Jackal's Dance

by Beverley Harper

  Angela flushed but held his gaze. ‘I apologise for that, Professor Kruger.’

  Eben very nearly smiled at the retaliatory formality. There was steel in this girl. ‘That elephant scared everyone. Don’t give up just because of it.’

  ‘It’s not only the elephant.’

  ‘You’ve nearly completed two years’ study. You don’t have to go for a ranger’s job. Next year consider some of the administration courses available. I think you’ll find they complement what you’ve already done. Don’t squander those two years, Angela.’

  ‘I’m not going back into the bush,’ Angela said firmly. ‘I hate it out there.’

  ‘Very well. You’ve failed this course, I expect you know that. But don’t drop out altogether.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Eben could tell that she’d already made up her mind. ‘I’ll find out if you can stay here. If it’s okay we’ll pick you up on our way home. If they say no you’ll have to come with us. You can stay in camp by yourself. Will that do?’

  ‘Thanks, Prof.’

  Eben picked up his pen. ‘I don’t mind telling you, young lady, that you disappoint me. You have a good head on your shoulders. Have a really long and hard think about your options before doing anything rash. If you want to discuss things, my door is always open.’ Eben knew he was only saying what was expected of him. He was no longer responsible for Angela’s future and that rendered her, as far as Eben was concerned, of little further interest. ‘Off you go.’

  As she turned and left he watched her walk away, a frown of speculation between his eyes. Eben agreed with Fletch. The elephant alone shouldn’t have produced such an extreme reaction. Something else was bothering the girl. Should he have tried to find out what? His sigh was one of sadness. The young puzzled him with their hang-ups. In his day, life was simpler. People worked out their own problems. Now it required outside help, counselling, for everything under the sun, and all that achieved, as far as he could see, was to confuse them even more than they already were. Angela had probably done little more than confront the unsavoury truth that there were no beauty parlours in the bush. He sighed again, knowing he should have shown more concern. But eliciting confidences was beyond Eben’s capabilities. The professor neither knew, nor cared to know, about Angela’s personal demons. It was quite simply a relief that he no longer had to deal with her.

  Gayle came to life when they stopped near a herd of elephants making their stately way along the road. She had barely raised her head off Matt’s shoulder over zebra, a black rhinoceros, giraffe and a huge herd of wildebeest. But this sight certainly got her attention. ‘Christ! They look even bigger out here.’

  Caitlin heard the comment and grinned. Most people, on their first introduction to a wild African elephant, had the same reaction.

  Henneke also heard and mentally filed Gayle’s throaty voice for future reference. Her husband tutted at the actress’s blasphemy. And young Jutta Schmidt sat transfixed, not by the sighting but because Matt’s leg had, twice, brushed her shoulder.

  ‘God, lover. Just look at them.’

  Matt smiled at her excitement.

  ‘Oooohh!’ Gayle squealed. ‘There’s a baby. Look, everyone, isn’t it just the cutest little thing?’

  Performance mode.

  ‘Thank God I’m not an elephant. I’d hate to give birth to something that size. Oh God! There’s a big bloke. Look at the size of his schlong. Good grief! And it’s not even excited.’

  Matt nudged her and indicated Jutta.

  Gayle pulled a face at him then touched the girl lightly on the shoulder. ‘Sorry, darling. I forgot for a teeny moment we had a child with us.’

  Jutta felt the flush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks. Child! She was not a child. She was fifteen, nearly sixteen.

  Gayle’s throaty laugh rang out. One of the females swung her great head towards them and flapped both ears.

  ‘Can you try to keep it down a bit?’ Caitlin asked. ‘If we disturb them they’ll move away.’

  A young male tried to mount another male. ‘Gay elephants!’ Gayle giggled. ‘Now I’ve seen everything.’

  Johan’s lips were set in a tight line of disapproval. He was in two minds whether or not to place his hands over Henneke’s ears. Blasphemy and now downright filth. The woman had no shame. Famous actress or not, she was no better than a common whore.

  Next to him, Henneke’s face revealed none of her amusement. Gayle Gaynor was too good to be true. Johan was shocked rigid. What would the film star’s reaction be if he voiced his lack of appreciation? Henneke heard her husband’s intake of breath. She was about to find out.

  ‘You’ve been asked once to be quiet. We’re here to watch the animals, not listen to you.’ Johan’s expression was sanctimonious, his words accompanied by little nods of emphasis.

  Gayle’s face froze and her voice dripped ice as she turned to Matt. ‘Did you hear something? Did somebody say something?’

  Johan didn’t get the message. He tapped her shoulder. ‘Me.’

  Slowly, she turned the full force of her cold blue eyes on him. ‘It speaks! But in what language, I wonder?’

  Johan still didn’t get it. ‘English, lady. Try English.’

  ‘Good heavens! I don’t think so.’

  Henneke inwardly applauded. Neither she nor Johan spoke English very well but her husband’s guttural accent was emphasised by the pompous loudness of his voice. Although an Afrikaner, Johan prided himself on being bilingual and was always correcting Henneke’s English.

  Right now he was spluttering with indignation.

  Gayle turned her back on him and asked Caitlin, ‘Can we get any closer, my dear?’

  ‘I wouldn’t suggest it. This is a breeding herd. The cows can be quite protective of their offspring. Better to keep our distance.’ Caitlin had listened to the exchange with some sympathy for both. Gayle was annoyingly arrogant but Johan had an equally irritating air of self-righteousness.

  ‘Just a teeny bit closer?’ Gayle wheedled.

  ‘Sorry. My decision.’ Caitlin wondered if the actress had any inkling of the potential danger. Elephants in the zoo give the mistaken impression of being benign gentle giants. In the wild, especially where poaching is a problem, they can be quite aggressive. While Etosha’s elephants were reasonably protected, some illegal activity still occurred. The rogue this morning, for instance, even though it had no ivory, would probably have been wounded in a bungled poaching attempt. Caitlin had a healthy respect for all animals, and dangerous or not, preferred to give them space so they didn’t feel threatened. The elephants were no more than twenty metres down the road from where she’d stopped. As far as Caitlin was concerned, that was close enough. There had been too many stories of tourists, rangers and even researchers getting in amongst them only to discover a perfectly justified objection. And when an elephant objects, being within trunk, tusk or feet range was not only a bad idea, it was suicidal.

  Matt sought to head Gayle off before she tried to push it. ‘We’re close enough, my girl. I don’t want you in any danger. Humour me.’

  It worked. ‘Aren’t they sweet, though?’ Gayle cooed, before settling her head once again onto Matt’s shoulder.

  Chester was having an easy time. The four students were knowledgeable and appreciative. Their education covered a broad range of subjects and was not confined to fauna. They were able to identify grasses and herbaceous plants, shrubs and trees, some by their Latin derivatives, and even knew what part of each was favoured by which animal. Chester couldn’t fault their knowledge and quickly realised that what interested them most was when he related stories of unusual animal behaviour. They were like intelligent sponges, crammed with factual storage capacity and ready to soak up new experiences, even somebody else’s. It made a pleasant change.

  Assessing them, Chester quickly summed up each one’s area of interest. Kalila and Fletch had scientific minds so it was not surprising to learn that both intended to enter t
he postgraduate field of research. Megan seemed more interested in conservation. Chester had never seen a white woman with such large breasts. He’d have found her attractive but for that shrivelled leg. As for Troy, the one who had faced a rogue elephant so well, his knowledge of animal anatomy was phenomenal. There was no doubting that he would make a fine vet. Not only did he understand what made things tick, his obvious love of the bush meant he’d be a natural to work out here.

  Chester couldn’t swear to it but he had the feeling that Kalila was coming on to him. She kept leaning forward to speak and her eyes never left his face while he replied. Like the other rangers, Chester received his fair share of offers from the opposite sex. Being only human, ‘No thank you’ was a rare response. He’d become adept at picking up vibes – the transient nature of tourists being what it was he rarely had the luxury of time on his side. Khaki-fever revealed easily recognisable symptoms and Chester rarely got it wrong.

  Kalila was attractive. Tall for a Zulu, with fine features and a lovely smile. Chester liked her soft way of speaking. He was not bothered by the fact that she was a student. He correctly calculated her age as mid-twenties.

  She’d just asked him about the anthrax problem in Etosha. ‘Good question.’ Chester nodded. ‘In the old days natural migration allowed the land to be spelled. Now we have fences and artificial water-holes. Instead of rotational grazing, the game is forced to go back and forth over the same ground. The waterholes become over-used and germs such as anthrax bacilli start to incubate. Wildebeest are the hardest hit because they can’t move more than fifteen kilometres or so from water. Something like sixty per cent of wildebeest deaths in Etosha are caused by anthrax. It’s a vicious circle. The lions feed on dying and dead animals. While they themselves are immune to the disease, the blood of their victims permeates the soil. Rain washes bacteria into the waterholes.’

  ‘But it’s deadly to humans too, isn’t it?’ Kalila queried.

  ‘It can be. If it gets into the bloodstream death within hours is likely.’

  ‘Doesn’t anthrax mean carbuncle in Greek?’ Troy asked.

  Chester grinned. ‘You tell me. You’re the Greek around here.’

  Troy shrugged. ‘I’m okay on conversation stuff. Not so hot on medical terms. I think it does, though. I remember reading somewhere that anthrax, in people, normally presents as boils. If they’re not treated the patient usually dies.’

  ‘Boils?’ Fletch thought of a painful eruption he’d had on his backside when he was ten or eleven.

  ‘There are boils and boils,’ Troy explained.

  ‘Please!’ Megan interrupted. ‘I’d rather hear about anthrax. Boils! Yuck!’

  Chester winked at Kalila. ‘Bacteria can remain dormant in the ground for ten years or more. That’s why anthrax is impossible to eradicate.’

  ‘Man’s intervention strikes again,’ Megan said. ‘When will we learn?’

  Chester shook his head. ‘Never. Our egos can’t accept that nature knows best.’ By now, he was reasonably certain of Kalila’s interest in him. It was in her eyes. But he figured that his chances of lying with her were, at best, borderline. On a scale of one to ten, he’d be lucky to reach as far as four.

  James and Mal had gone Kodak crazy and were bug-eyed with amazement when Dan brought them close to a pride of sleeping lion. ‘Doing what they do best,’ Dan said. ‘They’ll stir in an hour or so and if they haven’t eaten for a couple of days, start to hunt.’

  ‘Isn’t our tracker a touch endangered?’ James worried.

  The African sat on his special seat at the front of the vehicle completely unconcerned, legs only metres from the nearest animal.

  ‘Seen many legless people at the lodge?’ Dan asked by way of response.

  Mal wondered aloud how the ranger could be so matter-of-fact. There on the ground were nine big cats, any of which were more than capable of instant action. A deft leap, a quick swipe and it would be all over for the unfortunate individual who captured their attention.

  ‘They’re scared of us,’ Dan explained.

  ‘Really?’ James sounded doubtful. ‘They look positively bored. I sure hope one of us is right. I’d hate for them to get any fast food ideas.’

  ‘They’ve grown used to the vehicles. Remember to remain seated. You’re perfectly safe.’

  Proximity to the king of beasts inevitably boosted everyone’s blood pressure. Dan, who saw lion almost every day, never ceased to admire the sleek pride. He knew this lot. This was their territory and photographic opportunities were many as the relaxed group ignored those who came to gawk at them, displaying an almost aristocratic indifference. For Philip, being so close reaffirmed the sheer size and power of Africa’s largest carnivore. Memory didn’t do the lion justice. Mal and James fell into awed silence, terribly aware that almost close enough to touch was death on four legs. They were both conscious of the transition from two-legged New York predators to this lot. These fellows were much more impressive.

  One of the females rolled onto her back and yawned. At such close range, the shape and size of her fangs were totally awesome.

  Felicity had visited more than one game reserve in her life and knew that the indolent display was deceptive. She’d watched a pride of hunting lions at one of the private game reserves in South Africa. After a newborn rhinoceros, their cold eye-locking stare and determined stalking were absolutely without conscience. While accepting that the lions had to eat, their behaviour seemed positively evil. On another occasion, she’d been right next to a very pissed off senior citizen that was trying to mate with a provocative female. The lioness wasn’t quite ready but her scent was driving the male crazy. When the game-viewing vehicle pulled up next to them, he vocalised his displeasure in no uncertain terms. The sound scared the living daylights out of everyone on the truck, including their ranger.

  Philip observed quietly, ‘There are cubs around somewhere.’

  Dan nodded. Two of the females had swollen teats. ‘Probably in the shade over there.’

  As if on cue, two wobbly little figures appeared, their heads poking through the grass, blinking sleepily against the sunlight. Although they hadn’t made a sound, their mother eased herself up and loped over to the shade where she flopped down on her side. The cubs were hidden from view but presumably she was feeding them.

  The three vehicles converged on Natukana Pan and arrived within a few minutes of each other. If there was one successful project that could be attributed to Billy Abbott it was the Ekuma hide and man-made waterhole. Until permanent water was introduced the long sweet grasses of Ekuma were visited only infrequently by grazers and elephants. Sightings now had become virtually guaranteed, although in times of severe drought the waterhole could dry up. When that happened the game moved further south. This year, despite an ongoing lack of significant rain, higher than normal cyclonic activity in southern Africa during January and February had kept the water table relatively high. Thirsty animals would drink it dry each night but a pool reformed within hours. Not that anyone could see water from where the vehicles were drawn up in a small enclosure surrounded by a two-metre-high reed fence.

  ‘This is the only hide in Etosha,’ Caitlin explained. ‘It has proved to be very popular with our guests. But for most park visitors, the rule about being back in camp by sunset makes it impossible to be here at the best time of day. Only guests at Logans Island enjoy that privilege.’

  ‘Where’s the water?’ Gayle asked.

  ‘We walk.’

  ‘Go on foot? Is it safe?’ Johan glanced around nervously.

  ‘How far?’ James wanted to know. Like the middle-aged Afrikaner, he wasn’t overly in favour of the idea.

  ‘About five hundred metres,’ Dan told him. ‘It’s quite safe. The track is fenced.’

  ‘Great! You mean like this is fenced?’ James looked sceptical. The reed barricade didn’t look as if it could withstand a puff of wind.

  Dan smiled. Every group had at least one worrywart who suddenly
discovered that being on foot in the African bush was not to their taste. ‘The fence is only so the animals can’t see us. Remember, they’re frightened of us. Look at the ground. See any sign of lion? Any elephant droppings? Any pug marks? You won’t. The scent of humans is strong here. That’s why we’re so far back from the water. Now, who’s for a drink?’

  Their cool boxes contained a wide selection. Beers proved popular, though Johan and Henneke opted for lemonade, Kalila asked for mineral water and Gayle a gin and tonic. The nervous among them soon relaxed, caught up by the sensation of being somewhere so different, by the absolute silence and an expectation of watching wild animals come in to drink unaware of being observed. Wildest Africa spun her magic and even those used to her spell became awed by it. Their voices were strangely subdued as the sun, a huge red orb made ghostly in the dust-laden air, sank towards the horizon.

  Gayle was especially impressed. ‘I’ve never seen the sun look so big,’ she whispered to Matt. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

  Fletch and Caitlin stood side by side. In the soft glow of sunset the deep red of his hair and the paler apricot of Caitlin’s made them appear as bronze statues.

  Drinks finished, it was time to head for the hide. ‘No smoking and no talking,’ Caitlin instructed. ‘When we get inside, find a seat, sit down quickly and keep still. Okay, everyone, let’s go.’ She opened a reed gate in the flimsy barricade.

  The path was narrow, only wide enough for two to walk abreast. Black rubber matting had been laid along it to deaden any sounds. Dan went first, leaving the rest of them to follow. Caitlin brought up the rear. The high walls on either side created a tunnel effect. Five minutes brought them to a sturdy wooden door. Beyond it, the path dropped underground into a short, cement-rendered passageway, which led through a second door to the hide itself. They came out into a semicircular room with benches and a narrow shelf in front of an uninterrupted observation slit which ran the full radius of the room and through which the waterhole was clearly visible. The open window was about half a metre above the ground. An overhanging of thatch ensured that the observers were very well hidden.