Tumi took Shikar up the hill to where Oliver was laying out the first of two camouflage pup tents.
He straightened his back. ‘Have you come to help me?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘I thought he was sending you out on patrol.’
‘Change of plan. Maybe Sean thought you needed help putting up a tent,’ Tumi said.
Oliver scowled at her. If he saw her joke, he wasn’t about to have a laugh at his own expense. ‘Unroll the other one.’
She told Shikar to sit, then shook the second tent out of its bag. ‘Why don’t you like me, Oliver?’
He was on one knee, hammering in a peg with a rock. He stopped and turned to face her. ‘It’s not you I don’t like.’
‘No, just women.’
He went back to hammering. ‘I like women. Ask anyone in Huntington and they’ll tell you that women like me.’
Her skin crawled, but she wanted to understand him. Sean had told her to keep him busy, much to her chagrin, while he went to inspect Casper’s body again. Tumi swallowed the insulting retort that had been forming in her mind. ‘OK, so you’re popular with the ladies. Why don’t you like me?’
Oliver got up and moved to the next corner of the tent. Even the way he hefted the granite rock made Tumi feel nervous. He seemed to be in a state of barely contained anger. ‘I told you, it’s not you I dislike.’
‘Then what?’
He set down the rock. ‘It’s women serving in a front-line role, in anti-poaching. It is not correct.’
‘Ha. Listen to you. “Not correct”. Don’t you know what century this is?’
‘You mock me, but I am concerned for your safety.’
Tumi was taken aback. ‘Concerned?’
He shrugged and picked up his rock, like the caveman she thought him to be, and started pounding another tent peg into the hard earth. ‘Yes. I had a sister . . .’
She waited for him to carry on, but he seemed to clam up. ‘What about your sister, Oliver?’
He hit the peg harder, but it was thin and cheap and it bent under the onslaught. He cursed and pulled it out of the ground. ‘She joined the police. Like you she wanted to do good.’
‘Did something happen to her?’
Oliver had lain the tent peg on a flat rock and was hitting it with the rock in his hand, trying to straighten it. Sparks began to fly. ‘She had just found out she was pregnant. I was going to be an uncle. Then she was shot, trying to stop a cash-in-transit robbery in Joburg. She and the baby died.’
‘She must have been a very brave woman.’
He looked to her. ‘She was stupid.’
‘Oliver –’
‘She should have been at home, or gone to university to be a schoolteacher like my mother wanted for her, but she wanted to do something for this country. I don’t want to talk about it any more.’
She could see the pain in him now, and realised it had manifested as anger and a belief that women should be closeted at home, cooking, cleaning and having babies. Tumi had no wish to antagonise him on the subject of women in front-line roles. She wondered if Craig and Sean knew about his family history. As sad as his story was, he could still be working against them.
‘It was terrible what happened to the lion, wasn’t it?’ she said.
Having straightened the peg, Oliver was now trying to hammer it back into the ground, in a different spot. ‘This whole farm is a waste of land and money. Christine should raise cattle or grow crops to feed the people.’
‘And what about the lions?’
Oliver finished hammering the peg and got up. ‘They should all be shot. She should do like the previous owners did – charge a fortune for rich American hunters to shoot the lions and then sell their skeletons to the Chinese. These lions are like cattle, bred for the slaughter, and if the Chinese like Li get their lion bones from farms like this then they wouldn’t be killing wild lions, like they’ve already started to.’
‘A lot of people wouldn’t agree with you, Oliver.’
He fitted a collapsible tent pole. ‘It’s the same with the rhinos. When the Vietnamese and Chinese were allowed to come to South Africa and legally hunt rhinos they took the trophies – the horns – back home and this was enough to satisfy the market for rhino horn. When the do-gooders overseas made the hunting stop, the supply dried up, and that’s when the poaching got bad. If they just legalised the trade in rhino horn the killing would end; same goes for lion bones.’
Tumi had heard the arguments for and against legalising the trade in rhino horn, ivory and lion bones, and while she did not agree with Oliver, Sean had wanted her to keep him occupied and she was succeeding at that.
‘In fact, our government has set a quota for the export of lion bones,’ Tumi said.
‘Yes, but they should just open it up and let the market sort itself out.’ He clipped the nylon of the tent to the poles he had just erected then moved on to the next one. ‘You can help me.’
She went over to him. Like most men, Oliver had a big ego, and it seemed if she agreed with him – or did not actively disagree – he could be less objectionable. Tumi unrolled and positioned the second pup tent on a flat piece of ground free of rocks and began assembling the poles while Oliver started hammering in the pegs. ‘Why do you think someone shot just the one lion?’
He kept working, not making eye contact. ‘I don’t know. Probably to send Christine a warning. I heard that the Chinaman, Li, wants to buy the farm and the lions. She would be wise to sell and make some money. The way her company is going we will all be out of work soon.’
Tumi bit her tongue. ‘Yes, things are pretty desperate.’
‘The government should legalise the trade in rhino horn as well,’ Oliver said.
She wondered if he was deliberately trying to change the subject, to deflect her questioning away from him and the dead lion, Casper. ‘Do you really think that will save the wild rhinos?’ she asked, to keep him talking, but he didn’t reply.
He finished hammering in a peg, stood, and took off his shirt. ‘It’s getting hot.’
His bare chest glistened with sweat and he looked straight at her. He forced a smile and winked at her. ‘Like what you see?’
‘I wasn’t looking at you. What were you saying about rhino horn, Oliver? I’m interested in this stuff, about poaching and what we can do to stop it.’
He grunted and knelt to resume his physical labour. ‘The government and all the private landholders who farm rhinos should flood the market in Asia with rhino horn that’s been humanely taken from the animals. It grows back, you know?’
Of course she knew that, but his argument was, in her opinion, simplistic and flawed. Tumi could have reminded Oliver that the last few dead rhinos they had found had been missing their ears and tails, proof that the market in Vietnam was demanding wild-killed rhinos.
But she said, ‘Yes, I do know. You have a point, Oliver.’
He seemed satisfied with himself. He got up and stretched and looked her up and down. ‘Do you have a man?’
She felt uncomfortable being asked such a question while being ogled. ‘Yes,’ she lied, ‘I do.’
‘Then you should be with him, married, producing children, rather than out here in the bush risking your life for a few mangy old lions.’
Tumi swallowed. Thinking on her feet, she continued, ‘He . . . he’s at university. We are waiting to get married when he finishes his degree. In the meantime I . . . I mean, he has given his blessings to me working.’
‘Hmm.’ Oliver dropped the rock he had been using as a hammer and took two steps closer to her. ‘Your boyfriend is probably having sex with half the chicks at varsity.’
‘Oliver!’
‘Don’t look so shocked. Men have needs. If you’re not looking after your man then how can you expect him to be faithful to you, Tumi?’
His tone was calm, his voice smooth, devoid of its usual surliness, and the change made him seem all the more sinister. Tumi shivered. She had not expected this. She took a step back and nearly stumbled on a loose rock.
‘Careful, we don’t want to bruise that cute little booty of yours. In fact, it’s a bit too small for my liking. Maybe we can get a nice meal together later? Get the boss lady to cook for us and fatten you up? But before dinner, let’s have some fun, hey, girl?’
She held up a hand. ‘Stop.’
‘I know what’s good for you, Tumi, what you really need.’
Tumi looked around. She had left her rifle in the truck. Shikar was over by the lion enclosure, watching Felix eat. ‘Shikar!’
The dog pricked up her ears and came running.
Oliver had a nine-millimetre pistol in a holster on his belt. He drew it and cocked it. ‘If you tell that useless dog of yours to attack me I will kill it before it gets within twenty metres of me.’
‘Shikar, stop!’ The dog slowed to a walk, looking at Tumi. She knew something was wrong. ‘Sit, Shikar. Good girl.’ Her heart pounding, Tumi turned back to Oliver. ‘What are you going to do now, Oliver, shoot me if I don’t have sex with you?’
‘You’re going to do as I tell you.’
Tumi backed away from him and drew a deep breath. ‘Sean!’
Oliver scowled at her as she screamed the name again. He unloaded his pistol, pulled back the slide to eject the round that he just chambered, then picked up the fallen bullet and put it back in the magazine again. ‘Bitch.’
*
Sean’s hands and forearms were covered in blood. He had looked skywards and said a quick prayer before he’d taken the hunting knife from the sheath at his belt and cut into Casper’s body.
The blade was razor sharp, but even so it was hard work cutting through Casper’s muscle and sinews and digging deep into the flesh in search of the bullet that had killed him.
It was grisly, gory work, but the shot had been clean, entering the big cat three-quarter on from the front and into the chest cavity, where it must have found the heart. Sean was glad Christine was not here to see the butchery going on, but he wanted to retrieve the copper-jacketed slug that had killed Casper. It could be important. If it was a match to the empty brass casing he’d found, then they might be able to discover what weapon it had come from.
Of course, if Casper had been killed by one of David Li’s hired guns, as a warning before an all-out assault on the farm, then it would be academic, but if the bullet pointed to someone closer to the team, then that might help them avoid attack from within.
Sean wanted more information before questioning Oliver or levelling any accusations at him, but time was running out.
He cut some more flesh then reached into the carcass with his free hand. Just as his fingertips found something hard, smooth and pointy, he heard Tumi scream his name. Sean grabbed the bullet, pulled it out of the lion’s body and got to his feet. He pocketed the bullet and, knife in one sticky, bloody hand and rifle in the other, he ran back towards the hillock.
‘Come, Benny.’
Benny was barking as he crested the rise in front of them before Sean. As he came up over the top he saw that Oliver had his hand on Tumi, grasping her by the forearm.
‘Let her go!’ Sean yelled.
‘Get off me,’ Tumi said.
Sean was about to order Benny to attack – the dog would get there way before him – when Tumi reached out, grabbed Oliver’s free hand and, just as Sean had taught her in unarmed combat training – flipped Oliver, using the big man’s oncoming momentum, so that he landed on his back. Before Oliver could get to his feet Benny was standing over him, growling, and Sean was soon with them.
‘Are you OK?’ Sean asked Tumi.
She looked shaken, but she nodded. ‘I am. He tried to attack me.’
Oliver got up and brushed himself down. ‘Nice move. I wanted to see how she handled herself in hand-to-hand combat. She didn’t realise that I was trying to test her.’
‘She knows exactly what you were trying to do,’ Tumi said to him.
Sean moved between them and stared at Oliver, inches away from his face. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the bullet and held up his reddened hand. ‘I’ll talk to you about Tumi later. If she wants to lay a complaint against you I’ll gladly hold it up. For now I want you to tell me where this bullet came from.’
Oliver squinted at the slug. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘Out of the dead lion, Casper.’
Oliver shrugged. ‘Why should I know where it came from?’
Sean reached into the other pocket of his camouflage trousers and pulled out a clear zip-lock bag with a brass cartridge case in it. ‘This is a 7.62-millimetre cartridge case found near the enclosure, and I’m pretty sure the bullet I took out of Casper came from it. Question is, which rifle did it come from?’
‘Again, why are you asking me this?’
‘Where were you last night and this morning, Oliver?’
‘At home. You can ask my wife if you want.’
Tumi scoffed. ‘I’ll tell your wife what you’re like if you want.’
Oliver glared at her.
Sean took a step closer to him. Without taking his eyes off Oliver he said, ‘Tumi?’
‘Yes?’
‘Take Shikar and check the road again, please.’
She nodded, called her dog and set off.
Oliver squared up to him. ‘Just you and me now.’
‘Yes. What time did you get here, to the farm?’
‘A couple of hours ago. I hitched a lift with one of the other Sabi Sand security guys.’
‘Which one?’
Oliver shrugged. ‘I don’t know his name. He was heading this way, saw my uniform, and when I stuck my hand out he stopped for me.’
‘Just happened to be going this way?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you had your rifle with you?’
‘I was told to come ready for action, by Craig, and to get to the farm as quick as I could.’
‘You spoke to Craig in hospital?’
‘Yes, on the phone. I was worried about him.’
Sean rubbed his chin. He couldn’t imagine Oliver being worried about anyone other than himself. He held up the bullet again. ‘Did you shoot the lion with this bullet, Oliver?’
The other man clenched his fists and glared at Sean. ‘No, I did not. I don’t think these stupid lions or this farm are worth dying for, but I did not kill it.’
There was nothing Sean could do without further proof or a lie detector test. He was about to tell Oliver that he would have to submit to a polygraph when they both heard two gunshots.
*
Tumi was firing blind.
‘Shikar!’ Tumi dropped to her belly in the long, dry grass and Shikar, who had also been scared by the noise, ran back to her and lay down beside her.
Tumi remembered the drills Sean had taught her and crawled until she found some cover behind an anthill. Her heart was thumping. Someone had fired a bullet at her and the round had come close enough for her to feel the displaced air as it zinged past, but she had not heard the shot go off. She had raised her rifle over the mound and fired twice in the general direction the bullet had come from.
She peeked cautiously around the mound of earth. She could see nothing.
A second later Tumi was showered in termite-excavated clay and felt the air displaced not more than an arm’s length away from her. It was from another bullet, but again she hadn’t heard it. Tumi put her hand on Shikar, who was whining. ‘Stay down, girl.’
Tumi rolled onto her back and took her phone out of her breast pocket and called Sean. ‘Someone’s shooting at me, with a silenced weapon! That was me, just now, firing back.’
‘I’m on my way,’ he said.
‘No, Sean. Don’t come to me. There’s a sniper somewhere. He’s got me pinned down. I can’t move and if you come across the open ground he’ll pick you off before you get anywhere near me. I’m by the western perimeter fence, not far from the locked access gate. Behind the big termite mound.’
‘OK. I know where you are. Shit. Are you in cover?’
‘For now, yes,’ she said.
‘I’ll call you back. I’m going to get Christine and whoever else is here and we’ll make a stand at the koppie.’
‘Roger that,’ Tumi said. Sean ended the call. She felt very alone.
Shikar was still whimpering. ‘It’s OK, girl,’ Tumi said, though she felt anything but.
Tumi looked up at the top of the anthill. There was a furrow made by the bullet that had very nearly taken the top of her head off. She could tell by its direction that the sniper was firing at her from the south, roughly parallel with the fence along the main road. A car whizzed by, oblivious to the deadly game of cat and mouse being played out just across the barbed wire.
The land across the road was heavily vegetated. Tumi would find shelter there, but first she needed to get over or under the perimeter fence. This part of Christine’s farm had been cleared for cattle grazing many decades ago and was covered in dry golden grass, with not a tree in sight to provide concealment or protection against bullets. About a hundred metres from her was the gate that provided access to this part of the property, but it was locked and Tumi did not have a key.
‘Think,’ she told herself.
To try to still her mind, she patted Shikar. When another bullet searched her out, skimming across the top of the anthill, she lay flat again. Tumi buried her face in the dog’s coat, and when she shifted again she saw how the wind had picked up and was ruffling Shikar’s hair.
That gave Tumi an idea. She picked up a handful of fine dirt and, as she had seen Sean do, she let it fall slowly from her closed palm. Tumi watched as the wind caught the tiny particles and blew them away from her and towards where the sniper was firing from and then on to the perimeter fence.
‘Perfect.’
The problem with her idea was that she needed matches or a cigarette lighter and Tumi did not smoke. She thought about what she did have in her personal equipment. Mentally she checked off her gear.
She had a compass. Tumi reached into her cargo pants pocket and pulled out her Silva compass. The perspex housing could be laid over a map, as Sean had showed her, and there was a small magnifying window for reading small print. Tumi looked up, checked the angle of the sun and snatched up some leaves and dried stems of grass. She tilted the magnifying glass on the compass until a beam of light was concentrated on the pile of kindling.
The sniper fired another shot and Shikar jumped up and barked, searching for the angry bee that she probably mistook the bullet for.
‘Get down!’
The dog obeyed but Tumi was shaking so much she had to use her other hand to steady the one holding the compass. She focused on the refracted light again and bent her head closer to the kindling so she could blow on it.
A tiny pillar of smoke started to rise.
‘Yes!’
Shikar barked.
‘Shush.’
Tumi kept blowing and added more grass and twigs to the pile as little orange flames started to rise. She moved her body and the breeze caught the fire and it started to blossom.
Nature took over and the fire started to spread away from Tumi, growing in ferocity as it devoured the long grass. As she had hoped, a wide pall of smoke was now rising ahead of the crackling flames.
She was pleased with her work. The fire was heading away from her on a forty-five-degree bearing towards the tar road. Tumi was no expert on fire management, but she was almost a hundred per cent sure this one would not jump the tar road and would safely burn itself out. With the speed it was moving, however, she needed to get up and get going.
‘Come, Shikar!’
Tumi jumped up and ran behind the smoke, and as she charged, Shikar at her heels, she flicked the safety catch of her LM5 to fire, aimed the rifle in the direction of the person who had been shooting at her and started pulling the trigger as she ran. She hoped her wild rapid fire would at least keep the sniper’s head down.
Legs pumping, she sprinted to keep the smoke between her and where the gunman was. Tumi knew from Sean’s teaching that it took less than three seconds for a good marksman to draw a bead on a target. She was moving, which was in her favour, but soon she would be at the gate and that was where she would be most vulnerable, particularly if the fire burned itself out at the roadside.
Bugs took flight ahead of the flames and birds appeared as if from out of nowhere. Brilliant blue lilac-breasted rollers quacked and dived, snatching up insects in mid-air. Tumi registered a bullet passing by her. Perhaps the sniper could see her through the smoke or maybe, like her, he was firing blind and trying his luck. She prayed that her desperate gamble would pay off, but it all depended on her being able to get through the locked gate.
Tumi judged the movement of the smoke as she ran, and she and Shikar made the gate just as the fire was reaching its crescendo. A wide swathe of blackened stubble was left in the blaze’s wake. Fortunately, the local municipality had allowed the verge on the side of the tar road to become overgrown, and while the fire had taken hold there now, having raced through the chain-link fence, it was taking its time to consume the grass, shrubs and even trees on the roadside.
Tumi got to the fence, coughing from the smoke that protected and choked her at the same time. Her eyes watered and Shikar was barking crazily, her instincts picking up the danger of fire. Tumi had counted the rounds she had fired and knew she had five left in the magazine attached to her rifle. There would be no time to reload.
She moved along the fence through the smoke until she found the gate. A thick chain and padlock held it secure. Tumi had seen this done on television and in the movies but had never tried to shoot open a padlock herself.
Steadying the barrel of her rifle as close as she could to the lock, she pulled the trigger. Sparks flew off the metal but the lock stayed in place.
The smoke cleared. The sniper fired.