25

Before making any rash decisions, Connor needed to confirm his suspicions about their predicament. Leaving Amber by the fire, he strolled over to Abel and his friend where they squatted at the boundary of the camp. They stood at his approach, Abel’s eyes narrowing and the muscleman crossing his arms.

“Where’s the Wolf?” asked Connor nonchalantly.

“On a bushwalk,” Abel replied.

“When will he be back?”

“Later.”

“What about the authorities? When will they be arriving?”

“Soon.”

Gathering he’d get little more than one-word answers from Abel, Connor tried a different tack.

“Can I use your radio, please?” he asked.

Abel shook his head.

“But I need to contact the lodge to—”

“No radio,” he cut in.

“But Wolf said you—”

“He has the only radio.”

Connor realized he was being stonewalled. He wouldn’t find out anything further from Abel or his tight-lipped companion. However, he had all the answers he needed. The Wolf had said Abel had put a call in to the authorities. But how could he if the Wolf had the only radio?

He returned to sit beside Amber. Finishing his crackers, he said under his breath, “We need to leave.”

“Surely we’re safer here with the Wolf and his men than we’ll be out there alone,” Amber said, glancing nervously toward the savannah beyond the trees.

“Possibly,” Connor replied. “However, I believe we’re being held against our will. And I don’t think they’ve called anyone for help.”

“But the Wolf said—”

“I know what he said, but I’m certain he’s lying. Which means no one knows where we are, or even that we’re still alive.”

Amber shook her head in disbelief. “Why would he lie to us?”

Connor looked at Amber. “He’s an illegal poacher. He has no interest in contacting the authorities. So we have to leave while we can.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until morning at least?”

“Who knows what they’ve got planned for us? Besides, every hour that passes reduces our chances of getting out of here alive. The rebels will soon have control of the park, and with the president likely dead, they’ll try to take over the country. That means civil war.”

Amber nodded in reluctant agreement to his plan. Connor squeezed her hand reassuringly, then stood up to attract Abel’s attention.

“We’re going for a rest,” he said, yawning and putting his hands together in a mime of sleep. By now the sun was low on the horizon, sending golden shafts of light through the copse’s canopy. In less than an hour it would be dark.

Abel nodded, but kept his eye on them as they made their way over to the canvas shelter. Settling down on the bedrolls, Connor and Amber feigned sleep. Convinced by their act, Abel and Muscleman returned to their conversation. A short while later Connor heard them engrossed in a game of igisoro, having dug pits in the earth to make a temporary playing board. Connor nudged Amber, and as quietly as they could, they slid out of the back of the shelter and into the undergrowth. Ideally he’d have liked to take some supplies from the camp—at the very least a bottle of water—but he didn’t want to risk arousing the men’s suspicions. As soon as they were hidden from view, Connor crept with Amber between the trees toward the open savannah.

“Where do you think you’re going?” growled a voice.

Connor and Amber stopped in their tracks as the Wolf materialized in front of them, his rifle unslung. The two other men from the camp stood behind him, menacing in their silence.

“To the safari lodge,” said Connor, his tone defiant.

The Wolf glanced at the horizon, where the sun was beginning to settle. “Too dangerous. Dusk is prime hunting time for lions and hyenas.”

“We’re going anyway,” Connor insisted, despite a frisson of fear running through his veins at the mention of hyenas.

“Not a wise decision. We spotted your rebels patrolling the plain.”

“Better the devil we know,” replied Amber.

The Wolf frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“You haven’t contacted the authorities, have you?” she accused.

The Wolf’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his slate-gray eyes. “We’ve tried to get through, but no one’s answering.”

“We don’t believe you,” said Amber, her temper rising. “You’re no conservationist! I’ve seen your stash of ivory. Now let us through.”

She started to stride past, Connor keeping close by her side, but one of the men blocked their path, a bloodied machete hanging loose in his hand, the message chillingly clear.

The Wolf let out a heavy sigh and shook his head regretfully. “If you’ve seen the ivory, then I’m afraid I definitely can’t let you go.”

“We won’t tell anyone about it,” Connor assured him. “Or about you.”

“I can’t take that risk,” he replied with an apologetic yet cold smile. “That ivory’s worth over two million dollars on the black market. If the authorities are brought in, I stand to lose it all, including my freedom. So I’m sure you’ll understand why you must stay in the camp. At least until the ivory’s been transported out of the park.”

Amber glared at the Wolf. “I thought you were a good man,” she said bitterly. “But you’re no better than those rebels out there. Killing innocent animals merely to line your own pockets. You’re just a low-life poacher!”

The Wolf stared down his broad nose at her, offended to the core. “I’m one of the last great game hunters,” he corrected her, his chest puffing up self-importantly. “Here in Africa to face down the Big Five.”

With a grand sweep of his arm, he stepped aside to reveal the severed head of the bull buffalo lying in the grass. Its dead eyes stared blankly up at them, all its majestic might extinguished.

Proudly patting the buffalo’s highly prized bossed horns, the Wolf declared, “Once I’ve completed my Big Five collection, I promise to deliver you to the authorities, safe and sound.”

“And when might that be?” asked Connor.

“I’ve one more trophy to hunt down,” the Wolf said, grinning. “The elusive leopard.”