphere calmed somewhat after that small crisis and Margaret felt tiredness creeping through her limbs like a gentle tide benignly but implacably claiming the shore. The soft conversation between Jan and Van Heerdon provid
ed a lulling background, and she was only half-awake when two uniformed men arrived to take over from the ones who had stood guard during the earlier part of the evening. When Van Heerdon had expressed a hope that she might not find the bed too uncomfortable, Jan had put in, ‘It’s all right. She likes Spartan conditions,’ but she was not as tough as he imagined. Despite her exhausted state her night was spent like a jack-in-the-box, leaping up from the depths one minute, then sinking back to the darkness of sleep the next. The waking periods seemed spaced approximately an hour apart, she noted with interest; each time she roused, the hands of her watch had moved on to the next figure on the luminous dial.

  The second time she turned restlessly and opened her eyes, she saw Jan lying alongside her bed on a couple of blankets spread upon the ground. Only one paraffin lamp was left alight, casting an eerie glow over the sleeping figures – sleeping, that is, except for herself and the man beside her. He lay on his back smoking a cigarette and gazing at the ceiling. With all her senses she willed him to look her way, but they were not even on the same wave-length.

  Jan was off in the realms of his solitary thought processes which meant he was unaware of anybody, but this time Margaret felt a sharp envy of whatever was occupying his mind and was reminded again of the impossible goal she was aiming for. She could be grateful for only one thing. Whatever Jan was planning, he would ensure her safety . . . but that would be the end of their association! Somehow she had to contrive a way of keeping in constant touch with him even if it meant artful cultivation of her friendship with Helen Schroeder. With matters so desperate she would push aside her scruples and use every means at her disposal. But this affair was by no means over. Jan was playing a dangerous game at the moment and many things might happen before it was resolved. For all she knew, her wooing of the man she wanted might have to take place through prison bars!

  Towards morning, Margaret’s hourly break in sleep brought her eyes open to find Craig Barker lying on his side watching her as he smoked a cigarette with nervous dedication. Her instinctive shrugging further beneath the blanket brought a twist to his mouth. A remembrance of how he had compensated for the smaller humiliation Jan had meted out in her presence sent apprehension to weaken her limbs. A known womanizer would not take easily to the defeat he had suffered at Van Heerdon’s hands which had undermined his male superiority in front of the only female present. His continued scrutiny had her thanking providence for Jan’s six feet two of hard muscle between them, even though she knew from experience that his present sleep would probably continue through fire, flood, and any number of rapacious attacks on her person. She found it impossible to relax again, knowing Craig’s state of mind, and the guards were replaced at dawn with no further sleep having come to her.

  Never had she dreaded the onset of a new day, but this one threatened to be fraught with danger. Although Van Heerdon appeared to have no suspicion that Jan was not with him one hundred per cent, it only needed one small slip to enlighten him. So far, Jan had been coldly clever, but once that temper of his was roused it would be a different matter. One possible irritant, herself, could be ruled out because she intended remaining quietly in the background, but Craig Barker was a different proposition. He had already baited Jan with sneering remarks and if things were destined to go wrong, he would be the cause. She sighed. The most lethal weapons in this arsenal were human!

  The first set-back came when Mtubu, the guerrilla leader, failed to turn up when expected. Van Heerdon became tetchy which didn’t help the general mood amongst the group of white people isolated in the rocks, and after several hours of waiting he decided to go down to the kraal to investigate.

  ‘No doubt a message has come through and those bloody kaffirs are too lazy to climb up here to give it to me,’ he fumed. ‘I can’t afford to kick my heels in this back-block of Africa. Time means rands to me, but they don’t think of that. In fact, they just don’t think! That’s half their trouble.’

  Margaret dearly wished to comment on why he continued to trade with people he so obviously despised, but gamely stuck to her resolution to stay in the background. She succeeded so well Jan was moved to ask if she were feeling all right, and when she assured him she was, added: ‘Never known you lost for words before. Dare I hope it heralds a new era?’

  ‘Yes, if it makes you happy,’ she said with a smile and received a rare one in return which unsettled her even more.

  Craig had gone outside some minutes before, and Jan left also, stating that he wanted to have a look around the place in daylight. Since the two guards were lounging outside in the sunshine, it gave Margaret the perfect opportunity to wash herself in privacy. She stripped off her torn blouse and splashed herself liberally with water from the tins along the wall. It was heavenly to feel fresh and clean once more. She completed the job by smoothing cologne from her bag over her arms and throat. It reminded her of tangy ferns back in Norfolk.

  A slight sound which echoed in the high-vaulted chamber sent her spinning round. Craig stood there grinning with her blouse in his hand.

  ‘Very nice! I always like my women on the generous side,’ he mused as he ran his eyes over the curve of her breasts showing above the pale lace. ‘The whiteness of your skin is exciting after the sun-tanned South African girls.’

  ‘If that is meant as a compliment, thank you,’ she said. ‘Now I’ll have my blouse back.’

  ‘Come and get it,’ he invited with luminous eyes.

  ‘Oh, grow up! In England boys of sixteen have discarded that trick.’

  Incensed, Craig muttered, ‘You are not in England now. I’ll show you some tricks they’ve never even heard of over there.’ He advanced towards her, dropping the blouse on the floor.

  Margaret retreated instinctively, knowing the method she had used to discourage Jan would not work in this instance. At the same time she acknowledged that never, at any time, had she been afraid of him as she was of this man now. The problem was desperate. If she called out, it might bring Jan running and spark off the very situation she was trying so hard to avoid, but her chances of getting away from Craig were practically nil. To keep going backwards would spell disaster for the cave narrowed into nothingness, so her only chance was to fool him somehow and make a dash for it. No bright ideas occurred to her. With Jan her wits had been sharpened by his, but her brain was in a hiatus for this dilemma.

  Craig had reached her and stood close, smiling down as one hand started to caress her arm.

  ‘If we had worked together at Myala there would have been time for some titillating scuffles before we came to grips, but things have changed in the last twenty-four hours and I want you without any feminine provocation first.’

  Like lightning, his arms were round her and his hands fumbled with the fastening of her lacy bra while fleshy lips sucked at her mouth with messy ardour. She struggled, then cursed her stupidity when his arms clamped tighter round her. Hadn’t she told Jan she knew the consequences of a woman fighting off an embrace? She felt the straps slipping from her shoulders, and since he had her arms pinned to her sides, used her feet. Without shoes on, his shins suffered very little; in fact, the attack only spurred him on. He lifted his mouth and laughed in triumphant breathlessness.

  ‘Ha! Got you rattled at last, have I? I’ve been watching you and wondering what it would take to shake that touch-me-not air you assume. I passed my waking hours last night imagining this moment, and it is every bit as exciting as I thought it would be.’ He ran his tongue along her lips. ‘I want you because you make a man fight for what he gets. I also want you because you are the sexiest thing I have seen around for four months . . . but the most supreme satisfaction I shall get out of taking you is knowing you belong to Jan. There is no more exquisite delight than telling a man you dislike that you have just bedded his woman.’

  Margaret seized at this straw and gasped, ‘I’m not his woman . . . or ever likely to be. He can’t wait to get shot of me at the first opportunity.’

  ‘Yes?’
sneered Craig. ‘Then why did he bring you with him from Myala?’

  ‘He didn’t. I followed him. He doesn’t care a fig about me.’

  ‘Let’s test that theory, shall we.’ Craig’s second kiss was worse than the first, and Margaret was revolted by the wet lips, the rasp of stubble against her cheek, and the smell of stale sweat. She was being slowly forced backwards when an almighty explosion slammed against their ears, jerking them apart and bringing a string of oaths from the man beside her.

  ‘The next one will be aimed at you,’ said Van Heerdon, still pointing the revolver in their direction. ‘You disgust me with your uncontrollable mating instincts, especially at a time like this.’ He walked towards them. ‘I am not having this venture marred by the human version of the rutting season! Now, get down to the kraal and find out what those bastards are muttering about. I can’t get any sense out of them, but you know the language and should have no difficulty in discovering what all their frenzied activity is for.’

  Craig stumbled past the armed man without a word while Margaret tried to control her shivering as she retrieved her blouse and dressed herself. Van Heerdon ignored her and left the cave on Craig’s heels for which she was thankful, but her shivering was not entirely due to the fright she had received at the hands of the Assistant Warden. When sane thought returned it was to bring the question of how long Van Heerdon had been watching the scene. Had he heard her deny being Jan’s mistress . . . admit that Jan would rid himself of her at the first opportunity? If so, she was in jeopardy!

  As morning dragged into afternoon Margaret relaxed. Van Heerdon gave no sign that he distrusted her, although it was anything but quiet amongst the group waiting there. Craig discovered from the inhabitants of the kraal that one of the high days of the tribe was a festival held on this particular day (the nineteenth of December on the European calendar) and this year was to be no exception. Guerrilla tactics, stolen arms, the fight against oppression . . . all were laid aside while rejoicing and celebrations took place. Van Heerdon raged, but there was nothing he could do. Men cast off their camouflage uniforms and dressed in their finery for the occasion. The women happily prepared batches of cakes and spicy meatballs which would be among the delicacies washed down by the home-brewed beer forming the basis of these tribal festivals.