The final element of this advice was delivered with a widening grin overtaking that forlorn expression and was received by Dan with a matching grin. Then Mike stepped forward to where Dan was standing, gave his friend an almighty hug, disengaged just far enough to look him in the eyes, and then turned and left him to his thoughts.
Dan stood there for over two minutes, thinking those thoughts, foremost amongst which were his feelings for Mike, and how much he wished he had known this man before.
Then he picked up the package from his bed, placed it near his rucksack, and then set about collecting what he would need to take with him for his trip to Gabon. It didn’t take him long.
eighteen
The afternoon walk had not been easy. Mike and Svetlana were both no-shows. Dan was not unduly surprised at this as Mike maybe had other things to do and Svetlana probably had her fingernails to do. But it did mean that he had found himself with Bruce as a close companion for the entire excursion. After all, Bruce was never going to attach himself to any of the Spaniards and neither was he going to monopolise Kate in her role as the group leader. So all the time Dan had to behave as though his only interest was in the birds and the surrounding forest, when his mind was fully occupied with all sorts of other thoughts. Would David, for example, really understand that there were limits to his stamina? And then would he, Dan, really be able to manage a canoe? Indeed, would he be able to manage everything else he had to do? And what were the chances of things going wrong? Just how likely was it that he would achieve what he had set out to do – in the way it was planned?
Fortunately, Bruce didn’t appear to notice Dan’s preoccupation. Maybe this was because Bruce quite often appeared not to notice much at all, or it might have been because Dan had been making every effort to behave normally. He even went as far as pointing out and identifying every bird that he could. There weren’t that many that he was able to identify with confidence, but there were enough. So when he called a vanga flycatcher and a couple of different sunbirds and then a squadron of white-thighed hornbills as they flew overhead, Bruce must have been quite convinced that Dan was relishing this bird-fest and not have had the slightest suspicion that his mind was somewhere else.
However, this deception wasn’t quite so straightforward at dinner. To start with, there were more people to deceive, and particularly Connor and Kate. He was sandwiched directly between them at the table and he was the first they targeted in their endeavour to establish where all their guests were planning to visit next. Would it be another wildlife destination somewhere else in Africa or possibly somewhere entirely different and on another continent? Dan quickly decided to lie – by informing them that he had already booked a trip to Zambia and to its South Luangwa National Park. He’d actually been there quite a few years ago – with Kim – so he knew more than enough about it to sound really convincing. Nevertheless, it was still an effort. So too was talking about anything or showing any interest in what the others at the table were talking about. Mike, who was sitting across the table from him, no doubt detected this, and as soon as he could he came to the rescue. Before the sweet course arrived, he suggested to Dan that they give their waistlines a chance by skipping dessert and retiring to the lounge for some liquid refreshment instead.
Unsurprisingly, Dan accepted the invitation, and he and Mike made their apologies and left the table. When seated in the lounge, Dan proffered his thanks and Mike proffered some final advice.
‘Dan,’ he said quietly, ‘you don’t need any more briefing – at all – and you don’t need a drink. Instead, the sooner you get back to your cabin the better. David will be looking out for you – and that lot over there won’t be. I mean, they probably won’t notice you slipping off, and even if they do, I can tell them you were feeling a bit gippy or something. But before you go, may I give you just three “don’ts” to bear in mind?’
‘Go ahead,’ encouraged Dan. ‘I’m normally pretty good at not doing things…’
Mike chuckled and then he delivered his three don’ts.
‘Right. Well, don’t deviate, don’t hesitate and don’t underestimate – anything.’
‘Where did you learn that from?’
Mike looked stony-faced.
‘Previous clients…’
Dan was suddenly alarmed.
‘Not mine. But… you know, we do review what happens. And it’s not always…’
‘I get it. And I’ll remember what you’ve said. Particularly that last one. I’ll try not to underestimate anything.’
‘Good. And that includes David.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t underestimate David. He’s not just a tracker.’
Dan looked at his friend quizzically but decided not to ask him to amplify that statement. Instead he just nodded his agreement and then Mike spoke again.
‘Right. Time to go. Now.’
Dan looked at his friend and nodded again. Then, before he stood up, he addressed Mike for one last time.
‘You’re the best postman I could ever have hoped for. Thanks for everything.’
‘You’re more than welcome, old boy. You really are.’
And then the old boy stood up, tried – without too much success – to assemble a confident-looking smile and finally took his leave of his friend. It was even more difficult than he’d thought it would be, but he took all the comfort he could from knowing that he was now embarking on the final leg of his journey and that soon, in one way or another, he would be at its end.
He also took comfort from the fact that he would have someone to support him on his way, and that this someone was David. From what he had seen of him, he suspected he might not make the best of companions but there was no doubt that he was more than competent for the task in hand. And that was so even before taking account of Mike’s appeal not to underestimate him – whatever that might mean.
He was certainly prompt. Dan hadn’t been back in his cabin for more than a minute when David appeared. He just stood at its entrance, a huge rucksack on his back, and waited for Dan to join him. He didn’t say a word – no doubt because he didn’t need to – and he wouldn’t until the two of them were well out of earshot of the camp.
Dan picked up his own much smaller rucksack and put out the lights in his cabin. Then, as he walked towards David, David turned and began to lead the way out of Ngaga and into the forest. To start with, this was at a very slow pace. There was a cloud-covered sky and consequently virtually no light whatsoever – and David was having to make his way without the use of a torch. How he was doing this, Dan could not begin to imagine, as he himself was having great difficulty in seeing David, who was no more than six feet ahead of him. Nevertheless, he was making steady progress along a path, which seemed to take them further down the escarpment away from the cabins and then into a stretch of forest that provided them with some more or less even ground. It was only after maybe ten minutes of this blind progression that David stopped and finally spoke.
‘Here,’ he said, handing a small torch to Dan. ‘We can use lights now. I will use mine to lead the way. You use yours to follow my steps. Always point it down. Don’t shine it up.’
Dan took the torch and confirmed he’d heard the instructions.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’ve got that.’
‘Good. Let’s go.’
And with that, David turned on his torch and began to march off along the path. Dan, having managed to work out how to turn on his own torch, followed and immediately realised that David wasn’t about to abandon his habit of power-marching. Instead he was striding along at the same sort of pace he’d adopted for their tracking expedition earlier in the day, and whilst Dan had coped with that very well for two hour-long treks, he wasn’t at all confident that he could keep it up for what might be a much longer time. He was right to be concerned. The only other words David spoke in the next hour were to inform his charg
e that his intention was that they should march until daylight and then take a break. He apparently had somewhere in mind where they could both get some sleep.
Dan didn’t know how to react – therefore, he didn’t react. He just kept on walking and tried to reassure himself that if he collapsed, David would have to stop to help him. After all, he was hardly likely to carry on without his consignment. This did help a little, but not a great deal. Dan wasn’t unfit but neither was he young, and he suspected that David could simply not comprehend what this meant in terms of loss of stamina and strength, particularly when he was used to the company of his fellow locals who spent their whole lives moving on foot through the forest and probably hadn’t suffered a similar decline in their powers. Maybe Mike had made a miscalculation here…
They did stop after about two hours – for a drink and for no more than five minutes. Then they were off again, still at the same punishing pace. And what Dan was beginning to realise was that he could cope. He could keep on walking for as long as it took. It was, he decided, part physical – as in the ease of striding over the upholstered forest floor – and part mental – as in “this just has to be done and it will be done”. Indeed, Dan had become so confident in his abilities and his staying power that when David called a ten-minute halt three hours into their marathon, Dan felt almost resentful that they had stopped at all. However, David knew what he was doing, and by repeating these rest halts every one hour thereafter he managed to keep Dan’s legs working – and Dan’s confidence working. So that by six in the morning, after being on the move for over eight hours, he and his student were exactly where he wanted to be – and his student had not collapsed with exhaustion. On the contrary, Dan felt invigorated, if maybe more than a little weary. And he also felt that Mike was spot on with his final advice – not to underestimate anything – including his very own resilience and his very own powers of endurance.
Furthermore, this would, of course, be the last time he would have an opportunity to put them to the test.
nineteen
Peter was never one of the first in. He just wasn’t a morning person and much preferred a day that leaked into the evening rather than one that started before it was light. This preference did, however, have a number of drawbacks, not least the likelihood that as he was making his way to his own office in the building, he would be ambushed by one of his earlier-rising colleagues. There was always someone who had a problem or a query that he or she believed just couldn’t wait until he had his jacket off and was seated at his desk. In fact, one of his secret ambitions was to manage a whole week when he wasn’t bushwhacked in this way. He doubted he’d ever achieve it – unless he turned up in the middle of the night – but it would not stop him trying. Even if he’d have to write off this week.
He was almost there. Just ten more paces and he’d be home. But then there it was, this time not a body appearing in front of him but a call, a shouted summons from another office, one he had just passed, situated only a little way down the corridor from his own. It wasn’t an aggressive or demanding call, and more an appeal than a proper summons – because it was Toby who was calling and Toby was never even insistent, let alone aggressive.
‘Hi Pete,’ he cried out. ‘You might want to pop in here for a sec.’
Peter capitulated instantaneously. He turned around, retraced his last few steps and walked into Toby’s office.
Toby was sitting there, his unkempt and disordered self perfectly coordinated with his surroundings. For, as always, Toby’s office looked as though it had recently been burgled by a burglar who was either chronically chaotic or just plain blind. The floor was littered with teetering piles of “stuff”, the walls were pasted with layers of photos and Post-its, and his desk was a refuge for discarded wrappers, cast-aside journals and a worrying number of anonymous-looking memory sticks. How the hell he did his job efficiently and thoroughly was a complete mystery. As was how he was such a good judge of people – and how he always seemed to know what was happening before anybody else did. As he was just about to demonstrate.
‘Pete. How ya doin’?’
‘Fine, Toby. And how about you?’
‘Never been better.’
‘Good.’
‘Yeah. Bloody good. I mean, we heard from Fido last night.’
Peter’s eyes lit up.
‘And?’ he challenged impatiently.
‘No mis-assessment and no abort. He’s on his way. And Fido sounded pretty confident.’
‘He thinks he’ll do it?’
‘Yeah. Just like I told you he would…’
At this point Toby should have looked smug, but instead he looked pretty despondent.
‘You know, I wish I wasn’t always right,’ he added. ‘In fact, sometimes I really wish I was wrong. I really do.’
Peter knew precisely what Toby meant. He harboured the very same feelings himself. However, it was Toby’s feelings that had to be dealt with at the moment, and he did this by forcing himself to smile and by reminding his friend of their earlier greeting.
‘I thought you’d never been better,’ he said. ‘And anyway, your being wrong or being right isn’t going to change anything. You can’t lose sight of what we are doing or why we are doing it. And that people are depending on us as well. So come on, just get the word around – if you haven’t already – and then I’m sure you’ve got plenty more to do. I know I have.’
‘Right, skipper. Didn’t mean to be a downer. And you’re right. Plenty to do. People to see. Things to take care of. All that sort of stuff…’
Peter smiled.
‘Yeah, all that sort of stuff. Better to keep ourselves busy, you know. Much better to keep ourselves busy.’
Toby nodded in agreement, and Peter turned to resume his progress to his own office. At the same time, he made a mental note that some ambushes were possibly worth a great deal more than his achieving an ambition.
twenty
Breakfast had been plastic cutlery, packaged jams, greasy croissants and dreadful coffee. Hotel Ersatz, Dan had thought at the time, just kept on giving. The only problem, he’d also thought, was that what it had to give was mediocre beyond words. It was a building that kept out the elements and it was furnished with tolerable beds and there was also food and drink here, but at the same time there was nothing about it that was in the least bit attractive. Whether its miserable offerings were a function of poverty, culture, attitude or indifference, Dan was unable to decide. But that they cemented his first poor impressions of this sovereign state of Morocco he was now without any doubt. And that meant he was having to lower his expectations all the time. This whole day, he was almost certain, would not be one he’d remember for any good reason at all. How right he would prove to be…
It got into gear shortly after that dismal breakfast – and directly after an inspection of the hotel swimming-pool frogs – when the two minibuses had been packed with their cargo of birders and had then headed off east. This, Dan had imagined before he’d come here, would entail a trip into the pristine desert that ran along the southern approaches of the Atlas Mountains – and not another appointment with linear urban sprawl. But that is all there was. El-Kelaâ M’Gouna, it appeared, was an example of ribbon development that had yet to reach its end. Further east, beyond the hotel, was just more of what had been witnessed on the way to the hotel: more boxy buildings, more walls, more decay and more rubbish and litter than ever. Indeed, this last aspect of the environment was still there when the two minibuses finally made it to their intended destination beyond the linear conurbation. This was a huge gravel plain, running off into the distance under a grey and threatening sky, and scoured by a cold and biting wind…
‘Jesus,’ observed Dan. ‘I bet it’s not like this in Majorca. Not even after a bin-strike in the middle of a bloody hard winter.’
Kim acknowledged his observation.
‘We’re her
e for the wildlife, young man…’
‘And the ambience and, if I remember correctly, just a little bit of warm weather. I don’t recall the write-up dwelling too much on nuclear winters and landscapes of garbage.’
‘No,’ responded Kim in a whisper, ‘and there was nothing about sharing the trip with zombies. But it could be worse. It could be raining and we could have found Tony Blair in the party. So come on. Cheer up. And I’m sure it’s not quite as cold out there as it looks.’
It was. It was freezing. Nevertheless, when the two minibuses had drawn to a halt, Dan and Kim, along with their not very companionable companions, were soon outside them and scouring the surrounding area with their binoculars to see what they could see.
This wasn’t very much. There were really only a few birds around, and most of these were either larks or similarly dun-coloured and diminutive birds. And their location would be communicated to those who hadn’t yet found them with phrases such as: “it’s just past the blue plastic bag to the right” or “if you look beyond that white bag over there, you can see it to the left”. It was the first time that Dan could ever remember having to rely almost entirely on litter-based directions to conduct a bird-watching foray. He hoped it would be his last. He also hoped that he might see something more than just a selection of larks and little brown jobs, and after almost an hour of unrewarding observation, there was a chance that he would. It had just been announced that the minibuses would move on a mile or so to where there were likely to be more birds. This was the local rubbish dump – not to be confused, as was explained by one of the guides, with the carpet of rubbish that stretched to the horizon and that was merely the fall-out from the rubbish dump proper. That, as was further explained, was simply the reality of much of the natural world these days: if not built on or consumed in some other way, it was polluted or abused. It’s just the way it was.
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