2 Game Drive

by Marie Moore

  And with that she was gone, melting away into the trees and brush lining the riverbank. She was gone, but her warning remained. I didn’t know what to think.

  The door slid open behind me. Jay stood there in his bathrobe. “Sidney, I heard someone talking. Who was that? Was that Winsome? What did she want?”

  I told him what she had said.

  “That’s odd, but I don’t know how much stock I would put into it. He’s not exactly my type, but I have to say that van der Brugge doesn’t seem at all sinister to me. I wouldn’t let Winsome’s warning stop me if I really wanted to go.”

  “Well, I’m not. I’m definitely still planning to go. I really want to see that house. It’s supposed to be fabulous, and I’m a big girl. I’m not afraid of van der Brugge. After all, he is our host. What is there to be afraid of? After all, the whole world seems to know where I’ll be dining this evening and with whom. Still, it is strange that she would sneak up here like that with a mysterious warning.”

  “Winsome likes you. I can tell.”

  “Yes, and I like her. I asked her what it is like to live here, far from the city, with so much beauty and danger all around. She was born near here. Her grandfather was a shaman. She told me all about her life and her family. She loves her job here, but she has ambition. She wants to move away to Johannesburg.”

  Jay scanned the thicket where Winsome had gone, as if checking to be sure she was gone. “This cryptic warning of hers is strange.”

  I followed him back into the hut, watching as he slid the glass shut and bolted it. “It is. Totally unlike her. She’s usually calm, smiling, and serene.”

  “From what I overheard, she wasn’t calm tonight.”

  He headed toward the bathroom to finish getting dressed, then paused in the doorway and turned back to me as if some light bulb had just gone off in his head.

  “Oh, I know what it is, hon. I know. She sees you as competition. She probably just has the hots for him, too.”

  “What was that you said, Jay? What was that word?”

  “You mean ‘hots’?”

  “No. I mean ‘too.’ I do not ‘have the hots’ for Henrik van der Brugge. I’m just going to dinner and to see the house. That’s all.”

  He laughed as he closed the bathroom door, “Whatever you say, Sid, whatever.”

  * * *

  The evening game drive was cancelled that night for obvious reasons. The pre-dinner sundowners were being served instead at a hippo pool downriver. Our regular schedule, Rebecca told us, would resume in the morning.

  When the bell rang, we went to the pickup point outside the welcome pavilion but had to wait until the entire group was present before boarding the vehicles. Everyone was scheduled to leave together.

  So we were all delayed in departing by Wendy and Tilda, who were late. They finally came rushing up the path, clearly upset.

  Wendy was in tears. “All of my pictures, gone. Every last one of them.”

  “What happened?” asked Connie. “Who took them?”

  “Who would want them?” muttered George.

  “Monkeys!” Tilda shrieked. “Nasty little thieving monkeys. They got in our hut and pulled out all our things, ate all our biscuits, pooped all over the room—even in our beds—and broke Wendy’s camera.”

  “Now I don’t have any record at all of our lovely trip,” Wendy sobbed. “All of my beautiful pictures, gone.”

  “How did they get in?” asked Rose. “Didn’t you lock your door?”

  “We each thought the other had locked it, but we must have been mistaken. We must have left it open.”

  The blond heads of the women bobbed in agreement to each other and then to us.

  “Was anything taken?” Fernando asked Wendy.

  “Only the memory card from the camera,” she replied. “Those little boogers broke my camera all to pieces. We found most of the bits, but not the memory card. They must have taken it with them when they ran out. We looked everywhere but we didn’t find it.”

  “The monkeys ran out screeching when we came in,” Tilda added. “Scared us silly! All except one, who was up on the ceiling fan, chattering. Felix had to chase him out with the broom.”

  Wendy sobbed. “The only thing taken was the record of my memories.”

  Rebecca clapped her little hands.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to leave. Please take your accustomed seats in the vehicles.”

  “You betcha,” George said. “Enough of this monkey business. We’re out of here!”

  Chapter 17

  The setting for the Sundowners cocktail party at the hippo pool was totally amazing. It didn’t look real. It looked like a scene from a movie. A lavish, big budget Hollywood movie. We arrived at the water’s edge just before sunset.

  The party was set up on a gently sloping grassy patch leading down to the river. This section of the river was deep, with plenty of water, despite the fact that the rains had not yet arrived. Armed guards stood on the perimeters to keep us safe, so for once, Jay relaxed. As time went on, his fear of the animals was subsiding. By the time we got back home I was sure he would be eager to return to Africa.

  Tables covered with smooth white linens and trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres had been set up at one end of the hippo pool, close to the water but far enough back so as not to disturb the animals. Fresh flowers in glass bowls and tea lights in crystal holders centered each table. The idyllic scene was suffused in that golden late-afternoon sunlight that cinematographers sometimes refer to as “the magic hour.” The water was still, reflecting the breathtaking scene.

  “Like a mirror,” I said. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, or the uncanny way the water reflected the colors of the sky.

  “Spieël,” Mabel said.

  “What?” said George.

  “Spieël. That’s Afrikaans for mirror.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks for sharing.”

  Mabel glared at George and walked away. Mabel had had her long nose in an Afrikaans phrase book she had borrowed from the camp library, so she had a leg up on the rest of us in translating words from the old Dutch language.

  We were served flutes of sparkling wine and helped ourselves from a beautiful display of cheese and fruit. Waiters passed silver trays of delightful treats—mushrooms stuffed with crabmeat, marinated artichokes and prawns, tiny skewers of grilled eland. The fine wine, food, and setting were having the desired effect. Everyone relaxed and enjoyed the evening.

  We received an unexpected bonus in the arrival of a magnificent black rhino at the far end of the pool. It was almost as if the Hollywood director in my imagination had shouted “Cue the rhino!” The timing of the appearance of the great armored beast was that perfect, and that special. I felt bad for Wendy. The rhino’s appearance made her mourn the loss of her camera even more.

  David was frantically motioning for all of us to gather round. For this special occasion he had added a pith helmet to his khaki safari garb.

  “Gold braid, military jodhpurs and some Boer War medals will be next,” Jay murmured. “Just wait and see.”

  I think he was jealous.

  “Please remain near the tables and try to speak softly,” David stage-whispered. “This is ripping good fortune. A rhino sighting is a rare excitement to be relished and remembered.”

  “He’s rrreally rrrrolling those Rs again,” Jay said so softly that only I could hear.

  “What if he charges us?” asked Connie. “Should we run for the cars or just try to hide?”

  “He will not charge,” said Vincent. “We are too far away. He likely does not even know we are here. His eyesight is poor and we are downwind of him.”

  “I know that’s right,” said Connie, wrinkling her nose.

  “Why is it rare and unusual to see a rhino?” asked Jay. “I thought South Africa had tons of rhinos.”

  “Because they’re killing them all, that’s why,” snapped Mabel in her rude way, as if Jay was the stupidest man on the planet. “Poachers
kill them for their horns. South Africa has a little over 20,000 rhinos, the most of any country in the world. That seems like a lot, but just last year poachers killed a record number, over 455 of those. The rhinos have been wiped out by ninety percent in the last forty years. Ninety percent! Where have you been that you don’t know that, Mars?”

  Jay ignored her, concentrating instead on refilling his wineglass. I just hoped he wasn’t going to pour it over her head. He was in full sympathy with the plight of the rhinos, but not with Mabel. Almost every word she said irritated him. He really just couldn’t stand her, but then again, neither could anyone else. It wasn’t so much what she said as how she said it. Mabel had an unfortunate way of speaking that irritated everyone. I could see Jay steaming.

  But I was reassessing my feelings toward her. If Mabel was kindhearted enough to be concerned about the rhino, she might not be so bad after all.

  “Why do they want the horns?” asked Connie. “You can’t eat them and they are not very pretty.”

  “For money,” Fernando said. “Big money. Powdered rhino horn sells for as much as cocaine, and for more than gold. It is a very lucrative business, operated by organized cartels.”

  “It’s wicked,” said Mabel. “They paralyze them with tranquilizer guns, then hack off their horns with a machete or a chainsaw and leave them to die.”

  “Amazing to learn that she has compassion for any living creature,” muttered Jay. “She hates people, but rhinos turn her on. Who knew?”

  “But isn’t it hard to kill a rhino?” asked Connie. “I mean, they are so big and all and their hide is so thick. I don’t think it would be easy.”

  “It is easy enough with a high-powered rifle,” said Fernando. “These poachers are not hunting with spears and popguns. They have criminal networks behind them. It is big business and they are well-supplied and financed. They use helicopters, night-vision equipment, high-powered rifles with silencers and scopes, and tranquilizers. They are skilled and very quick. They bring them down, harvest the horn, and are gone in five minutes. Sometimes they don’t kill them, only tranquilize them long enough to hack off the horn, then leave them to bleed to death.”

  “That’s so brutal,” Jay said.

  “Yes, it is,” replied Fernando. “And as Zimbabwe has become more lawless, poachers and arms smugglers have an easier time of it, working back and forth across the borders.”

  “But why doesn’t someone stop them,” Connie said, “if everyone knows what’s happening? What about the police? Isn’t it against the law?”

  “Yes, of course. The rhino is supposed to be protected and safe within the national parks. But the park rangers are outnumbered and working over a large area, and some officials have been known to look the other way. A gift of money can go a long way for a poor man and his family.”

  “But what do they do with the horn?” Jay asked. “How is it used? Do they smoke it?”

  “No.” Fernando laughed. “The big market is China and Vietnam, where for hundreds of years it has been an ingredient in traditional medicines. They believe it cures many things, from cancer to impotency.”

  “Does it?” asked George, suddenly interested. He had been looking bored with the conversation up to that point.

  “No, silly,” blurted Mabel. “It is a complete fraud. Western scientists have tested rhino horn for medicinal value and there is none.”

  “You seem to know a lot about the effects of rhino horn, Fernando,” said George. “Have you personally tried it?”

  “No, my friend, but perhaps you should. It is totally unnecessary for me.”

  “Zing!” said Jay. “He got you that time, George.”

  “It is no laughing matter, and only ignorant fools like you and George would think so,” shouted Mabel. “If I saw even a hint of anything like that going on, I would report it immediately to the highest authority. And I would not rest until the perpetrators were punished.”

  Mabel’s shrill voice had risen to such a fever pitch that it even attracted the attention of the bored guards. I saw them exchange glances.

  For the first time on the trip Mabel had everyone’s attention, so she climbed up on her soapbox and spent the rest of the time preaching to anyone who would listen until it was time to leave. Even those in total agreement with her about the rhino poaching also knew that she had managed to spoil a splendid evening.

  “Listening to her makes me want to root for the other side.” George said. “That woman is so unbearable. I wish a poacher would just buzz over in his helicopter and take her out instead of the rhino.”

  “Hush, George,” I said, “everyone can hear you. Mabel will hear you.”

  “I hope she does. Maybe then she’d be insulted enough to never speak to me again. That’s what I would really like.”

  “Well at least she wants to help the poor animals,” said Connie.

  “Connie, George is right,” Jay said. “Animals or no animals, that woman is utterly horrible. Poison. I can’t stand her. I feel so sorry for poor Rose. If I were staying in the same room with Mabel, I think I would just suddenly snap and choke her to death with my bare hands just to get her to shut up. Imagine having to listen to that 24/7.”

  “Excuse me, Miss Marsh,” Vincent interrupted. “Nigel, Mr. van der Brugge’s driver, is here to collect you for dinner. Please come this way. He is waiting in the car.”

  “Well, well, well,” said Jay. “Now isn’t that nice? Off you go to the fancy dinner with the big man in the big house, Sidney, while we’re stuck here with the lovely Mabel. Even the rhino’s left. He couldn’t take her voice, either. Have a good time, sweetie, and remember, when you get back, I expect a full report.”

  Chapter 18

  The house was huge, elevated, and surrounded on all sides by a wide verandah. The long driveway leading up to it was lined on either side by an impressive row of yellowwood trees.

  He stood in the shadow at the top of the stairs, watching me as I ascended the double stairway in the gathering dusk. He was so still and silent that I was startled when he spoke.

  “Hello, Sidney,” he said, stepping forward to greet me, taking my hand in his. “Welcome to my home. Please, come inside. What will you have to drink?”

  He led me through a stately entrance hall into a large and beautiful room, with massive carved pillars of dark wood that supported the exposed beams of the roof. Floor to ceiling windows—framed by long white silk curtains rustling gently in the breeze—were open to the verandah. Handsome yellowwood and stinkwood furniture, much of it clearly antique and valuable, filled the room, reflected in the gleaming dark wood of the floors. The walls were the color of old ivory and lined with original works of art and antique mirrors.

  He handed me a glass of wine, looking amused at my obvious wonder at this palace set in the middle of the bush.

  “You are asking yourself why I live alone here like this, in such splendid isolation.”

  “I am, yes. Your home is magnificent. So much of this furniture is antique.”

  “Family pieces. My family history here dates back to the Dutch East India Company.”

  “Really? Willem told me his ancestors were Boers. Were yours as well?”

  “No. Entirely different group. The history of South Africa is long and complicated, Sidney, involving many different people, many different groups.”

  “But all very interesting.”

  “Interesting, yes. Dramatic, and often tragic. It’s a long story, darling, one that I will tell you some day perhaps, but I did not invite you here to talk about myself. I want to know instead about you, what your life is like, and what brings you to Africa.”

  I was just about to reply when I sensed motion on my right.

  A full-grown leopard had just entered through the tall, floor-length open window and was standing very still, watching me, silent and motionless, not twenty feet away. Only its tail was moving, the distinctive white tip twitching.

  I froze, staring at the big cat.

&nb
sp; “Ah, Sheba, you have come to greet our guest. Sidney, this is Sheba, my pet leopard. I raised her from a cub, after her mother was killed by lions. Don’t worry, she will not harm you. She is only curious. We don’t have many guests. Please, be seated. Here, close to me, so she will know you mean no harm. Sheba is very protective. Relax. You’ll be fine.”

  I sat carefully next to him on the leather sofa facing the fireplace but there was no way I could relax with a live leopard in the room. Henrik put his arm around my shoulders. A low fire crackled and popped in the fireplace under the great mantel. It should have been romantic, I guess, but as I watched the cat pace, all I could think about was Dennis.

  The leopard circled the sofa as I sat stone still beside Henrik. Apparently deciding I was okay, she stretched lazily in front of the fire before settling on the hearth rug. Then she began licking her paws, much like an ordinary housecat.

  “You see, she senses that you are a friend. Don’t be afraid of her. She is really quite harmless.”

  “Is she? Does she still have her teeth and claws or did you have those removed?”

  “Oh, no. I would never do that. She has her full arsenal. I would never deprive her of the joy of the hunt.”

  I sipped my wine, fighting the urge to drain it. My nerves were strung tight by this man and his cat. It’s not every day that you have drinks with a leopard ... or with a man equally as handsome as his beast, and likely as dangerous. I thought of Jay and what he would do and say if he were here. I recalled Winsome’s warning.

  With a broad smile and a little bow, van der Brugge touched his glass to mine.

  “To Africa, Sidney, and to you. I’m glad you like Sheba. I believe she likes you as well. I will take you with us sometime when she hunts and let you see what she can do. She is magnificent.”

  The cat yawned just then, proving that she did indeed have all of her teeth. Then she rose, stretched, and padded back through the curtains, disappearing into the darkness beyond the porch.

  I exhaled, realizing that I had been holding my breath for quite a long time.

  “Mr. van der Brugge—”