by Marion Leigh
‘You must have been taking lessons from Mrs. Pinderally to talk like that, Mercutio!’
‘Isn’t English wonderful!’
‘My sister would say clichés are infra dig.’
‘Not infra dignitatem?’
‘Just open the bottle.’
Chapter
55
Henny walked back into the chalet without knocking. The six girls had finished the first bottle of wine and were opening the second.
‘Time for the daily lecture, is it?’ Hilary asked.
‘Why don’t you go and buy us some more wine instead?’ Megan threw out.
‘Good idea,’ chorused the remaining four.
‘I have news,’ Henny said, putting down the bag he was carrying.
‘What news?’ Megan demanded.
‘The itinerary’s been changed.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Hilary barked.
‘The Higher Ground Tours brochure states quite clearly that the itinerary can be changed at any time if the circumstances warrant.’
Hilary shot a glance at Megan. ‘And who decides that?’
‘The organizers in conjunction with the tour leader.’
‘So it’s your fault!’ Megan trilled. ‘Trying to get us off your back so that I won’t lodge a complaint, are you?’
‘I thought you and Hilary had decided not to continue the tour,’ Henny said with a smirk.
‘The others have rights even if we leave. You can’t gyp them out of what they’ve paid for.’
‘You might be pleased to hear what’s on offer.’
‘If it involves you I doubt it.’
Fucking bitches. God, he’d be glad to hand them over to the Master.
‘Conditions at Cape Cross make it impossible for us to go there. Instead we’ll go straight to Etosha and spend an extra few days there.’
‘What conditions at Cape Cross?’ Megan asked. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘The campsite has been closed due to contaminated water,’ Henny said, making up lies as he went.
‘We can take extra water with us.’
‘Not enough for showers or washing.’
Then he played his trump card.
‘I have a special video message for you from the tour organizers. They are doing their best to make good and will refund a percentage of the tour price if you are not satisfied with the alternate arrangements.’ He saw scepticism on their faces then curiosity.
Out of his bag he took a video camera. The left side of the machine opened up into a decent-sized rectangular screen. He inserted a tape and looked from one to the other.
The hand holding the camera was sweating profusely. He changed hands and wiped off the moisture on his khaki pants. He gestured for the girls on the sofa to move over.
‘You’ll all be able to see and hear if I sit in the middle and you gather round.’
‘No way, creep. I’ll hold it. OK, girls. Let’s see who these organizers are.’
The four girls crowded round Megan and Hilary. Henny leaned back against the wall next to the kitchen and folded his arms. He had watched the video and waited to see their reactions.
The opening shot showed the Etosha pan in the early morning – a vast expanse of flat silvery sand that shimmered like the open sea. A column of springbok and a few zebra were heading for a hillock that floated like an island, on their way to lick the salt.
Next, the camera focussed on a waterhole where a lone bull elephant was quenching his thirst. He stopped drinking as a formidable opponent hove into view: a hulking white rhino built like a tank. The two animals faced off, edging closer. Then both decided that avoiding dehydration was more important than establishing supremacy.
The camera switched to a different view. The girls watched intently as two enormous male lions got up from under a tree and moved off through the short grass. Their paws were as big as dinner plates and their muscles rippled with latent energy as they walked.
For the first time on the tour, there was no talking, just a few oohs and aahs. The lions disappeared behind a bush and a family of giraffes took their place. The gawky baby reached for the lower leaves while Mum munched higher up and Dad surveyed the scene from above.
When the camera zoomed in on a shaggy dog-like animal occupying the centre of a waterhole, Hilary gestured to Henny. ‘What’s that?’
‘A brown hyena. Trying to get relief from the heat.’ He was back in the guiding seat.
The waterhole in the next frame teemed with game, sharing the space and the water.
If that’s what the girls were expecting, Henny knew they’d be disappointed. At this time of year, after the rains, the vegetation would be lusher and the great Etosha pan would hold some water. The animals would be more dispersed, but there would be plenty of babies.
Once again Henny took his hat off to the Master. He was a wizard at setting things up, truly a mastermind. The girls had already fallen under Etosha’s spell. They had forgotten all about the Cape Cross seals and Damaraland. And as soon as they saw the next part of the video, they would be well and truly hooked. The only thing left to do would be to reel ’em in. He chuckled to himself.
The next shot showed a long straight gravel road running across a plain where antelope grazed. Whoever was filming from the vehicle was doing a good job of keeping the camera steady. At a crossroads, the vehicle turned left and soon came to a sign for Halali. The girls watched avidly as the vehicle drove through the camp into a secluded area. It came to a stop next to a Higher Ground camper van like the one in which they were travelling.
Someone was unloading equipment, facing away from the camera. Lithe, dressed in tight black jeans and a black stretch T-shirt with a rock band logo on the back. A guy with blonde hair almost down to his shoulders.
Hilary nudged Megan. ‘He’s hot. I could use a bit of that.’
‘I concur. A lot sexier than our group leader,’ she said throwing a glance at Henny.
The guy’s movements filled the screen. He lifted a large box out of the van and put it on the ground. Then he straightened up and spun round like a dancer. The camera zoomed in on his face.
Megan and Hilary’s jaws dropped. The other four girls pushed in closer for a better look.
‘Oh my God, look at those lashes!’
‘What a waste on a guy!’
‘I don’t agree,’ Megan countered. ‘They’re brill. And those eyes.’
‘Like the Mona Lisa. They follow you everywhere.’
‘I hope he’s going to be our new guide.’
‘Me too.’
‘And me.’
‘I’ll vote for him.’
‘I’ll screw him,’ Hilary proclaimed.
‘Me first,’ Megan said.
The Master hadn’t said a single word and the six girls were falling over themselves to get a piece of him. His effect on women, young and old, was astounding. He didn’t have to do anything, Henny thought with a flash of anger. Just turn his big blue eyes on them and gaze at them through those incredible eyelashes. Regular guys didn’t stand a chance.
The Master’s face filled the screen. He was beginning his spiel. Henny moved to one side of the sofa so that he could see it.
‘Welcome to Higher Ground.’
Four simple words and you could hear a pin drop. The Master’s limpid gaze encompassed each and every one of the watchers.
‘During the first part of your tour, you will have experienced some of the magnificent sights and sounds of Africa. You will have learned to live in harmony with nature and as a group.’
Henny held his breath but there were no raucous comments from the girls.
The Master smiled fleetingly. ‘Now you will join my team and begin the next phase of your journey of discovery. The essence of Africa lies in its wildlife, its wilderness, and
its unchanging nature. I will work with each of you individually and show you how you can make your contribution.’
The six girls were nodding in unison, ripe for the plucking.
The camera zoomed in so that the insignia on the Master’s shirt came into focus: the words “White Tribe” in stylized large print followed by the words “live in concert” above the image of a blonde rocker facing a sea of white female faces.
The camera returned to the Master’s face. ‘Our spiritual advisor, Father Joe, will help you if you have questions or special needs. He has stood by my side since the inception of Higher Ground. He is the rock on which this organization is built. Listen to him.’
The Master’s face faded out. Father Joe strode into view. A commanding figure in his black robe and leather sandals, plus the shaggy mane of hair and the leonine eyes. His aura was not as strong as the Master’s, yet the audience hung on his words.
‘Our mission at Higher Ground is to ensure a brighter future for this land. Through your willingness to volunteer and your commitment to the community, we will succeed. Come with us to find enlightenment and fulfill your destiny.’
The camera panned across a rocky plain towards a fenced kraal. The high fence was made of tree branches and rough stakes set close together so that there was no view of what was behind.
The Master’s face reappeared, superimposed on the fence. His eyes roved over the audience, caressing each member in turn. As his face faded to nothing, four words stayed on the screen: ‘Higher Ground needs you.’
Henny wiped perspiration from his brow.
After a few seconds’ silence, Hilary spoke. ‘That Father Joe’s a bit of all right too.’
Megan shrugged. ‘If you like older men …’
‘I wonder what he’s got under that robe …’
A burst of coarse laughter erupted from the group.
‘OK, so where do we meet these guys?’ Megan asked Henny.
‘In Etosha.’
‘How long will it take us to get there?’
‘If we leave really early, we can be there by tomorrow night.’
‘What do you say, girls, shall we do it?’
There was no doubt about the answer.
Chapter
56
Petra rushed to the hotel computer as soon as she had had breakfast. She was delighted to find a note from Ali.
Dear Miss Petra,
Mrs. Pinderally begs me to tell you that she will immediately initiate hush-hush measures to rescue Miss Vicky and nab the wrongdoers.
Do not fear. All will be well.
Your dutiful servant,
Ali
Laughing at the vocabulary, she fired off a thank-you note. Just as she finished, another email came in. Astonished, she saw that it was from Higher Ground Interchange. She opened it with a degree of apprehension. It read:
Dear Miss Minx,
You wrote recently expressing your interest in our Outreach Programmes. At that time, we had no openings for volunteers or counsellors. However, circumstances have changed and we now have positions available in several of our villages.
Since you indicated that you were travelling, I presume you are no longer in the Saldanha Bay area. If you will let us know where you are, I will find you a suitable position.
I look forward to hearing from you by return.
Sincerely,
Marcus Zen
Outreach Programme Coordinator
Petra’s brain flooded with questions. Why were positions suddenly available? Was one of them in Langebaan? Could something have happened to Vicky Dunlin? What should she say to Marcus Zen? She kept her hands poised over the keyboard as her mind raced to work out the best response.
A rude noise caused her to turn round. The pimply youth was standing in the doorway.
‘Government business, I suppose?’ he sneered.
‘Yes. Get lost!’
The stupid kid had interrupted her train of thought. Now she was out of time. Carlo had gone to put their bags in the van and would be coming to check out. It was a long way to Etosha and he was anxious to get started. Perhaps she should just ignore the email … but if she did, she’d always wonder what Zen might have done next. She had nothing to lose by replying even if the wording wasn’t perfect. She typed as fast as she could:
Dear Mr. Zen,
Thank you for your email. I am still interested in your organization but at the moment I am in Namibia and going to Etosha on safari.
I will be returning to Cape Town at the end of the week and would prefer to volunteer somewhere not too far away: Langebaan or Stellenbosch would be perfect.
Please send me details of what positions are available.
Sincerely,
Alice
Petra pressed the send button and hoped she hadn’t said too much or too little. She was about to sign out when a notification from Trip Advisor arrived in her inbox. ‘Recent reviews of Sesriem’ it said. Something caused her to open it despite the time pressure she was under.
First, the usual thanks for her review. Then a link to reviews posted shortly before hers. Petra clicked on the link. She scrolled past a review in German and one in broken English and stopped at the third.
If you camp in Sesriem, be careful when walking around at night. The campsite is good but predators (human) can easily hide and attack you. Watch out for some of the guides and whatever you do, don’t travel with Higher Ground Tours. They take your phones away, make you do all the work, and our guide Henny is a real prick. We’re leaving the tour in Swakopmund and going to Etosha under our own steam.
The review was signed by The Chalet Girls. Petra read it for the second time. There couldn’t be that many chalet girls in Southern Africa travelling with Higher Ground Tours. It must be from Megan and Hilary. She stared at the screen as if she could find proof between the lines.
It sounded as though there’d been some kind of incident at the campsite, probably involving one of the guides. Petra had asked the burly ranger there about Florian and Father John, but not about the guy with the Mohawk hair and the limp. If she phoned the camp office, she might be able to determine whether “Mohawk” was Megan and Hilary’s tour guide Henny.
Petra pushed back the chair. She had forgotten about its wobble and nearly tipped herself onto the floor.
‘Finished at last?’ asked the pimply youth who had reappeared.
‘It’s all yours. Out of my way!’
Petra rushed into the reception area. Carlo was thanking the young lady at the desk for a wonderful stay and exceptional service. ‘There you are,’ he said. ‘I was just coming to find you. We’ve got to get on the road.’
‘Carlo, I need to make two phone calls.’
‘I’ve already checked out and returned the room keys.’
‘I have to call A.K., to let him know that I’ve made arrangements for someone to fetch Vicky and to tell him that I’ll follow up myself as soon as we get back to Cape Town.’
‘It’s the middle of the night in Canada.’
‘If he doesn’t answer, I’ll leave him a message. Then I have to call the campsite at Sesriem.’
‘Whatever for?’
Petra explained the essentials to Carlo.
‘Even if there was an incident there, what are you going to gain?’
‘Confirmation about the incident and confirmation that this Henny is Megan and Hilary’s tour guide.’
‘Was, not is. They said they were leaving.’
‘OK, was. I can still keep an eye out for him and …’
‘And what?’
‘If we see him in Etosha with other girls, we can warn them.’
‘About what? To be careful when they’re walking around at night? Isn’t that something all young women are aware of?’
‘They should be, but
sometimes they forget.’
‘As I said before, Petra, you can’t take everyone under your wing. Africa is a big wild place; people have to fend for themselves. I blame A.K. for asking you to look out for Vicky Dunlin. That’s what started all this.’
‘You’re wrong, Carlo. It was that scene outside the restaurant in Cape Town when Megan and Hilary’s phones were stolen that started all this. I’ve had misgivings ever since. Then there was the wedding.’
‘What about the wedding?’
‘The bride wasn’t happy and there were all kinds of odd things going on.’
‘So now we’re back to Julia.’
‘Yes, and Florian.’
‘All right, but make it quick. In six hours’ time, we’ll be well on our way to Etosha.’
Chapter
57
In the back of the van, the six girls were singing at the tops of their voices. For fifteen minutes it’d been Frère Jacques in a round – round and round and round, driving Henny mad. Now they’d started on She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain. After the second refrain, Hilary changed the words.
‘She’ll be wearing silk pyjamas when she comes’ they sang.
Henny snorted. He could supply verses that would beat anything they could come up with. He knew better than to suggest them. If he did, the sneaky bitches’d never stop singing.
An open truck carrying farm workers braked suddenly in front of him and veered left onto the grass verge. Henny cursed and pulled out to avoid a collision. The car coming towards him blasted its horn. The singers didn’t miss a note.
He had managed to coax all six into the van by 7 a.m., an hour later than he would have liked. The main road from Swakopmund would be heavy with traffic as far as Karibib. Once he turned left onto the C33 to Otjiwarongo, he would lose the Windhoek-bound vehicles, but the road was more challenging. Even with reasonably well-paved surfaces, it would be mid-afternoon before they reached the Etosha park gate at Okaukuejo. Then it would be another two hours through the park to get to Halali by sundown.
By lunchtime no one was in the mood for singing. Henny’s leg was so stiff he could barely straighten it when they stopped for a ten-minute break.