~
Saka raised her head, watching Thomas go and bounding forwards a few steps with her ears pricked up on alert. She babbled her jabber of squeaks and squeals in protest for a few seconds before falling silent. Her head dropped as she swung around, back towards the main road that led into camp. She glanced at the big tan boerboel and then back at the trail into camp. She quickly scampered across the kopje to the big dog, who was tied to a stake outside Jericho’s tent. She began to gnaw through the leather leash that kept him there. Rhodes jumped to his feet before she was through. He too could sense what was approaching along the trail. He pulled against the damaged leather, snapping it easily with a powerful and defiant shirk of his shoulders. He growled once in the direction of the camp entrance before turning and following Saka at a fast trot in Thomas’s wake.
~
She walked along the centre of the trail, her head rolling from side to side. All caution was gone now, replaced with an unbridled fury. A continuous growl sat in her throat as she passed through the stone pillars at the top of the trail, padding into the camp that she could already sense was empty. She paused, confused by the lingering chemical taint that had changed direction. She was just about to follow it, when she caught the fresh scent of the dogs. Underneath was the sweet, salty musk of a human’s sweat. He had walked along the trail in both directions and now the dogs were following. This was a hunt she had made before. She had learnt that dogs and humans were often found together. Her cobalt eyes flashed with deathly intent as they caught the glow of twilight. The tip of her thick tail thrashed the ground purposefully as she crossed the kopje and headed downhill along the path ahead of her. She stopped outside a familiar smelling tent. She knew there was someone inside it. She lifted her nose high, her whiskers reaching forward as she picked up the slight ripple of static charge in the air around the human, only separated from her by a thin layer of material. She licked her muzzle, her nostrils flaring as they caught the waft of ammonia and fresh perspiration coming from the hairless ape. It wasn’t the one she sought. She turned back to the trail, dropping her head to again pick up the scent of the dogs. She began to trot as she too headed out into the grassland.
~
Musa stared at the thin gap between the canvas doors with unblinking, bulging eyes. His entire body shook and trembled despite his muscles being taught and rigid. He clutched his knees against his chest even tighter than before, as the small puddle of urine collected beneath the bed. All thoughts of the threat Kanu presented had vanished from his mind.
“The strange one,” he whimpered. “The strange one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jericho patrolled the perimeter of the forest, looking for any sign of the poachers. If they had butchered two elephants on the spot, and had enough men to haul off the take and Catherine at the same time, he knew there would be a trail to follow. Sure enough, on the western edge of the woodland and heading north, he found what he was looking for. The path of a heavy truck snaked into the distance, the deep welts it had left in the soft trail bed obvious and easy to follow. Jericho left the Warthog running as he got out to examine the tracks. A closer inspection revealed the tread patterns of at least two other vehicles following in the wake of the truck, letting it do the hard work of flattening out the route ahead. He looked out in the direction the tracks led, as he crouched down and took a handful of dry dirt from the ground. He rubbed it over his hands. The action steadied his nerves and helped him think. Resolute, he stood up and dusted off his hands, heading back to the Warthog.
At first his progress was slow. He wanted to be sure that he didn’t lose the trail of the truck. But as the light began to fade, he put his foot down. As he crested a slight ridge, he saw the trail joined a curved mud road that led into a thick patch of woodland. He put the Warthog in neutral and coasted down the slope onto the trail. His caution was rewarded when he picked up the sound of men shouting up ahead. He rolled the Warthog off the road and a little way into the trees, turning off the ignition completely. Interested to know what he was up against, Jericho took off at an angle into the dense forest on the right-hand side of the road. He moved quickly but still cautiously, stooping to hide his silhouette and outline as much as he could.
About 500 yards in, his clothing quickly becoming dampened by the humidity, he stopped to get his bearings. The sounds of a busy camp were much closer now, but the vegetation was still too thick to make anything out. He decided to risk climbing a nearby neem tree with a conveniently angled trunk. He was only a few feet up, his feet scrabbling for purchase, when a low and threatening growl from nearby made him freeze. It was immediately answered by a flurry of squawks, screams and further growls from multiple animals. He drew himself a little higher and froze again as he found himself looking into a pair of deep set brown eyes, about thirty feet away. He had been seen. As his urge to duck and run was about to kick in, his senses caught up with his instincts and he made himself look again. He let out a deep sigh of relief to steady himself. The morose dark face staring back at him belonged to a chimpanzee that sat in a dirty and cramped wire cage. As Jericho’s gaze shifted, he saw the cheetah, caracal and other cats. His eyes came to rest on the crude and large padlocks that kept the otherwise flimsy cages secure. A grin crept across his face as an idea formed.
After climbing a little higher into the tree and watching and listening for some time, he was fairly sure of the layout. He guessed there were no more than about fifteen men in the camp, based on the two large green barracks tents on the far side of the compound. There was a guard at the partially covered entrance from the road, and Jericho could hear his snores from the tree. Over-confidence and laziness was a typical militia trait, and all the men in the compound had the swagger of former militia men. Two more patrolled the back of the open part of the compound. Their minds and hands were more interested in the self-rolled cigarettes they were both smoking. Weapons seemed scarce. He had seen one of the guards carrying what had looked like a World War II M1 carbine, but a few others had the ubiquitous AK47s. The men seemed scattered through the camp, something he could use to his advantage if he could remain undetected.
He carefully made his way down the tree and threaded his way back through the forest to the car. He slipped around to the open back, and dragged a heavy tool box out from underneath the raised spotlight rig. He rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for, a pair of compact bolt cutters. He slipped them into his back pocket. At the same time, he retrieved the Rhino revolver and placed it in its holster, and slung the DP-12 shotgun over his shoulder. He paused at the side of the road, making sure he was still alone before ducking across and back into the trees. The shroud of darkness that was beginning to descend helped cover him further. He decided to wait it out again at the tree, for his eyes to adjust to the fading light. After several minutes, the newly risen moon broke from a low cloud bank and he made his move.
The wall of cages made it easy to approach the compound from that side. He made careful movements and stayed low, knowing that if he disturbed the animals too much, they might also draw attention to him. He also wanted to remain in the background as far as they were concerned. Their attention was best served centred on the handful of guards he had seen. He crept into a small corridor formed by two rows of cages and made his way as close to the ones nearest the compound as he dared. The bolt cutters made quick work of the padlocks on the bottom row of enclosures. The first released was a crested porcupine that blinked at him with sleepy eyes before beginning to snuffle at the now open door to its former prison. Next along was a pair of common jackals. A honey badger snarled at his sudden appearance, attacking the door with its formidable teeth. He decided to let the intelligent mustelid figure out how to open its now unlocked cage by itself. A rare striped hyena was next, then the cheetah and caracals. A savage growl drew his attention to a large cage underneath that of the cheetah. A handsome male leopard glowered at him.
Hell, better out than in Jericho though
t, clipping through the padlock. He didn’t open the door, hoping to retreat before the leopard figured out that freedom beckoned. A pair of servals were liberated before he came to the chimpanzee. It watched him with curiosity as he cut away the padlock. It sat bobbing its head as he threw the padlock onto the floor, then looked up at him with its lower jaw dropped. Although it looked as if it were surprised, Jericho knew the expression signalled one of happiness or acceptance. But suddenly the chimp’s demeanour completely changed. The pupils of its eyes became pinpricks and it flipped its lips to expose the upper and lower canines. Jericho knew that many people mistook this for a smile, but it was a formidable posture of threat. The chimp was showing the weaponry it had available and was willing to use. Without warning, the chimp flew at the door, bursting through it with such force that it swung into Jericho’s crouched form and sent him spinning backwards into the dirt. That’s when he saw the silhouette of the guard that had turned into the corridor of cages. The chimp was on the guard before he realised something was amiss, the primate’s heavy fists bludgeoning him to the ground before he could even cry out. The chimp hammered a series of blows to the guard’s head and chest, before stopping and looking at Jericho with wide eyes of elation, its lips forming a cone shape as it issued soft whoops.
“Good for you, big fella,” Jericho whispered with a smile.
The chimp swung into action, opening the doors to all the cages that Jericho had visited. The animals needed little persuasion after the tottering chimpanzee had encouraged them out of the cages, with bangs to the mesh with its powerful hands and the same soft whoops. Jericho took out the revolver and stepped forward, his presence as well as that of the chimp further encouraging the other animals to follow their instincts out into the open compound.
A second guard, the one carrying the old-fashioned carbine, walked back along the compound and paused as he passed the dark corridor of cages. He squinted into the shadows. The animals seemed unusually restless and he thought he had seen something. Two green glowing spots of light stared back at him. He stepped closer, only to recoil in horror as a rippling, roaring mass of teeth and claws clothed in amber and swirls of black spots launched out of the darkness towards him.
Jericho began to edge backwards as the leopard went to work, dragging the squirming guard back into the secluded cover of the now empty cages, jaws clamped over the man’s throat. The big cat’s hind claws had already gutted the guard. One front paw was wrapped around the militia man’s head, its claws embedded in his scalp to prevent movement and struggling. The other paw sat hooked into the chest, where its pressure kept the prey still, and monitored its shortening, failing gasps for oxygen as it died. Leopards really were natural born primate killers. Jericho decided to backtrack, and to try edging along the close-knit group of tents beyond the cages. As a shout went out and a spray of gunfire followed it, he knew his planned distraction was doing its job.
~
Catherine kept looking down at her tummy, confused and questioningly. Somehow she knew the old woman had been right. She had suspected for a few days now. Her stomach had never seemed to settle since she’d arrived in Africa. Her favourite foods and even drink tasted strange and overpowering. Her hormones had been off the chart too. It all made sense. Kruger had left her alone in the tent, called away for something. The big guard, Hondo, stood at the entrance watching her. A few moments later, Kruger returned, carrying a curved, single ivory tusk.
“This Ms. Tyler, and the small menagerie you passed on your way in, is the cause for all your discomfort, both present and that to come,” Kruger stated, putting the tusk down on a wooden cabinet to the side of the tent. “The men and the trucks cost me say $30. This though, to the right buyer will bring me $300,000. The matching pair perhaps as much as three quarters of a million. We also grind the root and a few feet of each tusk into powder worth $1,500 a lb. Not bad for a day’s work eh? Tomorrow, we do it all again. I’m sure you know the black market in animals and their parts is the third biggest illegal trade after drugs and weapons? And we just happen to do a little work for a gun runner too,” Kruger said, grinning. “Makes getting ammo convenient.”
“Makes you sound like somebody’s errand boy,” Catherine replied.
“Seeing as I’m adding slave trader to the résumé, you may want to watch your temper,” Kruger jeered.
“Not likely,” Catherine scowled.
Kruger looked towards the door as the sound of gunfire caught their attention. Shouts, and a flurry of barks, roars and animal chatter followed. Hondo took a step forward then paused, looking at Kruger for permission.
“Go check it out,” he nodded.
Catherine’s gaze had settled on the tusk, its tip lying away from her and towards the man who had killed its barer. It gleamed, and now as she looked at it just an arm’s length away, she saw why Sefu had been given his name. Kruger was still distracted by whatever was going on in the main camp, and didn’t notice as she slowly rose from her chair.
“Sword,” she murmured out loud.
“What?” Kruger snapped, turning back. “Hey, put that down.”
Even shortened and cleaned of some of its bulk, the tusk was still unbelievably heavy. Catherine didn’t have time to hesitate. She charged forward, plunging the tip into Kruger’s belly, hurtling at him with all the might she could muster and pushing him backwards towards the ornate gold bed. As she rammed him against the corner post, there was a moment of resistance before she felt something give, followed by a shudder and a cry from Kruger that made her spring back in surprise.
Kruger was already slipping to the ground, his hands clutching at the tusk that had torn its way through his abdomen with the brute force of Catherine’s charge, helped by the sudden stop brought by the collision with the bedpost.
“Sword,” Catherine repeated slowly, her eyes meeting Kruger’s wild stare rather than watching the pool of blood that was beginning to collect at his side. “The elephant you killed was named Sefu. It means sword in Swahili.”
Kruger was pale and sucked down deep, raspy breaths. His eyes bulged as he looked at her and then down at the tusk. Catherine followed his gaze. She could see the natural curve of the ivory had followed the path of least resistance upwards, perhaps slicing through the gut. Guessing by the dark colour of the blood, it had ruptured something, most likely the liver. He was bleeding out fast. Kruger stuffed his hand inside his vest, pulling out the revolver he had taken from her things earlier. His strength was leaving him now though, and he dragged the barrel over the floor towards Catherine, unable to lift it. She reached out casually and took it from him. She checked it was loaded and stood up, tucking it into her trousers. She made her way to the door of the tent and looked out, but not back.
~
Jericho slipped between the canvas walls of two supply tents, only to freeze as he saw a blur of movement coming towards him. He let out a sigh of relief as the bat eared fox dashed past without even a glance. As he heard another short burst of gunfire followed by a scream, he brought up the revolver and edged a little further along the narrow corridor between the tents.
He stole a glance back towards the compound and saw it was in turmoil. A tent on the far side was partly collapsed. Another was on fire. The smashed gas lamp that had ignited it lay in pieces on the ground not too far away. Jericho watched as a man stumbled into the open, kicking at something clinging to his ankle. As the panicked soldier angled the barrel of his AK47 wildly towards the offending blur, he pulled the trigger, killing the honey badger that was clamped to his flesh but also riddling his own leg with bullets. He collapsed onto the floor and was immediately swarmed by the two jackals, their snapping jaws ripping into his clothing and body with a panic fuelled clamour.
Just as Jericho turned back towards the tents, a heavy fist smashed into his jaw and sent him spinning into the dirt. A little dazed, he tried to flip onto his back, only to find himself pinned by a boot that came down onto the base of his spine. He craned his neck upwards
and froze as he saw the cheetah a matter of yards away, its body taught and poised for the spring. It had possibly been stalking him all along. As he heard the bolt of a gun being pulled back, he threw his hands over his head to protect the neck and buried his face into the dirt, the rim of his hat cutting off his view of the cheetah as he did so. He knew what was about to happen, the cat already half launched into its attack. He just had to hope it happened before whoever had the gun on him could pull the trigger.
There was a muffled cry, then the sudden lifting of the pressure on his back. Without hesitating, he jumped to his feet and spun to face the potentially combined threat of his attacker and the cheetah. He realised that as he had been thrown to the ground he had dropped the revolver, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. It was the gnarled growl of the cheetah. The man that had attacked him was laid out on the ground, the cheetah straddling him lengthways. Jericho felt a slight pang of pity as he saw the big man’s foot twitch. The lithe cats did not boast the strong, sharp teeth of their larger cousins. Their fangs were relatively compact and unable to penetrate tough hide, but were perfectly adapted for clamping around the smaller throats of the Thompson’s gazelles and springboks they favoured as prey. To be killed by a cheetah meant a slow, fear filled death via asphyxiation. The burly soldier was being suffocated by the patient cat. It occasionally shifted its weight or position to avoid his flailing limbs, but the fight was over. It had won. Jericho retrieved his gun and slipped past the cat, which lifted its hind quarters, following his movements as he went. Once the threat was gone, the cat settled down again, as the man whose throat it held in its jaws finally stopped moving.
The Daughters of the Darkness Page 32
