Jackal's Dance

by Beverley Harper

  Matt forced his mind away from the sensations engulfing his body. Holding back until Gayle was ready tested him to the limit but it could be done. She said once he’d been the best lover she’d ever had. Matt was under no illusions, though. If he disappointed her sexually their relationship would be over. Time to change positions. With Gayle on top, the look in his eyes as he stared into hers became lustful. In order to keep control, Matt was, in fact, reciting the eight times table in his head. Over she goes. Gayle was getting there but not quite yet. Once eight is eight, two eights are sixteen, three eights . . .

  He felt her arch. She was about to come. Matt allowed his own climax to build. They came together in shuddering, gasping relief and, even while the last of his desire ebbed away into her, he put one hand on the bed and gently lowered the two of them together so that he lay with his body curled around hers, still joined. Gayle was making murmuring sounds of contentment. Matt tenderly scratched her back with his nails, prolonging her pleasure.

  ‘Mattie,’ she whispered.

  She wanted to be held. He withdrew, gently rolling her to face him. Holding Gayle after making love would last at least fifteen minutes and may even lead to more love-making. Gayle’s sexual appetite remained strong and she was very demanding, but when they were together like this, the rest of the world could blow up as far as he was concerned. He forgave her the sarcasm, jealousies and drinking sprees. He forgot her rudeness. He even forgot who she was. When Matt and Gayle were alone, when there were no other people around expecting a performance, Matt knew no-one could come as close to knowing the real Gayle Gaynor. It was the one and only time she dropped all pretences. Her need to snuggle was a cry for togetherness and Matt, who had grown up in a close-knit family, responded with his own need to give her, no matter how fleeting, that sense of security that comes from having someone unconditionally on their side. It broke his heart, this hunger in her which she kept from the world, and for the brief time she would allow it, tried to give as much of himself as possible. He knew, however, that the psychological damage done to the little girl could never be truly eradicated from the woman.

  The elephant encounter had done more than scare Angela half to death. It had forced her to confront the fact that she was never going to become a game ranger. Angela already knew that she didn’t like the heat, the hours spent watching animals waiting for something to happen, or the discomfort of camp life. She had persevered only because working in eco-tourism would be different. All the boring stuff required to become qualified would be a thing of the past and she could start to enjoy the bush in comfort. Driving around with different groups of tourists all of whom depended on her skill and knowledge appealed to Angela.

  But that elephant! The sheer size and savagery of it, the threat to life and limb, the terror as they fled back to camp, was something Angela knew she could never face again. The others had been scared too but seemed able to bounce back from it. Troy even went with the rangers to face the animal a second time. He was welcome . . . They all were. They could keep their bloody bush. She’d had enough.

  Angela intended to drop out. Today, so that she wouldn’t have to go back out there. And if the professor didn’t like it he could stick it up his arse. She couldn’t wait to go home. Her mother’s contacts should bring in enough modelling work to make ends meet.

  And now, irrespective of the professor’s plans for a discussion, Angela was going for a swim. In mutinous mood, she changed into shorts and a T-shirt. Swimming was not an activity the students anticipated so none of them had any proper gear. Angela swept up a towel and set off towards the lodge.

  Eben saw her go and noted the body language. He quietly said to Fletch, ‘Bring her back.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘She may fail this course but discipline has to be maintained.’ Eben was thoroughly sick of Angela but then, he had never been particularly well disposed towards students who were not as enthusiastic about Africa’s fauna as he was.

  Fletch set off in pursuit. He caught up with Angela halfway to the lodge. ‘The Prof says you have to come back. The pool is off-limits.’

  ‘So what?’ She kept walking

  ‘He’ll kick you off the course.’

  ‘Have to be fast. I’m leaving anyway.’

  ‘Angela, have you thought this through?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’ve only got a year to go. Don’t let that elephant thing ruin all your plans.’

  ‘You don’t understand . . . I can’t deal with it.’ Angela had only felt terror like that once before. The rape. In her mind, the feelings were too close to be able to handle. Raw fear, irrespective of what caused it, crammed her head, driving out all thought other than to get as far away from it as possible. She was acting instinctively, a mindless attempt at self-preservation, and nothing or no-one would weaken that intention.

  ‘Okay,’ Fletch was saying. ‘Drop out. But come back now. The professor is in charge, Angela, he’s responsible for all of us.’

  Her steps slowed. She turned to face him. ‘Well, he is certainly not responsible for me. I’m not going back out there.’ The back of a hand brushed at tears. ‘You’re better off without me.’

  ‘Angela.’ Fletch wanted to comfort her but she stepped back smartly.

  ‘Please, leave me alone.’ She turned away.

  Fletch put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Angela,’ he pleaded.

  He was completely unprepared for the reaction. She flung off the contact and spun on him, face distorted. ‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ Both hands were up in front of her, ready to ward him off. ‘Don’t,’ she repeated.

  Fletch held his hands out. ‘I’m sorry. I was just –’

  ‘I know what you were doing. Do you think I’m stupid? I know what you want. Don’t touch me, don’t ever, ever touch me again.’ She sounded hysterical.

  ‘Please, Angela. I promise. I’m sorry. Just listen.’

  ‘To what? More lies? You want to hurt me. Go away. Just leave me alone.’ Angela backed from him, then turned and ran on up the path.

  Defeated, Fletch returned to the camp. ‘She wouldn’t come, Prof. There’s something really bothering her and I don’t know what it is.’

  Eben nodded slowly. ‘Okay. The rest of you, let’s get started. As of now, Angela is off this course.’

  SIX

  At three-fifty that afternoon, people began to gather outside the dining room. With four of Eben’s group joining the ten guests it had been decided to take three vehicles. Two could handle the numbers, but an extra one meant the students would have a ranger to themselves and their drive could be of a more scientific nature. Dan, Caitlin and Chester were to go out, Sean staying at the lodge.

  ‘Hard luck,’ Caitlin commented just before swinging into her vehicle to take it from the workshop. ‘You’ll have Erica Schmidt all to yourself.’

  Sean rolled his eyes. ‘Gee, thanks.’

  She grinned. ‘You’re going to love it. By the time that one’s finished with you you’ll know everything there is to know about running a luxury lodge. Oh, and don’t be surprised if none of her advice corresponds with what we actually do here. Prepare to be amazed.’ She started the engine.

  ‘Ah, Caitlin.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘No way. I had the pleasure of her company yesterday and again this morning.’

  ‘I’ll do your lunch shift until we close.’

  ‘Not a chance.’

  ‘Name it.’

  Caitlin shook her head, laughing. ‘Nothing could make me swap with you. You’re on your own, my friend. Enjoy.’

  ‘Cow!’

  ‘Sweet talk will get you nowhere. Not with me, anyway. Turn on that famous charm of yours. Who knows? Erica might fancy you something rotten.’

  ‘You’re sick. Anyone ever tell you that before?’ Sean was smiling. ‘I hope you get the husband.’

  ‘Compared with his wife, Walter is only a pleasure.’

  Sean
stepped back. ‘Would you swap places for a million Namibian dollars?’

  Caitlin raised an eyebrow suggestively. ‘I’d do anything for that much money.’

  ‘I’ll sign an IOU?’

  ‘Do me a favour. I’m Scottish, remember?’

  His response to that was a caustic, ‘I hope you break down and have to walk back.’

  Caitlin flashed a cheeky grin. ‘See you later.’ She nudged the open Land Rover into gear and drove away.

  Chester and Dan were loading cool boxes with drinks for the twilight sundowners. Everyone else was milling around, waiting to be told what to do. It never ceased to amaze Caitlin that people who held positions of authority at home behaved like obedient schoolkids when taken out of their usual environment. Dan called out, ‘Would Professor Kruger’s students please go with Chester. The rest of you spread out in the other vehicles. No point in overcrowding. All aboard.’ Only then did people move. Caitlin once suggested to Dan that the prospect of danger actually changed people’s characters.

  ‘Meaning what?’ he’d asked.

  ‘It seems to make them more reliant on others. Us, for example. We become the buffer zone between a sticky situation and their safety. They depend on us. That’s why they wait to be told what to do and actually enjoy not being in charge.’

  Dan laughed. ‘You may have a point, Caitlin.’

  ‘Think about it. Why else would they be so easy to boss around?’

  Dan had agreed, but added, ‘I wonder how manageable they’d be if trouble struck and their intrepid ranger turned out to be every bit as shit-scared as them? I hear what you’re saying but I don’t believe that anyone actually has danger on their minds when they come with us. They do what we tell them because that’s what they’re paying for.’

  The Land Rovers were long-wheel-base diesel Defenders, especially adapted for game viewing. No cab or windows, the windscreen hinged down onto the bonnet and was usually left in that position. Three rows of bench-type seats tiered up and back behind the driver. A canvas canopy protected passengers from the elements but otherwise, the interior of the vehicles was completely open. At the front, a solid steel bullbar had been welded to the chassis with a seat shaped a bit like a large shovel head. This was for a tracker to sit on. Not many guests were sharp-eyed enough to realise that their smartly dressed, smiling waiter and the khaki-clad tracker wearing a woollen cap were one and the same.

  The main reason for Erica Schmidt’s refusal to go on the game drive was her objection to the lack of protection. Telling her that, to date, Logans Island Lodge hadn’t lost a single guest from the back of one of their Land Rovers didn’t do it for Mrs Schmidt. Caitlin had rather hoped it wouldn’t.

  With the call to climb aboard, Kalila mounted a short, three-step ladder and settled herself directly behind Chester. Megan, with no difficulty, followed and sat next to her. Fletch and Troy took the seat behind.

  Chester turned and asked, ‘Anything in particular you want to see?’

  Kalila answered for them all. ‘Nope. Just a standard game drive, but anything we see, we’d appreciate it if you could test our knowledge.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s start now. As you can see, we carry a rifle. It’s for emergency use only. What calibre would you expect it to be?’

  ‘Nothing under a .375,’ Troy answered promptly. ‘Minimum three hundred grain projectiles.’

  Chester nodded. ‘Soft or solids?’

  ‘Both,’ Kalila said.

  ‘Why?’ Chester looked at Megan.

  ‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘a soft-nosed bullet will mushroom and do more damage but it might be stopped by bone. A solid has greater penetration. Since emergencies usually involve larger animals, and there’s very little time to take evasive action, you want to go for a fatal shot. I’d load solid, soft, solid to cover all possibilities.’

  ‘Good.’ Chester glanced at Fletch. ‘What calibre would you use?’

  ‘Point 458,’ Fletch replied.

  Chester patted the open-sighted Winchester 70 resting in brackets above the dashboard. ‘That’s what this baby is. Okay team, let’s go.’

  Jutta Schmidt, at fifteen, thought Matt the most romantic and attractive man she’d ever seen. She hung back to see which vehicle he would get into. Henneke was also waiting, in her case to see where Gayle sat. Matt and the actress moved towards Caitlin. Jutta grabbed her father’s arm and followed, delighted when her current hero took the middle seat. That meant she could sit directly in front of him. She knew from yesterday’s drive that there was every likelihood of his knees brushing her back.

  Johan had no wish to be in the same vehicle as the loud-mouthed actress but Henneke, with uncharacteristic firmness, stated, ‘We’ll take the back seat.’ The Afrikaner threw Gayle and Matt a disapproving look as he glared up at them. Matt didn’t blame the man but Gayle, who had no memory of her earlier rudeness, smiled vaguely as the middle-aged, overweight pair struggled over the side. She was being remarkably quiet, a combination of a hangover and the rosy after-glow of love-making, and snuggled comfortably into Matt. Henneke and Johan settled solidly on the back bench. Johan frowned when Matt put an arm protectively around Gayle. Henneke sat studying the hairstyle in front of her. She wondered if it would suit her.

  Philip, Felicity, James and Mal climbed into Dan’s vehicle. James and Mal sat right at the back. Philip and Felicity took the seat behind Dan. The middle one was left vacant.

  Dan turned to his passengers. Caitlin was already talking to hers. ‘If we encounter lion I cannot emphasise enough how important it is that you remain seated. They are used to the solid shape of vehicles but if anyone stands up it might give them other ideas. Sit quietly, make no sudden movements and remember, we are visitors in the animals’ domain. We obey their rules. Okay, everyone, let’s go.’

  The three Land Rovers took different directions once they were off the embankment and onto the mainland. They had this part of the park to themselves, not because it was off-limits to self-drive tourists staying in other areas of Etosha but because the rest camps shut their gates between sunset and sunrise. All guests had to be back inside during the hours of darkness. Some would venture this far north in the middle of the day, but at this hour, the roads were clear of all traffic except for lodge vehicles.

  A rendezvous was planned for six o’clock at a waterhole on the edge of Natukana Pan, up near the northern boundary. Everyone would be able to stretch their legs and have a sundowner, before sitting quietly in the hide to watch whatever having theirs.

  Despite the rangers knowing every square centimetre of the game drive routes and irrespective of repetitive questions asked by tourists there was always an element of excitement, an air of anticipation as they set off. No two drives were ever the same.

  Chester, who turned north, had only gone a couple of hundred metres before stopping. He pointed to the road ahead. ‘What are they?’ A pair of brilliantly coloured birds were searching for insects on the ground. The striking comparison between their crimson underside, jet-black head, tail and back and white striped wings made them one of the most beautiful species in the whole of southern Africa.

  ‘Crimson-breasted shrike,’ Kalila said.

  ‘Latin name?’ Chester asked.

  ‘Laniarius atrococcineus,’ Kalila shot back.

  Chester acknowledged her answer with a smile. ‘Anyone know what it’s called in Namibia?’

  No-one did.

  ‘Reichvogel, or Kaiservogel. Like to take a guess why?’

  ‘I’ll have a stab at it,’ Troy said. ‘Until the end of the First World War, Namibia was colonised by Germany. Wasn’t the flag of the old German Reich red, white and black?’

  ‘Very good.’ Chester questioned them about the bird’s breeding and feeding habits before setting off again.

  Dan, mindful of the fact that he had two passengers who were old African hands plus two who had never been on the continent in their lives, needed to cater for both. The ‘big five’ would please everyone, or
in this case the ‘big four’, since Etosha carried no Cape buffalo. Mal and James might find large herds of springbok and zebra fascinating, but Felicity and Philip would soon tire of them. They headed west, where Dan expected to find elephants, big cats and hyena.

  Caitlin travelled slightly south, then east. Walter Schmidt and his daughter wanted to see elephant and she knew that a big breeding herd had recently moved into the area near Charl Marais dam. Gayle Gaynor would expect something to boast about back in England. Elephants would do the trick there too. As for the South African pair, the man looked as if nothing would please him while his wife seemed more interested in Gayle Gaynor than anything else.

  Back at the camp site, Angela’s defection from Eben’s course was going much more smoothly than either of them expected. Denied use of the lodge pool and still in a rebellious mood, she had returned to her tent. Hearing Fletch and the others leave, Angela wasted no time. She found Eben and said, ‘I’m sorry, Prof, but I’m not cut out for this.’

  Eben had been working on his notes at the outdoor bar. He glanced up and regarded Angela from beneath bushy eyebrows.

  She returned his stare calmly, forcing Eben to acknowledge that the girl was no coward. That look had been known to unnerve fellow academics.

  ‘I can see how unsuited you are to this course,’ he said finally. ‘It’s been obvious from the start.’ He threw down his pen. ‘And it took an elephant to make you realise it?’

  Angela didn’t flinch. ‘Yes.’

  Another lengthy stare hung between them as Eben weighed his next words. When a student dropped out of his course, he took it personally. But on this occasion the professor was actually pleased. Old habits, however, die hard. ‘Then thank you, Miss Gibbs, for wasting my time.’