Jackal's Dance (31 page)

Chester shrugged. ‘Good question. I intended to stay until I'd saved enough money to look for a job in Windhoek. Can't seem to leave the place.'

‘You like it?'

‘Love it.'

‘Why don't you try your hand at writing nature notes or something?'

Chester looked across and grinned. ‘Nature notes?'

Kalila smiled back. ‘Or something.'

‘I've submitted a few pieces. Had a few published. It's not the same as being out on the street covering news. And you still haven't answered my question.'

‘No.'

‘No you won't answer or no you haven't been wildly in love?'

‘Not wildly. I don't know that it's possible.'

‘Cynic?'

Kalila shook her head. ‘Not really. I've seen a few of my friends claim that this is it, only to find a few months later that it wasn't. You found out for yourself. What flies really fast usually runs out of wind just as quickly. I prefer to be honest and call it physical attraction. Love has to wait, it can't be wild. Love needs understanding, nurturing, a respect for another's psyche.' She broke off, giving a small laugh of embarrassment.

‘Wow!' Chester said, smiling.

‘Sorry. I tend to get heavy sometimes.'

‘So you prefer honesty?'

‘Yes. Why?'

‘I think you know. You are most attractive. I'm trying to establish whether this boy is wasting his time.'

‘Wow yourself!' Kalila grinned. ‘I didn't expect you to hit me with a knobkerrie.'

‘Can't have it both ways.'

Under normal circumstances, the Zulu girl would have sent such a proposition packing, put down with a few well-chosen words of rejection. Here, in the middle of the bush, with a very attractive stranger, something quite unexpected had happened to her usual reserve.
Why not?
Kalila found herself thinking. But she wasn't ready to accept, not yet.

‘I don't know anything about you.'

‘One way to find out.' Chester reached into his shirt pocket and produced a packet of cigarettes. ‘Smoke?'

‘Never had the urge.'

‘Do you mind if I do?'

‘It's your vehicle.'

The tracker, who had been swinging a spotlight back and forth, tapped on the bonnet. Chester stopped immediately. ‘Leopard,' he announced quietly. The animal, no more than twenty metres away, seemed frozen in the light, crouched, ears back. The spotlight held steady just in front of the big cat so as not to blind him. Chester leaned over and whispered to Kalila, ‘He's hunting. We've pissed him off a bit.'

‘Would he attack?'

‘Unlikely. He'll know there's more than one of us. Can you see him clearly?'

Kalila nodded. She was mesmerised by the powerful feline. In her own culture, the leopard skin was worn only by royalty and, therefore, the sight of this animal evoked more than mere respect for its beauty and strength. It was symbolic of the qualities possessed by Zulu kings, princes and chiefs. Leopard were known to be intelligent, ferocious, bold, elusive and calculating, traits much admired in the days before the white man's presence began to erode Zulu tradition.

She tried to keep her thoughts away from cultural significance and concentrate on the clinical knowledge she had about leopard. They ate everything, from fish to man. One of the few species that
killed for the sake of killing, the leopard was once hunted to the point of near extinction for its much-prized skin. Kalila had been astonished when one of her lecturers said that, today, in some areas of Africa, the animal numbered as high as one per square kilometre. They could, and often did, live largely undetected in towns and cities, existing on rats, mice and even stray domestic dogs. Not so long ago some environmentalists had suggested that controlled commercial hunting of leopard be reintroduced as a means of managing their burgeoning population. It was a recommendation swiftly rejected by the all-powerful preservation groups. So the leopard was thriving. Even so, their secretive and largely nocturnal nature made any sighting something rare and special.

Chester was still leaning towards Kalila. She shifted slightly so that their shoulders touched. Neither moved away.

Kalila's subconscious registered a combination of cigarette smoke, aftershave and mouthwash. Desire stirred, warm and exciting. Thoughts of a ‘one-night stand' drove the leopard from her mind. Distasteful as the concept had always been in the past, it now became a tantalising probability. She'd made up her mind. All she had to do was communicate it to Chester without making herself look forward.

Troy, whose predatory instincts were almost as good as a leopard's, nudged Fletch. ‘Who's a lucky boy then?' he whispered.

Fletch grinned. He'd also been observing the
two in front. Indulging in a little bit of his own make-believe – the ranger Caitlin had quite taken his fancy – Fletch had been reflecting on differences between the sexes. A modern young man in most respects, he still needed to work at accepting the new-age woman's belief that she had as much right as a man to propose a night together. The few times a girl had initiated sex with him Fletch had been so surprised that he hadn't fully enjoyed the encounter. Perverse, really. Man hunts, woman is hunted. Man takes, woman is taken. Old traditions – voiced as unacceptable, but emotionally alive and well. However, fantasies being what they were, principles tended to get dumped. If the ranger had been Caitlin, and she'd come on to him the way Chester had to Kalila . . . But no. Life wasn't that easy.

The leopard tom turned suddenly and vanished. ‘Beautiful,' Kalila breathed. Her sense of wonder, together with Chester's proximity, blended into a single sensation. The sighting of an animal so wild and free, so unfettered by any dictum of society, had stripped away Kalila's last lingering reluctance. She too could be as uninhibited. The night was right, the man was perfect, and she was in the mood. ‘I will never forget tonight.'

There it was.
Words that said one thing yet meant something quite different. Chester picked up the vibe and ran with it. ‘Have dinner at the lodge tonight. My treat.'

‘Thank you. I'd love to.'

Okay! The rest would fall into place.

‘Here we are,' Caitlin announced. ‘Dinner will be served in about fifteen minutes.' Her tracker jumped off his special seat and legged it into the darkness. He had fifteen minutes to scrub up, change and put finishing touches to the table before reappearing in waiter mode.

‘Thank God,' Gayle responded to nobody in particular. ‘I'm absolutely famished.'

Henneke liked that word. She filed it away. Femitch'd.

‘How about a little drink?' the actress prompted Matt.

Walter Schmidt told Jutta to let her mother know they were back. He also headed towards the bar.

Henneke made to go too but Johan said, ‘Come, Mother. We must wash our hands before dinner.' Obediently, she followed her husband towards their bungalow.

Caitlin drove to the workshop and parked. She was refuelling the Land Rover when Chester pulled in. Caitlin smiled, noticing the African student sitting with him in the cab. Chester was incorrigible. Still, the girl looked old enough to know her own mind. The other three clambered down from the back, with Fletch, the good-looking red-haired one, helping Megan. ‘How'd you go?' Caitlin called to them.

‘Great.' Fletch loved her soft Scottish accent. ‘We saw a leopard.'

‘You were lucky. Sightings are pretty rare.'

‘He was beautiful,' Kalila enthused. ‘In his prime, wouldn't you say, Chester?'

The rangers all knew that particular cat. He was actually quite an old man as wild animals went. ‘Absolutely,' Chester agreed.

Troy, who also thought Caitlin attractive, was about to obey his natural instinct to flirt. Nothing too heavy, just a tentative probe to see if any follow through might yield a result. Abstinence, or to be more precise, absence of opportunity in Troy's case, did bugger-all for his heart but it sure as hell was having a detrimental effect on another part of his anatomy. He thought Fletch might have made a move by now, but since he obviously wasn't going to, here goes nothing.

Fletch beat him to it. ‘A few of us thought we might come to the bar later. Will that be okay?'

Troy backed off. It was one thing to treat women as fair game, quite another to poach. Fletch's footwork had been a few seconds faster, something Troy accepted good-naturedly.

‘You're welcome.' Caitlin smiled. ‘We just ask that you show consideration for other guests, especially if they're still at dinner.'

‘Of course.' Fletch, grinning from ear to ear, gathered up his camera bag. ‘See you later then.'

Kalila was saying to Megan, ‘I've been invited to have dinner with Chester.'

‘The professor won't like it.'

Kalila shrugged. ‘It's none of his business where I eat.'

‘No. But he's in charge. He might want a group discussion or something.'

‘We had one this afternoon.'

‘Okay. I'll only tell him where you are if he asks.'

‘Thanks.'

Megan, Fletch and Troy made their way towards the camp site.

‘Kalila's quite the little mover, isn't she?' Troy commented. ‘And here's me thinking she was the proverbial ice queen. I think Chester's in for a busy night.'

‘You would,' Megan said bluntly.

‘Oh come on. Those two were so hot for each other I'm surprised the radiator didn't boil.'

‘Well, you're a fine one to talk.'

‘Meaning what precisely?'

Megan glanced at Troy. ‘You certainly came on too hot for Angela. This may come as a shock to your ego but not all girls like being beaten on the head with a club and dragged off to a cave.'

‘Yeah,' Troy agreed glumly, not minding Megan's candour. ‘I guess I blew that one.'

‘Never mind. You'll be home soon.'

Troy didn't answer. The girls he knew back in Johannesburg paled next to Angela Gibbs.

‘What is it about Kalila?' Fletch asked. ‘She acts like she's being threatened all the time. I can't make her out.'

‘She's wary of whites,' Megan said. ‘That's why she seems standoffish. It must be difficult for her. Probably a hangover from the old apartheid days. You can't blame her really. She's the only African among us, the only first-year student, and a person
who still sees everything in racial terms. I can't get close to her. She's got a humungous
pomme frites
on her shoulder, if not on both. Kalila believes we put her down because she's black but at the same time thinks she's superior because of her family.'

‘How do you know? She never talks to any of us.'

‘It's the one thing she does tell you. Her father is not only in politics, he's a Zulu chief. And you know what the Zulus are like.'

‘Then how come she fell all over Chester?' Troy asked. ‘He's not a Zulu.'

‘No,' Megan agreed. ‘But he's bloody attractive. Besides, she probably feels more connected to him than the rest of us. Put yourself in her place. If you were the only white man out here, wouldn't you gravitate towards Caitlin?'

Troy laughed. ‘I think a little lateral gravitation is already in progress. Old Fletch here did some fancy fast-forwarding back there. Got the drop on me.'

Fletch grinned in the darkness.

Megan nudged him playfully on the arm. ‘I'll give you a two-out-of-ten chance there,' she said, surprising both her companions.

‘Megan!' Troy admonished in mock indignation. ‘What a dirty mind you have.'

She did it again. ‘Bullshit! You two were drooling every bit as much as Chester. Anyway, leave Kalila alone. I hope she has a great evening.'

The bantering continued as they walked. It
crossed Fletch's mind that two out of ten was better than nothing, but only just.

Caitlin would have raised the odds. She found the flame-haired student very attractive. Being a healthy, red-blooded young lady of twenty-six, Caitlin's near nun-like existence at Logans Island had its inherent frustrations. Plain common sense was largely the reason. Caitlin's self-imposed rule of keeping her personal and professional lives poles apart was sacrosanct. She knew from experience that work within a small group could so easily become complicated by distractions of a hormonal nature. As for the tourists, most came with a partner. Some that didn't had made a play for her but most got nowhere for the simple reason that she didn't fancy them. Single, attractive men didn't crop up very often. But when they did, Caitlin wasn't shy.

Fletch qualified. If he came to the bar tonight . . . Well, a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.

She caught up with Chester and Kalila. They were halfway back to the dining room when Billy materialised. Judging by his expression, he was obviously in a bad mood. In the low voltage track-side lighting, Billy's brooding appearance took on crow-like characteristics. ‘Why were three vehicles taken out this evening?'

‘Some of the students decided to come on the drive. My fault.' Caitlin tried to block Billy's line of questioning. ‘I should have let you know.'

‘Yes, you should.'

‘Sorry. Slipped my mind,' she replied lightly.

‘What else haven't you thought to tell me?'

She didn't know what he meant. ‘Pardon?'

Billy's hand extended, the thumb and first two fingers rubbing together. ‘I assume you'll expect to be paid?'

What an arsehole!
How like Billy to mention money in front of a guest, even one of the students. ‘Call it a sudden rush of generosity to our visitors.'

Billy nodded curtly. ‘Call it what you like. I'm sure you won't mind if I invoice vehicle and bar expenses to cover the lodge's cost?' With that, he turned and left.

‘What's with him?' Chester voiced genuine surprise. Billy could often be difficult and demanding but he was usually mindful of who may be listening. Okay, Kalila might not be staying at the lodge but she was still a guest. ‘Don't mind our charming manager,' Chester said to Kalila. ‘He's obviously had a bad day.'