Zambezi

by Tony Park

  ‘How you feel isn’t exactly at the top of my list of concerns, Professor.’

  She looked up now, and he saw something flash in her green eyes. ‘Don’t you think I’m hurting too? She’s a smart girl and if anyone can handle themselves in the African bush she can! Don’t come in here and tell me I’ve done something terrible. Miranda is a grown woman who makes her own choices.’

  It was Jed’s turn to be taken aback. ‘You spoke about her in the present tense. Do you think she’s still alive?’

  Chris sipped her Scotch. ‘I don’t know, and that’s the truth. There was a lion shot yesterday that had attacked a local woman.’

  ‘You think it might be the same one that supposedly attacked Miranda?’

  ‘I took it to the police. They’ve got it in the local morgue and they’re going to get a vet to open it up tomorrow.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Jed shook his head.

  ‘I want Miranda to be alive just as much as you do, but if she wasn’t taken by a lion it’s hard to know where she went or what happened to her. There are some remains too. Not much.’

  ‘Would madam care to order something from the menu?’ The waiter had slipped in behind Chris without either of them noticing.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Chris said, looking at Jed.

  Jed was in two minds. As much as he seethed at the woman’s decision to send his daughter to such a dangerous place, she was his only source of information. Plus, she was disarmingly attractive.

  ‘Be my guest,’ he said with a wave.

  Chris glanced at the menu. ‘The bream. And a glass of Mukuyu Colombard, please.’

  ‘Is it any good? The wine, that is,’ Jed said.

  ‘Cheap, locally made, but drinkable.’

  ‘Sounds like my kind of beverage. Make it a bottle, please,’ he said to the waiter. ‘When did you last see her?’

  Chris hesitated, glancing out at the lake. ‘Let me see, she was with me in Kruger for about a month, so she would have arrived here in Zimbabwe three months ago.’

  ‘When did you get here?’

  ‘Yesterday I drove here as soon as I could mothball my research operation in Kruger. I visited Miranda’s campsite briefly this morning, but didn’t hang around once we picked up some lion spoor.’

  ‘The one the ranger shot?’

  ‘Actually, I shot it,’ she corrected him.

  He looked at her with grudging respect, but he would be damned if he’d praise her. ‘I thought you were into protecting big cats.’

  ‘A woman’s life was at risk. I won’t put animals before people, although I know a few zoologists and conservationists who wouldn’t agree with me.’

  ‘I’ve met a few people I wouldn’t put ahead of a snake.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’

  She laughed and he felt angry with himself that he had relaxed around her. He wanted to stay mad for a little while longer. Besides, it was impossible to forget why he was here – why both of them were here.

  ‘So, what happens tomorrow? With the lion?’ he asked.

  ‘I know the local vet here. The police will get him to do the … the autopsy.’

  ‘What time and where?’

  The waiter arrived with the wine. Chris tasted it and nodded. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, if you’re planning on being there. I can have the police let you know -’

  ‘I don’t care about what you say, I’ve got more right to be there than you and I will be there. I want to view the remains that were found at the scene as well.’ He took a sip of wine, then asked, more gently, ‘What will you do after the lion’s been examined?’

  ‘That depends on the result, I guess. I need to collect some equipment I loaned to Miranda, as well as some reports she was working on for me, but the authorities won’t let me near her stuff. It’d really help me if you gave the police permission to release Miranda’s things to me. I’ll make sure you get all her personal effects.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  Chris looked confused.

  Jed refilled her glass, then his own. ‘You won’t need to pass anything on to me, because I’ll be with you.’

  ‘Look, Jed, I’ve spent a lot of time in this part of the world. I know some of the police here, I know the vet, I know the National Parks people. I can get a lot done by myself, using my personal connections, and -’

  ‘And if you try to keep me out of this you’ll regret it.’

  ‘You can’t order me around. I’m not one of your soldiers, you know.’

  ‘I know that. But you can’t get your stuff back without me. Also, I wonder how long your funding would last if the press learned how you sent an inexperienced college girl out on her own, ill prepared, unprotected and alone in a dangerous country.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, it won’t wash. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. You don’t have all the facts.’

  ‘Fill me in,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘What facts am I missing?’

  ‘How I run my research projects is none of your business. Suffice to say that they meet the most rigorous safety and academic standards applicable for this sort of work.’

  ‘Then you won’t mind the press asking you a few questions. I’m surprised they haven’t already.’

  Chris looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘I don’t think we need reporters sniffing around here.

  You don’t want any more publicity about Miranda’s disappearance, do you? Won’t that just add to the burden your ex-wife must be carrying?’

  Bullshit, he thought to himself. She was hiding something and that only made him all the more determined to follow her every move. The waiter arrived with their meals and he let the conversation drop while the man slowly but attentively served them.

  She looked out over the lake and he studied her profile in the candlelight. Pretty, for sure, but there was a steely strength within Professor Christine Wallis evidenced by the set of her jaw and her unwavering gaze when she had locked eyes with him. Her body was lean and toned, as though she worked out. He remembered Miranda complaining that it was almost impossible to exercise in the African bush. One could hardly go off jogging or power-walking amidst wild animals, and there were certainly no gyms. It would have taken a strong will and a good deal of self-discipline for Chris Wallis to stay in shape, and she obviously did.

  He left the argument about him accompanying her – anyhow, she would have no choice once he confronted the police in the morning – and changed the subject. ‘How far away was the lion when you shot it?’

  She swallowed a mouthful of fish, took a sip of wine and wiped her lips. ‘Oh, about two hundred metres.’

  ‘Moving?’

  ‘It didn’t exactly pose for me. It was charging the woman and had just started to leap on her when I fired.’

  ‘What weapon did you use?’

  ‘An AK-47. It belonged to the ranger who was supposed to be protecting me. But he was taking a dump.’

  He didn’t detect any bravado in her simple account. The AK was a reliable, sturdy weapon, but to hit a moving target at anything over a hundred metres required a good measure of skill or luck. In her telling, though, it was as if taking the shot was simply part of her everyday work, something she had no qualms or excitement about.

  ‘Quite a shot. Where did you learn to fire a rifle?’

  ‘The eighty-deuce.’

  ‘Eighty-Second Airborne Division?’ He couldn’t mask the surprise in his voice. ‘You didn’t tell me you were a soldier.’

  ‘We haven’t done a lot of talking about me.’

  ‘Touché. When did you serve?’

  ‘Eighty-nine to ninety-four. I stayed in long enough to pay for my college tuition.’

  ‘What was your MOS?’ Every soldier had a military occupational specialty, a primary job he or she was trained for.

  ‘I was a clerk, in C1 – personnel. My drill instructor at basic training told me I
would have been a sniper if I’d been a man.’ A touch of pride there, he noted, and resentment too.

  ‘Why didn’t you try for officer candidate school? You must have had the grades.’

  ‘I never planned on making a career out of the Army. It was a means to an end. I figured I’d do my time and get out. I had my sights set on other things. Besides, they wouldn’t let me be a sniper.’

  He smiled. He sensed that in other circumstances they might hit it off. However, she was holding something back from him and for some reason didn’t want him nosing about. He guessed that his bluff about going to the press was a very real concern in her mind. Conservationists lived on public donations and corporate sponsorship and couldn’t afford a whiff of controversy.

  ‘How did it feel when you killed the lion?’ he asked.

  She answered without a pause. ‘I didn’t want to do it – hated it, in fact – but after it was done I didn’t feel a thing. There was no joy, if that’s what you mean. Men and women are both capable of killing, but they do it for different reasons. It’s the same as in nature. A female lion will kill to provide for her pride or to protect them. A male lion, on the other hand, will kill to meet his own ends, to demonstrate his dominance. Did you know that when a male takes over a pride, as well as killing or vanquishing the old male, he also kills all the cubs his predecessor has sired?’

  ‘I’ve heard that stepchildren are a pain.’

  ‘Not very funny.’

  ‘Best I could do at short notice.’

  ‘Have you ever hunted?’

  ‘No.’ He took a drink.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I never saw the need to kill an animal. I’ve never had to hunt for food, never been threatened by an animal in the wild.’

  Chris looked at him with those penetrating green eyes again. ‘But you’ve been in combat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Have you ever killed a man?’

  ‘Most people are too polite to raise that question.’

  ‘How did it feel?’

  ‘I’m sure I saw on Discovery Channel that male lions also kill to protect their prides.’

  ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘I like to think that what I do is about protecting people – innocent people. It’s how I manage to sleep at night.’ In fact, there were some nights when he didn’t sleep at all, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Christine Smart-Ass Wallis.

  ‘That’s a good answer, although you didn’t really answer my question.’

  ‘Where are you going after you’ve been to the police tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘Look, Jed,’ her tone was softer now, ‘I know you’ve come all this way to find Miranda, but you have to prepare yourself for the worst. The National Parks rangers have scoured the campsite where Miranda was staying for clues and tracked the lions as far as possible. There’s really nothing more any of us can do. I’m sorry, but I think we’ve both got to face the facts.’

  She was right, of course – he did need to prepare himself for the worst. But she was also right in the first part of her comment – he had come a long way to find his daughter – and he would be damned if he would leave without some concrete evidence of her death.

  ‘You can’t stop me talking to the police and you can’t stop me visiting the National Park.’

  ‘I’m not going to try. It’s just that I don’t think you’ll be able to find out any more about what happened to Miranda by blundering around on your own. Despite what you may think, I do wonder if I was somehow responsible for her disappearance. As her supervisor I promise you that I will pass on any information I get from the police or other sources about her whereabouts. I know you want to help, but it will be better for all of us if you sit tight for a couple of days and wait and see what turns up.’

  ‘I didn’t come here to sit tight. I came here to find my daughter and bring her home.’

  ‘So did I.’

  ‘Well then, don’t get in my way.’ He wiped his mouth with his napkin and tossed it on the empty plate.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Jed. I want the same thing you do – to find Miranda alive. But we both have to start preparing ourselves for the fact that might not happen.’

  ‘Don’t try to shield me, Professor Wallis. I’m no stranger to death. I also know the best way to deal with grief is to confront it, head-on. I want to be there when they open that goddamned beast. If my daughter is dead I want to see it with my own eyes.’

  Chris shrugged. ‘In the end, these are matters for the police to decide. You’re a blood relative and you have certain rights. I’m a scientist and Miranda’s employer. I have certain rights too. As I said, we’re all working towards the same goal.’

  Jed looked into those green eyes that had sparkled with warmth a few minutes before. Now they seemed as cold and hard as cut emerald. As she stood and excused herself from the table, he wondered if the two of them were, in fact, working towards the same goal. He doubted it.

  Chapter 6

  Jed woke late.

  He had finished off two more beers after Christine Wallis had left him, nursing his anger and resentment at the fiery-haired female. It had been nearly midnight by the time he had made it back to his room.

  Heavy curtains kept the place in darkness but Jed saw from his watch that it was after nine in the morning. He had been operating on minimal sleep since Afghanistan, so it wasn’t surprising.

  However, he was annoyed with himself – he had wanted an early start. The morning sun blinded him as he pulled back the drapes. He fetched his sunglasses from the pocket of his trousers and stepped out onto the little balcony, clad only in his green boxer shorts. The lake stretched to the horizon, glittering silver in the harsh glare, like a pool of spilt mercury. It was hard on his eyes and his head hurt. He had been alcohol-free for months in Afghanistan and it would take a while to rebuild his tolerance level.

  ‘Any messages for me?’ he asked the woman at reception after a breakfast of toast, coffee and tomato juice.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘One of your other guests, Professor Wallis, is she still in the hotel?’

  ‘Oh no, sir, she left about five o’clock this morning.’

  That was odd. He didn’t imagine veterinarians anywhere in the world started work before dawn.

  The security guard in the car park saluted him as he opened the door of the Land Rover. It was sweltering already and the steering wheel was hot to the touch. Jed rechecked the map of Kariba and set off.

  The countryside was spectacular. Below him were myriad little inlets. Fingers of water divided brown hills studded with acacias and trees with copper-coloured butterfly-shaped leaves. The land was crisscrossed with clearly visible paths, which he presumed were made by animals of some sort, as there were no signs of houses away from the water’s edge. Bays that had been wooded valleys before the man-made flood now sheltered houseboats and sailboats. The skeletal white tops of dead trees protruded above the surface of the lake, their boughs blanched with droppings from the many different types of water-birds that roosted in them.

  The Zimbabwe Republic Police camp was perched on the top of a high hill with a panoramic view across the lake. Jed parked the truck and walked into the two-storey concrete building. It looked as though it had been built to withstand a direct hit from a rocket-propelled grenade, which probably wasn’t far from the truth as the country had been at war for most of the nineteen sixties and seventies.

  A bored-looking policewoman in a blue-grey uniform was seated reading a magazine and picking her nose. Jed cleared his throat. She didn’t look up.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said.

  She got to her feet ponderously It was stifling hot and the woman moved slowly to the long wooden charge counter. ‘Yes, sir, can I help you?’

  ‘I’m looking for someone I can talk to about the disappearance of my daughter, Miranda Banks. An American citizen.
She was researching carnivores in Mana Pools National Park.’

  ‘What is the name again? Hanks?’

  ‘Banks.’ Jed spelled it out. He wondered how many Americans disappeared in presumed lion attacks.

  The female constable opened a large book on the counter and ran her finger down the margin. She looked puzzled.

  ‘The initial report we had was that she had been taken by a lion,’ Jed said, trying not to let his frustration show.

  ‘No, I do not think so.’

  ‘Can I see your superior?’

  It was the woman’s turn to look annoyed. ‘You can see me. First name Miranda?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We have a report about an American woman disappearing, but her name was Miranda Lewis.’

  Jed was embarrassed. ‘Yes, of course. That’s her mother’s name.’

  ‘So she is not your daughter?’

  ‘She sometimes called herself Banks-Lewis.’

  ‘Not according to her passport she didn’t.’

  Jed was surprised. He wondered at what age his daughter had gotten her new passport. Had Patti organised it for her when she was a child and left his name off it in spite?

  ‘She’s my daughter.’

  ‘And you have proof of that, sir?’

  Damn. He had no proof at all that Miranda Lewis – or even Miranda Banks, come to that – was his daughter. He had not realised it would be necessary. ‘The US embassy in Harare knows of my relationship to my daughter. They advised my wife of her disappearance.’

  ‘Perhaps you can call and get them to send us a letter.’

  ‘Can I use your phone, please?’

  ‘Ah, I am sorry, the phone is not working today.’

  ‘Jesus Christ.’

  The constable frowned at the blasphemy.

  ‘Who is your superior?’

  ‘Why do you want to know? The member in charge will only tell you the same thing.’

  Jed was ready to hit someone.

  Voices echoed from down the corridor, behind the charge desk. He heard a woman’s laugh.

  ‘Mr Banks. How are you today?’ Chris Wallis asked as she came into view.