Silent Predator (11 page)

He stopped and Tom peered into the inky bush. ‘In the tree – the big one,’ Duncan hissed.

Tom followed the shaft of light up the pale trunk and saw the cat. The leopard crouched on a branch. Gripped in its vicelike jaws was a fawn-coloured antelope – the cat had it by the throat.

‘He has killed that impala by suffocation,’ Duncan explained in a matter-of-fact tone while Tom’s heart pounded in his chest. He was awestruck, silent.
Duncan started the truck’s engine again and turned off the road, moving at walking pace closer and closer to the tree. The leopard stared malevolently down at them, its eyes glowing like yellow beacons. Duncan shifted the light slightly to one side of the animal, so it was still visible but not shining directly into its eyes.

‘He can carry between two and three times his own body weight in his jaws. He needs to climb into a tree to eat his prey, otherwise lions and hyenas will steal it from him. This is the big male whose tracks we saw this afternoon on the road.’

‘Amazing,’ Tom whispered.

‘You’re very lucky,’ Sannie said. ‘Some people go their whole life without seeing a leopard.’

The cat walked backwards up the branch and hung the antelope’s carcass in a fork, wedging it there securely. He bit into its rump, his spotted face immediately stained red.

‘They kill by suffocation so that the prey does not make a noise and attract the other predators. The silent predator,’ Duncan said.

Tom lathered his body under the strong, stinging hot shower spray, washing away the African dust that had coated his skin. Despite the short time he’d spent in the afternoon sun, he noticed his arms and legs were already pinking up.

He reached across the ledge and grabbed his Castle. He’d liberated one from the mini-bar to drink while showering, which seemed an appropriately decadent
thing to do in the five-star safari hideaway. He smiled as the cold lager ran down his throat in delicious contrast to the water on his body. It had, he thought, been a great day. Business travel for him usually meant moving from one hotel room to another. In the down time there were hotel restaurants and bars which were indistinguishable save for the language of the bar staff. The venues he’d had to advance were more often than not hotel conference rooms or function centres, or perhaps a school or a hospital – other favourite haunts of high-profile politicians. Never had he had an experience on a protection job as he’d had this afternoon. He could see the attraction now of protecting someone like Robert Greeves – even without the two beautiful women he’d also come into contact with.

Tom thought about Sannie and how vulnerable she’d seemed in the moment she’d mentioned going on holiday with her husband and kids. It was amazing that they’d both been thinking virtually the same thing at the same time. He sensed she was still brittle and shook his head at Nick’s insensitivity. Still, he could see how a ladies’ man like him would certainly consider it worth a try.

Carla Sykes had been all ears for Tom’s leopard story when Duncan had dropped them at the entrance to Tinga. He imagined she must hear guests talking about amazing game sightings every working day of her life, but she had seemed genuinely to be hanging on his words. She had laid a hand on his forearm and said, ‘You do realise how very, very lucky you’ve been tonight, Tom. I wonder how we’ll be able to top that experience?’

Flirty, no doubt. It was little wonder she and Nick had hit it off.

He dried and changed into chinos, brogues and a fresh shirt. He checked his watch. Seven-thirty. He opened the door of the suite.

‘Good evening, sir,’ said the uniformed African security guard and saluted him. The man held a torch as long as a night stick, and carried the real thing through a ring on his belt.

‘Evening,’ Tom said. He was impressed at the man’s punctuality. He’d followed the lodge’s rules and arranged for the guard to be at his accommodation at this time. As Carla had briefed him earlier, after dark the lodge encouraged guests only to move to and from the main building with a security escort. They obviously took the threat of encounters with nocturnal wildlife seriously. He didn’t know if Robert Greeves would expect an escort, but Tom felt a whole lot happier knowing there were people who knew the local scene available to perform this task. What would he, an Englishman in Africa, do if he and Greeves were bailed up by a leopard on the walkway? Draw his Glock and shoot it? He smiled at the thought and followed the man.

Sannie was already in the dining room, at a table for two, reading a paperback novel and sipping a glass of white wine. She had changed into jeans and a loose-fitting peasant top, and wore a necklace comprising a shell flanked by chunky wooden beads. She looked relaxed and fresh, and smiled at him when he walked in.

‘Sorry about the book,’ she said, putting it away
in her handbag. ‘Too much time waiting around by myself in this job.’

‘I know exactly what you mean.’

‘I’ve already ordered wine, do you want some?’

He nodded and over a drink they talked through the remaining details of the joint ministerial visit – timings, routes, vehicles, communications, and recapped the emergency plan. After discussing business and over a meal of marinated kudu steaks – a bigger type of antelope than the leopard’s meal they had seen earlier, Sannie explained – she talked about her kids and asked him why he and Alex had never had any.

‘It didn’t start out as a conscious decision. It was the job at first, for both of us. She was a doctor – an intern when I met her – and we were both working crazy hours. When I went to what was then known as Special Branch, a lot of my work was undercover or on surveillance, back when the IRA was our main threat. We got used to going abroad for our holidays – spending our wages on ourselves – so I suppose we both eventually agreed children wouldn’t really fit us.’

‘Do you regret it now, now she’s gone?’

He shrugged. ‘I would have liked to have had a reminder of her, I suppose, but I don’t know if that’s a good enough reason to have children.’

‘It was for me.’ Sannie frowned then sipped more wine to hide her sorrow.

He wanted to reach out and hold her hand at that moment, but he didn’t. He knew his attraction to her was growing by the minute, but there were plenty of reasons not to follow his instincts. Firstly, he told himself, it was unprofessional. He told himself, too, that he
should still be feeling guilty, even though Alex had been gone more than a year. Thirdly – and if he was honest, most importantly – he didn’t want to do anything too soon which could jeopardise what might just be growing between them. He didn’t want her to think he was using their shared experiences as a pick-up routine.

After dinner Carla joined them for drinks. She had flitted from table to table during the evening meal, ensuring all was fine with the food and the service. The Americans had turned out to be demanding, asking for ‘plain grilled shrimp’ rather than the sesame-coated pan-fried prawns each the size of a small lobster which were offered on the menu. Two German couples had also arrived while Tom and Sannie had been on their game drive.

‘Meals for Mr Greeves and Mr Dule will be served in a private room,’ Carla explained as she sat down with a glass of wine in hand. She downed it quickly, Tom noted.

With the last of the guests escorted to their rooms, it seemed Carla wanted to make up for lost time. She ordered two more drinks before Tom had finished his cleansing post-dinner lager. Carla was full of questions about London and mentioned that several of her friends had left South Africa for the UK to escape what she called the abominable crime problem.

‘Of course, if I had a big strong detective to look after me and protect me from car-jackers I’d happily stay in South Africa,’ she cooed.

‘I’m sorry, but I’m quite tired this evening; please excuse me. Goodnight and see you in the morning,’ Sannie said.

Tom was sorry, too, to see her leave. He’d enjoyed her company all afternoon and evening and felt that Carla was intruding on something. Also, her crack about having a policeman to look after her was not only overtly flirtatious, but insensitive if she knew who Sannie’s husband was and how he had died.

‘It’s after eleven,’ he said, looking at his watch.

‘Party pooper,’ Carla chided him, giving him a light punch on the arm. It wasn’t the first time she had touched him during their conversation. With each drink she leaned a little closer.

Tom could read the signs – he wasn’t blind. Carla was pretty, flirtatious, sexy and getting increasingly drunk. He played a straight bat and said, ‘We’ve got an early start tomorrow, so I really should get some shut-eye.’

‘The security guard’s just seeing the girls back to their quarters. I’ll escort you – if you trust me to ward off any dangerous game, that is.’

He wouldn’t trust Carla behind the wheel of a car right now, and he had no idea how she would see off a lion if she couldn’t walk a straight line, but he shrugged and said, ‘Of course I trust you.’

Carla took a torch and walked ahead of him. He couldn’t help but notice the pleasing way her pants clung to her firm bottom.

‘Here we are, home sweet home. Nice and safe from the predators.’ She leaned against the wall beside the doorframe as he opened the door.

‘Night, Carla. Thanks for everything.’

‘Night,’ she said, and he thought he saw the trace of a pout crease her lips.

Tom turned on the lights inside and slipped off his shoes. With only an hour’s time difference from the UK he wasn’t jetlagged and, despite the impression he’d given Carla, he wasn’t all that tired. The game drive had been a buzz and he still hadn’t come down from it. While he was tossing up whether to have a final beer or not, there was a knock at the door.

Carla stood there, a wicked grin curling the corners of her mouth. ‘I didn’t ask you if you wanted your bed turned down, sir.’

She put her palm on his chest and pushed him into the room.

‘You look a little bleary-eyed. Did you stay up late jolling?’ Sannie asked, looking up from her book and a plate of bacon and eggs.

‘If you mean partying, no. I got to bed soon after you,’ Tom said.

When the waitress came, Tom said he was famished and ordered a full cooked breakfast. Sannie asked nothing about Carla’s movements during the night and he volunteered the same as she finished her breakfast and he tucked into his.

The drive back to Johannesburg was uneventful and their conversation sporadic and mundane. Sannie thought he was being particularly guarded today, and wondered if he had something to feel guilty about. Carla had been all over him after dinner and had made Sannie feel like a third wheel. The line about having a policeman boyfriend to protect her from car-jackers had been the final straw. She recalled once telling the woman what had happened to her husband. Perhaps Carla had forgotten in her drunkenness.

Sannie was feeling a little guarded herself. She had talked too much about Christo. Perhaps it was the fact that Tom had also lost his partner that encouraged her to open up more than she normally would have. Perhaps it was just as well that Carla had intruded after dinner – who knows what else they would have gotten around to discussing and where it would have led. She certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who slept with a man the first day she got to know him, but she had recognised her own feelings of physical and emotional attraction to Tom. He was a good-looking guy, smart, sensitive and almost childlike in his awe at his first visit to the bush. She liked that about him the most. Also, he was still in pain, as she was, and maybe her maternal instincts were taking over, making her want to look after him.

Stupid, she thought. She had two kids already and didn’t need another dependent – or a one-night stand or a boyfriend who lived half a world away. When the time was right for her to be with another man she would know it. It had been wrong with Wessels and it definitely would not have been right with Tom last night. Her cell phone rang.

‘Hello?’ Sannie listened to the woman on the other end of the line. ‘Oh no!’ She shook her head. She told the caller in Afrikaans she would be there as soon as possible.

‘Everything all right?’ Tom asked.

‘That was my kids’ school. My boy fell in the playground and has cut his head. They’ve put some Band-Aids on him but they think he should see a doctor. My mom’s in Pretoria visiting my aunt.’

‘Well, don’t mind me. I’ve still got a few hours to kill before the flight.’

‘I’m sorry, Tom, but thanks. It won’t be far out of our way. Maybe I can pick him up, then drop you at the airport on the way to the doctor.’

‘Get your boy seen to first. I’ve got nothing better to do in the meantime. If worse comes to worst I can call a taxi later.’

She thanked him again and put her foot down. Bugger the speed traps, she thought. If her boy needed stitches he might be suffering a concussion as well. It was good of Tom not to make a big deal about getting to the airport. He asked if she had a car charger for a cell phone – his was the same make as hers – and she told him it was in the glove compartment. He set it in the console next to her Z88 pistol as she drove at breakneck speed to the school.

Sannie turned off the N12 on the R21 exit, barely checking her speed. It was late morning so the traffic wasn’t too bad. Though she was trying to be calm for Tom’s benefit she was dreadfully worried about Christo, who had been named after his father. With her job and its irregular hours she felt guilty sometimes that she did not see enough of him and Ilana. Her mother picked them up from school most days and was with them three or four nights a week. What could she do? She had to put food on the table and that was enough of a struggle on her basic wage, even with the overtime she earned protecting dignitaries at nights and weekends. She didn’t want to go back into uniform, or into homicide or any other detective branch for that matter. She loved what she did and,
as usual, told herself she would just have to live with the guilt.

When she arrived at the primary school in Kemp-ton Park, Christo’s teacher, Mrs De Villiers, was there to meet her. Sannie holstered her weapon and told Tom he should wait in the car, but he said he would come with her. That was a nice gesture, but Sannie could see the enquiring look in Mrs De Villiers’s eyes when she was introduced to Tom. ‘Tom’s a work colleague, on assignment here from the UK,’ she explained, putting paid to any rumours before they circulated around the school staffroom and the other mothers.