It wasn’t long after that, just as she began to doze again, that the shouts and wails began. Then she heard the noise of somebody hurriedly tapping against the glass door at the front of the tent. She sat up and threw her legs over the bed, trying to shake off her own grogginess as she shuffled across the floor. When she pulled back the curtain covering the door, she found Kelly Keelson on the other side, her eyes wide and her expression taught and fearful. Catherine reached for the handle and swung open the door.
“What’s going on?”
“Jelani’s men are leaving. The lions took out an entire tent of them last night, right under a guard’s nose,” Keelson replied.
“I’ll be right there,” the call came from behind.
Thomas pulled on his clothes quickly, stuffing his feet into his sandals and heading towards the door. He followed Kelly down the track towards the staff camp. Mason and Karni, who had taken the second watch, were already heading up to meet them. He looked to his left as Jericho stumbled grumpily from his own tent.
“What’s going on?”
“Looks like we got hit last night after all,” Thomas replied.
“Who did they take?”
“Six men. A whole tent,” Keelson answered quietly.
“Christ,” snapped Jericho, “how’d the guard miss that?”
“We’re on our way to find out,” Thomas shrugged.
Catherine caught them up, having stopped to pull on some clothes. By the time they reached the staff camp, it was a scene of chaos. Jelani stood in the centre of a group of his men. They were shouting at him, and Thomas noticed most of them already had their meagre belongings wrapped up and slung over their shoulders. As they approached, the men grew quiet and turned to look at them.
“What’s happening?” Thomas asked, speaking to Jelani directly.
“They are scared,” he replied, his brow slick with sweat. “They say the Petro-Loa came last night, and they do not want to face a bokor of Kanu’s power and reputation.”
“Well I wonder who put that idea into their head,” Jericho muttered under his breath.
Thomas shot him a warning glance. But he let out a deep sigh and his shoulders dropped.
“Listen everyone,” Thomas spoke up, lifting his voice to the gathered crowd. “I know you’re scared. You have good reason to be. But I ask you this on behalf of those we’ve already lost, and those still here who need your help and protection. At least give me a little time to look into what happened. Don’t give this bokor what he wants, or believe the lies he has asked you to stomach.”
The men looked unconvinced, but a few placed their packs on the ground whilst others nodded in his direction. There was something fatalistic about their acceptance of superstition and the course of events. He had encountered it before many times. He remembered working with a village close to a camp he’d run several years back. The women there were regularly taken by crocodiles when they washed their pots in the river. Thomas had shown them how to erect a simple barrier of vertical poles that would have prevented the crocodiles approaching the riverbank unseen. The villagers ignored his advice. They simply saw it as the way of things. Those taken were fated. It was only when he waded out into the water himself and plunged the purposely cut sticks deep into the mud that the villagers accepted the barrier. But even then, they interpreted it as Thomas not being chosen to die, rather than mere luck or the practicality of the fence.
He could see the same dull acceptance of fate in the eyes of the men now. They expected him to investigate and then dismiss them and let them go, as no interpretation other than black magic would be acceptable to them. For now. He turned towards the empty tent they all seemed to be staring at and entered.
He stopped as abruptly as if he’d walked into a wall as he stepped inside. On the ground, arranged around the central supporting pole were six rumpled blankets, resting on the dry bare earth. He could smell the blood that had soaked into them. His senses were consumed by it momentarily. He saw the heavy droplets that stained the floor where they’d fallen, and the arterial spray coating the support pole and canvas walls. He closed his eyes, trying to block the visceral assault on his senses, only finding himself wrapped in the very silence that had allowed the lions to kill at leisure. The air felt stale and death drenched, clawing at his throat and skin. He opened his eyes and took a deep inhale of breath, steadying and hardening himself for the task he had set himself. He needed to be sharp, focused and alert.
He began to read the ground, dropping to one knee as he did so. He followed the drag marks of one unlucky man’s heels, until they crisscrossed a set of paw prints. The lions had followed each other inside, using the already tried and tested trail of the one before. As he looked over the blankets, he noticed that most sported blood stains around a clean spot where the occupant’s head would have been. The lions had bitten them through both sides of the skull, a favoured method for leopards and other big cats known to hunt primates. Only two showed the more violent, explosive blood loss that came from a suffocating throat bite. It was these two victims that had possibly flailed the most, not dying instantly, and almost certainly accounting for the excess blood on the walls and pole of the tent.
He followed the drag marks and prints all the way to the canvas back. He found the loose panel easily and lifted it up. He looked closely at the stretched and broken vertical seam of the panel. It had undoubtedly been forced open at its upper reaches, where the stitches were frayed and ragged. But further down, the tear was neater and less abrupt. As he looked closer, he was sure they had been cut with an upward slash of a knife. He remembered the flashing blade Kanu Sultan had used to decapitate the chicken, during the voodoo ritual he had carried out the night before. He felt a flash of anger as he also remembered the malevolent grin Kanu had worn.
He threw back the canvas panel and stepped out of the back of the tent. He immediately saw the set of deeper prints there, and he guessed by their size they were the queen’s. He noted the impact cracks in the dry, clay-like mud where she had braced, pushing her weight down as she had lifted the panel and made the opening wider. Her pugmarks had cratered a little, and he examined the collapsed earth surrounding them. The harsh, ammonia laced scent hit his nostrils, and he realised that the ground had been liberally sprayed with the lion’s urine, hence the mushy set of prints. But something bothered him about it.
“Cath, come round the back of the tent,” he called out.
He hoped she wouldn’t decide to walk through it. Moments later he heard her brushing past the scrub around the side of the awning. She appeared from the corner to his right.
“Take a look at this will you,” he indicated, nodding to the stained area of ground he was kneeling over. “A lion has scent marked here and really gone to town. But it hasn’t kicked up any of the brush or made a scrape. Something doesn’t seem right.”
Catherine joined him and took a closer look, jumping back immediately when the pungent smell hit her nostrils.
“I’m surprised at you Mr. Walker,” she smiled, regaining her composure as she stood up. “I thought you’d be able to tell the difference. Don’t you recognise it? The reason it’s so strong is because it’s chemical. It’s probably a predator hunting lure or something like that. It’s definitely not natural lion urine. This is something you would use to draw them in.”
“You’re right, of course you’re right,” Thomas exclaimed. “It makes sense too. I think the bottom of that panel was deliberately cut to give them an entry point.”
“By Kanu Sultan, the man we saw last night?”
“Almost certainly,” Thomas nodded.
“Why didn’t they try to sabotage one of our tents? I’d have thought we were the more obvious targets?” Catherine asked.
“Our tents have wooden floors and reinforced structures. They’re also harder to approach unobserved,” Thomas replied. “It also depends entirely on what the objective was. If it was to empty the camp of most its staff, then we’ve already got a fig
ht on our hands to stop that from happening. And if they do leave, then we’ll be vulnerable.”
“Not very comforting,” Catherine replied, her face falling. “Maybe we’re taking on more than we can cope with here?”
Her eyes fell to her feet as they turned together to make their way back around the tent.
“If you’re not okay with this anymore, I wouldn’t blame you,” Thomas hinted as he pulled back a thorn encrusted branch of a whistling acacia. “I feel like you’re taking things harder than the rest of us.”
“I am tired,” Catherine sighed admittedly. “I can’t seem to shake it off. The same goes for my tummy, which has been squirmy since we got here. And I am very conflicted about what we’re doing here. Last night for instance, I felt so exhilarated to take down that lioness. The excitement and adrenaline was incredible. Then I thought about what a beautiful animal she was, and the man who was killed.”
“You felt guilty for how you had felt during the moment?” Thomas asked softly.
Catherine nodded. He could see the pangs of guilt and regret in her eyes as she looked down at the ground for a moment, avoiding his gaze.
“I feel exactly the same way. Why do you think I was in such a bad mood the other day after killing the two back at the cave? I think it’s how every good hunter should feel,” Thomas replied, hugging her with one arm across her shoulders. “No life should be taken lightly. She was a beautiful animal, she really was. But she was coming for you, to kill you. You did what you had to do. Other than a few francolins, everything we’ve had to take a shot at so far was pretty much bearing down on us. And that high you feel in the moment is just simple biochemistry. First, you get a hit of adrenalin to get you through the fight, then you get a dose of endorphins to help steady your overloaded nerves. It’s a pretty powerful cocktail.”
“I know.” Catherine sighed.
“I need you, you know,” Thomas said, giving her an affectionate hug. “I couldn’t do any of this without you. I wouldn’t be here without you. You always put others before yourself, especially me. You’re so much stronger than I am. Why don’t we put you first for a change?”
“Well, you know what they say, behind every great man, there’s a woman rolling her eyes,” Catherine replied, trying to smile.
“Look, so far Jericho and I have been running the show and making all the decisions,” Thomas stated. “Why don’t we start doing things your way? You’re the most qualified wildlife biologist here, and to be blunt, I think it worked for us when we were hunting our scary toothed friend in Scotland. I’m probably better at taking orders than giving them to be honest. What do you think?”
“I think you’re suggesting I’m a control freak,” she replied, nudging him in the ribs softly. “But thank you. Yes, I’d like to try. I’d like to have a say.”
“Done,” Thomas replied with an encouraging smile. “Now we need to explain how Kanu pulled off his magic tricks to the others.”
Thomas took some time to tell everyone gathered what they had found and explained Catherine’s suggestion that the lions had somehow been lured to the camp. He slowly saw the men’s expressions change from fearful to angry, as they began to realise they had been taken as fools. But he could also see some needed further convincing. Catherine suggested that they search the camp for other signs of baiting and lures, and then set about organising the men; instructing them to spend the day reinforcing the camp by building thorn bomas around the tents, and for large bonfires to be lit during the night. It was already becoming clear that with the discovery of the sabotage and the dozing guard, the men’s perception of the situation was changing. He sighed with relief, seeing Catherine was already relishing being in charge. Thomas decided to walk out with Jericho to where they had seen Kanu Sultan.
“Looks like you were right,” Jericho shrugged as they reached the welcome shade of the baobab tree, even though it was still early.
The ground was still marked by the blood of the sacrificed chicken, but it also bore the stain of the strong synthetic scent that had clearly been used to bring in the lions. As the wind changed and brought with it the rancid stink of the lure, they were in no doubt of its potency. The Motorola radio he was carrying bleeped, and Catherine informed them they had found another on the road that led to the camp. Kanu Sultan had been thorough, making sure the lures were placed at each accessible border of the camp.
“You don’t happen to have any scent lures with you, do you?” Thomas asked Jericho, as they walked back in a wide sweep.
“No, don’t get much use for them to be honest,” Jericho replied. “Most of the animals I work with I’m trying to protect. That kind of thing is for the trophy hunters really.”
“I don’t have any either,” Thomas said, shaking his head.
“Why, what’s on your mind?”
“Oh I was thinking about using Kanu’s own tricks against him. And I also thought that if we could show some of our own that we too can bring the ‘critters of the bush’ in on demand, it would go a long way to showing Kanu up for what he really is.”
“It’s not easy stuff to come by in Kenya, what with trophy shooting being illegal,” Jericho sighed. “But I know a trader in Usangi, across the border in Tanzania, who might have some, under the counter like.”
“I think it would be worth getting if you didn’t mind making the trip,” Thomas implied.
“Aye, there’s a couple of decent bars in Usangi, it’s no bother at all,” Jericho winked.
As they walked back, skirting through the brush behind the shooting range and up towards the main camp, Jericho stopped. He squatted down, hovering over a large print in the dry, crumbly earth.
“It’s hers, the queen,” Thomas stated. “I think it’s from a few days ago when I was out here shooting francolin.”
“She’s certainly catholic in her tastes, I’ll give her that,” Jericho replied. “Quite the opportunist in fact. She must have lain here watching you the whole time.”
“I think it’s fairly clear she has no fear of humans whatsoever,” Thomas stated flippantly. “I do hate it when animals haven’t read the guide books, don’t you?”
“Ain’t that God’s truth,” Jericho grinned. “Big too from the size of that print.”
“Big enough to throw her weight around, like with that adolescent male. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Catherine, but this is easily the biggest lioness I’ve ever come across,” Thomas agreed.
“Same here,” Jericho nodded.
“And that roar is still bothering me too,” Thomas admitted. “A lion’s roar is deep and drawn. A leopard is more guttural and savage sounding. What did it sound like to you?”
“A fairly perfect blend between the two,” Jericho replied flippantly. “Look, she’s a big girl, with a decent set of lungs. There’s nothing wrong with that,” he replied with a grin.
Thomas gave him a despairing smile in reply. “I’m just thinking aloud,” he shrugged. “But what if we’re seeing some new change in behaviour here, perhaps brought on by climate change or the lack of food? What if it’s more of an evolutionary change? Like Catherine said, lions are a vulnerable species and infanticide is one of the biggest localised threats they face. Maybe lionesses are getting bigger and stronger, just to increase the survivability of the cubs. I wouldn’t be surprised if that male was killed because he was threatening them for instance. Jelani found prints of cubs not far from there.”
“Maybe,” Jericho smirked. “Sure she’s big and strong, and knows how to look after herself. But it was an adolescent she killed. She didn’t mess with the big boys on the hill. I think as theories go, you’re a little outside the box.”
“It’s served me well in the past,” Thomas replied, looking out across the savannah as he felt a knot in his stomach. He had a horrible feeling they’d find out the truth soon enough.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They made the rest of the short walk back to the top of Anga ya Amani in silence. Jericho headed back
to his tent, whereas Thomas made his way to one of the bath huts. He took his time to shower and then after, he filled the sink with piping hot water and took out his shaving kit. Although he didn’t always use it, today he lathered his face with the traditional shaving brush before taking out the ebony handled Dovo straight razor. He began to shave, slowly and carefully sheering the grizzled stubble from his cheeks and chin. It gave him time to think and gather his thoughts.
Feeling refreshed and more awake, but still unsure about the nature of the lioness, he made his way back to the tent. He dressed quickly. He took the Colt Anaconda from the leather holster slung over the end bedpost, and slipped it into the inside pocket of his shooting vest. After the night’s events, he wasn’t prepared to relax so much as to walk around camp unarmed. He pulled on the boots he’d discarded underneath the bed the night before and walked out of the tent.
He found Catherine sitting at the dining table on the porch. She was writing quickly in a notebook, but stopped and looked up as he sat down on the rattan sofa opposite.
“All under control?” he asked.
“I think we’ve managed to avert the mutiny for now,” she sighed. “They’ll be busy most of the day reinforcing the camp.”
“As will you be I imagine,” Thomas added.
“You look ready for business,” she exclaimed.
“I’m going to try and track them down properly. One lion on its own might not leave much of a trail, but a whole pride should give me something of an advantage.”
“Is Jericho going with you?” Catherine asked, casually masking the concern in her voice as best she could.
“No, he’s heading over the border to try and get his hands on some scent lures. I want to try and use Kanu Sultan’s methods against him,” Thomas replied with a shake of his head. “It will do us a lot of good to show Jelani’s men that we have the same abilities. And it would be nice to have the upper hand for once.”
The Daughters of the Darkness Page 19
