CHAPTER TEN

 

 

A thick fog stubbornly clung to the treetops of the Panna Tiger Reserve, Madhya Pradesh, India. It wrapped the forest in an impenetrable shroud of secrecy, preventing the rangers on the mountain tops above from tracking its dangerous and unwanted visitors. Not illegal loggers or settlers, not a rogue tiger or bull elephant – poachers were their quarry. For the last three years, poachers had been the single largest threat to the reserve. They were determined and heavily armed; in stark contrast to the rangers seeking them, who were underpaid and ill-equipped.

Heather Walsh, the sole representative from the Wildlife Investigation Agency, cursed the weather and her bad luck, as she lay on a hilltop overlooking the last known location of the small but prolific band of poachers they had been tracking. It would be hours yet before the sun burned away the fog to reveal the beauty of the forest beneath, and allow the rangers to once again pick up the trail of the men who preyed on the highly endangered tigers that roamed the forest. The tigers that the reserve so valiantly tried to protect. She was heading up the hunt personally – incensed and driven by her investigations into the illegal trade in endangered wildlife. But she was totally out of her depth.

The rangers were tough and resourceful men and women from the local area who could see the benefit of the reserve and appreciated the delicate balance between nature and man. But they lived in a world where others - neighbours, maybe even relatives - were drawn to the huge sums of cash offered for the body of a tiger. Money that they would never possess in any other circumstance, or in any other way. Money that would feed their families and educate their children.

Heather ran a hand through her long red hair. She tied it up into a ponytail and replaced an ill-fitting and floppy camouflaged hat onto her head before returning to their camp in a hollow they had found on the mountainside in the darkness of the night before. She was sore and tired. They had fought their way through the thick Indian forest from dusk till dawn, tracking the poachers. The rangers knew what they were doing and were well experienced in their role, but it was the Wildlife Investigation Agency funding this particular expedition and it was Heather Walsh, the sole WIA representative present, that they turned to for their every decision.

The leader, known as Sahil, a small insignificant looking man with a bushy black beard almost as big as his head, greeted her with a solemn nod. He commanded great respect from the other rangers and had a knowledge of the land and forest that bordered on mystical.

"I have sent four patrols out already, Miss Walsh, the fog is too thick to resume tracking. We must wait until it clears."

Heather thought through her options, checking off each possibility.

When the poachers made their kill they would slip back into the forest with yet another prize for the wealthy elite, via the hands of crooks, criminals and middlemen such as the infamous Kojo Selassie. If Heather allowed them to escape, then the WIA and the rangers would have to wait for another lucky break, if such a thing ever happened again, and embark upon the whole escapade once more. Lucky breaks were as rare as the tigers themselves. Selassie, however, could call upon the services of violent men if he needed to, so people in the region remained tight lipped about the poachers and their quarry, and rightly so.

It had been Selassie that she had spent her time and effort investigating. It was Selassie that had drawn her out from the comfort of her office in London to scour the globe in search of him. He would be her prize. He was the man that the vast majority of Asian tigers died for; the fence, the fixer, the go to person for anything endangered, from tigers to tusks. Every source she questioned, every government contact she spoke to from Vietnam to Egypt, all pointed to one person. Kojo Selassie.

Like everything else in life, Heather's actions had consequences. She had spent every penny allocated to the WIA in the hunt for Selassie, used every favour and 'I owe you' she could think of. This hunt was the culmination of years of work, and without a result it would all be in vain. Her bosses didn't want the poachers – they were ten a penny. They wanted Selassie. He was the prize above all else and her orders were clear. Don't come back without him – hands dirty and guilty as sin.

To help her in her mission, Heather had been given every piece of technology that the WIA could muster. Helicopters, weapons, satellite communications, drones. As useful as they were, she quickly learned that all paled into insignificance compared to the experience and knowledge of the rangers, and the noses of the Belgian Shepard dogs they used.

"What about the dogs? Have they not picked up the scent again?"

"Even the dogs are tiring, Miss Walsh, and either way it is too dangerous to track in this fog. None of your technology is of any use to us until Mother Nature decides she is ready."

"And your contact in the village? Is he sure they will meet Selassie?"

"He is sure. They must return with a tiger, and Selassie will buy it."

"What of the pregnant female, the one with the collar? You said this was her territory. Have you found her signal yet?"

"I have sent a detachment higher into the mountains with the receiver. They should be reporting back soon."

She thanked him and strode towards her tent; the small thin and uncomfortable camping bed within it, which prevented her sleep so well the night before, becoming suddenly inviting. Inside, she pulled the flap closed and lay back with a weary sigh. A magnificent Bengal Tiger would be killed today and she wasn't trying to stop it. In fact, she wished it would hurry up and be done with. This irked at her conscience.

To catch Selassie she must follow the poachers, not stop them.

# # #

In the thick fog of the forest, Aadit Kulkarni, crept stealthily forward. It was dusk and he had lain in his position overlooking the carcass of the sambhar deer they had killed, for the whole night long. His brother and son-in-law slept comfortably in their camp a mile away with five other trusted men from the village, down-wind from the carcass and far enough from it to avoid the suspicion of the wary big female cat that patrolled this area. Aadit had caught sight of her only once before, but he remembered her well.

He promised Kojo Selassie a magnificent animal and he would get one. The money he would receive would be enough to keep Aadit's extended family comfortable for many months to come. God himself must have been watching over him on this particular journey, as not only did he quickly find the tiger he sought, after only one day of searching, but he had also found her lair and the newly born cubs it contained. These cubs he would take with him also. They would be his nest egg. He could feed them and watch them grow from the comfort of his home, until they were ready. Then Selassie would return as always, and without even entering the forest, Aadit could barter for their worth. Three tigers for the price of one. A gift from God indeed.

He knew that the scent of the sambhar deer would be irresistible to a hungry mother, and the poison he had infected the carcass with would be enough to down an elephant. But it was with great respect that he now approached the body of the tiger. One swipe from her huge paw would easily be enough to cut him in two, and how then would his family survive?

He had watched her gorge on the deer for an hour, before the effects of the poison became apparent; slowly staggering on her feet, losing balance and co-ordination as the poison quickly flowed through her veins. Eventually, as the light of the new day began to show through the forest canopy, the tiger had fallen.

It was only then that he noticed the collar around its neck. The tracking collar that would lead the rangers to his position. The rangers with their dogs that would follow him to hell and back if needs be. It was then that Aadit changed his plans.

When he was close enough, Aadit threw a stick. It struck the tiger on the leg, but she did not move. He threw a second to be sure. This one bounced off the great big head of the cat and although again the body lay still, he noticed movement from its mouth; its chest rising and falling ever so slightly as it struggled for breath. Confident now, he rose from his position and checked his rifle. It was loaded and ready if the tiger was not fully subdued, but he didn't want to spoil the prize. Aadit had lost valuable money on his last kill when the bullets from his rifle had spoiled the pelt, punching irreparable holes in the black and orange stripped coat. Aadit learned from his mistakes.

He stood now only a few feet from the cat and it looked up at him, paralysed by the poison and moments from death. Its wild bright eyes glossed over and seemed to stare into his very soul. It unnerved Aadit. What did this creature know of his life and his needs?

He turned away, unable to hold its gaze, and called out to his brother on the two way radios they carried.

"Reyansh! Wake the men. Get the cubs and meet me here. And hurry!"

When Aadit turned back, the tiger had died. The spark had gone from its eyes and he was glad of it. He cut the collar from its neck and threw it to the ground. The rangers would find it and he knew they may not be far away. Security in the area, and especially in the forest, was becoming tighter as the tigers became fewer; the damn dogs never far away. But the Madhya Pradesh was a huge area and Aadit was smart; smarter than a dog and its pompous ranger handler. He would not be captured – the future of his family depended on it.

As he waited for the others to arrive, he formed a plan. He would divide into three. His brother and son-in-law would each take a cub and leave the forest in opposite directions; one straight to the village and the other to a farm owned by a relative many miles in the opposite direction. Aadit would stay with the adult female - the main prize - to meet Kojo Selassie far away from his home and the greedy, jealous eyes of the other villagers. The rangers would have their work cut out if they found the collar, and Aadit and his family would be sure to retain at least two out of the three tigers, in his worst case scenario.

# # #

Heather had only just rested her eyes and fallen into a dreamless sleep when she heard her name being called from outside the tent. She swung her legs from the bed and rubbed at her tired eyes, but she answered immediately, knowing she would not have been disturbed unless it were important.

"Yes?"

"Miss Walsh, please come. We must move immediately!"

Heather exited the tent and took in the surroundings of their small impromptu camp. Men and women hurriedly packed, and no sooner had she stood to greet Sahil, than behind her, the tent she lay in was being dismantled.

"What's happened?"

"The patrol found the signal from the collared female. It is close by, but it has not moved for a while. The fog is lifting a little and the dogs have picked up a scent which leads towards it."

Heather quickly gathered her belongings and stuffed them into her bag. She hoisted it onto her shoulders and followed Sahil down the hillside towards the forest. He seemed greatly perturbed at the news and eager to take up the chase once more. He set a gruelling pace through the forest and it wasn't long before Heather was sweating profusely in the stifling heat. She hacked and tore at the dense undergrowth that surrounded them, forcing a path towards the dogs who excitedly yapped and strained at the leases that their handlers held firmly.

It wasn't long before the team entered a small clearing, where Heather caught up with them. She sat down on a log to rest and took in huge gasping breaths - it brought the stench of death to her nostrils. She looked up to Sahil, who had a sad and distant look in his eyes.

In his hands he held a brown leather collar with a small metal box attached to it. The collar had been severed and Sahil ran his fingers over the rough edge of the cut as he spoke.

"It is her collar. We found it next to the carcass of a sambhar deer. The poachers must have poisoned the meat."

He pointed to a small hollow in the ground behind her, about thirty metres from where she sat. What was left of the carcass was swollen and putrid. One of the rangers retrieved samples from the flesh and placed them in a plastic container. It would be tested later, and might prove vital to a prosecution if they were to find the poacher in possession of the original poison.

Sahil continued with more news.

"The dogs have picked up tiger scent on three trails leading away from this site, heading in different directions - north, east and west. There is no sign that the tiger has been butchered, but the poachers have divided. The northerly trail leads back towards the village, but which should we follow?"

This was unexpected. How could it be? Should she gamble that the tiger would be taken direct the village? Or would Selassie meet the poachers elsewhere? Maybe the poachers would stash the animal in a hideout far away from the village?

"But how can there be tiger scent on all three?"

"I don't know! But we have no time to ponder it. The dogs are reliable. If we are to keep up, then we must move. We cannot follow all three, we do not have enough people and it would be too dangerous."

"Fuck!"

The rangers relied heavily on the dogs for their keen sense of smell and consistent results. If they detected a tiger scent on all three trails, then as impossible as it seemed, she must choose one.

"The trail going north. Let's head for the village."