24

With food in their bellies, Connor and Amber were soon overcome by tiredness, and it didn’t take much to persuade them to lie down beneath one of the canvases. Abel had laid out two bedrolls for them, and before their heads even hit the padded blankets, they were asleep.

Connor entered such a deep slumber that he struggled to rouse himself when he heard Amber arguing with someone.

“But I need to use the toilet,” insisted Amber.

“Stay!” the man was saying.

Connor rose up on his elbows and saw Amber at the edge of the camp, attempting to get past one of the Wolf’s men, a loose-limbed individual with tight-knit hair and bulging muscles that told of a hard life rather than days in the gym.

“Toilet,” she repeated. “I have to go.”

Immovable as stone, the man stared blankly at her.

“Les toilettes,” Amber repeated in French.

Comprehension lit up the man’s face and he grunted, pointing to a tree a few yards away from the camp. Amber hurried toward it, disappearing into the undergrowth. But the man followed part of the way, keeping a close eye on her.

“Arrêtez!” he called after her. “Pas plus loin.”

Connor sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sleep had done him a world of good, and his strength had somewhat returned. His side still ached, though the pills had dulled some of the pain. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was past five o’clock in the afternoon. They’d been asleep for more than four hours. Connor took another dose of painkillers, then looked around the camp for the Wolf but couldn’t see him. Surely a rescue party from the lodge should have reached us by now.

Stepping out from under the canvas, Connor felt the call of nature himself and headed into the bush. But Abel appeared in front of him, blocking his path.

“Where you go?” he asked.

“Toilet,” replied Connor, then added for clarity, “Les toilettes.”

Abel moved aside. “Don’t go far. Lions.”

Connor nodded and walked a few yards away from the camp. As he relieved himself against a tree, he glanced back over his shoulder. Abel was watching him closely, and an uneasy feeling crept over Connor. Something was wrong here. Although he was only too aware of the dangers of the African bush and wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been lions nearby, he was beginning to feel more like a prisoner than a guest.

When he returned to the camp, Amber was sitting by the fire, her expression unreadable.

Connor sat down next to her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded and smiled. But the smile seemed forced, more for the benefit of Abel and the muscleman still guarding the camp. Connor wondered where the Wolf and the other two men were. Perhaps they’ve gone to meet the rescue party? It seemed logical. After all, the Wolf had been nothing but hospitable toward them.

So why was his sixth sense for danger twitching?

Abel poured them some tea from a beaten-up kettle and handed them a packet of dry crackers each. Then he strolled over to his muscular friend and the two chatted in hushed tones to each other, every so often glancing in Connor and Amber’s direction. The two men seemed on edge. But Connor reasoned that perhaps he was overreacting. Now that he’d told them about the Black Mamba and the rebel soldiers, they were probably concerned for their own lives.

Amber rested her head affectionately on his shoulder. Connor didn’t mind but found it strange that she was being so familiar with him, considering their circumstances. Then she whispered in his ear, “I need to tell you something.”

Connor nodded imperceptibly so as not to attract the attention of Abel or the other man.

“I spotted some camouflage netting when I went to the toilet. There were six elephant tusks hidden beneath it.”

Connor immediately grasped the dangerous situation that put them in.

“The Wolf’s no conservationist. He’s a poacher,” said Amber under her breath.

It all made perfect sense now. The hidden camp. The pile of supplies. The high-powered telescopic rifle. Even the enraged buffalo. Connor recalled seeing quite a few bullet holes in the slain animal. At the time of the attack he’d heard only three shots, but there had been some gunfire earlier in the distance. That suggested the bull was already injured and hurting when they came across it. Shot no doubt by the Wolf.