2 Game Drive (14 page)

“Me, too,” said Chase. “I’m ready for something new.”

Rick looked at Chase like he wanted to smack him. “Chase,” he said, “the only animals you’ve even glimpsed on this entire trip are the ones at the waterhole by the swimming pool. You haven’t been out on either of the game drives so far. Before we signed up you promised you would go on at least one.”

Chase shrugged. “Well, I was going to go on that one today, Rich, but they called it off. That’s not my fault, obviously. I was all ready.”

Chase must have been telling the truth, for the magnificent and expensive safari clothes he was wearing put Jay’s in the shade. Sadly, that fact was not lost on Jay
.

“I think this whole operation is a big waste,” Mabel screeched from the next table. “Useless. I don’t believe in squandering valuable time like this, lolling around a pool with no purpose. I believe in action. True ecotourism. There’s work that should be done here. Problems that need to be ferreted out and corrected. My people would never come to a place like this. Never.”

“Thank God for that,” Jay muttered. “I expect the Leopard Dance folks will be relieved to hear that.”

“Yeah,” said Connie. “I mean, why did she want to come on this fam with all of us in the first place? This whole deal was described in the brochure and on the website. Honestly. Is she really a travel agent
? I wish I’d brought my mink along on the trip to show her. That would really send her over the edge.”

“Your mink? A real fur coat? Do you really have a fur coat?” Chase asked.

“You bet your sweet ass, I do,” she said, sitting a little straighter. “Full-length. My first husband bought it for me after I caught him in the backseat of his Cadillac with a cocktail waitress. I didn’t stay married to him long after that, just long enough to get the mink and stock up on the latest makeup. Then it was bye-bye, Bubba.”

“You said your first husband,” Rich said. “How many husbands
have you had?”

“Three,” Fernando said.

“None of them were worth a damn,” said Connie. “I told y’all I’m on the lookout for a new one. Maybe I’ll get lucky this time.”

She gave Fernando a smoldering look and a wink and stuck out her chest. Everyone laughed.

* * *

“May I have your attention, please?”

Henrik van der Brugge had entered the room and stood in front of the fire pit, clapping his hands for attention. He looked as handsome as ever and none the worse for wear after the violent nocturnal arrival of his bride, or ex-bride, whichever she was.

I wondered what had become of her. Since he was standing before us, he had clearly not been a passenger in the little airplane I had heard leaving in the night. Her car was certainly not drivable, so maybe she had left in the plane.
I hoped she had. I didn’t want any more quality time with that nutty woman.

Van der Brugge’s eyes took in the whole room as he began to speak, although he never looked directly at me.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It is a beautiful morning here at Leopard Dance, yes? Today, I have a surprise for you. Unfortunately, Willem tells me that we must shut off the water here in camp after breakfast for about twelve hours, for some routine maintenance to the pumps. So, I am announcing a change in plans, a slight departure from our normal routine. It is my gift to you, a special treat.”

Tilda and Wendy clapped and started whispering and giggling to each other, speculating on what the surprise might be.

Van der Brugge paused until they settled down.

“Please,
continue to enjoy your breakfast,” he smiled. “Take your time, and when you have finished, I would ask that you return to your rooms. There, on your beds, you will find a small cloth bag. In it, you may pack whatever you need for one night and bring it along with you to the reception pavilion by ten o’clock. Only that bag, the bag I have provided, please. Nothing else. At ten, you will board the usual vehicles. You will not be returning to the lodge until tomorrow morning. We are going camping.”

Hands shot up with questions. Wendy and Tilda, Mabel, Chase, and Rose each wanted to ask something
; everyone was excited and curious. But van der Brugge just smiled even more and headed for the door, saying over his shoulder, “Our destination is a surprise. Please be prompt. We leave at ten.”

After his exit, we bombarded David with questions, but he claimed to
know nothing about the plans, not even our destination.

“I say, this is
thrilling
, what? A
splendid surprise
for me, too. Mr. van der Brugge called me aside just before the breakfast bell and told me he had something special in store for us. Quite
exciting
, isn’t it? No, I don’t know where we are going. He didn’t say. That is all part of the excitement, not knowing where one is going. Now hurry along, my dears, and pack your things. Remember now, only the little bags on your beds. Nothing else will be allowed.”

C
hoosing what to pack for the overnight was tough for Jay. Not much fit into the small, native-print cotton tote bag he found on his bed. Sleepwear, a change of underwear, a fresh shirt, and basic toiletries quickly filled it. He’s a big guy, and his clothes are big, too. Everything Jay owns—clothing and personal care items—takes up more room than mine. Plus, I don’t plan my clothes in ensembles.

“I could sleep commando and have room for my D&G slacks, Sidney. Would that be okay with you?”

“No. It would not. You don’t need fresh pants tomorrow, Jay. We’ll only be gone for one night. Just take a clean shirt and underwear and wear the same pants you have on now tomorrow. That’s what I’m doing.”

His face fell. “Then it won’t match. I had my outfits all worked out. This is going to goof it all up.”

I extended my hand. “Give me the pants, Jay. I have a little room left in my bag. I think I can cram them in with my stuff.”

After all these years of traveling, I can totally pack a bag for a trip. I plan my outfits with the itinerary, laying them all out on the bed, taking the weather predictions into consideration. I pack my
bag in layers, placing my underwear, sleepwear and swimsuits in zip-top plastic bags on the bottom. I put shoes and belts around the edges, roll up everything else, and jam it in as tight as I can. Folded jackets, dresses, and dressy pants go on top.

A tight bag, with clothes carefully folded or rolled, prevents wrinkles. That seems crazy, but it’s true. When things are loosely packed, they move around in the bag and end up really rumpled. I always add a sheet of copy paper, printed with my name, cellphone number, and address, into the top inside pocket in case the bag goes astray with the tags torn off.
You wouldn’t believe the stuff I can cram into a bag. My bag is like a magic hat.

Jay knows how to do that, too, but has a harder time because his stuff is so
enormous, and because he just can’t stand breaking up his carefully coordinated outfits. I guess that would be hard for me, too, if I spent all my paycheck and then some on expensive clothes and fashion magazines.

“Don’t wad them all up. Those pants are new, and they’re really nice.”

Please
.

I took out all my stuff and started over, repacking the little cotton bag. To accommodate Jay’s
long pants, I switched the long-sleeved white cotton shirt I had planned to pack for a skimpier, thin cotton knit in smoky gray. Jay’s pants, carefully folded, went on top.

The big baby’s mood was a lot
sunnier once he realized that he would still be able to bring the pants he needed to complete his look.

“I’m glad you switched shirts,” he said. “I like that gray shirt on you, Sidney. It’s almost the exact color of your eyes.”

I gave him a long look. “You are just saying that because I had to ditch my other shirt to make room for your pants. The last time I wore the gray one you said I looked like a burglar.”

“Well, you do, because you insist on wearing it with those black jeans.”

“Whatever.”

Jay may not have had room enough for his pants, but he somehow managed to force a bottle of wine and a corkscrew down into his bag.

I wasn’t going to let him get away with that. “I thought you were worried about wrinkles and space,” I said. “Why are you taking that bottle in your bag? They’ll surely have wine wherever we’re going.”

“Well, we don’t know that, do we? So I’m coming prepared.”

I zipped up my bag. “Well, that’s good, I guess. You know, I think this little mystery outing might really be fun, although I question van de Brugge’s motives in offering it. Do you think he’s trying to distract us with this outing so we’ll stop thinking of the bad things that have happened in the camp? That would make sense. After all, he invited us here to boost his business. He’s trying to emphasize the positives in the safari experience at his lodge, and death by leopard is about the biggest negative I can imagine.”

“Yeah, or he just wants to get us away from the lodge tonight for his own reasons.”

“Like what? What reasons? Why do you think he planned this overnight away from camp, Jay? Arranging all this has to be a lot more trouble and expense for him than to just let everything rock on as planned.”

“Exactly,” Jay said, “and when I try to think of
why he might be doing this, none of the answers that come to mind seem to stem from kindheartedness or generosity. There’s the bell. Move it, babe. Let’s go find out where your boyfriend is taking us.”

I didn’t answer that. My grandmother says that if you can’t say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all.

“C
rocodiles,” said George, peering anxiously through his big red glasses down into the river as we wound our way slowly along its edge. “I do
not
do crocodiles.”

There were certainly lots of them.

Scores of crocodiles lay bunched together, sunning themselves on a sandbar at the edge of the river. Huge, fat crocodiles.

“Look how big they are,” Connie said. “They look like they’re sleeping. They must have just eaten. Wonder what they ate?”

“Wonder
who
they ate,” George muttered.

George had been nervous and fidgety all morning. The move from camp had clearly taken him way out of his comfort zone.

After Dennis’ tragic demise, George finally had his hut all to himself. He was gleeful about it and happy to tell anyone who would listen that his life was much better now that Dennis was gone. Jay declared that any remorse George had exhibited over Dennis’ passing was completely fake. I agreed. The only remorseful words I could recall George speaking was when he said he was sorry that Dennis was eaten.

George had settled comfortably into the rhythm of life at the safari lodge, almost as if he had always lived there. He loved his luxurious little hut, and the idea of an overnight expedition did not please him one bit. He did not like being uprooted, so he was griping about every little thing.

Jay said the campout was all Connie’s fault. “They probably overheard you, Peaches, complaining with Chase about being bored. You made them think we needed some excitement.”

Jay had renamed Connie “Peaches” because she had let it slip over cocktails that she was once chosen Peach Queen in her home state of Georgia. Jay loved the nickname. “Peaches” she would be to Jay forevermore.

“How could they know what we said?” Connie retorted. “We only said it to you all. Not even David was there.”

“Eyes and ears are everywhere at this lodge,” Jay continued, “and they all report back to the boss. They want us to be happy so we’ll go back home and recommend a lot of bookings. I say that you, Peaches, and Chase are the main cause of the big move. I don’t mind, though. Now that I’ve thought it over, I’ve decided it might be fun.”

He looked over at George, who was slumped down in his seat, wearing sunglasses, his hat pulled down low over his face. He was pouting like a baby because he didn’t get his way. His objections had been ignored.

“Get over it, George,” Jay said. “This little trip is not optional. You have to go, so you might as well stop whining and get with the program.”

I had to agree. Plus, the change of scene would allow us an opportunity to see the extreme Northern part of Kruger, which had not been on our original itinerary. Jay had pestered Vincent as we loaded until he told him we were headed north, through Kruger, to a tented camp near the border of South Africa. I was excited about the unexpected bonus and I knew Jay was, too, whether he admitted it or not.

The Kruger National Park is the oldest game park in South Africa
. Named for South Africa’s first president Paul Kruger, it is bordered on the north by the Limpopo River and Zimbabwe, on the east by Mozambique, and on the south by the Crocodile River. Long and narrow, it is the largest of the game reserves—220 miles from north to south and 38 miles wide.

Leopard Dance is in a private reserve on the western border of Kruger, about midway, so it took a drive of over a hundred miles that morning to reach the tented camp on the south banks of the Limpopo.

We drove north through Kruger and headed for the river, enjoying the abundant wildlife along the way. Kruger contains all of the Big Five: lion, leopard, elephant, rhino, and Cape buffalo. It is a big deal in African safaris to spot all of the Big Five in a single trip. In that one morning drive, we saw one pride of lions, several large herds of Cape buffalo, elephants, and lots of different species of antelope, such as eland, roan, sable and grysbok.

Vincent paused now and then in our journey to allow viewing and photographing of the wildlife. On one such stop he pointed out a large bird that David had identified for us in his slide presentation on the morning after our arrival in Cape Town.

Jay stood up in the Rover and cracked the whole group up by pointing dramatically at the bird and screaming out, “By Jove, George, it’s a Corey bustard!”

Jay was far more relaxed that day than he’d been ever since leaving Cape Town. He didn’t even flinch as we neared a small pride of blood-streaked lions, sleeping in the sun after devouring an antelope, the remains of which lay nearby.

“Are you feeling better about all this, Jay?” I asked quietly. “You seem to be actually enjoying the animals.”

“Yes. I am, Sidney. Somehow I no longer feel as if we are meals on wheels.”

The terrain changed as we moved north, becoming more arid as we wove our way through mahogany, ebony, fever, and wild fig trees. Leaving the main road through Kruger on its western edge, we passed through the boundary gate. The last part of our long drive was on a red sand road among a wilderness of mopane trees—a tall, shrub-like tree with butterfly shaped leaves.

Vincent braked the Rover, made a sharp left around an ancient baobab tree, then a right, and finally slowed as he turned into a lane marked with a carved wooden sign that said, “Pearl Moon Tented Camp.” At the end of the road we could see a group of large, white platform tents that had been erected along the south bank of the river in a grove of fever trees. The other vehicles pulled into the lane behind us. Vincent was driving slowly, the wheels barely turning, to reduce our dust near the camp.

“That’s where I’m sleeping? In a flimsy canvas tent next to a nest of crocodiles?” George said. “No way.”

“Yes,” said Vincent, “We’ll unload here. When we stop, please bring your bags and follow Anthony to the dining tent
. Ingwe is there, waiting to greet us with refreshments.”

For once, Mabel was silent. She seemed preoccupied and had spoken only a word or two since leaving Leopard Dance. I wondered what she was thinking.

I was warming to Mabel. I still didn’t like her much but I thought my first impression of her might have been wrong. She could certainly be abrasive and harsh, but I did not join Jay and George in their intense dislike of her. I was getting used to her rough way of speaking and was beginning to realize that behind her annoying exterior, she might actually be a decent person.

She was odd. No doubt
about that. But it seemed to me that Mabel might be good at heart after all, even if her manner of speaking was brash and annoying. Mabel did not have much use for humans, but her advocacy for animals was admirable.

I totally agreed with her about the rhinos. I shared her conviction that the dreadful slaughter of the innocent beasts must be stopped before they all disappeared forever from the Earth.

Mabel had been seated next to me for the drive, just behind Jay and George and in front of Connie and Chase. Rich had chosen to ride in one of the other vehicles, and Mabel had taken his spot. Rich and Chase weren’t speaking to each other. They were apparently having one of their frequent spats. Those happened often, but usually did not last long. I expected them to make up before lunch.

Our long impromptu journey took us from Leopard Dance all the way to the banks of
Kipling’s “great, grey-green, greasy Limpopo River.”

“Why have we come all this way?” Mabel finally demanded of Vincent, breaking her silence. “There’s something fishy about all this. Why were we hustled away so suddenly from our lodge? What are we doing in this place?”

“I do not know, Madam. Something about the water pumps,” Vincent replied. “Mr. van der Brugge does not discuss his plans with us or give us his reasons. We are paid to follow his orders. We drive where he tells us, when he tells us, that’s all. You must ask him. He is there, waiting.”

“Does he own this place, too?” Chase asked.

Chase always wanted to know who owned what. We had learned early on that he was the type of guy who likes to try to cozy up to people he considers rich or important.

“Partially,” Vincent said. “This tented camp belongs to Spieël Provisioners, a company he owns in partnership with one of his friends and business associates, Mr. Hsu. Spieël actually owns Leopard Dance, too. Willem is also a partner, but a very small one. Mr. van der Brugge owns the majority.”

“Hsu?” Chase asked. “That doesn’t sound like a South African.”

“Mr. Hsu is not native,” said Vincent. “I believe he is Chinese. He lives in Hong Kong.”

Vincent parked underneath a huge baobab tree, its branches providing welcome shade. The day was heating up. Velvet monkeys screeched and scolded us from the branches above. Jay helped me down from the Rover, handing me my little bag.

“I hate to admit Mabel is right about anything, Sidney, but she has a point,” he murmured as we followed the others up the path toward the camp. “As she said, we really have come a long way on what seems to be our host’s whim. That’s what I thought originally and now I really believe it. This sudden little jaunt seems strange to me, too.”

“Yes,” I whispered back, “but as long as we’re here, Jay, we might as well enjoy it. I’m glad to get a chance to stay in a tented camp. I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one. We’d never in a million years be bringing High Steppers here. It’s not on the negotiated itinerary and Silverstein is not about to spring for anything extra.”

Jay nodded. “True. So true. He’d pass out if he knew we were even here, wasting valuable time on a side trip that Itchy won’t be selling. There’s no way to call him from here, either, about the contract. That will just have to wait.”