The Wolf peeled back the bandage. ‘Nasty,’ he commented. ‘That’ll need a few stitches.’
Connor managed a wry smile. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t come across any hospitals in this park yet.’
‘Not to worry. I can patch you up.’ The Wolf went over to the pile of supplies and returned with a medical kit. He took out an emergency suture pack. Removing Connor’s bandage, he cleaned up the wound with a sterile saline solution, then laid out a scalpel, needle and thread.
‘You’ve done this before?’ asked Connor, growing more and more anxious as he watched the Wolf insert the thin nylon thread through the eye of the needle.
The Wolf nodded. ‘A few times. I trust you’re not squeamish?’
Biting down on his lip, Connor winced as the Wolf cut away a small piece of loose flesh with the scalpel. Once satisfied the gash was even enough, he pinched the skin together to seal the wound. Then Connor felt the harsh sting of the needle’s tip piercing his flesh, followed by a sharp tug as the Wolf tied off the first stitch. The process was repeated three more times, each stitch more agonizing than the last.
‘All done,’ said the Wolf, cleaning away the blood with an antiseptic wipe.
A sheen of pained sweat on his brow, Connor glanced hesitantly down. The gash was as neatly sewn together as a woven shoelace.
‘He’s done a great job,’ said Amber encouragingly. She turned to the Wolf, who was packing away his suture kit. ‘Are you a doctor?’
‘No. But I’ve had enough practice on myself,’ he explained, lifting his shirt to reveal a massive outline of scar tissue running across his chest and belly.
‘What happened?’ gasped Amber.
‘A lion is what happened,’ he replied, but said no more. Re-dressing the stitched wound, the Wolf handed Connor two small foil packs. ‘Take these.’
‘What are they?’ Connor asked.
‘The white tablets are painkillers.’
Connor stared at him. ‘Couldn’t you have given me these before you stitched me up?’
The Wolf shrugged indifferently. ‘They wouldn’t have taken effect in time. The red-and-white ones are antibiotics. You’ll need those to stop any infection. Take one a day for a week.’
‘Thanks,’ said Connor, immediately popping an antibiotic and chasing it with a couple of painkillers. He slipped the remaining tablets into his pocket.
‘I don’t know how we can ever repay you for your kindness,’ said Amber, setting aside her plate.
‘In the bush, strangers are welcomed as family. You simply never know when you might need help.’ The Wolf stood and returned the medical kit to its place in the supply pile.
‘So what are you and your men doing in the park?’ asked Connor, putting his shirt back on. Revitalized by the meal, his senses were returning and he noted none of the group wore park ranger uniforms.
‘We’re conservationists,’ replied the Wolf. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go back and examine that buffalo.’
‘But what about contacting the authorities?’
‘That’s all in hand,’ assured the Wolf, picking up his rifle. ‘Abel has put a call in on the radio. The best thing you two can do now is get some rest.’
With food in their bellies, Connor and Amber were soon overcome by tiredness and it didn’t take much to persuade them to lie down beneath one of the tarpaulins. Abel had laid out two bedrolls for them and before their heads even hit the padded blankets they were asleep.
Connor entered such a deep slumber that he struggled to rouse himself when he heard Amber arguing with someone.
‘But I need the toilet,’ insisted Amber.
‘Stay!’ the man was saying.
Connor rose up on his elbows and saw Amber at the edge of the camp, attempting to get past one of the Wolf’s men, a loose-limbed individual with tight-knit hair and bulging muscles that told of a hard life rather than days in the gym.
‘Toilet,’ she repeated. ‘I have to go.’
Immovable as stone, the man stared blankly at her.
‘Les toilettes,’ Amber repeated in French.
Comprehension lit up on the man’s face and he grunted, pointing to a tree a few metres from the camp. Amber hurried towards it, disappearing into the undergrowth. But the man followed part-way, keeping a close eye on her.
‘Arrêtez!’ he called after. ‘Pas plus loin.’
Connor sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sleep had done him the world of good and his strength had somewhat returned. His side still ached, though the tablets had dulled some of the pain. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was past five o’clock in the afternoon. They’d been asleep for more than four hours. Connor took another dose of painkillers, then looked round the camp for the Wolf but couldn’t see him. Surely a rescue party from the lodge should have reached them by now?
Stepping out from under the tarpaulin, Connor felt the call of nature himself and headed into the bush. But Abel appeared in front of him, blocking his path.
‘Where you go?’ he asked.
‘Toilet,’ replied Connor, then added for clarity, ‘Les toilettes.’
Abel moved aside. ‘Don’t go far. Lions.’
Connor nodded and walked a few metres from the camp. As he relieved himself against a tree, he glanced back over his shoulder. Abel was watching him closely and an uneasy feeling crept over Connor. Something was wrong here. While he was only too aware of the dangers of the African bush and wouldn’t be surprised if there were lions nearby, he was beginning to feel more like a prisoner than a guest.
When he returned to the camp, Amber was sitting by the fire, her expression unreadable.
Connor sat down next to her. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
She nodded and smiled. But the smile seemed forced, more for the benefit of Abel and the muscleman still guarding the camp. Connor wondered where the Wolf and the other two men were. Perhaps they’d gone to meet the rescue party? It seemed logical. After all, the Wolf had been nothing but hospitable towards them.
So why was his sixth sense for danger twitching?
Abel poured them some tea from a beaten-up kettle and handed them a packet of dry biscuits each. Then he strolled over to his musclebound friend and the two chatted in hushed tones to each other, every so often glancing in Connor and Amber’s direction. The two men seemed on edge. But Connor reasoned that perhaps he was overreacting. Now he’d told them about the Black Mamba and the rebel soldiers they were probably concerned for their own lives.
Amber rested her head affectionately on his shoulder. Connor didn’t mind but found it strange that she was being so familiar with him considering their circumstances. Then she whispered in his ear, ‘I need to tell you something.’
Connor nodded his head imperceptibly so as not to attract the attention of Abel or the other man.
‘I spotted some camouflage netting when I went to the toilet. There were six elephant tusks hidden beneath it.’
Connor immediately grasped the dangerous situation that put them in.
‘The Wolf’s no conservationist. He’s a poacher,’ said Amber under her breath.
It all made perfect sense now. The hidden camp. The pile of supplies. The high-powered telescopic rifle. Even the enraged buffalo. Connor recalled seeing quite a few bullet holes in the slain animal. At the time of the attack he’d heard only three shots, but there had been some gunfire earlier in the distance. That suggested the bull was already injured and hurting when they came across it. Shot no doubt by the Wolf.
Before making any rash decisions, Connor needed to confirm his suspicions about their predicament. Leaving Amber by the fire, he strolled over to Abel and his friend where they squatted at the boundary of the camp. They stood at his approach, Abel’s eyes narrowing and the muscleman crossing his arms.
‘Where’s the Wolf?’ asked Connor nonchalantly.
‘On a bushwalk,’ Abel replied.
‘When will he be back?’
‘Later.’
‘What about the au
thorities? When will they be arriving?’
‘Soon.’
Gathering he’d get little more than one-word answers from Abel, Connor tried a different tack.
‘Can I use your radio, please?’ he asked.
Abel shook his head.
‘But I need to contact the lodge to –’
‘No radio,’ he cut in.
‘But Wolf said you –’
‘He has the only radio.’
Connor realized he was being stonewalled. He wouldn’t find out anything further from Abel or his tight-lipped companion. However, he had all the answers he needed. The Wolf had said Abel had put a call in to the authorities. But how could he if the Wolf had the only radio?
He returned to sit beside Amber. Finishing his biscuits, he said under his breath, ‘We need to leave.’
‘Surely we’re safer here with the Wolf and his men, than we’ll be out there alone?’ Amber questioned, glancing nervously towards the savannah beyond the trees.
‘Possibly,’ Connor replied. ‘However, I believe we’re being held against our will. And I don’t think they’ve called anyone for help.’
‘But the Wolf said –’
‘I know what he said, but I’m certain he’s lying. Which means no one knows where we are, or even that we’re still alive.’
Amber shook her head in disbelief. ‘Why would he lie to us?’
Connor looked at Amber. ‘He’s an illegal poacher. He has no interest in contacting the authorities. So we have to leave while we can.’
‘Shouldn’t we wait until morning at least?’
‘Who knows what they’ve got planned for us? Besides, every hour that passes reduces our chances of getting out of here alive. The rebels will soon have control of the park and, with the president likely dead, they’ll try to take over the country. That means civil war.’
Amber nodded in reluctant agreement to his plan. Connor squeezed her hand reassuringly, then stood up to attract Abel’s attention.
‘We’re going for a rest,’ he said, yawning and putting his hands together in a mime of sleep. By now the sun was low on the horizon, sending golden shafts of light through the copse’s canopy. In less than an hour it would be dark.
Abel nodded, but kept his eye on them as they made their way over to the tarpaulin shelter. Settling down on the bedrolls, Connor and Amber feigned sleep. Convinced by their act, Abel and muscleman returned to their conversation. A short while later Connor heard them engrossed in a game of igisoro, having dug pits in the earth to make a temporary playing board. Connor nudged Amber and, as quietly as they could, they slid out of the back of the shelter and into the undergrowth. Ideally he’d have liked to take some supplies from the camp – at the very least a bottle of water – but he didn’t want to risk arousing the men’s suspicions. As soon as they were hidden from view, Connor crept with Amber between the trees towards the open savannah.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ growled a voice.
Connor and Amber stopped in their tracks as the Wolf materialized in front of them, his rifle unslung. The two other men from the camp stood behind him, menacing in their silence.
‘To the safari lodge,’ said Connor, his tone defiant.
The Wolf glanced at the horizon, where the sun was beginning to settle. ‘Too dangerous. Dusk is prime hunting time for lions and hyenas.’
‘We’re going anyway,’ Connor insisted, despite a frisson of fear running through his veins at the mention of hyenas.
‘Not a wise decision. We spotted your rebels patrolling the plain.’
‘Better the devil we know,’ replied Amber.
The Wolf frowned. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You haven’t contacted the authorities, have you?’ she accused.
The Wolf’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his slate-grey eyes. ‘We’ve tried to get through, but no one’s answering.’
‘We don’t believe you,’ said Amber, her temper rising. ‘You’re no conservationist! I’ve seen your stash of ivory. Now let us through.’
She started to stride past, Connor keeping close by her side, but one of the men blocked their path, a bloodied machete hanging loose in his hand, the message chillingly clear.
The Wolf let out a heavy sigh and shook his head regretfully. ‘If you’ve seen the ivory, then I’m afraid I definitely can’t let you go.’
‘We won’t tell anyone about it,’ Connor assured him. ‘Or about you.’
‘I can’t take that risk,’ he replied with an apologetic yet cold smile. ‘That ivory’s worth over two million dollars on the black market. If the authorities are brought in, I stand to lose it all, including my freedom. So I’m sure you’ll understand why you must stay in the camp. At least until the ivory’s been transported out of the park.’
Amber glared at the Wolf. ‘I thought you were a good man,’ she said bitterly. ‘But you’re no better than those rebels out there. Killing innocent animals merely to line your own pockets. You’re just a low-life poacher!’
The Wolf stared down his broad nose at her, offended to the core. ‘I’m one of the last great game hunters,’ he corrected her, his chest puffing up self-importantly. ‘Here in Africa to face down the Big Five.’
With a grand sweep of his arm, he stepped aside to reveal the severed head of the bull buffalo lying in the grass. Its dead eyes stared blankly up at them, all its majestic might extinguished.
Proudly patting the buffalo’s highly prized bossed horns, the Wolf declared, ‘Once I’ve completed my Big Five collection, I promise to deliver you to the authorities, safe and sound.’
‘And when might that be?’ asked Connor.
‘I’ve one more trophy to hunt down,’ grinned the Wolf. ‘The elusive leopard.’
Connor and Amber were forced to sit by the fire as their hands and feet were bound.
‘I regret having to do this,’ said the Wolf, watching Abel and the muscleman secure the wrist ties behind their backs, ‘but it’s for your own good. The African bush is dangerous at night and I can’t have you wandering off.’
‘Please let us go,’ begged Amber.
‘It’s your own fault for prying, young lady,’ the Wolf snapped.
‘But it could be days before you even find a leopard,’ Connor protested. ‘And rebel soldiers are swarming all over the park, you said so yourself. What if they find us first?’
The Wolf dismissed the suggestion with a snort of laughter. ‘The bush is my hunting ground. I can easily avoid those gung-ho rebels.’
‘But don’t you understand what’s happening here? They’ve killed or, at the very least, captured the president. There’s been a coup! This country is plunging into civil war. No one will be safe.’
A smirk creasing his thin lips, the Wolf was apparently unfazed. ‘That all plays to my advantage. War brings chaos. There’ll be no pesky rangers to protect the park, which makes it easier to smuggle out the ivory, along with my glorious collection.’
Pulling back a tarpaulin behind the pile of supplies, the Wolf unveiled a macabre row of animal heads and skins: a once-mighty lion with a full mane; a horned black rhino, its dark eyes weeping as if shedding tears; even a gargantuan elephant head with magnificent tusks; and to this sad line his men added the disembodied buffalo.
‘You’re a sick, sick man,’ said Amber, having to look away in sorrow and disgust.
The Wolf’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘You know nothing, young lady. I’m preserving these animals forever. That’s true conservation. We’ll be able to admire these great beasts for years to come –’
‘Can’t you simply shoot them with a camera instead?’ retorted Amber.
The Wolf’s brow knitted in bewilderment. ‘Where’s the thrill in that? I’m hunting these animals on foot. My life is on the line just as much as theirs.That’s what makes it –’ The Wolf stopped talking as a repeated growl, like wood being sawed, was heard amid the early-evening chorus of the savannah.
His eyes lit up. ‘Leopard!’ he gasped.
Snatching up his rifle, he barked orders to his men, grabbed a handful of spare cartridges and refilled his hip flask from a jerrycan. Abel shouldered the kitbag and they prepared to leave. At the edge of the camp, the Wolf glanced back over his shoulder at Connor and Amber on the ground, almost seeming to have forgotten them in his excitement.
‘Don’t try to escape!’ he warned, his eyes narrowing. ‘Otherwise I’ll hunt you down for my collection too.’
Accompanied by Abel, he trekked off into the darkening twilight.
Amber glared at his receding shadow. ‘I wish that lion had eaten him!’
Connor nodded his agreement.
Muscleman and the two others remained behind at the camp, ostensibly to guard them. But, bound as they were, they were paid little attention by the men, who soon became involved in another game of igisoro. As dusk fell, the poachers rebuilt the fire and reheated the kudu stew. They didn’t share their meal this time, although one of them, the youngest, made sure their captives each drank a mugful of water. Then, squatting on the opposite side of the fire, the three men chatted to one another in hushed tones, occasionally glancing over at Connor and Amber propped up against the log in the darkness.
‘Can you understand anything they’re saying?’ Connor whispered, wishing he had his smartphone to translate.
Shifting closer, Amber replied softly, ‘They’re talking about what to do with us.’
The look of horror and dismay in her eyes didn’t fill Connor with optimism.
‘Muscleman wants to feed us to the lions,’ she explained. ‘The one with the moustache wants to hand us over to the rebels in return for safe passage. And the younger poacher thinks they should just leave us here when they go.’
‘None of those options sound particularly promising,’ Connor remarked, ‘or what the Wolf threatened us with.’
Firelight flickering across her face, Amber offered him a resigned smile. ‘They’re also talking about the return of the Black Mamba. They sound pretty scared, even Musclema–’
‘Tais-toi!’ snapped Muscleman, ordering them to be quiet.
Bodyguard: Ambush (Book 3) Page 19