Thomas could see she was beginning to get agitated, but he wasn’t sure he agreed with her completely either. He quietly watched as Jericho took up the argument again.
“Everyone seems to forget that when Joy Adamson’s death was first reported, it was said to be a lion that had killed her. The original report detailed that she was taking a stroll in the bush outside her tent, and came across a lion chasing a buffalo. The lion turned and killed her. She was found by a park employee, lying face down with heavy wounds on her hands, arms and head. No question of any human foul play.”
“You’re going to have to let the Adamson conspiracy go at some point,” Thomas laughed.
“Come on, you can’t tell me that it was a little suspicious?” Jericho exclaimed. “Can you imagine the damage to the Elsa Wild Animal Appeal, or the Born Free Foundation as it is now, if it had been left that their founder had been killed by the very animal they held up in such adoration? It’s even on their mascot for Christ’s sake. Those hefty donations may have taken a hit don’t you think, if they hadn’t conveniently found some farmer to take the fall? Mysteriously forgetting the buffalo and the team of trackers who were following up the lion I might add.”
“It’s true,” Jelani agreed. “It’s very easy to cover something like that up here. Corruption is everywhere, and it has only gotten worse.”
“I agree it’s suspicious,” Thomas replied, “but what I don’t understand is that you must have been all of five years old when it happened, what do you care?”
“I care because the one thing we need to stop doing in conservation is joining in with the propaganda,” Jericho replied, frustrated. “It was the 1980s when corporations started getting involved. Things are dire enough without us inventing new species or re-labelling them just to declare them extinct. We move entire villages onto barren desert to set up national parks, then wonder why we have no community support. It’s like some damn marketing company took over the whole movement at some point and none of us noticed. Remember Cecil the lion, killed in Botswana by that asshole dentist who lured him out of a national park? There are two so called charities working there right now, gleaning donations from the public in Cecil’s name, whilst at the same time being funded by pro-trophy hunting organisations and lobbyists.”
“I completely agree with you that local communities should be at the heart of conservation,” Catherine declared. “We need to look after people as well as the wildlife. But you heard what the authorities said back in Nairobi, the ecosystem is out of sync. Game animals have been killed or driven off, and the predators can’t find their usual prey. That’s why we have a leopard and lions taking to man-eating in the same district. We have to take responsibility for what we have done to the environment, and have a duty to try and repair it, not just take out isolated animals. I could even argue that’s exactly what has contributed to the problem. Every time one, or a group are killed, others will move in to the territory, as is the natural order. But they find themselves in the same predicament and turn to the easy pickings of livestock and humans when they can’t find food. We need to be educating and working with local projects, providing an income for the people through wildlife and habitat management.”
“Which is what we are trying to do here,” Jericho said, gesturing to the camp behind them. “Jelani was born in this district, as was his brother. He employs the local tribesmen and villagers. He protects the land as much as he can. But that didn’t stop his brother getting killed. I agree with everything you’ve said, but they are long term goals, and in a way, idealistic. In the short term, in the here and now, we aren’t just up against an out of kilter environment; we’re up against poachers, and a local crime lord. At the end of the day, yes, lions do need to be protected. But so do people.”
“It’s even more complicated than that I believe my friends,” Jelani sighed. “I have heard stories of Kanu Sultan disposing of his enemies through his critters of the bush. I think that is what happened to Jabari. I think the lions have become used to being fed their human victims.”
“That’s horrible Jelani, I’m so sorry,” Catherine stammered.
“I think we need to remember that everyone here has experienced the reality of living in the presence of a man-eater,” Thomas said softly. “And that also our understanding of them has increased considerably since Patterson’s day. But that doesn’t change the danger they represent. At the moment, the only thing I know for certain, is that we need to know more about these lions and how they operate if we are to have any hope in stopping them effectively.”
As the fire crackled and spat sparks into the warm, dry air, they were called away from its glow by Mansa. The dinner table set at the centre of the kopje was adorned with plates of sticky brown steaks, crisp fried yams, and a broad bean and sweetcorn salad. Catherine hesitated for a second as Mansa explained the steaks had come from the hippo Jericho had shot, but she took one with Thomas’s encouragement. The steak was thick and broad, with slithers of yellow fat marbling the surface. Her mouth began to grow moist as the scent of charred meat wafted up from the plate. She cut a small piece from the corner and scooped it into her mouth. The meat began to melt against her tongue instantly, and she savoured the smoky yet subtle taste before it disappeared. Thomas smiled at her as she began to chisel a larger piece off the slab. By the time she looked over to meet his gaze, her eyes were lit with joy and hunger. He leant over and kissed her on the cheek.
“To us, predators one and all,” Thomas called out, raising the glass of perfectly poured red wine Mansa had just handed him.
As glasses clinked together and the atmosphere seemed to relax with the application of alcohol, Thomas took a sip of the Anwilka 2005 vintage within the glass. The earthy tones to the complex hint of blackberry, liquorice and espresso were the perfect accompaniment to the lingering taste of the seared meat, and an expensive one. He noticed Catherine cover her glass as Mansa plied the others with the wine. The thin African disappeared back towards the kitchen tent. He appeared about a minute later, striding back towards the table carrying a tall glass filled with a dark pink drink. He set it down next to Catherine’s plate.
“A strawberry and blood orange smoothie made with coconut milk for the lady perhaps?” Mansa said with a kind smile in his wispy crackle of a voice.
“Perfect, thank you Mansa,” Catherine replied.
She met Thomas’s questioning look and gave him a reassuring squeeze of the hand under the table.
“My head’s not right for alcohol, especially red wine. I feel a bit fuzzy and tired still, and my stomach is a little flighty after our adventures today,” she explained.
“I’m going the other way,” laughed Thomas. “I’m going to try and drink the jitters into defeat.”
“We can compare notes in the morning, but I don’t fancy your chances,” Catherine replied, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment.
“Nor do I if the Irishman has anything to do with it,” Thomas whispered into her ear, kissing the top of her head softly.
The light was fading fast, and the chatter and noise around the table began to grow quieter with the subduing satisfaction of a good meal. The stars were just beginning to appear in the evening sky when Thomas noticed Saka rise to her feet. The sleek, blotch patterned hunting dog took a few steps past them, her large bat like ears unfolding and pricking up. He turned in his seat when Rhodes let out a short bark of warning and also rose, alerted by noise and movement from behind. Karni and several Jelani’s men were coming up the track from the staff camp. And they seemed in a hurry.
“It looks like we have company,” Karni said to them as he joined them.
Thomas, Catherine and the others rose from their seats at once and began to follow the group back down the path. Thomas scooped up his pair of Leica binoculars as they passed the equipment table. He knew the 12x50 lenses were particularly suitable for the evening light, but he also grabbed the Thermoteknix thermal imager just in case, and passed it to Jelani. He noti
ced Jericho grab his nitro express rifle from the stand as they went by too. He nodded his approval over the crowd of nervous and chattering workers.
They walked straight through the staff camp and made their way onto a slight knoll. The scrub around them was relatively sparse, with only the odd tree and patchy thorn bushes peppering the broad plain stretching out in front of them. They faced west, and into the last remnants of a blood red sunset. It seemed quite eerie to see the already rust coloured earth bathed in the clotted streams of light that ran from the horizon like an open wound. Thomas felt the warmth against his skin, and so was unsure why a chill clung to him and made him shiver.
“They’re still there,” Karni said, “beneath that baobab tree, about 500 yards out.”
Thomas followed Karni’s pointing finger out to the squat, dense silhouette of the tree. He caught a glint of something reflecting the light and raised his binoculars in curiosity. In the shadow of the colossal boughs of the baobab, he could see three dark coloured vehicles. He recognised them as Range Rover Sports. Then he noticed the movement in front of the one closest to them. He refocused the binoculars as he adjusted the magnification to its highest setting.
Squatting in front of the car was a tall, well built, and dark skinned African man. He had closely cropped black curled hair and a military style moustache. Thomas thought he could make out a stubbly salt and pepper beard too. The man was dressed in a dark khaki short-sleeved shirt with shoulder straps, and he also wore tight, smart trousers of the same colour. It gave him the air of a military officer. Thomas noticed he had thick and powerful arms as he watched the stranger spread them out over the ground. As the man dropped his head towards his feet, another man approached him from behind the vehicle. Thomas took a sharp intake of breath as he saw what he carried. In one hand, he held a sharp, long bladed knife. In the other, a live trussed chicken dangled by its feet. Without looking up, the squatting man took both from the other, who quickly retreated. With a deft and lightning quick strike, the man cut off the chicken’s head. A spray of arterial blood streaked from the bird’s open neck as its wings fluttered with nervous impulse. The man began to pirouette, still squatting, and spraying the blood liberally over the ground. After making a complete turn, his head suddenly snapped up. The eyes were wide and intently focused on Thomas and the rest of the group. Thomas could make out the blood splatter on the man’s skin. The sinister grin the man seemed to fix him with made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. He watched as the man took a small glass jar he hadn’t noticed sitting on the bonnet of the Range Rover, and poured its contents onto the ground, over the still twitching body of the chicken.
“I presume that’s Kanu Sultan,” Thomas asked, passing Jelani the binoculars.
Jelani took them and raised them to his eyes. Thomas noticed his posture instantly become taught and anxious.
“That is him,” Jelani replied solemnly.
“What was he doing?” Catherine asked.
“It is a voodoo ritual,” Jelani said, an audible shake in his voice. “He is a bokor, a man of black magic.”
“I’m guessing that wasn’t exactly a blessing we just witnessed then?” Jericho asked.
“No,” Jelani replied, shaking his head. “It is a blood sacrifice, an invoking. He is calling forth the Petro-Loa – powerful, shape-shifting demons. We will be visited by them as lions tonight.”
Jelani’s men instantly began crying out and backing away, their heightened and fearful talk no doubt audible to Kanu Sultan and his men.
“Knock off the shite Jelani,” Jericho snapped angrily, “control your men.”
Jelani barked an order at the others as they retreated. They stopped in their tracks and hung their heads a little shamefully. Jelani continued to speak to them in Swahili, too fast for Thomas to keep track of the conversation. He did pick up that Jelani was reminding them that two of the lions were already dead by his hand.
Jelani fumbled in his pocket and brought out a necklace adorned with what Thomas recognised as the claws from a lion.
“Please put this on, it will reassure the men that we are protected. The claws are from one of the lions you shot.”
Thomas took the necklace a little reluctantly.
“If it means they stay and don’t make damned fools of us then I’ll put it on,” Thomas sighed. “But just to be clear, I don’t condone this souvenir taking from the ones we shoot. Above all else, we were planning to do some research, and that means leaving the bodies intact, okay?”
“Yes boss,” Jelani stammered.
Thomas could see he was clearly upset and worried by Kanu Sultan’s appearance and the strange ritual they had witnessed.
“That will certainly make for interesting footage,” Mason said with a grimace as they watched the procession of Range Rovers drive off and disappear.
He took the camera down from his shoulder and turned with the others, as they began to make their way back up the track towards the staff camp.
“How much danger do you think he really represents?” Mason asked Thomas as they walked.
“Hard to say,” Thomas shrugged. “Can they award that feature photography Pulitzer you’re after posthumously?”
“Very reassuring,” Mason smirked.
Darkness was beginning to descend quickly with the disappearance of the sun over the horizon. The last of its rays were engulfed in shadow, then finally consumed by the night. A pale moon hung low in the sky, and began to bathe the trees and path ahead of them in a soft, yellow light.
Thomas listened as the nocturnal animals of the bush began to stir. The piercing whistle of a Verreaux’s eagle owl, the largest of its kind in Africa, floated up from the woods to their left. Carried on the wind, he could hear the belching bellows of the hippos on the river, as they prepared to leave the water and forage along the banks and into the grassland. A jackal barked and yipped from somewhere behind them, and was immediately answered by the hysterical yikker of a group of spotted hyenas. As they reached the staff camp, they were greeted by the more familiar chirping of cicadas and crickets. The men busied themselves with lighting lamps and Thomas called Jelani over.
“It won’t hurt to get some fires going and to make sure all of the tents are secured,” Thomas suggested. “I don’t believe in the superstitious stuff, but that doesn’t mean Kanu doesn’t have something planned. That was quite a statement we saw out there.”
“I agree my friend, it will be done,” Jelani nodded.
Thomas watched as Jericho reached up into a tree at the side of the trail, seemingly absent minded. There was a sudden scream as Kelly jumped backwards, followed by a roar of laughter from the men.
“I thought you might want to give him a little kiss and see if he turned into a prince,” Jericho offered with a smirk, picking up the yellow tree frog he had just placed on her shoulder.
“Asshole,” Keelson laughed, shaking her head.
Thomas couldn’t help smiling. Even the frog looked a little perplexed, its lemon coloured toes gripping to Jericho’s fingers as he placed it back onto its branch.
“I just needed to break the ice with the crowd darlin’” Jericho whispered, “they were taking things a little too seriously,” he winked.
Keelson gave him a friendly thump in the ribs in return.
Jericho’s stunt seemed to have the desired effect. The atmosphere lightened and the men relaxed as they went about their work. They left them to it as they walked back along the trail to the main camp. A few of Jelani’s men followed, carrying large branches with them. When they got to the kopje, they began to arrange the dry wood into a pyramid. New logs were added to the fire pit as well. Soon both were bellowing flames high into the night sky.
Keelson, Mason and Karni stood talking together, looking around at the others. Thomas noticed Mason had set up his camera on the tripod again. Jelani was deep in discussion with Mansa, occasionally breaking off to direct his men to some new errand. Thomas walked casually over to Jericho, who was waiting for
him at the gun rack.
“Do you get the feeling we haven’t seen the main show yet?” Jericho asked him, quietly eyeing the others.
“Pretty much,” Thomas sighed.
He noticed Jericho was checking his nitro express rifle. He picked up his own from the rack, and slid the bolt back as he fitted a magazine cartridge. He turned as he felt Catherine walking up from behind. He handed her the Marlin rifle from the rack. She took a box of ammunition and began to feed the 45-70 Govt. rounds into the loading port. Jericho passed Thomas the holstered Anaconda he had taken off him earlier. They returned to their chairs around the kopje in silence, resting the rifles on the wooden frames and at arm’s reach. Thomas slung the strap for the Thermoteknix thermal imager over the back of his chair. As they sat down, Jericho nodded to Mansa.
The hospitable African disappeared into the kitchen tent, reappearing moments later with a silver tray. On it were three crystal tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. As he set it down in front of them, Thomas nodded his approval to Jericho. The squat, cognac shaped bottle of 1987 Vintage Teeling Gold Reserve Whiskey was an example of Ireland’s best. Jericho plucked the large champagne coloured stopper from the bottle, poured the three glasses, and handed them out.
“To the long wait,” Jericho toasted them as their glasses clinked together.
Thomas took a sip, enjoying the instant warmth the amber liquid gave him. It was smoother than the peaty whisky he favoured, possibly due to being finished in white burgundy barrels that also gave it a more fruity flavour. He could see Catherine liked it, as she sat back in her chair and took a large sip. She savoured it and called Keelson over to them.
“One sip’s enough for me,” Catherine smiled contentedly, “but I’m sure Kelly would like the rest.”
She offered the glass to the reporter, who gladly took it with a nod of the head. She too took a big swig. Her shoulders dropped as she instantly relaxed and took in the honey coloured liquor. She was about to say something, when a long, drawn moan drifted up from the scrub behind the camp. It was the hunting call of a lion.
The Daughters of the Darkness Page 17
