Stalking Ivory

by Suzanne Arruda

  Unfortunately, other people sometimes stalked these forests, and Jade’s conscience reminded her that she hadn’t come just for the solitude. A distant echo of rifle reports emphasized both points. Blaney Percival had told her about this hidden spot when she asked for a good location to photograph elephants. In return, she promised to relay information on the current poaching. So far she hadn’t seen any evidence, but she didn’t kid herself. Where there were this many elephants, there would be poachers.

  Jade chose an African olive tree across the game trail and tied the wire around its trunk. Then she ran the thin strand a few inches above the ground to her stinkwood tree blind, passed it under a spool that she’d staked into the ground, and tossed the rest of the coil up to Beverly.

  “Does this end go to that little switch?” Beverly asked.

  Jade scrambled back up the tree using a rope ladder and reached a hand up for Avery’s assistance. “That’s correct,” she answered as she swung a leg over a floorboard.

  Avery lowered his rifle and studied the setup. “I see. Rather ingenious actually. I wondered how you planned to take a photograph in the dark without being here.”

  “Hopefully this switch at the battery will set off the magnesium flash powder in that pan at the same time as the shutter is released,” Jade explained. She gingerly slipped a nooselike piece of wire over the shutter release.

  “But won’t the elephant, or whatever strolls by, just pull the whole contraption out of the tree?” asked Beverly.

  “I’ve anchored the camera down with clamps. The trip wire is close enough to the ground to be stepped on, but if an animal did snag a foot on it, the wire is so thin, it should snap as soon as it pulls any farther than I’ve allowed.” Jade stepped back and examined her work. “At least under the weight of an elephant,” she added. “I’m counting on smaller animals missing it entirely. Just keep your fingers crossed and pray I’ve set the focal plane correctly.” Jade fussed with a rubberized hood that covered most of the camera. “I’m more concerned with moisture on my lens than anything.”

  “The long rains aren’t due for another month at least,” Avery reminded her.

  “That doesn’t stop the fog every morning,” Jade replied as she gave a final tug to the hood.

  “Oh, hang the fog!” declared Beverly. “What happened with the lovesick elk? You didn’t finish your story.”

  “Oh, him? Where’d I leave off?” She paused in thought. “Right, the horse. So this big old bull elk, he really had a passion for one of the old cow ponies.” She laughed. “No question of taste, I guess. Anyway, he hung around that paddock for several days till one day he just went berserker and kicked in a section of the fence. Trotted in there as proud as you please, rack held high. Strutted around like some…” She paused to mull over an appropriate description.

  “Like a rooster in a henhouse?” suggested Avery.

  “More like a duded-up dandy with fifty dollars loose in a floozy house.”

  Beverly blinked, her mouth hanging open. “I don’t want to know how you know that.”

  “Of course that cow pony wanted nothing to do with him.”

  “I presume the mare was in heat?” asked Avery, trying to get Jade back onto the story.

  “No. That’s the funniest part of all—the horse was a gelding.” Jade bent over to gather up her knapsack. “So the pony,” she began, but she never got any further. At the instant she leaned down, something whizzed a few feet above her head, the sound punctuated by the crack of a distant rifle.

  “Thunder and blazes!” exclaimed Jade.

  She dropped the pack, snatched up her Winchester, and bolted for the rope ladder as more reports exploded in the distance.

  “Jade!” yelled Beverly as she grabbed her friend’s sleeve. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Let go, Bev,” Jade said, her voice low and husky with anger.

  “No! Avery, help me hold Jade.”

  Avery grabbed for Jade’s right arm, pulling his head back to avoid being clobbered by a rifle butt when she tried to swing free of his grip.

  “Blast it, you two,” Jade snapped. “Let me go. Someone’s shooting at us.”

  “We’re not letting go,” retorted Beverly, “until you settle down and act like a rational human instead of a wound-crazed buffalo.”

  When Jade didn’t immediately agree, Avery added, “I have rope if I need it, Jade. Be reasonable. Much as you may enjoy it, you cannot go off into the forest and pummel someone.”

  Jade exhaled with a tremendous sigh, her shoulders sagging as she admitted defeat. “All right. I promise. But,” she added as her friends released her, “they better hope I don’t find them.”

  Beverly behaved more stoically. “Settle yourself, Simba Jike. We don’t have a game permit for shooting nearsighted hunters.”

  “You don’t need a permit to shoot hyena, jackal, or jackass,” countered Jade. “If I hadn’t bent over at just that moment, that bullet might have gone through me rather than the tree. Worse yet, it nearly hit my newest Graflex. People heal up, but a shot like that would be fatal to a camera.”

  “As long as you have your priorities all squared away, love,” cooed Beverly. “I’m famished,” she added to change the subject. “Are you about ready to head back to camp?”

  Jade shook her head in disbelief. “Your appetite is amazing. How can you think about food when we’re being shot at?” Back when the pair had transported French wounded from the front lines, Bev had reacted to the stress of shellfire by focusing on something distant and pleasant rather than the falling artillery. After trying unsuccessfully to think about pretty scenery or parties, she had focused on favorite foods. Apparently, thought Jade, she still did.

  “Oh, I’m sure it was an accident and they’re probably gone by now, anyway,” Bev said. “I want to eat.”

  “I haven’t rechecked all my connections. All that shaking from you two might have jarred something out of alignment. Give me another fifteen minutes.” The Dunburys waited patiently while Jade reexamined every wire. Blasted poachers! She shrugged off her annoyance and concentrated on readjusting the camera’s focus. Finally she couldn’t find anything else to adjust and agreed to leave. The trio climbed down Jade’s rope ladder one at a time, Avery first, followed by Beverly and Jade.

  Beverly’s stomach growled and she patted it as though it were an entity that needed to be appeased. “It will take us at least an hour to walk back. I wish there was some way to get there more quickly.”

  Jade opened her day pack and took out a handful of figs. “Chew on these, Bev. They should tide you over.”

  Avery reached behind and patted the book lying in his pack. “That Tarzan chap covered ground quickly by swinging from tree to tree.” He looked up at the forest surrounding him. “Right. Well, he certainly did not live around here. I don’t see any vines up there that would support a grown man’s weight.”

  “He must have ‘hung around’ some other part of Africa,” Jade said. “That was a joke, by the way.” She scanned the trees for her blaze, a shallow V carved into the bark, which marked the route back to camp along the myriad game trails.

  “I’m not sure how anyone managed safaris before trucks,” Avery said. “But then I don’t suppose they attempted to haul around an entire photo lab with them like you, Jade.”

  Beverly’s stomach growled again, this time loudly enough that Jade turned to stare at her. “Better stop that, Bev. I thought some wild beast was stalking us.”

  “I told you I was famished and I meant it. I want to devour an entire roasted bustard. We shot five of the ugly birds this morning. I should be allowed a whole one for myself.”

  “Hear, hear,” echoed her devoted husband. “And since we had the foresight to send back most of the men to Isiolo once they unloaded the supplies, we don’t have nearly the number of mouths to provide for now.”

  “True,” Jade added. “At least we’re not eating those horrid Grant’s gazelles. Blasted things are
too wormy. You have to char the meat to make it edible. But if you eat an entire bustard, Bev, we’ll need those men to come back and carry you home.” She looked her friend over. “Your appetite is amazing.”

  Beverly stuck out her tongue. “Be careful what you say, missy, or I’ll tell Madeline and she’ll put it all down in a second book about you.”

  “That’s blackmail, Bev. Madeline’s in enough hot water already for making up some silly, overromanticized tripe about me.” Jade had become friends with coffee farmers Madeline and Neville Thompson last year, and Madeline had been with them in Tsavo. If Jade had known the woman would tell the entire world her darkest fears in a novel that was about to be published, she’d have left her at the station in Nairobi.

  Beverly laughed, her voice rippling like dancing water. “As I recall, Jade, getting her to write a book was your idea.”

  “But not,” said Jade, “about me. That was your doing. And I never said ‘Eat my bullets!’ to anyone. I should have burned the blasted manuscript when she first showed it to me.”

  “Well, I thought it was romantic,” said Beverly. “She gave me the carbon paper copy, you know.”

  “Now, ladies, I really think that sort of thing needs to stop,” suggested Avery when he saw Jade’s eyes flash in a cold green fire. “You didn’t finish telling us about that elk, Jade,” he reminded her. “You left off when the beast kicked in the fence.”

  “Right. So this bull elk kicked in the fence and got in with one of our horses, only the horse didn’t want anything to do with this hooved lothario. Just as the elk started making his amorous advances, that horse bolted clean through the break in the fence and ran off.”

  She paused again to read the trail blazes and chose a narrower path off the larger elephant trail. “He didn’t appear to want to come home, either, so we sent our border collie, Scout, to herd him. Now, the dog chased the horse back, but not before Scout visited the neighbor’s—” Jade stopped abruptly and cocked her head to one side, listening. A faint wheeze reached her ears, as though something large labored to breathe.

  “It’s over there,” she said, and pointed off in the direction of the original elephant trail. The three of them ran back up the narrower path, then walked cautiously along the larger trail, eyes and ears alert to danger. The labored breath grew louder and more irregular, and the metallic smell of blood permeated the air. As they approached, the wheezing stopped with a shuddering sigh. Jade and her companions stepped into a small clearing.

  “Oh, hell!” Jade swore.

  Four giant gray corpses littered the ground. The tusks of each one of the slaughtered elephants had been sawed off. Their thick hides bristled with arrows, and opportunistic flies buzzed around, laying eggs in open wounds, a lot of wounds. A broken arrow shaft protruded from one female’s gut and a ragged hole yawned where her left eye used to be.

  “Merciful heavens,” muttered Beverly. She immediately turned her head to retch.

  “None of the arrows are in a fatal spot,” observed Avery. “It looks like they must have used poison on the arrows to incapacitate them. Then they shot them up close with a rifle to finish them off.” He looked at Jade for confirmation and shuddered.

  Jade’s exotic, olive-colored face had frozen into a stony mask. Avery followed her gaze and tensed. Beverly turned back, wiping her mouth with a kerchief. She saw Jade’s face at the same time and started to go to her friend. Avery put out an arm to restrain her and shook his head. When Jade looked like that, it was the better part of valor to stay out of her way.

  In between Jade and the Dunburys lay one of the elephant cows, blood dribbling from her side and open mouth. Rough stumps appeared where her tusks had been. The sight was horrid enough, but Jade’s gaze was fixed on what lay behind her.

  “It’s worse!” she whispered. “They killed her baby, too.”

  Beverly broke past her husband and ran around to her friend.

  “This is the same baby and mother we saw trailing the group today,” Jade said. She bent and inspected the infant’s mouth. Her voice broke in a low, husky tone. “The bastards actually killed the calf for its baby ivory.”

  “They didn’t just kill elephants,” said Avery. “There’s a man over here.” He pointed towards a collapsed body dressed in a bloody blue uniform shirt and shorts lying in a clump of olive trees. “Looks like an askari, a soldier in the King’s African Rifles, judging by the uniform. Probably caught the poachers in the act.”

  Jade stepped around the elephants and squatted down near the body. He was on his knees, his upper torso bent over until his face touched the ground like a Muhammadan in prayer. His red fez lay beside him, and a small red hole marked the back of his head. Two arrow shafts protruded from underneath him. “Help me lay him out, Avery.”

  Gently they turned the man over and straightened his legs. The arrows had penetrated the man’s gut, but were probably not the immediate cause of death. Jade heard Beverly gasp. “Maybe you should wait by the trail, Bev,” Jade said gently.

  “No. I’ll be all right. I want to help.” Beverly stepped closer and shuddered when she saw the extent of his wounds. “He faced his attackers to begin with,” she said, her voice quavering.

  Jade knew that her friend, who’d seen worse during their ambulance-driving days of the war, was trying to maintain a grip on reason by voicing her thoughts aloud. Jade pointed to two indentations on the ground. “Looks like he fell to his knees here after being shot in the gut with arrows. Someone must have come up from behind and shot him in the head, execution-style.”

  “Judging by how much of his face is missing, he was shot at close range with a pistol,” added Avery.

  “Savages,” said Beverly softly. Avery placed his own pocket handkerchief over the African’s face and went to comfort his wife.

  Jade’s gaze swept the ground, looking for telltale signs left by the killers, but the earth was too trampled for her to make out any footprints. Something metallic glinted through the underbrush and she retrieved a spent cartridge from an elephant gun. She slipped it into her pants pocket.

  Suddenly one cow’s huge frame shuddered as she struggled to take in a final breath. Her lungs wheezed as air leaked from them.

  “And those bastards didn’t even finish the job,” Jade said. She rose and stood rigid, feet apart, her face once again a stony mask. The cow’s labored breath rattled, and more blood dribbled from her open mouth. “Hand me your Mannlicher, Avery. I doubt my Winchester could penetrate her skull.”

  Avery shook his head. “I’ll finish the job, Jade.” He gently released his wife and stepped back to Jade and the dying cow. Taking careful aim, he shouldered his weapon and fired a round into the elephant’s brain. The wheezing stopped.

  Jade’s rage remained. She took a silent oath to find the bastards who’d done this and make them pay.

  CHAPTER 2

  MOUNT MARSABIT

  The Northern Territory of British East Africa is a valuable wildlife refuge in a land fast running out of wildness. Farther south, colonists and native Africans both are exchanging game trails for paved streets, wild animals for domestic cattle, and the acacia tree for rose gardens.

  —The Traveler

  “WE CAN’T JUST leave him here,” said Beverly.

  “We’ll have to for a short time, darling,” replied Avery. “We have neither a shovel to bury him nor anything to carry him back on.” He placed his hands gently on his wife’s shoulders and held her. “If you and Jade go back to camp, Jade can return with a few of the men and a blanket. I’ll stay and guard the body.”

  “Jade?” Beverly called to her friend. “Is that all right with you?”

  Jade held up her hand for silence and cocked her head to listen. “Someone’s coming.”

  “Someone or something?” whispered Avery.

  “A human, not an animal.” She listened a moment longer and amended her statement with two upraised fingers to indicate two humans.

  Avery pulled back the bolt on his
Mannlicher. “If it’s the poachers,” he whispered, “they’re going to find a welcoming committee.”

  They formed a defensive triangle in case someone else was sneaking up from behind, crouched and waited, rifles ready. The sound of bipeds walking along the trail grew louder. Jade assumed whoever it was would not know they were there, and decided to alert them before that someone became startled and fired in panic.

  “Halt and identify yourself before we shoot,” she called.

  The footsteps immediately stopped. After a moment’s hesitation, a decidedly male British voice replied, “Captain Barnaby Smythe of the King’s African Rifle patrol.”

  Jade relaxed her grip on her Winchester and held it across her chest as she rose. Soon Smythe appeared, followed by one native askari. Jade took in the features of both. The captain stood about five feet, ten inches, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His field hat, a solar topee clamped tightly on his head, hid his hair, but his thin brown mustache indicated the color. The native soldier traveling with him remained a few feet behind his superior officer, black skin melting into the forest’s gloom. Only the red fez atop his head stood out.

  Avery took the initiative and held out his hand. “Lord Avery Dunbury at your service, Captain.” He shook the other man’s hand. “This is my wife, Lady Dunbury, and our friend Miss Jade del Cameron.”

  “Surprised to see anyone on this trail,” Smythe said. “Where are your gun bearers?”

  “We’re our own bearers today, Captain,” Jade answered.

  Smythe’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “An American. Well, I should warn you all that you are in dangerous territory.”

  “We’re aware of the elephants, Captain,” Jade said.

  “I’m not referring to the elephants, Miss—er, what was your name again?”