The Leopard Hunts In Darkness Part 24

Craig's first impressions of this officer were confirmed as arne to know him better. He was a serious, scholarly he c young man, who spent all his leisure studying a correspondence course in political economics from the University of ether with London. He spoke English and Sindebele, tog his native Shana, and he and Craig and Sally-Anne held long conversations at night over the camp-fire, trying to arrive at some solution of the tribal enmities that were racking the country. Timon Nbebi's views were surprisingly moderate for an officer in the elite Shana brigade, and he seemed genuinely to desire a working accommodation between the tribes.

"Mr. Mellow," he said, "can we afford to live in a land divided by hatred? When I look to Northern Ireland or the Lebanon and see the fruits of tribal strife, I become afraid."

"But you are a Shana, Timon," Craig pointed out gently.

"Your allegiance surely lies with your own tribe." Tes," Timon agreed. "But first I am a patriot. I cannot ensure peace for my children with an AK 47 rifle. I cannot become a proud Shana by murdering all the Matabele. I These discussions could have no conclusion, but were made more poignant by the very necessity of an armed bodyguard even in this remote and seemingly peaceful area. The constant presence of armed men began to irk both Craig and Sally-Anne, and one evening towards the end of their stay at Zambezi Waters, they slipped their guards.

They were truly at ease with each other at last, able to share a friendly silence, or to talk for an hour without pause. They had begun to touch each other, still brief, seemingly casual contacts of which they were both, however, intensely aware. She might reach out and cover the back of his hand with hers to emphasize a point, or brush against him as they pored together over the architect's rough sketches of the lodges. Though she was certainly more agile than he was, Craig would take her elbow to help her jump across a rock-pool in the river or lean over her to point out a woodp.e.c.k.e.r's nest or a wild beehive in the treetops This day, alone at last, they found a clay anthill which rose above the levellbf the surrounding ebony and overlooked a rhino midden. It was a good stand from which to observe and photograph. Seated on it, they waited for a visit from one of the grotesque prehistoric monsters. They talked in whispers, heads close together, but this time not quite touching.

Suddenly Craig glanced down into the thick bush below them and froze. "Don't move," he whispered urgently. "Sit very still!"

Slowly she turned her head to follow his gaze, and he heard her little gasp of shock.

IWho are they?" she husked, but Craig did not reply.

There were two that he could see, for only their eyes were visible. They had come as silently as leopards, blending into the undergrowth with the skill of men who had lived all their lives in hiding.

"So, Kuphela," one of them spoke at last, his voice low but deadly. "You bring the Mashona. killer dogs to this place to hunt us."

"That is not so, Comrade Lookout," Craig answered him in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "They were sent by the government to protect me."

"You were our friend you did not need protection from US."

"The government does not know that." Craig tried to put a world of persuasion into his whisper. "n.o.body knows that we have met. n.o.body knows that you are here. That I swear on my life."

"Your life it may well be" Comrade Lookout agreed.

"Tell me quickly why you are here, if not to betray us."

"I have bought this land. That other white man in our party is a builder of homes. I wish to make a reserve here for tourists to visit. Like w.a.n.kie Park." They understood that. The famous w.a.n.kie National Park was also in Matabeleland, and for minutes the two guerrillas whispered together and then looked up at Craig again.

"What will become of us? "Comrade Lookout demanded.

"When you have built your houses?" ! e are friends," Craig reminded him. "There is room for you here. I will help you with food and money, and in return you will protect my animals and my buildings. You will secretly watch over the visitors who come here, and there will be no more talk of hostages. Is that an agreement between friends?" "How much is our friends.h.i.+p worth to you, Kuphela7

"Five hundred dollars every month."

"A thousand, "Comrade Lookout counter, offered

"Good friends should not argue over mere money," Craig agreed. "I have only six hundred dollars now, but the rest I will leave buried beneath the wild fig tree where we are camped."

"We will find it," Comrade Lookout a.s.sured him. "And every month we will meet either here or there." Lookout pointed out two rendezvous, both prominent hillocks well distanced from the river, their peaks only bluish silhouettes on the horizon. "The signal of a meeting will be a small fire of green leaves, or three rifle shots evenly s.p.a.ced."

"It is agreed "Now, Kuphela, leave the money in that ant, bear hole at your feet and take your woman back to camp." Sally-Anne stayed very close beside him on the return, even taking his arm for rea.s.surance every few hundred yards and looking back fearfully over her shoulder.

"My G.o.d, Craig, those were real shufta, proper dyed-in the-wool guerrillas. Why did they let us go?"

"The best reason in the world money." Craig's chuckle was a little hoa.r.s.e and breathless even in his own ears, and the adrenalin still buzzed in his blood. "For a miserly thousand dollars a month, I have just hired myself the toughest bunch of bodyguards and gamekeepers on the market. Pretty good bargAn." "You're doing a deat with them?" Sally-Anne demanded.

"Isn't that dangerous? It's treason or something, surely?" "Probably, we just have to make sure that n.o.body finds out about it, won't we?" he architect turned out to be another bargain. His designs were superb; the lodges would be built of natural stone, indigenous timber and thatch. They would blend un.o.btrusively into the chosen sites along the river. Sally' Anne worked with him on the interior layouts and the furnis.h.i.+ngs, and introduced charming little touches of her own.

During the next few months, Sally-Anne's work with the World Wildlife Trust took her away for long periods at a time, but on her travels she recruited the staff that they would need for Zambezi Waters.

irstly, she seduced a Swiss-trained chef away from one of the big hotel chains. Then she chose five young safari guides, all of them African-born, with a deep knowledge and love of the land and its wildlife and, most importantly, with the ability to convey that knowledge and love to others.

Then she turned her attention to the design of the advertising brochures, using her own photographs and Craig's text. "A kind of dress rehearsal for our book," she pointed out when she telephoned him from Johannesburg, and Craig realized for the first time just what he had taken on in agreeing to work with her. She was a perfectionist. It was either right or it wasn't, and to get it right she would go to any lengths, and force him and the printers to do the same.

The result was a miniature masterpiece in which colour was carefully coordinated and even the layout of blocks of rint balanced her ill.u.s.trations. She sent out cop pies to all the African travel specialists around the world, from Tokyo to Copen aagen.

"We have to set an opening date," she told Craig, "and make sure that our first guests are newsworthy. You'll have to offer them a freebie, I'm afraid."

"You aren't thinking of a pop star?" Craig grinned, and she shuddered.

J5.

"I telephoned Daddy at the Emba.s.sy in London. He may be able to get Prince Andrew but I'll admit it's a big may be". Henry Pickering knows Jane Fonda-"

"My G.o.d, I never realized what an up-market broad you are."

"And while we are on the subject of celebrities, I think I can get a best-selling novelist who makes bad jokes and will probably drink more whisky than he is worth!" When Craig was ready to commence actual construction on Zambezi Waters, he complained to Peter Fungabera about the difficulty of finding labourers in the deep bush.

Peter replied, "Don't worry, I'll fix that." And five days later, a convoy of army trucks arrived carrying two hundred detainees from the rehabilitation centres.

"Slave labour, "Sally-Anne told Craig with distaste.

However, the access road to the Chizarira river was completed in just ten days, and Craig could telephone Sally-Anne in Harare and tell her, "I think we can confidently set the opening date for July lst." "That's marvelous, Craig."

"When can you come, up again? I haven't seen you for almost a month."

"It's only three weeks," she denied.

"I have done another twenty pages on our book," he offered as bait. "We must go over it together soon."

"Send them to me."

"Come and get them." A "Okay," she capitulated. "Next week, Wednesday. Where will you be, King's Lynn or Zambezi Waters?"

"Zambezi Waters. The electricians and plumbers are finis.h.i.+ng up. I want to check it out." "I'll fly up." She landed on the open ground beside the river where Craig's labour gangs had surfaced a strip with gravel to make an all-weather landing ground and had even rigged a proper windsock for her arrival.

oe The instant she jumped down from the c.o.c.kpit Craig could see that she was furiously angry.

"What is it?"

"You've lost two of your rhino." She strode towards him.

"I spotted the carca.s.ses from the air."

"Where?" Craig was suddenly as angry as she was.