Poacher (16 page)

Job had only opened one gate sufficiently to
get out, and was standing at her window. ‘Hau, missy, nkosi he is
not here.’ Even Job realised that this was trouble. Big
trouble.

‘That’s quite all right, Job, I will wait for
him.’ She gestured for him to open the gate.

Job was having none of that, and pretended to
have missed the gesture. ‘The nkosi will only be back very late,
missy. He said for me to tell you not to wait for him,’ he tried,
which was a fatal mistake. He had never really been good at
inventing lies.

‘Job, open the gate this very minute.’ Her
tone of voice made it very clear to him that the time for trying to
douse the fire was long gone. With grave misgivings about his
beloved master’s chances of surviving this one, he shrugged and
opened the gate.

As she drove in, she noticed the Alfa was
standing in the car port, and through the open garage doors she
could see the rear end of the Porsche. Linda was the only person
she knew who owned a white Porsche, and little voices in her head
started screaming all sorts of things at her. She got out and
confronted Job with a sense of foreboding. ‘What is going on here?’
Hands on hips in the typical menacing attitude of the female
getting her blood up.

Job was distractedly contemplating his big
toe idly burrowing into the dirt. ‘Hau, missy,’ he said.

‘Job!’ She stamped her foot. ‘Where have they
gone?’

‘I don’t know, missy.’ The toe was now
unearthing a very interesting looking larvae of some sort, and Job
was totally engrossed in its struggles to burrow back into the
earth.

With a shrug she strode into the house. Job
had achieved nothing yet as far as cleaning the house was
concerned. Two dirty plates in the sink, two on the breakfast
table. She felt the pressure building behind her eyes as she walked
towards the bedroom. The bed looked as if a rugby team had sent its
loose forwards over it a couple of times, and expensive female
apparel was strewn all over the room. She felt the room tilting,
and put her hand out to the door frame for support. Her head was
spinning and her brain was having difficulty in assimilating the
facts being sent to it. This was impossible. Not her Sam. No
way.

And yet . . . she surveyed the room once
more, turned and walked to his study. She sat down behind his desk
and rummaged for a pen and paper. No paper. She tore a page out of
his radio report book, but found that there was nothing she wanted
to say to him. She scribbled a few words, went back to the bedroom
and put the note on is nightstand. She removed the engagement ring
and looked at the diamond glittering in the palm of her hand. Her
eyes stung as she closed her hand around it and pressed her fist to
her cheek. Consternated, she went on her knees in front of the
unmade bed and lowered her head, closing her eyes. ‘Oh my God, What
did I do wrong to have this happen to me? I love this man more than
my own life,’ she whispered through her tears.

Job, who had come sneaking down the passage
to see if there was anything he could still do to try and save the
day, regarded the young woman crying on her knees in front of the
bed, and decided that this was way out of his league. It would be
an excellent idea to get some distance between himself and the
house for a few days. He had no intention of being in the vicinity
when the nkosi returned with the other woman. He would get a few
things from the compound and just vanish till the dust had
settled.

Estelle stayed on her knees for a full
fifteen minutes, alternating crying and praying. Then it was
over.

She got up, put the ring on top of the note
and walked out.

During the drive back to Satara her mind was
blank. The guest house in Satara, although situated in the rest
camp itself, provided a certain amount of privacy for its
occupants. It was built at the edge of the camp, and overlooked the
bush and a nearby drinking trough.

As she walked toward the front door, she was
surprised to find her dad on the stoep, reading a novel. Without
saying a word he dropped the book and got up, wincing at the pain
etched on his daughter’s face. She ran up to him and threw her arms
around his neck, breaking down completely and crying, totally
beyond herself with grief. Dr. Fisher could feel the spastic
contractions in the long muscles of her back, and she was shaking
like a reed in a strong current. At that moment he felt as if he
could throttle Sam Jenkins with his bare hands.

They went inside and talked.

‘You knew about this, Dad. Why did you have
to bring me here, instead of just telling me?’

‘Would you have believed me? Would you have
believed him if he had denied it? You would have spent the rest of
your life with uncertainty nagging at the back of your mind.’

She looked at him for a long moment before
hugging him again. ‘You are the wisest and most wonderful father in
the world. Now I want to go home. Is your business finished?’

‘I never had any. Let’s go.’

They only got away from Louis’s place at
about eight in the evening, having spent a most enjoyable day
lounging around his small pool. Everybody, both tourists and staff,
being confined to the rest camp from dusk till dawn, it was now
safe for them to travel along the tarred roads without fear of
somebody seeing them together. They only stopped once to follow a
pride of hunting lions for a short distance down the road, but they
were both tired and wanted to get home.

Sam swore loudly when he saw that his gate
was standing wide open. ‘What the hell is going on here? I’m going
to skin that bloody Job alive.’ The headlamps illuminated a
bushbuck ram sampling the crisp leaves of the lettuce in a small
vegetable garden near the kitchen door. ‘There could be a bloody
herd of elephants in here too,’ he fumed as he got out and
retrieved the torch from under the seat. ‘Stay put for a moment
while I try to get this guy out of the yard.’

He carefully avoided shining the light
directly into the bushbuck’s eyes as he circled it. Making sure
that the animal saw him clearly he approached carefully, clicking
his tongue. A wounded bushbuck ram, or one that felt cornered, for
that matter, was a very dangerous animal. It was one of the very
few antelope that had no qualms about attacking when provoked. This
fellow, however, could not help but notice that its avenue of
escape was wide open, and with a bark and a flash of white tail it
was out of the yard. Sam closed and locked the gate behind it, and
they entered the house through the kitchen.

He regarded the shambles of dirty dishes and
glasses. ‘I wonder what has happened to the old bugger. He looked
quite OK this morning. He is a bit of a weekend drinker, but it’s
very unlike him to indulge before the work is finished. I suppose I
had better get down to the compound and see if he is ill. Want to
come?’

‘Yes, just let me get to the bathroom first.’
She walked right past the ring and the note without noticing
anything.

It was pretty late by now, and the compound
was shrouded in darkness, the only sign of life a heap of glowing
coals where the cooking fires were still smouldering. Sam tapped
the horn a couple of times and got out of the Toyota. After a while
a weak torch approached through the darkness. ‘Nkosi,’ came Aaron’s
greeting. ‘Is there trouble?’

Aaron’s father had been one of the very first
black rangers in the Park, and it had always been his father’s
ambition that Aaron should achieve something better in life. Aaron,
however, had harboured no such ambitions. Under pressure he had
attended the University of the Western Cape, attaining a BA degree.
After graduation he had worked in a bank, till the demise of his
father, upon which he promptly reported for duty at Sam’s house. It
had taken a considerable effort to convince the Parks Board that
Aaron was indeed not over-qualified for the job. Sam had never
regretted the effort he had put in to get Aaron appointed as his
chief ranger.

‘No, Aaron. I just want to find out if Job is
all right. He disappeared from the house today without cleaning the
place, and he also left the gate open. I thought maybe he had
fallen ill.’

‘Hau. The women tell me he came in here this
morning, looking as if the very devil himself was chasing him. He
took his bed roll, some food and water, and grabbed his spear and
vanished into the bush. He refused to explain himself to anybody. I
think maybe he’s got the illness of years in the head.’

‘Apt description of senility, Sam thought.
‘All right Aaron, we will track him down in the morning if the
lions have not eaten him by then.’

‘The lions will not get him. He may be old
and slow, but he knows the bush too well.’

‘I know, Aaron, I know. Anyway, get some
sleep now, we’ll talk in the morning.’

Sam was worried. Something was very wrong
here. He knew that some of the older blacks held belief that
distance solves everything. If there was trouble, just get as much
distance as possible, in as short a time as possible, between
yourself and the source, and everything will come up roses. ‘Jesus,
Joao!’ He made a U-turn through the bushes, revving the truck and
charging back to the compound. He had been so occupied with Linda
that he had let his guard down. The thought of Joao had not crossed
his mind once. He skidded to a halt in front of the gate, where
Aaron was already waiting, having heard the hasty return of the
Toyota.

‘Maybe it’s Joao at last. We had better take
a look. Linda, you are going to have to stay in the compound with
the women for a while. Aaron, get the men out to stand guard. Only
you come with me. Too many people creeping around in the dark will
cause accidents. Is Job the only one outside the compound at the
moment?’

‘Yebo, nkosi. I will be ready in a
second.’

Sam was checking his gun. For night fighting
he would have preferred the R1 or LM5, but the Winchester would
have to do. ‘I’m sorry about this, Linda, but you’ll be safe
here.’

‘Do you really think he will come back to
take revenge?’

‘I am one hundred per cent sure he will. He
and I both know this thing can only be settled in one way. But what
worries me is the fact that he also knows the bush, so he should
not really be slinking around out there in the dark, unless he’s
really desperate enough for it to have clouded his judgement.’

‘I know it is something you have to do
yourself, Sam, but please be careful.’ She kissed him passionately
before walking into the compound. Sam and Aaron got away from the
road and started stalking the house in a wide circle. He had not
locked the gate again on coming out, so there was no need to take
the key along.

After two hours they were convinced that
there was no threat from outside the yard, and they went in.
Nothing in the overgrown garden either. In going through the house
Sam also didn’t see the note. He was too intent on the possibility
of AK47 bullets that could start flying at any moment.

Nothing. Something was amiss. By now he had
convinced himself that this was not Joao’s doing. If he had been
lying in ambush and missed his first opportunity when they arrived,
his hand would have been forced by now. It was past midnight, and
he decided to fetch Linda and get some sleep.

In case Joao was around, he had decided that
they would sleep in a different room that night. If a RPG7 rocket
or a hand grenade came through his bedroom window he did not want
to be there.

He was taking a shower while Linda was trying
to create a semblance of order in the house. The absence of Job
still niggled at his subconscious. He had missed something
somewhere, and it bothered him.

He was busy toweling himself, when Linda
walked in. He wanted to remark about her absence from the shower
but the expression on her face stopped him.

‘Sam, there is something you had better come
and have a look at. We’ve got trouble.’

‘What is it?’ He wrapped a towel around his
loins and followed her into the bedroom. ‘Come on, girl, what are
you talking about?’

She just pointed at the nightstand
mutely.

For a moment the ring baffled him, and then
it registered. He closed his eyes and felt numbness settling in
every muscle of his body. He approached the ring like a small
rodent mesmerised by a snake. As he picked it up his eyes fell on
the note:

Sam, you have just killed something that
was worth more to me than life itself. Understand me. It is
irrevocably dead. I never want to see you or hear from you again in
my life. EVER
!

Linda looked at him. ‘Oh, Sam, I am so
sorry.’ When he did not respond she left the room silently.

He sat staring at the message in his one
hand, and the ring on the other, for a long time.

Eventually Linda came in with two steaming
mugs of coffee. ‘I have put some of your rum into it,’ she said,
putting one down on the nightstand, and sitting down next to him on
the edge of the bed.

She endured the silence for a while longer,
sipping her coffee. ‘I am truly sorry that this has happened, Sam.
I’m crazy about you, maybe even in love a little, but it has always
been my wish that we would only find joy in each other, and not
cause anybody pain. Forgive me.’

Still no reaction.

She put her hand on the back of his neck and
pulled him towards her. ‘Sam, I’m talking to you.’ The pain evident
on his face shocked her. ‘Sam,’ she put her mug on the floor and
hugged him, both falling back slowly onto their sides, facing each
other on the unmade bed. His pupils contracted and he sat up.

‘I have to go to her now.’

‘Sam, don’t be crazy! It’s 1.30 in the
morning and you haven’t slept a wink. Get some rest first, and then
find out where she is. For all you know she is in the Park for the
weekend, in which case it would be a very stupid move to rush up to
Pretoria.’