The Turn Series Box Set

by Andrew Clawson

  “If we see anything, I’ll notify the authorities.”

  Reed squinted against the sunlight; the brim of his ballcap was useless against the glare. “Why is Soter surveying out here?” He waved a hand around toward the vast, open spaces. “I didn’t think this land was open to drilling.”

  “My team provides security, and we obey the law. Everything we’re doing has been cleared with the Tanzanian government. Good day, Mr. Kimble.” With that, Security Man turned away from Reed, his men following suit.

  “Not a friendly man,” Paul said once the security team was out of earshot. “Do you believe him?”

  “I’d bet he ran across the Maasai,” Reed said. “But I doubt they killed those lions. They’re mercenaries, not poachers.”

  “He acts as though he owns this place.” Paul snorted, kicked the dirt. “What should we do?”

  “If anyone will give us a straight answer, it will be the Maasai. We’ll find them and see if what the Soter people told them matches what they told us.”

  He put the Land Rover in gear and they bounced away over the savanna. Reed stifled a yawn as they headed for where he and Paul often found the Maasai. Those few hours of sleep after speaking with Sarah earlier had done little to recharge his batteries, but Reed couldn’t let Paul see his fatigue, not when he was asking so much of the young man. He never expected his team to do anything he wouldn’t. That included working on too little shut-eye.

  Twenty minutes later their search ended abruptly, as it often did when he was seeking the Maasai. One minute the horizon was nothing but sun and distant mountains, and the next a lone figured stepped out from a thick patch of foliage, wearing nothing but a red waistcloth and holding a six-foot spear. Reed aimed toward the man and slowed to a stop beside him. Sunlight glinted off the metal spear tip.

  “You are safari man,” the warrior said when Reed got out of the vehicle. “Olekina wants to talk.”

  “Where?”

  “Follow me,” the warrior said before heading into the bush. When they didn’t immediately follow, he looked back over his shoulder. “It is not far. We are hiding.”

  Leaves and branches grabbed at Reed’s shirt as he and Paul pushed through the brush. A game path quickly opened ahead and it was all Reed could do to keep the warrior in his sights. The man ran like a ghost, his feet scarcely grazing the dirt as he led Reed and Paul deeper into the forest, twisting and turning until the first drops of sweat trickled down Reed’s face. He swiped at them as the path opened to a large clearing in the woods, and he nearly ran headlong into a pair of warriors standing guard with spears upraised.

  Neither flinched as Reed squeezed between them. He found Olekina crouched near a pond, staring at a mirror reflection of himself in the glassy surface.

  “It is good to see you.” The wizened chief grasped Reed’s hand with crushing strength.

  Reed nodded to the trees around them and spoke in Swahili. “Your warrior said your people are hiding. Why?”

  “We were attacked last night.”

  Attacked? “Did they shoot anyone? What did the men look like?”

  Olekina shook his great white beard slowly. “Not men. Beasts. They came in the night and killed three warriors.”

  Reed found he had nothing to say. Beasts? No way an animal had gotten the drop on these Maasai hunters. “Animals killed your men?”

  “Wolves killed them.”

  “Are you sure? A couple of wolves can’t kill three warriors. They’re not big enough.” African wolves didn’t get much bigger than domesticated dogs. Even the larger wolves from Canada and Alaska shouldn’t concern Maasai men if their paths crossed, and indigenous wolves would be little more than a nuisance.

  “I have never seen these wolves.” The chief touched Reed’s arm. “Come. You must see them.”

  Four warriors surrounded them as Olekina led Reed and Paul around the pond and nearly out from cover before halting by a thick tree. He barked a command and the warriors began removing freshly cut tree limbs and leaves to reveal the impossible.

  “Holy shit. Those are Sarah’s wolves.”

  Olekina grabbed Reed’s bicep so hard it hurt. “Who is Sarah?”

  Reed didn’t answer as he leaned over the carcass. How in the world had a wolf like this ended up here? He fumbled for his phone.

  “Who is Sarah?” Olekina said again.

  “A friend of mine,” Reed finally said. “Wolves like this one attacked her in Switzerland.”

  Olekina stood speechless, his eyes widening in disbelief. Reed thumbed through his messages until he found the one from Sarah with snapshots of the dead wolves. After showing them to Olekina, Reed held his phone alongside the wolf for a side-by-side view. The similarities were unmistakable. Light brown, almost golden fur. Thick muscles corded along the haunches and back, and wicked, curving fangs. All of it matched, but what troubled Reed most was their size. These beasts weighed nearly two hundred pounds.

  “Stand back.” Reed leaned over and jammed both hands under the dead wolf, its soft fur prickling his skin as he reached under the ribcage to grasp beneath the belly. The damn thing was heavy. He managed to get it up off the ground, his leg muscles protesting as he stood. “Feels like two hundred pounds.”

  Setting it down wasn’t much easier. Reed’s back protested as he settled the dead wolf back in the grass. One hand came out from beneath the fur streaked with blood.

  “One of my men speared it,” Olekina said as Reed wiped his hand on the dead beast. “It moved so fast, too fast for me.” Shame dripped from every word. Here was a man well into his sixth century lamenting the fact he couldn’t kill a freak of nature with weapons from the stone age. If Reed ever felt sorry for himself in future, he thought, this was something to remember.

  “You said ‘wolves.’ How many?”

  “Two,” the chief said. “The other escaped.”

  “So there’s still one out there,” Reed said. As though in a dream, he heard Olekina begin to speak about the encounter with the wolves and the loss of several of his tribesmen. His mind wandered back to his conversation with Sarah, to where he’d told her that a wolf like this had never crossed his path in over three decades of hunting. A few had been nearly as large, but they had come from colder climes and their bulk had consisted of thick fur meant to withstand frigid temperatures. This wolf’s smooth coat reminded him of leopards, a soft outer layer concealing nothing but rippled muscles built for speed and killing.

  Olekina’s words intruded on his thoughts and Reed looked up. “What did you say?”

  “The wolves worked together,” the old man repeated patiently. “This is how the warriors died. One led them to a place where the other waited, and they did not see the wolf before it attacked.” Olekina raked his fingers across his bare chest. “First the claws, in front or back. Next, the neck.” His mouth opened wide, then snapped shut. “No one can survive this bite. It is too strong.”

  “Does anyone else know about this?”

  Olekina’s shoulders went up. “Who do I tell? Once the wolf ran away, we come here to hide in the trees. You are the first person we see since it happened.”

  A rash impulse seized him. “May I take this dead wolf with me? My friend can help figure out where they came from.”

  Olekina spat at the ground. “Take it.”

  “There may be answers here.” Reed turned to Paul. “I’ll bring the truck closer so we can load it.”

  Paul’s eyes grew wide. “Why do you want this monster? It can bring bad luck to your home.”

  “I don’t believe in luck. Trust me on this.” He slapped Paul’s shoulder and then clasped Olekina by the forearm. “As soon as I know anything else, I’ll find you.”

  The chief said nothing as Reed retraced his steps to the Land Rover and then motored along the tree line to where the carcass lay. Groaning and sweating, Reed and Paul loaded the wolf into the rear of the Land Rover and slammed the hatch. Reed thanked Olekina for his help and information, promising to updat
e the chief when they next met before driving off, a dust cloud trailing in their wake. Kimble Safaris didn’t have the latest in veterinary equipment or a pathologist, but Reed had a different expertise, knowledge gained from a lifetime of hunting. No matter how he felt about the thousands of animals he’d killed, and there were times he couldn’t answer that question, field dressing and butchering game had taught him a thing or two.

  Then there was the other half of this situation: Sarah Hall, an experienced veterinarian and researcher. Strange how the world worked. When he had first met Sarah at a panel discussion in Monaco organized by an international animal welfare group, they’d seemed destined for opposite sides of the fence in nearly every way. The very air between them had seemed chilled. The panel had been convened to discuss how to attack the poaching problem spreading across every continent, and Reed, the big-game hunter, had been an island unto himself. Most of the other panel members had been neutral toward his profession, but a few had taken every chance to criticize him, as though he alone were responsible for the impact of hunting on animal poaching. Sarah Hall had been the most outspoken, though, to her credit, each of her points were rooted in fact.

  “Hunters are conservationists,” Reed had explained. “I hate poaching as much as you. Thriving animal communities benefit everyone, and outdoor enthusiasts do everything we can to fight poachers.”

  “If they care about animals, why not shoot pictures instead of bullets?” Sarah had asked. “Killing is a funny way of showing you care.”

  “Hunting helps manage the population,” he had replied patiently. “Would you prefer the herds grow too large and many of them starve in winter?”

  “That’s how nature works,” she had countered. “The weak die off, and the strong survive. Exactly the opposite of what happens with hunting. Unless you don’t shoot the biggest male specimens, that is.” He recalled her leaning forward, eyes shooting lasers his way. “How many of your big-money hunters come to Africa to shoot the smaller animals, Mr. Kimble?”

  Amazingly, the discussion had never turned hostile despite the undercurrent of tension. He’d heard most of these points before, and she had as well, so in the end no one’s mind had changed—although perhaps the audience had learned a thing or two. Still, he had been surprised when she’d handed him a business card and suggested they meet should he ever find himself in New York. “I may not approve of what you do, but I respect your views. Not every sportsman is as level-headed.”

  “Unfortunate, but true.” He had accepted her outstretched hand. “I enjoyed our discussion.”

  “As did I.” For the first time that day, a glint of solidarity had come through with her smile. “If you don’t have plans, would you care to join me for dinner?”

  He had accepted her invitation, and they’d talked away from the cameras and the ears of a live audience. More relaxed, but with the intensity of two people who cherished their beliefs as more than opinion. All in all an entertaining evening, and when the night ended Reed had decided he liked chatting with Sarah, though getting past her disdain for what he did wouldn’t happen any time soon.

  The road sign for Kimble Safaris flashed past his windshield and pulled Reed’s thoughts back to the present. “Keep this between us,” Reed told Paul as he maneuvered into his compound and rolled to a stop outside the former game processing building, set to be remodeled into an on-site medical center. “The men have enough to handle with the intruders. I’ll bring everyone up to speed later.”

  “I will say nothing,” Paul promised.

  Only the trees and dusty air saw Reed and Paul lift the carcass from the vehicle and move it inside. Two stainless steel butcher tables dominated the room, more than large enough to hold the wolf. Overhead fluorescent lights buzzed to life as Paul headed for the door with instructions to get some sleep. Alone now, Reed’s skin tingled as he touched the animal’s soft fur. This animal was the key. Whatever was going on, with men trying to kill him, kill the Maasai, and wipe out the lions, his gut told him it somehow tied in with this strange beast.

  “This should be interesting.” He pulled on rubber gloves that stretched to his elbows and grabbed his field dressing knife, its clean steel glinting in the sterile light. He lifted one of the enormous hind legs and got to work. Skin split, blood flowed, and the wolf’s secrets came into the light.

  He stepped back a half hour later with too many questions and not enough answers. Whatever the hell this thing was, Reed had never seen it before. It was all wrong, really. All too big.

  Oversized musculature. Bones thicker than should be possible, tendons nearly too strong to cut with his razor-sharp knife. And the organs. Each larger than he expected, filling the internal cavity to overflowing. He’d gutted enough creatures to know when things weren’t right, and right now the hair on his arms stood up. Reed was out of his depth here.

  “Sarah’s not going to believe this,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands clean before grabbing his phone. It rang only once before she picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Sarah, it’s Reed Kimble. Did I wake you?”

  “Reed?” Her throat cleared. “It’s fine.” Rustling, like sheets on a bed being tossed aside. “Is everything okay?” Now she came alive, the worry coming front and center. “Have you been attacked again?”

  “No. Well, not like you’re thinking.” The lights above him flickered as the air conditioning system rumbled to life. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes. What’s wrong?” Her words took on a hard edge. “Tell me.”

  “I’ll call you back on FaceTime.” She protested, but he hung up and dialed her again, her face flashing on his screen seconds later. “I told you that I’m part of a group that patrols the savanna looking for poachers. We went out today because of some trouble we had recently and found out the native population is being attacked.”

  “Who would want to kill tribesmen?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. A bird cried in the distance. “There’s something else you should know. Three men came to my compound the other night. Armed men.” He summarized the intrusion and how he’d stopped it, dodging her more pointed questions until she got the hint. To her credit, Sarah moved on quickly.

  “Do you think the same people who tried to kill you are after the native tribes as well?” she asked.

  “No.” He told her about the dead lion pride. “They could be involved with killing the lions, but whoever attacked my compound didn’t go after the Maasai. The tribe was attacked by wildlife. By wolves.”

  The image on his screen tilted crazily as Sarah dropped her phone. “Wolves?” she asked. Her face came back into view again.

  “Not just any wolves. Ones I’ve never seen before.”

  “What do they look like?”

  “The Maasai killed one,” Reed said. “Check this out.” He turned the phone and let her study it for a moment. “It looks like the ones that attacked you.”

  “Go to the other side.” Just as he’d done with her a few days previously, she rattled off different parts to show her and explained how to move the carcass around for her inspection. “Tell me about the dissection,” she finally said.

  “More of a field dressing. I’ve cut open plenty of animals, and I’ve never seen anything like this.” He detailed the organ sizes, the overly large musculature, everything. Sarah let him speak uninterrupted.

  “What does the fur feel like?” she asked finally.

  The pelt gave way easily under his touch. “Smooth, soft. Not as thick as I expected.”

  “That’s what I found as well.” Paper rustled as she pulled out a folder. “I looked into wolf species further after we spoke. I didn’t find anything about wolves that look like the ones here. Which means you probably won’t find anything about your wolf either.”

  “I’ve never heard of wolves in Zurich, or wolves like this in Tanzania. The odds of this type of wolf appearing on different continents at the same time is close to zero.”

  “Agreed,” Sar
ah said. A final paper slipped through her fingers before she set the folder down. “What does it mean?”

  “I have no idea,” Reed admitted. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  She laughed. “Sorry to disappoint. We have to ask—could this possibly be an undiscovered species?”

  “Doubtful,” Reed said. “Just because the two of us haven’t seen these before doesn’t mean nobody has ever encountered them.”

  “Good point,” Sarah said. “At the end of the day it’s not our biggest problem. I’m more worried about their behavior than how they look.”

  More comfortable ground for Reed. “Wolves don’t often attack larger animals. Certainly not for anything other than to feed. Two wolves attacking your group at the zoo isn’t normal behavior.”

  “If they were hungry,” Sarah replied, “other targets at the zoo make more sense. Humans are intimidating to even the largest wolves. Also, after they killed one of us, the wolves didn’t stop to eat. They kept coming.” Her voice dropped. “It was two wolves working against a larger opponent, in a coordinated attack.”

  “Wolf packs hunt together,” Reed said. “But a pair of wolves going after a dozen humans and not stopping even after they’d killed one of you makes no sense.”

  “Everything I know about wolves suggests those two should have shared the spoils after one person died,” Sarah said. “Unless they weren’t out for food.”

  “Wolves don’t kill for the sake of killing,” Reed said. “Only humans do that.”

  “I didn’t see any signs of disease on either wolf from the zoo. What about the one you have?”

  Reed turned to the carcass beside him. “No signs of rabies or any other diseases I’m familiar with. Everything tells me this wolf wasn’t just healthy, but healthier than any wolf I know of. Stronger, faster.” He took a breath. “Smarter.”

  “That’s what I was afraid you would say.” Sarah ran a hand through her hair, the auburn strands catching behind one ear. Her next question caught him off guard. “Do the authorities know about the carcass?”