African Pursuit (8 page)

‘Now there’s just one more thing,’ said the Professor. ‘A trick I’ve learned after years of grappling with wild animals in the bush’.

The children stared wide-eyed at him – they’d never met a real hunter before.

‘If you each give me a bit of clothing – something quite large like a top is best. Oh, and your hats; I’ll leave them here. The lions already
have your scent so if we leave something behind they’ll think you’re still nearby and it’ll stop them following us to the next camp.’ The children had no idea that this was the Professor’s first ever trip to the African bush and that he had never seen a wild lion before in his life, and they were impressed with his fake bush-lore; the last thing they wanted was lions chasing them. They hurriedly slipped off their tops and gave them to the Professor.

‘Great,’ he said. Then, anxious to reassure Sarah who had turned her back to him, he added: ‘Don’t worry about your clothes. We’ve got plenty of stuff on board; we’ll patch you up with a couple of our smallest bush-shirts and some makeshift hats until we reach civilization.’ He turned and asked the men in the back to pass some clothes through, then jumped down and went to the back of the truck, out of sight of the children. He tore Sarah’s top into pieces and scattered the fragments among the rocks. He made holes in Ben’s shirt and rubbed it with dirt and sand. He then threw it as far as he could in the direction of the pride of lions and returned to the truck.

Nobody from the tour group had yet appeared over the rocks and, as Sid started up and drove away from the rocky ridge as fast as the road would allow, the professor set about winning the confidence of the children. He told them tales of his heroic adventures prospecting for diamonds in South America and about being kidnapped by villains who had eventually been eaten by wild animals. Ben was fascinated by the scars on his balding head.

‘Were
you
attacked by wild animals too?’ he asked. ‘Is that what happened to your head?’

‘Sort of,’ Luke replied. ‘As I was walking towards a plane I was attacked by a hawk who stole my pistol and then a tiger started to
stalk me. As I backed away from it I walked into a rotating propeller and that’s how I got my scars.’

‘Wow!’ said Ben. Sarah looked sceptical.

‘I thought they didn’t have tigers in South America,’ she said.

‘Well,’ said the professor smoothly, ‘I didn’t realise you knew so much about animals; I was just using the term to indicate a big cat. The accident affected my memory,’ he added hurriedly, ‘and it may have been a leopard or jaguar or something.’

‘What an interesting man,’ said Ben later when they stopped briefly for a comfort break.

‘Ye ..es,’ said Sarah slowly. ‘It’s a bit funny though, for someone who’s spent his life hunting animals and prospecting in the wilderness to make a mistake about a tiger.’

‘But he lost his memory,’ said Ben. ‘He said he was unconscious for days.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Sarah replied but she still looked doubtful.

Sid’s poaching experiences meant that he knew every track and road in the locality and they managed to leave the Serengeti by a remote route which avoided any encounters with rangers or official check points. Once out in the remote bushland to the south of Lake Victoria they stopped and set up camp. The Professor suggested that Fred set off to find fresh meat for their meal and that the children might want to accompany him. Ben was very excited at the prospect of going on a hunt, even though his request for a gun was politely refused. Sarah wasn’t so sure about it but didn’t want to be separated from Ben, so off they went with a somewhat bewildered Fred who wasn’t heavily into child care.

When they had gone Sid turned to the Professor.

‘What the hell’s goin’ on?’ he snarled truculently. ‘We can’t get saddled wiv a couple of snotty kids!’

‘Wait a moment and think,’ said the Professor calmly. He pointed to the distant glint of another search plane on the horizon. ‘They’re looking for something and it’s probably us. I don’t know how much game you’ve killed recently but I
do
know from the records I saw in Nairobi that the authorities are on to you’.

‘What records?’ exclaimed Sid.

‘You don’t seriously think I would risk my life coming out here to join you without checking up on you first, do you?’ Luke replied. ‘I know a great deal about you – including the fact that you know how to survive out here and don’t let anyone mess with you; you’re just the guys I need.’ Sid, placated by the compliment, returned to the discussion about the children.

‘Yeah, whatever. But even if they are lookin’ for us, so what? The kids can’t help us in a shoot-out’.

‘They certainly can,’ said Luke. ‘If we get caught in a police trap we can use them as hostages. Nobody will dare to attack us while we’ve got two kids with us. It would kill the tourist trade stone dead. They’ll negotiate to get the kids back and our deal will be a free passage to Burundi. They’ll be glad to get rid of us’.

‘Yeah… but …,’ Sid’s contorted face reflected the mental effort he was going through, ‘… but won’t they chase us even more if they think we’ve kidnapped the kids?’

‘Of course they would if they
knew
,’ said Luke, ‘but remember nobody has seen us yet. When the kids’ tour group look for them they’ll find some torn clothes, a couple of hats and a pride of lions and it’ll just be another tragic case of children devoured by wild animals.’

Sid fell silent for a moment. The Professor’s logic was undeniable.

‘But what’ll we tell the kids – and what’ll we do with ’em when we’re safe in the Congo?’

‘Leave the first of those problems to me,’ said Luke. ‘In fact,’ he added grimly after a moment’s reflection, ‘leave the second to me as well.’

Sarah and Ben were now enjoying themselves. The rangers would soon appear and return them to the others and, though they expected to get told off for having wandered away, no harm would be done. In the meantime they were having real excitement, not just sitting in a tour truck with a bunch of old fogeys with cameras, but crawling along the ground downwind of a herd of Thomson’s gazelles. Fred had spotted the antelopes soon after they left the camp and had motioned the children to the ground with his finger to his lips.

‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered hoarsely in Ben’s ear. ‘If they’re grazing calmly there can’t be any big cats around.’ Ben wondered how, in that case, the predators ever caught anything but didn’t like to say so to Fred. Soon Fred slowly raised his rifle and motioned to the children to cover their ears. Even though they did so, the crash of the rifle at close quarters was terrifying and both children were ashen-faced as they hurried after Fred to retrieve the carcass of a young buck. They watched in fascinated horror as he pulled an enormous knife from his belt and eviscerated the animal.

‘Now back to camp. We gotta move quickly,’ he said, nodding at the pile of steaming guts on the ground. ‘The hyenas’ll smell this stuff in no time.’ He tied the feet of the animal together and slung it on his rifle, holding the barrel himself and giving Ben the butt to carry.

Sarah was very upset by the whole scene.

‘Isn’t it wrong to kill animals?’ she asked tentatively, worried about Fred’s possible response. He just laughed.

‘It may be wrong or it may be right but it’s how we eat out here. Anyway, there’s plenty of ‘em around and they don’t belong to nobody
so what’s the harm. An’ …,’ he added, as if by way of justification, ‘… an’ anyway, I dun plenty of wrong things; that’s why I been in the slammer innit?’

‘What’s a slammer?’ asked Ben. Fred gave a slightly shamefaced grin.

‘The slammer? You know, the clink – jail – prison.’

Ben was enthralled.

‘You’ve been to jail? Really? You’re not kidding?’ Fred laughed again.

‘I bin lots of times. Brixton, Reading, Brixton again, Wandsworth, Singapore, Brazil – there’s not much I don’t know about jails.’

‘Wow!’ said Ben. He said “wow” several times again as they trudged along.

‘Were there like… robbers and murderers and pirates and stuff?’

‘Yeah, lots of ‘em,’ chuckled Fred, not adding that he had served time for all three of these offences in his action-filled criminal career. It was years since he had spoken to ten-year old children and he was beginning to enjoy the experience. It was the first time in countless years that anyone (with exception of law enforcement officers) had taken the slightest interest in his activities, much less looked up to him. The boy was now regarding him with something akin to hero worship and it was a novel experience for him.

‘Yeah,’ he added expansively, ‘I seen all types in prison. A terrible thing for an innocent man to go through.’ He suddenly felt the need to seem better in the children’s eyes.

‘You mean, you were wrongly imprisoned?’ asked Sarah, who had been listening intently to this little exchange.

‘Well, I obviously done
some
things not quite right,’ said Fred, feeling as though he was getting a little out of his depth. ‘But the cops and the beaks always ’ad it in for me – an’ I only ever did wot Sid told me.’

By now they had reached the camp. Fred laid a fire, then skinned the gazelle and started to fix up a spit to roast it. At Ben’s request he told Ben how to make the spit and let him do it unaided. Soon the little antelope was beginning to roast.

‘Don’t ever think I’m going to eat any of that,’ said Sarah.

‘Look, little Missie,’ said Fred, not unkindly. ‘This is wot we got. It’s dead anyway, so whether you eat any or not makes no odds. If you want sumthin’ else there’s tins in the truck.’

Later, when they had all eaten the gazelle, including Sarah, and the men were smoking and drinking beer and arguing, the Professor came and sat next to the children.

‘Listen, kids,’ he said, ‘I’ve been in touch with your tour operator and there’s a bit of a problem. You know these bush fires that are sweeping across this area?’ The children looked blank and shook their heads. ‘No? Well, anyway, there are serious fires and one of them has cut off the only two roads between here and the place your parents are staying. I forget the name’.

‘Arusha,’ said Ben innocently.

‘We never told you!’ cut in Sarah with a frown. ‘And it’s not our parents – they’re in the Congo. We’re with my sisters and their friend, and I’m sure they must be getting very worried about us.’

The professor gave her a reassuring smile. He started to put a comforting arm round her shoulders but, seeing the expression on her face, thought better of it.

‘Don’t fret, my dear, I’ve had a long chat with the tour guide and he’s keeping in constant touch with them. We’ve all agreed that the
safest thing is for us to take you with us to the next big town with an airport and they’ll fly down and pick you up. They know you’re OK.’ He paused, then continued: ‘I suppose I should have told you this before but I’m a professor of zoology and we’re on an urgent scientific mission for the United Nations Organization to save an endangered species in the Congo. We can’t stop or divert from our planned route because of our visas.’ He gave them a genial smile.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after you. Just think of it as a special adventure and soon you’ll be back safe and sound with your family and have an amazing tale to tell.’ He patted them both comfortingly on the head, then made his way back to Sid.

‘I think they’re sorted for the time being. Just make sure those thugs of yours leave them alone. They’re only useful hostages to us as long as they are OK.’

Sid was beginning to feel that the professor had taken control of events.

‘Sure,’ he said, ‘but just remember, you’re not in charge round here.’

‘Of course not,’ said the Professor with a disarming smile. ‘But remember the old saying: “He who pays the piper calls the tune”. I am going to make you a millionaire and you’d do well to remember that it’s in your own best interests to listen to my suggestions.’

Meanwhile the children were discussing the latest developments. Both felt tearful but were determined not to appear weak in front of their rescuers.

‘I think we’ve been kidnapped,’ said Sarah.

‘But they saved us from the lions,’ said Ben.

‘I know that but I think they then decided to kidnap us. I think they’re crooks.’

‘Will they kill us?’ said Ben, his voice quavering a little.

‘No, they’ll want a ransom,’ said Sarah confidently. ‘I’ve read about things like this. If they were going to kill us they’d have done it already. We just have to stay calm and pretend to be their friends. Then one day we’ll be ransomed – or we can escape when we get somewhere we can escape to.’

‘But what about the Professor,’ asked Ben. ‘Professors aren’t villains are they? Maybe what he said is all true – though,’ he added, scanning the crystal clear horizon, ‘I don’t see any smoke from those fires. And…,’ he stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts, ‘… and one minute he thought we were here with our parents and the next minute he was saying that the tour operator was in constant touch with our family. If that were true, and he has been speaking to the tour people, surely he would have
known
we weren’t here with our parents.’ Sarah nodded in agreement; everything Ben had said made good sense.

‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘whether they’re telling the truth or not, you’re quite right. We just have to keep going until we can escape or get rescued. And don’t worry, I’ll look after you whatever happens.’ And with that they hugged each other and went back to spend the night in the corner that had been allocated to them in one of the trucks.

I
n the hotel at Arusha Lucy was feeling a little better, but although her upset stomach was settling she was very weak and still couldn’t eat anything. Just as she was discussing how she felt with Clare, Clive burst into their hotel bedroom with his dreadful news. After hearing his story Lucy, tears streaming down her face, went out on to the little verandah belonging to their room and looked up into the sky. Before long a bird fluttered down and perched on the railings in front of her. Soon Clare saw the look in her face that meant she was communing with animals.

‘Greetings, O Promised One,’
said the bird.
‘I heard thy call and am here to do thy bidding’.

‘
Greetings,’
said Lucy.
‘I seek urgent tidings about my kin, two young Tailless Ones. Go thou to the great plains where the clovenkin roam and seek out the carrionquills who soar above. Ask if any of the manefangs or fleetfangs,
’ she paused and thought, ‘
or cacklekin or wolfkin, have killed any Tailless Ones this day. If the young Tailless Ones are found, none is to harm them. Now go, and return in haste with any tidings.’

The bird sped off with a clatter of wings and Lucy returned to where Clare and Clive sat hugging one another in their grief.

All we can do now is wait,’ she said. ‘There’s no point in ringing Mum and Dad or…,’ she gave a sob at the thought of telling Ben’s mother, ‘… or Auntie Jane until we know exactly what’s happened.’ The others agreed. ‘If only I hadn’t been ill,’ sobbed Lucy. ‘If I’d been there I could’ve told all the animals to keep an eye on them straight away.’

‘There are always lots of “if onlys” whenever anything bad happens,’ said Clive putting a comforting arm round her shoulders. ‘“If only” that man on the tour hadn’t been taken ill. “If only” that women hadn’t fallen asleep. “If only” there hadn’t been any lions around. We could go on and on, but all we can really do is hope and pray that by some miracle they’re still alive.’

They switched on the TV to a local station in case there was any news, but there was no mention of the incident. They then sat in misery for the next hour trying to console one another and looking every few seconds towards the balcony. Eventually Clare pointed.

‘Look!’ she said. There in the blue sky was a tiny dark spot which rapidly grew larger and larger. A few minutes later a vulture settled clumsily on the verandah. They had all seen the vultures high in the sky ever since they had arrived, but they were astonished to see just how large one was at close quarters. It raised its ugly naked neck and spoke to Lucy.

‘
Greetings, O Great One.
’ Its voice was harsh and raucous and reminded her vividly of the condors she had spoken to when she had first discovered the valley of the Great Ones in the Amazon. ‘
I bear good tidings.’
Lucy’s heart fluttered and she gave a thumbs-up sign to the others who were waiting breathlessly for some news.
‘The manefang saw your kin but, before she could harm them, they were taken by some bearded Tailless Ones. Many of them. They put the young ones
 
in two great houses that move, and they now travel to where the Brilliant One goes to his rest near the edge of the great water.’

‘
You have earned the everlasting gratitude of me and my kin,’
said Lucy wholeheartedly, her voice trembling with relief, ‘
and now I have another boon to ask of thee. ‘Go back and tell thine own kin to watch the houses that move at all times. If the young Tailless Ones seem in any danger they must be protected by any creature who can assist. A Malevolent One should always be near them at all times. Send word to me when the Brilliant One rises once again.’

‘
It shall be so,’
replied the vulture. ‘
Naught shall harm them.’
It tried clumsily to take off from the narrow balcony and Clive eventually had to assist it. Once in the air it was transformed from a clumsy, stumbling, caricature of a bird into a graceful flying machine. It flapped its way into a rising thermal air current and then started to circle upwards until eventually it headed off into the brilliant sunset.

‘Well,’ said Clare. ‘I take it that was good news but now tell us the whole story – every detail, mind!’

‘As you gathered, they’re safe,’ said Lucy. ‘They’ve been picked up by some men in a couple of trucks. The funny thing is, though, they are heading west towards the edge of what sounds like a great lake. If they were tourists or rangers surely they would have brought them back to one of the rangers’ lodges or a police station. Oh, yes,’ she added. ‘There were several men and they all had beards.’

Clive pulled out a map and they clustered round.

‘Wow!’ Clare exclaimed.’ If the vulture’s right, the great lake must be Lake Victoria.’
*

‘Where are they going? What the hell’s going on?’ said Clive, suddenly sounding concerned and angry.

‘Well,’ said Clare, ‘to start with, the vulture may simply have been describing the general direction they were taking. They may already have changed direction and be heading for a ranger’s hut.’She paused. ‘Or…,’

‘Or what?’ said Clive impatiently.

‘…or,’ and I hate to say this, ‘they’ve been kidnapped.’ said Clare slowly. ‘I really didn’t like that bit about them all having beards. What group of tourists or rangers
all
have beards?’ The others thought for a moment in horrified silence. She was right, of course. Clare continued: ‘Remember all those stories we hear about terrorists targeting tourists? Maybe they are going to try and ransom them.’

‘Huh!’ said Lucy, scornfully. ‘We’ll soon put a stop to that. When my animals have finished with them they’ll wish they’d never been born!’

Clare and Clive suddenly looked relieved again. Despite all their experiences with Lucy, it was difficult always to remember the enormous extent of her power over the animal kingdom and the ability it gave her to manipulate events, even over great distances, in circumstances such as these.

‘If they
have
been kidnapped,’ asked Clive, ‘Shouldn’t we tell the authorities before they get too far?’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Clare firmly. The others looked at her in surprise. ‘First of all they’ll be suspicious about how we know what’s happened. There’s no possible
normal
way we could know unless we were in on a scam with the villains. Secondly, we might put the children in danger. If some gung-ho cops go rushing in with guns blazing who knows what might happen! We’re much better off using 
Lucy’s power to follow them, then to disable the villains and help the kids to escape when they’re near a village or a town where we can go and rescue them as soon as Lucy’s better.’

There was silence while the others digested what Clare had said. Then Clive nodded.

‘You’re right – as usual. That’s by far the best strategy. What do you think Lu?’ He looked questioningly at Lucy, who nodded in agreement.

‘There’s only one problem,’ she said after a moment’s thought. ‘What should we tell the others?’

‘It sounds awful,’ replied her sister after a moment’s thought, ‘but we don’t tell them anything until we’ve rescued the children. With any luck we can do it in a couple of days but if we tell them now they’ll be worried sick. Mum and Dad will rush back from the Congo, Auntie Jane will fly out from England and there’s nothing anyone can do anyway – except Lucy. And,’ she added, ‘in their panic they’ll probably tell the authorities, which we’ve all just agreed, could be disastrous.’

Once again they thought over Clare’s words and eventually, again, they all agreed.

‘What if they hear through the media?’ asked Clive.

‘It looks very much as if the authorities are keeping a lid on this for the moment,’ replied Clare, glancing at the TV which had been on throughout their discussion. ‘It’s now been several hours since the actual incident and there’s been nothing on the telly. I can’t say I’m surprised: if it gets out that two children have been eaten by lions it’ll kill the tourist trade stone dead.’

‘Never mind the authorities,’ said Lucy, ‘what about the other tourists who were on the truck with Ben and Sarah, won’t they be telling everyone?’

‘Actually, I don’t think so,’ Clive cut in before Clare could reply. ‘They, after all, should have been keeping an eye on the children. They’ll be the last ones to advertise the fact that because of their neglect and stupidity two children got eaten!’

‘Good point,’ said Clare, ‘No, I think that there’ll probably be a low-key article about children “lost on safari” in a few weeks time after they’ve had time to “tighten up” the guidelines for tourist companies. Anyway, if it does hit the headlines we can still ring the others immediately and explain we’ve got things under control.’ The others nodded. ‘And now,’ she continued, ‘I think it’s time we got some sleep. Lucy’s got to get fit as soon as possible so we can get into action.’

They went to bed, relieved beyond measure that the children were alive and apparently unhurt, but desperately worried about what the coming days would bring and whether they had made the right decisions so far.

The next morning Lucy felt well enough to try a little food. As she nibbled at some toast, they sat in her room awaiting further information. About mid-morning a pure white egret flew gracefully on to the verandah and gave an update.

‘
The young Tailless Ones are well and have eaten. The houses that move are once again running in the direction the Brilliant One goes to rest. Two fellfangs travel with thy kin lest any should wish them harm and two more travel with the others, but none knows of their presence. There are also scurripods in the house that moves who can tell the fledgiquills all that passes within.’
Lucy thanked the bird who flew off towards the Serengeti, then turned to the others.

‘They’re fine and some kind of poisonous snakes will attack anyone who harms them. The mice in the truck are keeping the
birds informed about any developments. They’re on the move again though, still heading west.’ Clive consulted his map again.

‘Definitely looks as if they’re leaving the country. They must be heading for Burundi or Rwanda. Our best chance would probably be to go into action at the border. We should try and get as near to them as possible. The trouble is, we’re running out of time. The country is absolutely massive and they’re already a day ahead of us.’ He paused and gazed at the map, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘Do you think you’ll be OK by tomorrow, Lucy?’ he asked.

‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I already feel stronger now I’ve had breakfast and there’s no sign of it coming back!’

‘Well, by tomorrow they’ll have nearly two days’ start on us. It’s going to be a long, hard drive and the roads are abysmal.’

‘Let’s fly,’ said Clare.

‘Good thinking,’ said Clive.

‘Cool,’ said Lucy.

Clive got the map out again and they all pored over it.

‘Looks like a choice between Shinyanga and Kigoma,’ said Clive. ‘It all really depends on where they’re really heading.’

‘I think they’re heading out into the rainforest,’ said Clare. ‘Once there, they can’t easily be seen from the air if a hunt starts up, and they’ll be beyond the reach of the Tanzanian authorities where the crime took place.’ The others nodded.

‘In that case it’s Kigoma,’ said Clive. ‘It’s close to Burundi and we might yet beat them to the border.’

The next morning they were up at dawn. Lucy, thankfully, was feeling much better. They hurriedly packed some basic requirements and before leaving their hotel Clare asked a helpful receptionist to tell her parents if they rang from the Congo that they had gone on tour.
They then headed out to Arusha airport. Luckily they got a flight and by mid-afternoon they had reached Kigoma. Clive rented a Land Rover pick-up truck and headed north to Burundi. He stopped on the journey while Lucy received another update, this time from a large stork.

‘
The young Tailless Ones remain unharmed,’
the bird reported,
‘but the moving houses travel always towards the realm of the junglekin.’

‘What of that’?
asked Lucy with a slight frown.

‘
They like not to speak the common tongue,’
said the stork.
‘But to learn more of this thou must speak to one greater than I.’

For the first time since an accident in the Amazon, when she had temporarily lost her power, Lucy felt a chill of concern about her ability to communicate with the animals.

‘
With whom can I speak about this?’
she asked urgently. The stork obviously wanted her to talk to a more intelligent species.

‘The arborimane dwell nearby,
’ said the stork. ‘
One shall come hither at my call.’
The bird flew off. Clive and Clare looked at Lucy with concern.

‘Something’s up, isn’t it?’ said Clare. ‘Are the children OK?’

‘Yes, they’re fine,’ Lucy replied reassuringly, ‘but there’s something I’m not quite sure about. Apparently a baboon is coming to explain.’

A few seconds later a large male baboon with a mane as rich as a lion’s appeared from some nearby rocks and sauntered majestically towards them. Some smaller males and females with young clustered behind, anxious to catch a glimpse of the Promised One.

‘
Greetings, O king of the rocks,’
said Lucy,
‘I wish to learn about the junglekin.’

‘
I can tell thee only what I know, O Great One
,’ said the baboon.
‘The junglekin are all those creatures who live in the great forest. They call 
the forest the Greater World and despise us who live on the plains in the Lesser World. They speak not the common tongue – or choose not to – and we of the Lesser World cannot pass through their lands.’

‘
How can I learn about my kin when they pass into the land of the junglekin?’

‘
You cannot,’
said the baboon simply.
‘Only the spotfang durst enter their realm and they speak both the common tongue and the tongue of the junglekin. The bravest and fastest of the fledgiquills, the fledgibanes, will also enter into that kingdom, but many who do so never return.’