Jon was preoccupied with anointing another leg of lamb with garlic on top of his oven, while Nigel and I looked on, the air somber since we’d received the news that Nandi had slipped into a coma and her prognosis was tenuous.
What I really wanted was another night at Susuwe on my porch alone with Jon. Just us and the moonlit floodplain full of elephants. Not that I minded Nigel’s company, as he always seemed to be able to lighten Jon’s mood.
Nigel took a swig of his Tafel. “Your neighbor’s dog is uncharacteristically quiet this evening.”
Jon’s shoulders perked up, and he turned around positively beaming. “You won’t believe it, hey?”
I could tell a story was coming. One of those kinds of stories. The kind that he told when he wanted to hide.
Nigel smiled slyly. “Jon, don’t tell me—”
“Eli was here last night, and little Fifi had gone top off again—yapping the kind of yap that gnarls off the ankle.” Jon laughed. “It was roundup night. Everyone had fair warning to get their dogs off the street before Eli and the guys went out for a cleanup. They had twenty-four hours.” He turned to me in explanation. “You’ve heard how bad it can get at night. The street pack was getting bigger and bigger.” He shrugged. “Anyway, they were making a pretty clean sweep of it until they got to Fifi.”
“She got left outside?” I knew where this was heading.
“She got out onto the street just in front of the house with her yapping, yapping like there was no tomorrow, and dooche.” Jon slapped his fists together.
“What did he do?”
“He filled a dart full of water, loaded his dart gun, and chupse.” He giggled. “The dart went right through.”
“No!” Nigel clapped and laughed heartily.
I put my hand over my mouth. “You’re joking!” As much as having Fifi as Jon’s neighbor was a living hell at night, she was still someone’s pet.
“Best night of sleep I’ve had in months.”
“What did your neighbor do?” I couldn’t help feeling badly for the neighbor.
“Fortunately, the missus was away in South Africa.” He went back to his garlic rub and spoke with his back to us. “Sure, her husband put on a show and swore a lot, but I can’t imagine that he wasn’t secretly pleased. He yelled at the little ratter all the time. Probably beat it senseless, given its horrible disposition.”
Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the front door.
Jon dropped the garlic, wiped his hands, and left the room.
Nigel and I strained to decipher the whispers we heard at the door. We looked at each other awkwardly, neither of us able to figure out what was being said. I could hear both Eli and Gidean.
After a few minutes, Jon slammed the door and cursed. He returned with an ashen face.
Nigel sat up. “What’s happened?”
“The induna’s son was found dead in the forestry plot outside Kongola. Bloody garroted.”
I stood up, and it felt like I had just lost a hundred-foot elevation. “Will you excuse me?”
As I walked back to Jon’s guest room, I could hear him putting the lamb in the oven and slamming the door. I collapsed onto his guest bed and heard them mutter a few words before Nigel left the house.
I desperately wanted to tell Jon what had happened. I had told the induna’s son that I would be able to protect him. How naïve I had been. I should have trusted my instincts that our plan had the potential to go wrong in so many ways. And if Mr. Lin had meant what he said about giving information in exchange for protection, there’s no way he’d follow through now, knowing that we really couldn’t protect anybody.
I lay there getting more and more angry at Craig for putting me—and everyone involved—in this position. I hadn’t been able to get through on the satellite phone, so I had sent him a text message about the meeting with Mr. Lin, and I still hadn’t heard back. I texted the latest news and got more and more tired and nervous about the inevitable conversation I expected to have with Jon. It was going to be a fight. I knew I had to get some sleep, and thinking about it wasn’t going to help.
I lay there for a long time staring at the ceiling. I don’t even remember drifting off.
He came at me with no warning. Suddenly I was crushed up against the fence with the wind knocked out of me, the angry buffalo smashing my ribs. There was no place to aim but the thick neck, and my .357 was plastered against it as he pressed in for the killing blow.
I squeezed the trigger four times before I felt a release from the pressure. The buffalo snorted and shook his head, his eyes black with rage as he ran off with my four pieces of lead seemingly having no effect on his will to survive.
I stood, holding my damaged ribs, ears ringing, numb to my surroundings and far, far away from my vehicle.
I woke to a noisy bunch of francolin birds bickering in the garden. My ribs ached and my eye was still sore. I looked at my watch. It was six thirty in the morning.
I sat up stiffly, stretched, and noticed Jon standing in the doorway staring at me. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.”
“What happened to the lamb?”
“I didn’t want to wake you. Saved you some.”
I combed my fingers through my hair. “Thanks. But not for breakfast, I hope.”
“Whenever you’re up for it. But listen, something’s come up. I’ve got to get to the office early. Can you meet me there around ten?”
“Sure. What’s going on?”
“A lead on our Chinese friend Mr. Lin. Just need to follow up first thing this morning, as it could be important for the case.”
I had to bite my tongue. “Really? What’s up?” I was hoping Craig would have responded to my texts by now, letting me know whether the Hong Kong office could help Mr. Lin if he was prepared to come forward. But I had no messages.
“Shhh. Don’t worry about it.” Jon sat down on the bed and put his arm around me. “You okay?”
I shrugged.
He drew a delicate finger across the back of my neck. “Do you think we could have a date?”
“A date?” I looked at him quizzically, trying not to seem too excited while wondering what exactly a date would entail in this environment.
“You know, a proper date when all this blows over? Like a weekend in Victoria Falls?”
I laughed incredulously. “A weekend in Victoria Falls?” I couldn’t help thinking that this seemed so out of context with the current events. And that it would remind me too much of my last date in Victoria Falls.
“Yes. You know, soon. Maybe even next week?”
I smiled, pretending to be unfazed by the thought. “That would be nice. But how about the desert? Or the coast?”
Jon’s eyes lit up. “Name the place and we’ll go. Maybe Maputo? Some giant prawns? You like prawns? I make a mean prawn dish. Of course it involves lots of butter.”
“What about Vera?”
“We could go down to the delta. Go tiger fishing. I have a killer recipe I’ve been contemplating.”
I nodded and grabbed his hands and held them tightly. He got the message and stopped.
“Sorry, I can’t stop myself sometimes. You know how I am about recipes. I’ve started to write them down. The name of the restaurant was just the beginning.”
I let his hands go. “I can believe it.” There was so much that I needed to tell him, but couldn’t. Meanwhile, my thoughts were on Sianga’s death and Mr. Lin’s request, and what I could possibly do next. Mr. Lin’s information would tie the doctor, the witch doctor, Ernest, the triad, and apparently some other unknown player into the equation. Now, all we had to go on was my testimony about flying over the border illegally, taking photos of the ivory exchange, and witnessing the witch doctor’s murder. But Jon must have known all this by now, regardless of which side he was on. I had convinced myself that his sources would have told him. Not that it mattered now; Jon and I would talk about it in his office later. If Craig gave me the go-ahead.