The Hunter (31 page)

Brand looked in the rear-view mirror to check on his passengers. Peter had his head back, mouth half open, and was dozing. Anna’s eyes stared back at his. He thought of what she’d said to him, about last night.

‘Elephant,’ he said, quietly so as not to wake Peter, and pointed to a trio of bulls resting in the shade of a tree.

‘Where?’ Her voice was a whisper, her mouth close to his ear as she leaned forward.

‘Over on the right.’ Brand glanced at Peter again in the mirror; he was still asleep.

Anna shifted and moved her left hand between the front seats. Her right gripped the back of Brand’s seat, to steady herself. ‘I see them. Look at that one, he’s very big.’ Her fingers moved to his lap and caressed the bulge, making it harder. ‘Mmm, very big.’

He glared at her, but she just smiled. He didn’t want to tell her to stop in case it woke her husband. He hadn’t thought this day could get any worse, but there was always potential. This was crazy, but her movements were having an effect. ‘Anna,’ he whispered.

‘Shush.’

‘Dangerous,’ he persisted.

She pressed her lips to his ear now. ‘I know. I’m getting off on the danger and I want you to, as well.’

She slid her hand down inside the waistband of his shorts and he could feel those red-painted fingernails deliciously grazing the sensitive skin on the underside of him, dragging their way up to the crown. Her hand was slick with him and she slid it up and down along the shaft. He breathed in, sucking in his taut belly a little to give her more room. This was insanity.

Peter snorted in the back, half snoring. Anna withdrew her hand and sat back in her seat. Peter opened his eyes, then rubbed them and looked out the window. ‘I must have dozed off. How far to the border?’

Brand saw the turnoff coming up on the right and took it. The sign to Pandamatenga was so faded he could barely read it, but he knew the road. ‘Twenty-seven kilometres from here.’

He glanced at the Cliffs in the rear-view mirror. Peter was looking out at the bush but Anna gave him a wicked smile.

‘The border between Zimbabwe and Botswana, is it fenced?’ Peter asked.

Brand cleared his throat. ‘No, it’s just bush, national park and safari areas on this side and forestry reservations on the Botswana side. Elephants and other game migrate between the countries freely, depending on the season and the availability of water.’

‘So a man could walk across, unseen, quite easily,’ Peter said.

‘Yes, why do you ask?’ He checked the mirror again. Anna was slumped back in her seat, pointedly looking away from him now that her husband was speaking.

‘We could drive the car through the border and you could walk.’

Brand shook his head. ‘I can’t ask you to do that, Peter.’

‘I don’t want you to get arrested.’

Brand’s eyes flicked from husband to wife. Anna was sitting up again, looking at her husband, perhaps in a new light. His offer certainly surprised Brand. ‘Why?’

‘You’re our only conduit to Linley Brown. I don’t like the way this is heading, but if you’re in prison in Zimbabwe then we don’t get to meet her and, presumably, she slips away from the South African police. If this woman dragged my sister-in-law, Anna’s only sister, into a life of crime then to tell you the truth, Brand, I want to her to pay. I want her to pay for her crimes and for the sorrow she has put this family through. Kate could very well be alive today if she hadn’t – for whatever reason, good or bad – got involved in a scam that stood to benefit this Linley Brown, at least in part.’

Well, well
, Brand thought.

‘It’s too dangerous – are there lions in the bush here?’ Anna said.

That was the least of his problems. ‘I’m not worried about animals, particularly as it’s daylight. I walk with dangerous game for a living. I don’t want to sound macho, but you’ll be at more risk than I will.’

‘What risk?’ Peter said. ‘Write me a letter saying you authorise me to drive this Land Cruiser and to take it across international borders. If the cops get suspicious, or have your name on a watch list, I’ll tell them the truth, that you gave me a letter authorising me to drive the car and that we parted company. We can arrange to meet up somewhere, later today, and set up some sort of signal system so I can let you know if the police are looking for you, or if the coast is clear.’

Brand had to admit it was an audacious plan, but a good one. He geared down and pulled over underneath a fig tree. A herd of waterbuck, grazing on still-green grass in a boggy area watered by a perennial spring, took flight when he opened the car door. He took out his travel folder and notebook. ‘There’s a four-by-four track called the Hunter’s Road, just across the border. We can meet there.’

25

I
slept well in Bryce’s tent. It was my first good night’s rest in a long time. I’d lain awake for a little while after everyone else went to bed, though, wondering if Bryce might creep back in.

I was half relieved, half disappointed he hadn’t. I felt my attraction to him growing, but at the same time I didn’t know if I was ready to allow a man back into my life after what I’d been through. I was conflicted; I wanted to trust him, but didn’t want to involve him. I wanted him, but didn’t want to need him. Andrew, who would only ever be a platonic friend, was a safer bet.

It was still early when I woke, just going on six, but already the sun was warming the tent, eliciting the musky scent of dew-damp canvas cooking. I rolled over and unzipped the tent’s flap. Lying on my side I could see Bryce kneeling by the fire, cracking eggs one-handed and dropping them into a heavy, blackened steel frying pan. The smell of bacon sizzling made my tummy grumble. Even his back was gorgeous. I sighed; I could not let my feelings for him get the better of me, nor let him in.

Herb was walking from the ablution block, silhouetted against a gloriously pink sky. I shifted my gaze to another of the tents and saw Andrew stepping from it. He reached for the sky, stretching. ‘Morning,’ he said.

Herb replied to the greeting. Bryce looked up from the fire and said, ‘Breakfast in ten.’ Andrew nodded and Herb okey-dokeyed in reply.

I pulled on my new shorts, buttoned my sleeveless bush shirt and pulled my hair back into a ponytail and tied it with a scrunchie. I slid out of the tent and went to the fire. I would have to ask Bryce for his towel again if I was going to have another shower. It was hanging over the wing mirror of his Land Rover.

‘Hi,’ I said to his back. ‘Need a hand?’

‘Nope.’

‘Hey, I’m the cook, right?’

‘Are you going to tell me now, Linley, if that’s your actual name, what sort of trouble you’re in? I shouldn’t have to hear stuff about you from Andrew.’

He was being a bit petulant and I was annoyed, but last night I had promised to tell Bryce about my troubles – well, some of them. ‘And Andrew shouldn’t have told you anything. Did he tell you about my boyfriend?’

I wanted to never rely on anyone again, and when I looked into those eyes of his I knew, too, that my heart wanted what other people had, to rely on one reliable man for the rest of my life, and to have him need me just as much. I had never had that. Instead I’d been a toy and a pawn and I had learned to please, regardless of my own desire and pleasure.

‘Yes. But there must be more – like why did you have to hijack me? If you’d told me you were on the run from a guy I would have been happy to give you a lift.’

I turned away. ‘I’m sorry, Bryce, about all of this,’ I said quietly. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, but I also wanted to shield him from my problems. Also, because I knew I was falling for him I didn’t want him thinking badly of me if I told him of my life of crime.

He turned the eggs and used a breadknife to cut open fresh rolls. I saw how his knuckles whitened around the handle and my spinal fluid was frozen for a second as I remembered the glint of the sharpened blade that reflected the candlelight. ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I can’t . . . I mean, I shouldn’t judge.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said again.

His whole body sighed. ‘Then
tell
me, Linley. Tell me.’

I wanted to, right then and there, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the whole story. Besides, Andrew had extricated himself from whatever boring conversation he was having with Herb and was heading our way. The morning sun already had a sting in it that added to the pain of my hangover. I felt queasy and the
go away
cry of the eponymous grey bird mocked me. I wanted to be gone.

‘Morning, Naomi, Bryce,’ Andrew said.

‘She’s Linley, not Naomi,’ Bryce said, with a note of triumph that there was something he was privy to over Andrew.

‘
Howzit
,’ I replied.

Andrew raised his eyebrows. ‘Nice name.’

Bryce half placed, half dropped a plate with a roll in front of each of us. ‘Breakfast is served.’ He wiped his hands on his shorts and walked to his Land Rover.

Andrew lowered his voice. ‘Can we talk?’

‘Not here.’

‘OK. Then how about in Kenya?’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked him.

‘You said last night you’ve always wanted to see the wildebeest migration in the Masai Mara, so let’s go there. I’ll be finished with Herb’s group in a couple of days and we can leave then. I’ll ferry my friend’s aircraft back to Nairobi and you’re coming with me.’

I glanced at Bryce, who was ignoring us, foraging for something in the truck.

‘I want to help you. What you do once you get to East Africa is up to you.’

Here was my ticket out of South Africa and into a new life. I’d never been to Kenya but everyone who knew me had heard me say that seeing the migration was the one thing I wanted to do before I died. Here was a kind stranger offering to take me to see it in a private plane. It should have been a perfect escape for me.

I looked at Bryce.

‘Linley?’

I returned my attention to Andrew. ‘Where would we fly from?’

‘KMIA, Skukuza, the Sabi Sand, wherever you want. I can arrange for someone else to take us if you don’t want any tearful farewells.’

I looked to Bryce again, but he continued to ignore me. He must have known Andrew and I were plotting and that he was being deliberately kept out. My heart hurt for him. ‘I’ll come with you, but I need to get a new passport, or a temporary travel document.’

He nodded. ‘All right. You can get it couriered to KMIA, the local Kruger Mpumalanga International Airport, and I can collect it for you from there. I’ll fly there from Nelspruit’s airfield and lodge my flight plan there.

‘I’ll take good care of you, Naomi – I mean, Linley,’ he said, trying to assuage the concern he no doubt saw on my face. He put a proprietary hand on my shoulder. ‘I won’t let anyone hurt you. I take it your name change was part of trying to get away from your crazy boyfriend.’

I nodded, and just then Bryce looked back at me and I saw the pain in his eyes and thought I might cry. ‘OK,’ I said to Andrew.

I don’t know what I wanted right then – maybe for Bryce to get up and get away from his goddamned cooking fire and breakfast and come and tell me he’d take me away somewhere to help me sort out my life. Maybe I wanted him to grab me by the arm and drag me to the Land Rover and drive off, leaving Andrew and Herb and the other Americans.

Instead, Bryce said, ‘Game drive in half an hour.’

Andrew insisted I come on the drive. Bryce shrugged his shoulders.

‘I’d suggest she stay and get lunch ready, but you know she can’t really cook,’ Bryce said, out of earshot of the guests. I hated him right then.

We took the dirt road south towards Satara, parallel to the Lebombo hills and the Mozambican border. I could get out and walk, I thought at one point, simply disappear into the bush the same way the Mozambican illegals did from the other direction when they were walking these hills to get to a better life in South Africa, or to hunt the country’s rhinos. Either way they were trying to get rich and were prepared to die, perhaps from thirst or starvation or being killed by a man-eating lion, to follow their dream. Or were they trying to escape their nightmare? The similarities with my situation were everywhere, and I didn’t really care if I died trying. After a couple of hours, in which we saw zebra, giraffe, kudu and jackal, Bryce turned left on to an access road that brought us to a dam.

‘This is Gudzani Dam,’ Bryce said to
his clients. Bryce took out his binoculars and scanned the wall and the far bank. ‘I often see a leopard here at this time of day, sunning herself before she goes hunting. She’s got a couple of cubs.’

‘Hippo,’ said Andrew, who was also scanning. He lowered his binoculars and said quietly to me, ‘I have a phone and an iPad you can use at Satara. There’s a signal there and you can call and email your embassy.’

We left the dam and headed west on a road called the S100 that Bryce said was well known for its cats. We didn’t see any on that road, but when we re-joined the tar, just south of Satara, Bryce had to stop for a traffic jam. About fifty metres from us, just visible through the maze of parked cars, were a pair of lions, a male and a female, resting in the shade of a tree. ‘They’ll have left the pride to mate,’ he told the tourists. ‘They’ll be together for twenty-four hours, having sex every fifteen minutes to half an hour.’

‘Impressive,’ Herb said.

‘Painful,’ I chimed in from the back. Herb laughed and Bryce ignored me. Andrew looked at the lions through his binoculars.

The lioness got to her feet, stretched and walked in front of the male. She raised her tail, flicking it, exposing herself to the magnificent black-maned creature. It must have been near the end of the twenty-four-hour session, though, because he looked as though he could barely keep his eyes open. She bared her teeth and snarled.

Behind us I heard a metallic
thunk
and looked around to see a man getting out of a HiLux fitted with roof tents and sporting the stickers of a four-by-four rental company on its sides. ‘Bryce!’

Before Bryce could see what the matter was the lion was on his paws, instantly roused from his post-coital snooze. He emitted a throaty growl and took a few steps towards us. I wanted to scream, but Bryce held a hand up then started the engine. He put the Land Rover in reverse and put us between the poised lion and the idiot who had opened his door.

‘Get back in your car!’

The lion turned on the spot and ran off into the long dry grass, followed, after a pause and a snarl, by his mate. Around us people were hissing their disapproval at the man, who had got back into his car.

‘What were you thinking?’ Bryce said to him.

‘My car, she will no start,’ said the man in an Italian accent.

Bryce shook his head in annoyance. ‘I’ll give you a push start. Get back in.’

Bryce manoeuvred the Land Rover as the traffic jam began to break up, and pulled up behind the rented Toyota. As he eased his front bumper up to the spare wheels on the back of the other vehicle I said to Andrew: ‘Thank you. For everything.’

In Satara we climbed down from the game-viewing vehicle and Bryce told everyone we had half an hour.

‘There’s a day visitors’ picnic site over there, behind the car park,’ Andrew said. He pointed to a spot I’d seen near the camp entry gate. ‘Most people just go to the shop or the cafe. We can find a quiet spot there.’

Bryce headed to the bathroom and the American tourists went into the camp’s curio shop, across from reception. Andrew and I walked across the car park to the picnic site, a complex of timber pergolas and tables and seats set in the bush at the perimeter of the camp. We sat down and, as Andrew powered up his iPad, started planning my escape.