Zambezi

by Tony Park

  ‘Sorry I’ve been gone so long.’ He handed her a towel from the back of the Zodiac. ‘I’ve brought you some presents from the mainland.’

  Even his teeth were too good to be true, she thought. ‘Show me,’ she said, drying her legs.

  He opened the plastic cooler box between his feet and pulled a single, long-stemmed red rose from the top of the ice layer.

  ‘Thank you, Hassan. It’s lovely.’ She smelled the flower and held it against her cheek; it was cool and satiny She saw he was staring at her, saw the lust in his eyes, and it made her feel sexy, like she was in control. She noticed a long wooden crate on the floor of the boat. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Car parts. But I think you’ll be more interested in this.’ He rummaged deeper into the ice in the cold box. ‘Moët et Chandon. Non-vintage, I’m afraid, but this is Africa, after all. I also picked us up a lobster from the market at Mombasa. It’s at the bottom of the cold box, but I won’t get it out.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ she laughed.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll cook it. You only have to sip champagne and relax. Remember, this is your holiday, you deserve a break.’

  ‘How can I argue with that?’

  ‘You can’t,’ he said, and restarted the motor.

  After lunch they sat under a white canopy at the aft of the main deck. They had finished the champagne. Hassan drank from a dewy bottle of Safari Lager. She sipped chilled chardonnay from a voluminous glass.

  The sun and the wine had left her warm and tingly inside and she knew it would only take another long penetrating stare from his clear blue eyes to turn the warmth to a molten flow. She drained her glass and put it down on the deck. He put down his beer on the table and moved to the upholstered bench she was sitting on. The rose he had given her was on the table. He took up the flower, sniffed its aroma then moved the petals to her lips.

  She swallowed hard, not moving at all. The textured surface of the petal brushed her mouth. She looked into his eyes as he trailed the flower down over her chin, along the line of her neck, to her collarbone and over the curve of her breast above her white bikini top. He leaned closer to her, and she parted her lips, quickly moistening them with her tongue.

  He tossed the rose onto the deck and their lips met. She hungered for him, as he did for her. Their hands explored each other’s bodies as they kissed. The muscles in his shoulders and back were like cables, and the thick hair on his chest was rough and springy. He was older than any other man she had been with, not that there had been a lot, but he was a better lover than any of them. She felt small and fragile in his strong embrace. He moved his mouth from her lips to kiss her neck and she arched her back and ran her hands through his wavy black hair.

  She closed her eyes and felt his touch trail lower, down over her chest. He cupped a breast in one hand and moved his mouth to the nipple, sucking it through the thin fabric of her bikini. She gave a low moan of pleasure. He reached around her with his free hand and deftly unhooked the top. She felt it fall away from her and her nipples come fully erect to the touch of his tongue, his teeth and his fingers. She moved her hands down, lifting his shirt and scratching his back. He moved from the bench and knelt on the bleached deck. He placed a hand on each of her knees and moved her legs apart. She did not resist, instead sliding her butt down the upholstered seat. He kissed her belly and moved his mouth lower until his lips caressed her through the fabric of her panties, as he had done with her top. He traced the outline of her sex with fingertips and lips. She lifted her bottom off the seat, wantonly thrusting her mound against his mouth, eyes closed, giving over to her desires. Her bikini pants felt wet and clingy from her own dampness. Her fingers were entwined in his hair, urging him, directing him.

  He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her briefs and slowly lowered them. She closed her legs to let him remove them and felt gloriously exposed and open to the sun and the hint of breeze off the ocean. She shuddered as his tongue and lips met her naked, dewy flesh. He grabbed the cheeks of her bottom in his big hands and lifted her as he buried his tongue deep inside her. Involuntarily she tried to close her legs, but his broad shoulders forced them apart, kept her open to him. She hooked her legs over his back and slid further down, moving one of her hands to her nipples, alternately tugging and rolling them in her fingers.

  Her breath quickened as he trapped her swollen clitoris between his tongue and top teeth, sucking and teasing the swollen little nub. He moved a hand from under her and eased a finger inside her as he licked. Withdrawing his wet finger he slid it slowly down between her legs, to the cleft of her buttocks, trailing her hot, sweet lubricant with his movement. She ground herself into his mouth and lifted her hips higher.

  She gasped when she felt him probing her anus with the tip of his finger, but didn’t want to do anything to make him stop. He ceased before it became uncomfortable and, when he slid another finger into her vagina, she accepted the new sensation as a thrilling addition to the pleasure that was engulfing her.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed. She felt the waves of pleasure start deep within her. Just as she was about to climax he stopped. He withdrew his fingers and lifted his face.

  She opened her eyes and stared down at him.

  ‘On your knees,’ he said as he stood.

  He stared down at her, unsmiling. ‘Touch yourself.’

  She blinked in surprise.

  ‘Now!’

  She flinched at the barked command, then realised it must be part of some new game. She could do that, she told herself. To date he had been a considerate, gentle lover, something of a change from the boys she had dated in college. This was a new turn, ordering her around, dominating her. She realised she didn’t mind being told what to do. She looked up into his eyes, thought she saw a softening of his hard stare, then nodded. She closed her eyes and leaned back on her haunches, moving her right hand between her legs and lifting her left to her breast.

  She felt the pleasurable sensations return in response to her own touch. She threw her head back and let out a little moan, and found she was enjoying putting on a show for him. When she opened her eyes he was standing over her, his shorts partly pulled down, his thick, engorged penis in his right hand.

  ‘Take it,’ he ordered.

  She looked at him wide-eyed for an instant. Again the scowl on his face. She knew he was really a pussy cat at heart, which made this little game all the more fun. She reached out with her left hand, encircling him, stroking, massaging him. She slid off the bench to her knees. Still touching herself with her other hand, she moved her lips to the swollen head of his penis. She looked up at him, locking eyes. She took him in her mouth, stroking him with her hand as she closed around him.

  He looked down at her. He was fiercely aroused, and surprised how compliantly she had given herself to his commands. He wondered how far he could take her. He’d never been into bondage or discipline. He was only doing it now to demean her, to see how far she would go to please him, to trap him. He had loved her. He had been ready to commit himself to her for life, to have her bear his children. Now he looked down at her sucking him and saw her for what she was.

  A whore.

  He wrapped a hand in her blonde hair and pulled her face from his penis, then dragged her to the deck.

  ‘Ow! Not so hard!’ she yelped.

  He knelt between her knees and raised his finger to her lips to silence her.

  She grimaced then smiled. ‘I’m new to this, lover, but I kind of like it. Just not too rough.’ She licked his finger then raised her eyebrows, inviting him to continue.

  She thinks it’s a game, he thought to himself. ‘Keep quiet. I’m going to give you what you want, now, what you’ve been paid for.’

  ‘Mmm. Oh, yes.’

  He pinned her wrists to the deck with his hands as he lowered himself to her, teasing her dripping opening with the engorged head. ‘You want it, don’t you, bitch?’

  She’d had a boyfriend who talked dirty to her during sex
and she’d found she didn’t mind it when she was in the right mood. It was so out of character for Hassan, though, that part of her wanted to flash a red light to this little charade and get back the sensitive, loving guy she’d fallen for. But another part, deep inside her, was inflamed even more by his crudity. ‘Mmm, yes, give me your cock,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m going to hurt you now, you whore.’

  Chapter 11

  Jed’s mind was still racing with questions as they pulled up, at last, outside the Mana Pools National Park headquarters building. It was single storey, L-shaped, with the two arms linked by a shady verandah. The building was painted the same uniform olive-green as the permit office at Marongora and the structures at the two checkpoints they had passed through on their way in.

  Christine was waiting in the shade of a spreading Natal mahogany tree, sitting in her Land Rover with the door open. She climbed out and walked over to Jed and Moses.

  ‘You going to stay mad at me forever?’ she asked, trying a smile.

  Jed had fumed all the way for the rest of the drive into the park, barely distracted by Moses’s running commentary on the wildlife and vegetation. Chris had held back important information from him and he wanted to know why.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, again, that I didn’t tell you I’d seen Miranda a few weeks ago,’ Chris said.

  Jed ignored her apology. ‘Do you know who the man was who saw her off on her last trip to visit you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The ranger up at that other place …’

  ‘Marongora.’

  ‘Right. He mentioned he saw her with a guy when she left for South Africa. He apparently kissed her goodbye. Did she say anything about this guy when she saw you?’

  Chris narrowed her eyes as she thought about the question. ‘There was a guy she had some dealings with up here. They spent time together – he’s into conservation in a big way, breeds cheetahs. But I wasn’t aware of any, um, personal connection between them.’

  ‘You can tell me everything later. Right now I want to take a look at her stuff,’ Jed said.

  ‘Me too,’ said Chris. ‘Don’t forget that a lot of her equipment belongs to me. The local authorities haven’t let me near it yet.’

  They walked into the headquarters building. Thankfully, the polished concrete floors and thick walls kept out a good deal of the midday heat. Jed noticed a poster decorated with photos of lions.

  According to the text, visitors to the park could accompany the resident ecologist when he went tracking lions.

  ‘Was Miranda working with this guy?’ Jed asked Chris.

  ‘Not really, he’s a National Parks employee. His work is separate, but Miranda’s research was complementary to his and all of her findings would be shared with him. I checked yesterday and he’s been on leave, in Harare, for the last three weeks.’

  Chris greeted the ranger behind the desk with a handshake.

  ‘It’s good to see you back, Professor,’ the man said, smiling.

  ‘This is Mr Banks, Harold. I think it would be best if he stayed in my lodge for a few nights.’

  ‘No problem, Professor. Mr Banks, if you will just pay the park entry fee, please.’

  ‘I’d like a lodge of my own, if you don’t mind,’ Jed said to both of them.

  ‘Ah, but I’m sorry sir, all the lodges are booked,’ the ranger said.

  ‘But I thought few people visited the national park these days. Are you telling me all your accommodation is full?’

  ‘It’s all booked,’ Chris explained, ‘which is not to say that it’s actually full. Tour companies and local people block book accommodation here months in advance, but the companies rarely get enough customers to proceed with the bookings and the local people are often kept at home by things such as fuel shortages.’

  ‘So if someone isn’t coming, why can’t he give me a lodge?’ Jed was trying to keep his annoyance in check.

  Chris explained. ‘The people who have booked the accommodation have until five-thirty on each day of their booking to show up. It’s only then, if the guests haven’t arrived, that the rangers here can release the lodging to people without a booking.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll wait until five-thirty.’

  ‘Then you have to be out by ten tomorrow morning and come back at five-thirty in the afternoon to see if the lodge is free again, Mr Banks,’ the ranger added.

  ‘This is ridiculous.’

  The ranger smiled patiently.

  ‘This is Africa,’ Chris said.

  ‘What about camping? Can I get a campsite?’

  ‘You’re not exactly set up for it, Jed,’ Chris said.

  ‘Camping is no problem, sir,’ the ranger said, beaming again.

  ‘Great, I’ll take a campsite.’

  ‘Except for one problem, sir.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘No water, sir.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m afraid the pipe to the ablution block sprang a leak and the elephants dug it up and -’

  ‘Jesus Christ.’

  ‘There’s always a room in my lodge, Jed,’ Chris said.

  Jed shook his head. ‘OK, a bed for Moses as well?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Jed filled in the visitors’ register and paid his park entry fee.

  ‘You’ve been informed that I’m here to collect my missing daughter’s possessions?’ he asked the ranger.

  ‘Ah, of course, Mr Banks. The police have contacted us.’

  ‘How soon can I see my daughter’s stuff?’

  ‘Right now, if you wish, Mr Banks.’

  *

  Chris had been to the Mana Pools staff village on a number of occasions, even though ordinary park visitors were prohibited from driving the dirt road behind the headquarters she was on. She had struck up a good rapport with the National Parks staff here, but their goodwill had not been sufficient for them to allow her access to Miranda’s equipment until the police had authorised it. That was the perennially annoying thing about African bureaucracy: it knew only two extremes – laxity bordering on corruption or a pathological adherence to orders. She was eager to see the state of the equipment she had loaned Miranda for her project. She was also concerned that some of it might be missing. All of it was expensive, sensitive and, in the wrong hands, dangerous.

  Chris was also concerned about Jed Banks. She had hoped to be in and out of Mana Pools with as little fuss as possible, but the Special Forces soldier’s arrival had put the brakes on her plan. She needed, as a matter of urgency, to get into Miranda’s laptop and check her emails for any sign she’d been up to something Chris didn’t know about. In the back of her mind was the disturbing revelation of a possible romantic attachment between Miranda and a man.

  Her own concerns aside, she also felt sorry for Jed Banks. No, it was more than sorry, she told herself as she drove into the dusty staff encampment. She shared Jed’s pain. Miranda was more than just a research colleague or protégée to her. Chris had seen herself in Miranda. Her idealism, her devotion, her need to do good and right in a world with precious little reserves of either. She had worried about sending Miranda on her assignment to Zimbabwe, but it was nothing she would not have done herself. At the time, the risks had seemed acceptable. Chris had never had a child, but she could imagine, and see in Jed’s eyes, the unbearable pain of losing your only offspring.

  Chris also couldn’t help but see Miranda’s striking looks mirrored in her father’s fair hair and blue eyes. Although twenty-odd years of outdoor military life had crinkled the tanned skin around his mouth and eyes, there was no denying he was a handsome man. There were flecks of white in his sprouting gingery beard, but his T-shirt hugged biceps and pectorals that would cost a city executive thousands of dollars and buckets of sweat in a gym. Jed Banks had got to look that way by getting up and going to work each day, sometimes not knowing if he would live to see the next dawn. She didn’t think she could ever really fall for an office work
er. The guy from the embassy had been nice, but his hands were too soft, his tummy too flabby and his discomfort tolerance too low for her liking. The ranger in Kruger was cute, and energetic, but arrogant as hell and too young for her.

  At another time, in another place, if she had struck up a conversation with Jed Banks, if he had made a pass at her, she … well, she might have dropped her guard. But here and now she had to concentrate on finding out once and for all what had happened to Miranda. Chris was worried, very worried, that the girl was gone for good. However, like Jed, she needed proof.

  The circumstances and timing of Miranda’s disappearance were more of a concern to Chris than she was prepared to admit to Jed. To Jed the time, place and manner of his daughter’s disappearance seemed random. To Chris they were suspicious, but she wasn’t about to let Jed in on her darkest fears.

  The first thing Jed noticed about the staff living quarters, simple rendered brick buildings with corrugated asbestos roofs, was that they were painted grey instead of the usual olive drab. Nothing like a little variety, he supposed. The accommodation wasn’t bad, considering what Jed had seen so far of the way ordinary Africans lived, but neither could it be described as modern or even comfortable.

  An elderly bald-headed ranger in a pressed khaki uniform with sergeant’s stripes on the sleeve walked out of the deep shade of a mature tree.

  The ranger greeted him and explained what the group was doing in the staff compound.

  ‘Welcome,’ the older man said solemnly. ‘I will show you where the storeroom is.’ He led them away from the housing complex to a grey building isolated from the others by a rusting wire fence.

  The headquarters ranger tried three keys in the padlock before he finally said, ‘Ah, this is the one.’

  The hinges protested as the door swung open. The ranger reached in and pulled an old-fashioned light cord, illuminating a single naked bulb.

  ‘Your daughter’s things are all at the far end of the building, Mr Banks.’

  It was hot and musty inside and Jed felt his shirt stick to his back immediately. Looking around he saw broken furniture, presumably from the park’s lodges, and mould-spotted cardboard boxes overflowing with carelessly archived paperwork. There was a crate of long-empty beer bottles in one corner and, of passing interest to Jed, some metal ammunition tins and some more boxes containing green army web gear, including packs, belts and pouches. A wooden gun rack ran along a section of one wall, a chain passing through the trigger guards of five AK-47s and three FN Self-Loading Rifles.