Mark of the Lion (32 page)

“Whatever you have for me,” said Roger, “give it to me tonight.” He left to find Harry.

 

“It’s not good
enough
!” bellowed Harry. “Make it thicker.”

Roger’s scornful voice added, “It’s a wonder you lazy louts aren’t dead and digested.”

The advance men had already built a
boma
for the oxen and nearly finished a similar thorny protective barrier around the tents, but both Roger and Harry saw too many thin spots for their liking. They insisted on strengthening it. Whereas Harry’s order came off with the authority of a headman, Jade noticed that Roger’s comments simply dripped with loathing.

“The Tsavo lions are a different breed,” Harry explained to the hunters. “Larger, for one thing, and the males don’t sport that big, thick mane. Their manes, what there is of them, look more like a juvenile’s, sparse and short. The prides are smaller, too, so the males actually hunt.”

“How large is larger?” asked Jade.

“Males average four fifty to five hundred pounds.”

Jade whistled. “That’s grizzly size.”

“Colonel Patterson’s people built
bomas
,” stated Avery. “I can’t say it did them any good. Those lions broke right through.”

Harry’s laugh came out as more of a derisive snort. “Patterson? I think the old boy was one to embellish. But that was a particularly nasty lot of lions plaguing them; that’s for certain.” He pointed to the
boma
. “That’s why we want this twice as thick.”

“I thought only wounded or sick lions resorted to man-eating,” said Jade.

“Not here in Tsavo,” said Harry. “Here, the beasts make a habit of it. But then, look at their alternative and decide what you’d rather take down: a buffalo capable of stamping you into a bloody pancake or a very
tender
human.” He eyed Jade as he emphasized the word “tender.”

Roger interjected. “It’s their heritage, too. This area used to be a part of the old ivory route, only ivory wasn’t the only commodity taken through here. Slave trading was part of the bargain. Weak slaves were left to drop. That’s an easy mark for any lion.”

“Yes,” added Harry in a sinister undertone. “And the young ones learn from watching Momma and Daddy.”

“I have gleaned two facts from this discussion,” summarized Avery. “Vigilance is critical, and I’ll end up with a lion skin sans decent mane.”

“You’ll be lucky if that’s all you end up with, Dunbury,” said Harry. “Don’t go looking for trouble out here. It
will
find you first. Roger, check on the rest of the gear. I’m going to talk to the tracker.”

“
I’ll
talk to Memba Sasa,” said Roger. “He’s temperamental and more used to me.”

Harry shrugged. “Suit yourself, Rog. I’ll see to the camp, then.” He turned to the others. “You can choose your tents from the three central ones. Roger and I flank you on either side.” He tugged his hat brim in a parting salute. Jade grabbed Harry’s sleeve to stop him as he turned away. Harry turned with a wide grin. “Why, Jade. Hate to see me go?”

Jade released his shirt and laughed. “Not at all. I just want to know where I should tell my gun bearer, Pili, to sleep.”

“Oh,” he said with obvious disappointment. “We have tents set up behind this inner circle for the men, although most of the Wakamba porters prefer to sleep outside. Still, if we are bothered by lions, most don’t recognize a closed tent as anything and pass it by. The men know that. Your man will take one of those tents.”

“Fine,” said Jade. “And just so you know, I believe Mrs. Thompson is bunking with me.”

“Right.” Harry turned on his heel and strode off to the other side of the camp.

Jade threw her duffel into her tent and set the Winchester on the cot. She fished her camera out of its bag, and her hand brushed the second ring box. “I found your brother, David,” she whispered. “And when we get back to Nairobi, I’ll find your father’s killer.” She tucked the ring box back into a corner of the bag next to the sealed packet, took up the camera, loaded it, and headed out to photograph the camp.

With all the delays, the day was well advanced by the time they arrived. The temperature had cooled into the low nineties, and long shadows stretched like a yawning cat along the ground. Somewhere to the west, Mount Kilimanjaro rose up, but Jade saw only clouds when she squinted in that direction. The mystical mountain, considered by some to be the soul of Africa, stayed hidden behind its veil, too proud to be ogled by mere mortals like her.

The great volcanic mountain left its calling card, however, in the black rock around it. The camp sat at the base of several smaller hills to the north and across the river to the south. The tree belt showed where the Tsavo River came into its own just west of them as the many tributaries flowed together under the watchful but hidden eye of Kilimanjaro. She felt a thrill run through her just knowing the mountain was there behind its veil.

Avery joined her. “Not exactly the land of milk and honey, is it?” he said. “Rather lean-looking territory. But I came to fetch you. Bev is insisting on a bath now,” he explained. “Mr. Hascombe is going to hunt for the pot, as they say, and I thought perhaps I would lend a rifle. Care to join us?”

“Does Harry approve of my tagging along on this hunt?”

Avery grinned as if to suggest it shouldn’t matter whether he did or not. “Your people are paying his fee,” he said.

Jade laughed. “Let me get my Winchester and canteen.” She stopped and turned to Avery. “I never thanked you and Bev for your letters of introduction and you for just bringing Bev out here. I missed her and,” she added quickly before she hurt his feelings, “you, too.”

Avery smiled and bowed in a courtly manner. “ ’Twas no trouble at all, fair damsel. Bev and
I
missed you, too. But I’m offended that you’re not taking your new Mannlicher.”

“I haven’t even practiced with it yet,” she replied. “You wouldn’t want me to miss an antelope because the sights were off, would you? I’ll target shoot later. Pili has charge of it now.”

Pili saw her emerge from her tent with her Winchester and insisted on accompanying her. He had exchanged his white robe for a shorter tunic that revealed khaki shorts, long green socks, and a pair of scuffed, clunky, thick-soled shoes. Jade wondered if the attire had been provided by Lord Colridge since neither Harry nor Roger had known he was coming. Besides, her safari outfitter, Newland, Tarlton, and Company, usually supplied their porters with long blue jerseys similar to those worn by police
askaris
, only sporting the letters N and T sewn in red.

That was when it hit her. None of the porters wore anything remotely resembling that uniform. She examined them more closely. They all dressed in a ragtag manner with assorted cast-off great coats, torn vests, frayed shorts, red blankets, holey cricket stockings, or no stockings. “Well, I’ll be horn-swoggled,” she muttered. “He not only took over heading the safari, he took over the entire job.”

“Beg pardon?” asked Avery.

“Harry took over the entire safari. Look.” She pointed to a cluster of Wakamba porters. “Newland, Tarlton, and Company make their people wear blue jerseys.”

They walked on towards the
boma
gate. “Is this a problem?” Avery asked.

Jade shook her head. “I hope not. I mean, Hascombe and Forster know what they’re doing. Maybe even more so than some people sitting in an office in Nairobi. But it is my safari, and I feel I should have been consulted first.” She expressed as much to Harry Hascombe at the
boma
gate, where he waited with Ruta.

“Harry, I’m sure you’re a first-rate rancher and hunter, but you’d make a lousy business partner. I’d appreciate it in future if you’d clear any new plans with me before taking over anything else. You fired my safari company and took over on your own.”

He stepped back and grimaced. “You prefer to see the men all dandied up like a field of blue flowers?”

“You can all go about in pink tutus if you like. What I
prefer
is to be consulted first. I have to explain all the expenses to my publisher, and if he expected to see pictures of neat, tidy porters, he’s going to wonder why he has pictures of refugees instead.” She stepped forward. “It will look as if
I’m
skimming money off the top. You could cost me any future work.”

Harry retreated back another step and coughed once. “I’m sorry, Jade. I’ll admit that possibility never occurred to me. Look, Roger needs money. The bugger is more desperate than he lets on, and I knew I could pay him more by handling the safari myself.” He started to approach her, thought better of it, and remained where he stood, next to the silent Ruta. “Forgive me, but those asses in Nairobi waste too much money on French wines and crystal goblets.” He looked her over and smiled. “You didn’t strike me as the frivolous type, Jade. I assumed you’d rather the money be spent on the best game hunter in the protectorate.”

“And that would be yourself, of course.”

He touched his hat brim and bowed slightly. “Always at your service, miss. In
any
way I can be of service.” At the sight of her continued scowl, he added, “I’ll chop
my
fee in half.”

“Keep your fee, Harry,” Jade said. “Just don’t try to pull anything else behind my back.”

Avery shifted his smaller-caliber Jeffery rifle in his hand. “If we are all through here,” he said, “might we go hunt? My wife fancies an antelope for supper.”

Jade laughed. “Beverly and I ate enough horse meat with the French army that we should probably pick out a nice, fat zebra instead. Sauté it in a little Bordeaux, and we’ll feel right at home after traveling all day in the flivver.”

“Your wife and Jade appear to be remarkable women,” Harry said.

Avery shook his head slowly and rolled his eyes. “You do not know the half of it.”

Jade glanced around for the tracker. “Where’s Memba Sasa?”

Now Harry rolled
his
eyes heavenward. “It seems
he
feels he is only here for the
important
hunts, whatever that means. Won’t do anything as mundane as look for food. But don’t fret your pretty head. Ruta and I can find game.”

The six of them set out on a southeasterly angle towards the river, Hascombe in the lead followed closely by his gun bearer, Ruta. Jade came next with Pili, and Avery brought up the rear with his bearer. They pushed on steadily in the open grass and avoided the stands of thorny shrubs. In the distance, a small herd of giraffes browsed on the taller acacia trees, and a few white egrets pecked around in the dust by their hooves. A large stork flew out of an acacia and turned towards the river, his long wings flapping languidly.

Ruta pointed into the grassland, and Harry nodded. Jade and Avery both knew enough about hunting to keep quiet and concentrated on detecting whatever the tall Maasai indicated. Jade spotted a small cluster of white birds that shimmered up out of late-afternoon shadows and resettled into the grass. Egrets. They followed herds and fed on the insects stirred up by the hooves. As yet, she didn’t see the herd, but Harry and Ruta turned to a more easterly direction towards the spot where the birds had landed. That was where the herd would be.

Jade followed silently and kept scanning the grass to their sides for the telltale, softly rounded triangular ears that signaled a lion. Almost in answer to her unspoken thoughts, Harry stopped and pointed left. At first, she didn’t see anything. Then the grass twitched. Jade froze.

A lioness raised her head about fifty yards away and yawned. The cat rose with a dancer’s grace, stretched, and trotted off into the distant scrub. Jade heard a faint pounding and realized it was her heartbeat. And that, she thought, was just over seeing a lone female. She grinned at Avery. He silently mouthed back, “Simba Jike,” and pointed at her. Impulsively, Jade touched her wrist tattoo.

The cooler air from Kilimanjaro sank beneath the hot air of the plains and put a slight breeze against their backs. Not good. More of a chance of alarming the herd. They advanced more cautiously and skirted to the south to avoid directly carrying their scent to the prey.

Before long, a small herd of two dozen or so Grant’s gazelles came into view. About the size of a white-tailed deer, the dun-colored antelope blended into the golden grasses. Only the occasional flash of their white rumps gave them away. She noticed their horns, which stretched over two feet with a graceful lyre shape on the males and only half as long on the females.

Ruta and Harry stopped about two hundred yards from the herd and crouched in the grass. Avery and Jade did the same. Ruta handed Harry his smaller-gauge rifle and pointed to a particularly large male at the far eastern edge of the herd. Harry shook his head, chose a smaller one, then pointed out two other males to Jade and Avery. Then he mouthed, “On three.”

He waited until each of them had settled into their kneeling stance, shouldered their rifles, and nodded their readiness before whispering his count. On three, each of the rifles boomed, and the herd scattered. All, that was, except for the three targets. They leaped into the air, only to collapse immediately onto the rusty earth.

“Good shooting,” said Harry as they rose. “There’s meat enough for the porters as well as ourselves for a couple of days.” He fired twice in the air, waited a count of three, and fired again. “I’ve signaled the camp. The Wakamba will come with poles to haul the game back. No need to stay unless you want to.”

“Shouldn’t one of us remain here?” suggested Avery. “Or there likely won’t be anything left to carry back.” He nodded in the direction of the lioness.

“Ruta will stay. He’s killed one lion with only his spear. I daresay he’d enjoy killing another even if it’s only with my other rifle.”

Ruta grinned.

Back at camp, Jade went into the center tent with one four-gallon
debe
of water and a bar of soap and washed. When she set the near-empty can on the oxcart, two porters laughed.