Murder on Safari

by Peter Riva

  “Yeah, and the girl,” said Heep smiling.

  “Well, yes, but I mean, I didn’t mean . . .” Singh was floundering.

  Pero laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, “That’s okay, I will give you a copy, and I do know what you meant. It is a powerful scene for attracting tourists. We may be able to work something out, but I warn you, Mary is a difficult negotiator, she won’t come cheap.”

  “Ah, yes, copyright, artists’ releases. . . . That is all still new for us here. How should I ask her?”

  “Make it straight, no diversion. She’s an up-front person.” The Commissioner nodded and climbed aboard the second Land Rover, front passenger seat, of course. Ruis sat behind him, the SeaSled on his lap, Priit on the other side. They finished loading and Mbuno drove them off, leading, of course.

  CHAPTER 11

  Rudolf’s Croc Farm

  Herr Rudolf was a German “left behind” in the time of Tanganyika’s heyday, after the Great War, 1918. A wounded corporal, of no family money, he was mustered out, left to live or die in a strange land. In any event, he couldn’t afford to make the trip back to Düsseldorf. So, instead of dying, he lived, largely thanks to a local tribal family whose son had been press-ganged and had died in the service of the Kaiser they never knew existed. These coastal people of Pangani were cousins to the Giriama, the famous honey hunters of Kenya.

  Rudolf gave the Giriama cousins of Pangani a new industry. Having recovered, but always with a limp (he would later claim it was a croc bite instead of the Lee Enfield bullet that had shattered his tibia), he wanted to settle down and contribute. His loyalty was to these people who had saved him and had shared their homeland. Their loyalty was to the replacement son. It seemed like a fair exchange. This new son could read, write and was a master tanner. It was his trade before he was drafted. At first he tanned hides, but cattle in Africa are not slaughtered with much regularity.

  Then, for a while, the White Hunters used him to tan the hides of beasts that had been shot. Several of Hemmingway and Holden’s floor and wall rugs were expertly tanned by Rudolf or by people he trained. He was generous that way, teaching anyone who wanted to know, all his secrets. “If I don’t share, what will become of my craft?”

  One day a White Hunter presented him with a croc skin to tan. Rudolf knew it was an easy skin to tan, but realized that the secret was shaving it thin, so it would become pliable in addition to its natural strength. He had a tool, his long, Essen steel army bayonet. It hung in pride of place for generations to come: in the main shaving shop above what used to be his roll top desk. He tanned that first croc hide so thin and so perfectly that, ever since, that has been a Rudolf’s specialty, even after Rudolf himself passed away and sons inherited the business.

  Great socialites would send for these hides and have Hermes, Vuitton and others make them into luggage, such was their reputation for quality. Delta crocs have very small scales, very supple skin (due to the briny water) and very large skins. They are a leather master’s joy. So, eventually, it made sense that Rudolf’s would start to raise their own little giant snappers. When wild Nile crocs were eventually put on the endangered list, their croc farm was exempt—Rudolf’s crocs were not wild.

  Rudolf’s business improved, especially as they were now the sole legal supplier of croc skins from Tanzania.

  Months before Pero had contacted them and asked if they could borrow Grosse Heidi, a sixty-five-year-old breeder, herself a third generation at Rudolf’s. Heidi was about as smart as a dog. And trained. If you gave her a little medicine to calm her down, she could be walked, off the leash, to the sea to go for a swim. The way to get her back was to ring her feeding bell. She was trained to only feed in one spot, so she would whisk her tail, emerge from the surf, and waddle back to her pen and dinner. Pero had seen still images in National Geographic before but had never seen it filmed.

  Pero wasn’t sure Mary would agree to accompany Heidi. Even though Pero had showed her the rough video Pero had made on the scouting recce, and she seemed game, seeing Heidi up close was a different matter. Grosse Heidi was twenty-six feet long, four and a half feet wide and weighed almost two thousand five hundred pounds. She was, in fact, Mary’s dinosaur for the segment. When Mary saw her, she just kept shaking her head, saying nothing and shaking her head. Finally, she spoke up, “This ol’ girl makes that alligator at Gator World look like her toothpick. Cripes, but she’s big. Someday, remind me to keep my big mouth shut.”

  “Mary, you don’t have to do this, you know.” It was Heep, to the rescue.

  Pero told her, as an expert, she should, but really, really carefully. She glared at Pero. Pero waited silently. She knew Pero meant she did have to go through with the filming, but only on her terms. Nothing Pero would or could say—or want to—would place her in danger, or any danger she didn’t evaluate and accept. She was the expert here, that was his point. A few seconds ticked by and she nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.” It was what she had come for, this dinosaur lady, “to see the largest approachable croc—up close and personal,” was how she had put it when Pero offered her the job. Now, was her chance.

  Heidi had already dozed away for thirty minutes since her chicken snack laced with drugs had gone down the gullet. Crocs stomachs can dissolve almost anything organic, but it is a slow process. They would have to wait another thirty minutes until Heidi was safe enough to handle. Mary gave a shiver, and Pero looked around to see where Mbuno was, to ask for the blanket they always packed in the Land Rovers. He was nowhere to be seen.

  Kivoi Rudolf, the grandson of Corporal Rudolf, assured Mary everything would be fine. “We took her out just last week, it’s her weekly bath in the ocean, she’s looking forward to it. See, she’s smiling.” Mary shrugged her shoulders, frowning.

  His mouth agape, Heep just stared at Kivoi. It was the Commissioner who just had to ask: “How can you tell she’s smiling?”

  “If a croc is not hissing, mouth wide open, you assume it’s smiling. Either it has eaten or is looking forward to dinner.” He paused for effect. “Which one is it? If it looks you in the eye, it’s dinner.” It was an old croc joke. Pero had heard it before. Tourists always laughed, as long as the croc was on the other side of a fence. This fence was made of chicken wire, which would slow down Heidi “not a bit” as Kivoi had warned Pero on the previous visit. It’s funny how visual barriers give security when there is, sometimes, absolutely none.

  Mary stood up straight and asked Heep to help her get ready. They walked off to discuss what Heep wanted on tape—down the beach, the entry to the water, what would be filmed underwater, and then the return. All this would have to be one take, there was no “action” or “cut” call needed, Heidi would set the pace. Ruis and Priit would operate the underwater camera, Priit, their official camera operator, on the controls this time. Ruis was the technician, for the Betacam and the SeaSled. Ruis was prepping the Betacam. The four of them huddled and sorted out possibilities. Pero watched from a distance, next to the Commissioner, as arms moved in air, hands flew simulated croc and Mary movement in an underwater ballet of planning. It looked like pilots recapping a dogfight. Pero wondered who won.

  It was Heidi who decided the time had come. Kivoi barked out a warning, as she lumbered forward to the gate and Mary, seeing Heidi moving, stripped off her shorts and tee, grabbed her flippers and snorkel-mask, and ran back to Heidi’s cage. The Commissioner and Pero got out of shot.

  Heep, the fastest camera operator Pero knew, was already rolling tape. Ruis and Priit were running the 100 yards down the beach to the SeaSled, hurrying to launch it, get it off shore, for the water entry shot.

  Heidi lumbered past the now open gate, seemed to look right and left, and aimed at the water, taking the shortest distance to the surf. Mary walked by her right side. In her red one-piece, her shoulders were squared and—damn, but she’s good—she never looked down. It was almost as if she was taking her dog for a walk. Pero watched in sudden horror as Heidi flipped her head to
the right, gaped her mouth, and hissed. Mary never missed a beat; she bent down and patted Heidi’s back and said, “Okay, I understand. Good girl, you can lead.”

  Pero knew they would have to re-dub her voice in to match, later. Her understanding of that beast was too good to miss.

  They proceeded, sedately (thankfully giving the SeaSled time to get stable), until Heidi slid smoothly into the water. Mary had to wait to put on her flippers. Then she entered the surf, sat in waist-deep water, and spat into her mask. All old divers do this, you coat the inside of the mask with spit and it prevents fogging (young divers have artificial spit solution in a bottle). Once her mask was on, Mary flopped over in the surf and began sliding over and through the eighteen-inch sand-filled waves towards clear water. Suddenly, Mary stopped. Pero saw the swish of the tail as it brushed her. Heidi had been waiting in the murky brine.

  The Commissioner and Pero ran down the beach to Priit, standing in deep shade under palm trees, operating the controls. Ruis had returned from the launch of the SeaSled. They anxiously glanced over their shoulders at the scene unfolding below. Heep, Pero noticed, was still filming the above-water action. If something went wrong, Mary would surface quickly and with the telephoto, he would see it first.

  On the screen they watched Mary swimming next to Heidi. It was incredible footage. Clear blue waters, shoals of fish flashing out of the way, woman and dinosaur heading out into deep water. “Bring her around Mary. See if she’ll turn,” Priit said to the mute screen as if Mary could hear, as they got smaller and smaller. It was clearly what they had planned, to play to the camera.

  They were off the screen now, the distance too great even for the SeaSled zoom. Pero looked over at Heep. His camera, with a more powerful zoom, was pointed at the reef. My God, they were all the way out there, Pero could just see the water disturbance of the crocs massive tail and Mary’s snorkel breaking the surface. She must have been really swimming as fast as she could. As Heep’s angle changed, Pero guessed they were coming back. Suddenly the surface water went still.

  Looking down at the SeaSled screen again, Pero could see the beginnings of a dot appearing. Pero tapped the corner of the screen to make sure Priit had seen it. “Got it Pero. I think I will cross, from bottom left to top right. Good shot. Ata-girl Mary,” he said to the screen.

  And then they saw it, Mary had her hands hooked on to Heidi’s shoulders. Heidi’s huge tail was powering them through the water. Two creatures, evolutions apart, in harmony. It was one of the most beautiful things Pero had ever seen. Pero imagined Heep seeing this and shouting “Emmy,” while he thought how extraordinary and wonderful these two women were. There was no use pretending Heidi wasn’t a woman, she was gentle, powerful, and protective. Mary wasn’t bad either.

  Then Heep started yelling.

  “Pero, there’s an intruder!” He was pointing the camera, still filming no doubt, to the left of the scene. There was no way to tell what he was seeing, nor to warn Mary.

  “Heep, what is it?” Pero yelled.

  “A croc, a big one, coming in fast. I saw it launch, left eye, off the beach after they got turned back towards the surf.” Heep always kept both eyes open when filming.

  “Priit, as soon as you think Mary can see the SeaSled, give the danger signal and then resume filming.”

  Priit switched to technical mode. “Roger that Pero.”

  As Mary’s face became visible, that wonderful shot still unfolding, they saw a shadow pass in front of the camera lens, it pulled focus, and the scales of the intruder were visible.

  Mary had seen it too, no need for the danger signal, but Priit did it anyway—but quickly—and came back on shot within five seconds. It was the longest five seconds.

  When the scene cleared again, Mary was still with Heidi, but no longer on top, Heidi was moving too quickly. Would another croc provoke Heidi into a feeding frenzy? Would Heidi be threatened by this croc and run off, leaving Mary as a meal for the intruder? The water churned, the SeaSled stayed stable. Priit lost some altitude to be able to shoot upward a bit, continuity with Heep, who would capture the surface churning now taking place as two large reptiles thrashed about, posturing, Mary in the middle.

  There was nothing they could do to help. Mary was the expert, she was the only one who would know what to do. They hadn’t thought of this, an intruder. Pero was angry at himself, it was his job to think ahead, and why hadn’t Kivoi warned us?

  Heidi turned, ran over the slightly smaller intruder, and headed straight for Mary. Mary assumed the standard posture for humans trying to ward off the inevitable—she put her arms forward to fend off the impact that was coming. Heidi stopped her tail and sank below Mary’s feet, momentum still carrying her forward. Mary got the idea, took a last snorkel breath, and dropped on to Heidi’s shoulders again. Heidi headed for the beach. In shallow surf, Heidi paused and turned. The other croc was following, twenty yards behind. Mary slipped off and flippered towards shore as fast as she could.

  Watching the screen, the Commissioner had had enough. He pulled his revolver from his pocket, dropped the jacket, and started running down the beach. Pero ran on his heels. Pero heard Priit call after him “Pero. No. It’s okay. Stay out of shot.” Pero stopped, but the Commissioner continued running towards Mary’s surf exit point, she was half way out of the water by then, flippers in her hand, running. Heep was filming as the Commissioner reached her and dragged her from the surf, gun extended backwards in case anything came after her.

  The surf was thrashing, the two crocs were entwined, rolling over and over. Suddenly the water went still and Pero looked back at Priit, who gave Pero a big grin.

  What? Pero wondered, Heidi won? What was happening?

  Mary and the Commissioner were walking up the beach, talking animatedly, Mary wanting to hang back, the Commissioner urging her away from the water. Then, at the surf’s edge, a head appeared, followed by Heidi’s eyes, neck and shoulders, which hung there, neither advancing nor retreating. The Commissioner raised his gun. Mary, lowered his arm, patted him on the shoulder. She walked towards Heidi. Heidi gaped her mouth. Mary stopped and turned to the Commissioner. Pero heard her yell, “Will you please retreat Commissioner? She’s frightened.”

  The Commissioner had to shout to make sure she heard him over the waves “Are you sure?” Mary nodded. The Commissioner walked backwards up the beach until he reached Pero. “Extraordinary woman. Fearless.” His wavering voice said he was captivated. They all were.

  The beach and her retreat towards home clear, Heidi emerged from the surf. Pero looked for wounds caused by the intruder. Pero could see none. Pero called over to Priit “See any blood in the water?”

  Laughing, Priit and Ruis said, together, “No way, man.”

  What gives here? Two behemoths tangle and there’s no blood? The light bulb went off. “Oh my God.” The penny dropped for Pero. The intruder wasn’t after Mary. It wasn’t aggressive. It was after Heidi.

  Heidi and Mary walked up the beach, side by side, all the way into Heidi’s pen, Kivoi opening the latches. Heep was right behind, walking and keeping the camera as steady as possible, when Mary said, “There you go, ol’ girl, raise them well. Good ol’ girl.”

  Heep yelled, “Cut,” and let out a whoop of joy.

  Mary ran to Heep and hugged him and then, much to his surprise, hugged the Commissioner. “You really are the bravest man.”

  Bashful was never an adjective Pero would have thought he could apply to the officious cop who Pero first met yesterday. But there he was, looking at his toes, muttering, “I had a gun, it really wasn’t so very brave.”

  “She would not have even felt those bullets and I doubt they could have penetrated her skull either.” You could see the Commissioner knew it as well. The whole Singh family were hunters and fishers, there was no way he thought a .22 pistol was going to stop a croc that size. It was a brave thing he did, very brave. If unnecessary.

  Heep had other worries. “Commissioner, now that you are off
icially part of the television show,” the Commissioner’s face lit up again. “I need to interview you on camera to hear your reasoning and what went through your head. Agreed?” And with that Priit, Heep, and the Commissioner went off to conduct the interview, still fresh, while the adrenaline was pumping. Visceral entertainment, that was their reputation. It never got any better than that.

  Heep by taking the Commissioner aside also gave Pero time alone with Mary, if he could get Ruis to leave. Seeing his expression, Ruis volunteered: “I’ll put the SeaSled to bed. It’s longer to put away than set up. Hey, Pero?” Pero faced him. “How much was that thing? It’s really amazing.”

  “It’s a rental only, Sony is not allowed to sell them, yet. Fifteen hundred dollars a day.” Ruis knew that fee was charged for travel days as well, one-week minimum.

  “Wow. Still, it’s worth it. Best underwater footage I ever shot or saw. Mary, you were great, really great. Wait ‘til you see the footage tonight, it’ll blow you away.” Mary was all smiles.

  Alone, Pero made the excuse to walk her back to her shorts and tee. Along the way they talked about the shoot, Heidi, and the experience. It was, even for her, the crowning achievement of a lifetime spent studying the reptiles, their evolutionary ancestors. Pero was thrilled for her, and yet concerned about something else. “Mary, where’s Mbuno?” The only other person here Mbuno would have taken an order from was Mary. He was a sucker for a pretty woman. Their tête-à-tête about crocs the other night showed friendliness that Pero knew she could capitalize on. She probably could get anyone to do anything.

  “Mbuno? Why do you think I know where Mbuno is?”

  “Come on Mary, spit it out.”

  “He was the only one I could trust. I asked him to find out what happened to that soldier in Arusha.”

  “Oh Mary, you didn’t. Damn.”