“Imagine if you keep your eyes open,” Paul said with a wink. “Now take another shot.”
“You show me how it’s done.”
“I am not so skilled,” Paul said as he lifted his bow and took aim. An instant later the arrow vibrated in the target. Dead center.
“Holy shit.” Paul laughed when she cursed. “Nice shot.”
“Thank you,” Paul said. “Now I will show you how.”
With Paul guiding her, Sarah spent the next hour practicing the basics of shooting. The native Tanzanian was a natural teacher, and by the time her arms finally threatened to give out and her aching fingers demanded a break, Sarah was hitting the target consistently. “I’m getting the hang of it,” she said when he called an end to their session.
“You are wonderful.” Paul wiped sweat from his brow, then took a long drink of water. “Soon you will become the best hunter in camp.”
“Reed might have something to say about that.”
Paul frowned. “He is not a hunter any longer. He does not count.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “In that case, I have a chance.”
“You will see,” Paul said. “Now let me show you how to carry the bow.” After slipping his bow string free, he sheathed the weapon inside its carrying pouch. He unscrewed the arrow tips and put those in as well, and it was done. “Put it around your shoulder. Then it is easy to carry.”
Once Sarah followed suit with her weapon, the entire thing proved surprisingly light. “You hardly realize it’s there.”
“A bow is always useful,” Paul said. “But I understand if you do not want to wear it.”
“Are you kidding? I love it.” She wrapped Paul in a hug. “Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s so good to see you again.”
He returned the embrace. “It is good to see you too. I hope this time your visit is not so eventful.”
She laughed. “Me too. Nothing but sun, safari and a few cold beers.” Sarah stepped back and reached overhead, stretching as she yawned. “I need to catch a quick nap before lunch, or I’ll never make it today.”
“Go, go.” Paul shooed her away. “You cannot keep the Rolling Stones waiting.”
Squinting against the rising sun, Sarah walked to her cabin, ducking into the cool interior with a soft sigh. Thank goodness for air conditioning. After setting her precious gift on the table, her boots came tumbling off, and she was scarcely able to set an alarm before falling into bed.
Two hours later Sarah was showered and seated with her colleagues, an empty plate in front of her. She could have eaten a horse after her nap, and she’d darn near come close.
“Everybody get enough?” Reed leaned on the massive dining room table, one elongated bench with seating for twenty. Heads nodded. “Good. We’ll take two vehicles, three visitors in each plus a guide. Grab your cameras, slap on sunscreen and let’s move out. The Stones come on in thirty.” He touched Sarah’s arm as everybody moved. “Want to ride with me?”
She smiled. “Sure.”
Outside, camp employees pointed everyone to a pair of Jeeps. As they walked, the dogs she’d heard barking earlier came running from Reed’s cabin. Two of them flanked Sarah, panting and making it clear she hadn’t scratched their ears for months, so she needed to hurry up and get to it. “Good to see you again, Rico.” The brindle mutt spun in a circle, banging her shin in the process. “And you, Cinder. You’re looking healthy.” She ran a hand through his black fur, eliciting a contented rumble. Eventually she turned to the third dog, the one sitting patiently at Reed’s side. “Too good for me, Doc?”
“Go ahead,” Reed said.
Only then did Doc come over, sliding in so Sarah could scratch his back. “Let your hair down once in a while,” she joked. The Belgian Shepherd listened better than most people.
“Hey, boss.” One of Reed’s team came over to where he and Sarah stood in the shade of a wide tree. “Someone called and left a message.” He handed Reed a slip of paper and went back to work. Reed opened the folded paper, then sighed.
“Everything okay?” Sarah asked.
“Yes.” He flicked the note. “It’s my mother. Wondering when I’m coming home.”
“Back to Montana?” she asked. Reed nodded. “How long has it been?”
“A while.”
She waited, but he said nothing more. “They miss you,” she said. “Visiting home isn’t a bad thing.”
“Neither is giving people space.” He studied the horizon, crinkling the note between his fingers. “They’re busy, too, so it’s hard to make the timing work.”
“I’m sure they will take time off if you come from Africa.”
“My father might disagree. Hard to run a successful business if you’re not there, according to him.”
A memory surfaced. “Don’t they own several companies?” Reed nodded again. “There must be managers who can run things.” She waved toward the men checking tire pressures and gassing engines. “Your team covers when you leave.”
“My father doesn’t think that way. He keeps a close eye on everything. Besides, I don’t need another not-so-subtle lecture about what I do.”
Sarah stepped back. “A lecture? You’re doing great. You run a safari outfit, boost the local economy and save wildlife all at the same time.”
“Maybe you should visit my parents.” He smiled, stuffing the note into a pocket. “My mom would agree, then my father would ask who is going to take over their businesses when he retires.”
“He would still love to see you.” She touched his arm. “They’re your parents, Reed. It’s part of their job to worry.”
He raised his hands. “I know, I know. I’ll go back soon.” He pointed to the Jeeps. “Ours is in front. You ride shotgun.”
Within minutes six scientists rumbled off, the wind roaring through their open-air cabins as Reed led the way, two clouds of billowing dust marking their progress.
Afternoon sunlight streamed down, blue skies dotted with wispy clouds high overhead framing the dusty plains as Reed pulled alongside a copse of trees and pointed above them. “Egrets,” he said, and Sarah looked up to see at least a hundred of the white birds, their slender legs tucked into white plumage as they floated on the breeze. “They’re headed for water.”
“I am a vet, you know.” She turned to find her colleagues grinning in the rear seat.
“Just keeping you on your toes,” he said. A soft rise lay ahead and Reed slowed as they neared the top. “Get your cameras ready,” he said as the other Jeep pulled alongside. “We’re in for a treat.”
Grass rustled as they rolled, the tips of acacia trees poking above the horizon. Wait a second. Sarah leaned forward. That tree was moving. What in the world?
Acacia trees were ahead, but that wasn’t all. Standing amid the trees, towering giraffes and their offspring grazed on the leaves, their leopard-like spots covering everything from their spindly legs to the unmistakable necks stretching far into the sky.
“A tower of them.” One scientist grabbed Reed’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen this in the wild. Please stop the car.” Without waiting for him, the man stood, his camera clicking like a machine gun.
“A tower?” Reed asked, slipping his sunglasses off. “That’s what they’re called?”
Sarah laughed. “Appropriate, isn’t it?”
“A lion calls them dinner.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“These guys didn’t make it this far by being stupid. Besides, the lions are sleeping now. They hunt – right, right,” he said, raising his hands in surrender at her withering look. “You’re a vet.”
Once everyone had sat down again, Reed cruised past the giraffes, dodging small mounds and keeping out of the grass. No one wanted to chance upon a group of lions or cheetahs lounging. Sarah glanced over at him, taking in the handgun strapped to one hip.
“What’s that for?” she asked over the engine noise.
“Hopefully nothing,” he said. Reed
tapped his shades. “The best idea is to stay alert.”
As the giraffes faded in the rearview mirror, Reed made a hard turn, heading toward a glittering lake off in the distance. The ground dropped; they zipped down and then back up over a small hill, and then the Rolling Stones appeared – a dozen elephants lounging on the shoreline. Water sprayed and the smaller elephants rolled in the dirt as clouds of dust floated skyward. Cameras clicked, the scientists gesturing with childlike enthusiasm at seeing wild elephants in their element. One scientist held his phone in the air, waving it back and forth.
“There’s no signal out here.”
“One of Africa’s greatest gifts,” Reed said.
“My kids are checking social media every half hour,” the man said. “As soon as we get back to camp, I’ll post it.”
After twenty minutes spent observing and discussing the elephants, their group turned back for camp. Sarah closed her eyes, feeling the sun warm on her face. A line from one of her old college professors came back to her, words she hadn’t appreciated at the time. “If you want to be a good vet, you need to get out of the classroom and into the field.”
Chapter 3
Cairo, Egypt
Exhaust fumes permeated the still air, horns blaring as traffic went nowhere – the typical pace of life in this ancient city. A crescent moon hung in one corner of the night sky, city lights fading as the endless expanse of surrounding desert crept forward to reclaim its territory.
Nestled between modern skyscrapers and the four-thousand-year-old pyramids was a small whitewashed building, its dingy walls yellowed under the sand’s incessant assault. It was an anonymous structure in a neighborhood filled with them, no different than a hundred others.
Except that this building was a popular destination for local pedestrians. Not to enter, however, but to linger outside, waiting, talking to the pair of men leaning in the doorway, their shirts hanging loosely about their thick frames. If other people took notice, they said nothing and kept going about their business.
If you did have reason to visit this place, the two men handled it. Requests went from your lips to their ears, coins exchanged hands, and you went on your way. What happened afterwards centered around the man sitting inside at a worn kitchen table. Two tired chairs and a small table abutted a door, the steps beyond it leading down to the warren of tunnels beneath Cairo’s streets. These avenues the man knew well, the streets that used to be Cairo before urban expansion had buried them far below. When needed, he could vanish into the maze, only to emerge in any number of places across the city.
Smoke curled around weak light bulbs overhead, the open windows offering little respite from the hot air; each breath was a struggle. On the table, a cell phone buzzed, rattling against the glass ashtray holding his forgotten cigarette. A cat sleeping alongside the vibrating phone never stirred.
“Right on schedule,” the man said. “Hello?” He scratched the cat’s ears as rapid-fire Swahili filled his ear.
“The price of ivory went up today,” the caller said. “I found a way we can make money. Serious money.”
He hated the language, found it distasteful, borderline barbaric. But the caller knew his rule. No English on the phone. “I’m listening,” he said in the same tongue.
“My men found a herd not far from here, near where the safaris go. At least ten, almost every one with tusks.”
The cat purred, opening one eye. “Enticing, given the scarcity created today. How did you find them?”
“A tourist posted it on Twitter.”
And once again, the man felt the world slowly passing him by. “Can you harvest the ivory without trouble? My buyers clamor for more every day.”
“No problem for us, my friend. Is the delivery route open?”
The man massaged his forehead. They were not friends. “Of course. Business never stops.”
“Then it will be done. You can pick it up tomorrow.”
“I’ll send my men. Don’t use anyone who is not disposable. I cannot have undue attention, not with what’s coming. Prisoners have a habit of talking, which I cannot abide.”
“Understood. I will call once it is done.”
He clicked off, numbers whirring through his mind. Say six of the beasts had full tusks, seventy kilos per animal; that made four hundred twenty kilos of ivory. “Three quarters of a million dollars,” he said. Another cigarette slipped from his pack, a weathered golden Zippo flicking to life. Not bad for a night’s work. Not bad at all. Say two thirds of it came to him as profit, and suddenly his work in Tanzania got a little easier. Money greased the wheels, and in a dirt-poor place like Mwanza, it only took a little to get things moving.
He yelled for one of his guards and then inhaled deeply on his cigarette, savoring the unfiltered heat filling his lungs. Another cat jumped into his lap, circling around before settling down as the guard walked in.
“Effendi,” the guard said, his eyes on the ground.
“Call our associates in Nairobi. Tell them to pick up a package tomorrow and bring it to me.” He scribbled on a notepad and ripped it off. “They will receive a call from this number to confirm the exchange time. Same location as before.”
The guard scurried off, leaving Wafa Khaled alone with his thoughts. One thing he’d learned in his twenty years ruling the underbelly of Egyptian society stuck out now: never get too greedy. Too much of it could hurt you. And in his world, that hurt often came on the wrong end of a bullet.
“Am I reaching too far?” he asked the hazy ceiling, blowing a stream of smoke. “It is hard to say.”
For now, he would have to take the chance. He would also have contingency plans. If any of the thugs Juma Cheyo employed landed in jail, well, he knew men to handle them too. Facilitating murder in a third-world jail was easier than doing it on the street. And the bonus? The jailers cleaned up your mess.
Chapter 4
Outside Mwanza, Tanzania
Clouds rolled across the dark sky, the moon a faltering light flashing on and off. Beneath it all, Reed stood still, one ear turned up to the sky. Maybe he’d imagined the sounds. Then gunfire split the air, rifles booming across the savanna. He checked every tent around the campsite. Every last one was empty.
He grabbed a rifle and ran toward the gunfire. But he couldn’t run fast enough; the waving grass grabbed his legs, pulling at every step as though he slogged through water. A gun flashed ahead, the boom rolling like thunder. The flash lit up a man he recognized. One of his guests, shooting, fighting for his life.
Chest heaving, eyes burning as sweat dripped off his forehead, Reed pushed through the thick grass and came to a clearing. Behind him, the other guide stumbled out and flicked on his flashlight, a white beam cutting through the night, revealing a massacre.
Dead animals lay everywhere. Blood pooled around them, black as tar, as the dirt sucked it greedily. Standing amid the carnage, the member of his safari group smiled and pointed, pride on their faces.
More booming cut through the night. “Reed? Hello?” The noise was deafening, like thunder from above. He tried to turn, to twist the rifle, but his arm wouldn’t move. The voice kept calling him. “Reed, are you okay?”
“What?” He opened his eyes, realized he was in bed. Morning sunlight leaked through the window. Someone was banging on his front door. He blinked hard. Sarah.
Reed jumped up and opened the door. Sarah stood outside, lines creasing her forehead. “Are you okay?”
He rubbed one eye. “Yes, I’m fine.”
She didn’t buy it. “I heard shouting.” He didn’t respond. “You were having a nightmare.” Her face softened. “Was it about the lion pride?”
He kneaded his tingling arm, blinking fiercely. Birds cried outside, their calls filtering through the open window. The alarm hadn’t gone off yet. At least he didn’t think so. “What time is it?”
“Seven o’clock.” She reached toward him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you still had them.”
“Not oft
en anymore.” The cool floor tickled his feet, and his molars gleamed when he yawned. “Are you hungry? Our cook still makes the best breakfast in town.”
“That sounds delicious,” she said, then indicated the bathrobe draped over her shoulders. “Let me get changed.”
Reed stretched, started to feel more like a human being. “There’s a big day ahead of us. If your friends want to see hippos by the water and the zebra migration, we need to leave soon.” He stepped outside, into the warm sunlight spilling across the porch.
She nodded. “Meet you at the dining table in five.”
He got dressed, and by the time they’d finished their coffee at the mess hall most of the guests were finished eating.
“Today we have a lot in store,” Reed announced. “Be sure to put on sunscreen and bring a hat. We have food and drinks in the vehicles, enough for everyone. I don’t know how long we’ll be out, though if the hippos work with us, we’ll get an up-close view of them today. After that, the zebras should be up and moving, so we may have a full day ahead.”
Paul got the scientists headed outside, while Reed scarfed down an egg sandwich. A few minutes later, belted behind the wheel of a Jeep, Reed led the way, charting a course similar to yesterday’s excursion featuring the Rolling Stones. Not more than five minutes into the journey, a small herd of gazelle dashed alongside, their hooves pounding the plains. Twin pointed horns jutted from each angular head, and the distinctive black stripes bisected tan and white fur.
While everyone admired the animals’ speed and grace, Reed kept pace with the gazelles until another animal caught his eye. He nearly swerved off the road, hands clenching the wheel too hard as his entire body tensed. A lazy cyclone of dark birds circled high in the sky. Were those vultures? No one else noticed at first.
He tapped Sarah’s arm and pointed. “Vultures ahead. We’ll detour over there.” Judging from how many of them were floating overhead, something big had died.
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