‘I only saw her with a man once.’
‘An African man?’
‘No, sir, a white man.’
‘When?’
‘I remember now that it was the day she left for South Africa. He came here, to the office, but did not want to enter the national park. He had a Zambian-registered vehicle, which made me curious about him. He said he owned a lodge on the other side of the river. He had crossed the border to attend a meeting with our conservation people at the Kariba office, but he came here to meet someone first. He was waiting for your daughter.’
Jed noticed the ranger was shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking out the window, as if the questioning was suddenly making him uncomfortable. ‘Sorry, I’ve kept you long enough, but just a couple more questions, please.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Have you seen the man again since then, and can you describe him?’
‘No, not since then. He was tall, with dark hair, and brown skin … tanned, you know? Not young, not old.’
Jed decided to take a gamble. He smiled and leaned in close as if he was about to share a confidence. ‘My daughter told me she had met a special man. She didn’t mention his name, but she said he was bit older than her. It sounded to me like she might have been in love with this man. Do you think this guy could have been the one?’
The ranger smiled. ‘Well, since she mentioned it, I don’t suppose there is any harm in telling you that she kissed him when she said goodbye. I went outside to have a cigarette and saw them in the car park. So sad, sir, that Miranda had found someone, and then …’
‘Yes, it is sad,’ Jed said.
He thanked the ranger for his help, then stormed outside to find out why Christine Wallis had lied to him.
‘Where is she?’ he demanded of Moses.
‘She left a few minutes ago. She said she would check in for us at park headquarters, save us some time at the other end.’ Moses was leaning casually against the front fender of the Land Rover.
‘Fuck.’ Jed was fuming. ‘Well, we won’t get any more answers here. Let’s go.’
They left Marongora and, a little further down the main road, took the turn-off to Mana Pools National Park and the Zambezi River. At a checkpoint they showed their permit and were waved on.
‘It’s about another eighty kilometres to the park headquarters,’ Moses said.
Jed nodded and tried to relax his grip on the steering wheel as the Land Rover juddered along the heavily corrugated dirt road. He was furious with Chris, for not mentioning she had met with Miranda so soon before her disappearance, and for deliberately avoiding him once she realised he was onto her. Thinking it through, though, he was glad she had taken flight. He would have time to compose himself. If he started demanding answers from her she would probably clam up.
As they crossed a low concrete bridge over a wide, dry river Jed noticed three holes that appeared to have been dug in the middle of the sandy bed. ‘What are those?’
‘They were made by elephants,’ Moses said.
‘Were they looking for water?’
‘Yes. They smell it. They’ll dig with their tusks and their feet in order to find the sweetest water.
It’s long, hard work, but they know that the end result is worth it.’
Jed nodded. That was how he felt at the moment.
‘We will find out what happened to your daughter, Jed. I think the professor is as concerned as you are, and misses your daughter as you do.’
Jed had said nothing to Moses of the professional relationship between Chris and Miranda. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘She said she wanted to go ahead and sort out our bookings …’
‘So you said.’
‘But there was something else.’
‘What?’
‘I saw it in her eyes. She had been crying.’
They caught up with Chris at another National Parks checkpoint at a T-intersection on the far side of a dry riverbed.
‘This is the Nyakasikana Gate,’ Moses said. ‘They will check our papers again here. I’ll take them inside for you.’ He left the Land Rover and walked across to a small green building bristling with radio antennae.
Chris was at the boom gate, talking to a uniformed African ranger. Jed lit a cigarette, biding his time while she finished her conversation. Sitting in the shade cast by the green building were five men wearing camouflage fatigues. Their black faces were streaked with sweat and grey dust. One of them waved to him and he waved back. They had the hard, spare look of men at home in the bush. Scattered around them were the accoutrements of battle – bulging rucksacks, web gear, a radio and an odd mix of western and eastern bloc weapons – Russian AK-47s and the long-barrelled FN Self-Loading Rifles favoured by the British Army until the early nineties.
As Chris walked over, Jed nodded towards the men in the shade and she said, ‘They’re field rangers. Anti-poaching patrol. They go out for a week or two at a time. They’re good, experts at tracking and living in the bush, but underequipped. If they see an armed civilian inside the park they’ll shoot on sight.’
‘Why did you leave before?’ Jed asked.
‘I told Moses, I wanted to sort things out here and -’
‘Bullshit.’ He dropped his cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. ‘If you wanted to help you could have told me you saw Miranda only a few weeks ago.’
‘How would that have helped?’ She met his accusatory stare defiantly, hands on hips.
He took a breath and forced himself to regain his composure. ‘I’m trying to find out what happened to her. It would help me to know what she had been up to before her disappearance, what her frame of mind was. Was she happy? Was she sad? Was she alone? Did she have someone in her life?’
She let the questions, especially the last one, hang in the air. ‘Here comes Moses. We can talk about this later.’
Jed swore under his breath, got back in the Land Rover and slammed the door.
‘What’s wrong?’ Moses asked.
‘Forget it. Get in and let’s get going.’
Jed hung back from Chris’s vehicle to avoid the wake of choking dust. He drank warm storebought water from a plastic bottle and wished he had a cold beer. However, he held off, knowing that he needed his wits about him when he went to look at Miranda’s gear. The police superintendent had told him that her effects had been stored in a locked room in the Mana Pools National Park staff village. Because of the amount of equipment she had with her, the police had been unable to cart all of it away Rather than splitting the possessions and risk losing some of them, they had left the lot in the care of the park’s warden.
The dirt road deteriorated, alternating between deeper corrugations and soft red sand. Jed adapted easily to the poor surface, which was like a highway compared to some of the roads he’d driven in Afghanistan. Parts of that mountainous country were unnavigable by vehicle and some Special Forces patrols even got around on horseback. He’d quickly learned that when driving at maximum speed, one actually sailed across the corrugated ridges in a bad road. When he hit a patch of sand he slowed down and followed the ruts made by Chris’s truck. Dense vegetation soon gave way to wide-open grassy plains.
‘We are in the floodplains now, except it doesn’t flood here any more, not since they built the dam at Kariba,’ Moses said, trying to engage Jed in conversation. ‘Before the dam all the pools would be joined when the river flowed and the animals would move inland. Now the animals are here yearround.
That’s what makes this place so special. See the waterbuck?’ He pointed off to the right.
Jed looked across and, after a couple of seconds, picked out five of the shaggy grey antelope.
‘See the white rings on their behinds?’
‘Nice target.’
Moses laughed. ‘No, take a look at the shape. It’s where the Hyena played a joke on the waterbuck by painting the toilet seat white.’
‘How many times have you told that one?’
‘Oh, about a thousand, I think. Do you know how to tell the difference between a male zebra and a female zebra?’
‘No, but I suspect you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.’
‘A male zebra is black with white stripes, while the female is white with black stripes.’
‘You’re a riot, Moses. Any more riveting animal tales?’
‘I told a lady from Kansas once that the difference between male elephant dung and the female’s is that hers tastes sweet and his tastes sour. She didn’t believe me, so …’
‘Don’t tell me you let her have a taste test.’
‘She said the dung must belong to a male because it tasted disgusting.’
Jed laughed. ‘Did you ever come clean to her?’
‘She went back to camp that night and told my boss she had tasted male elephant dung. I had to go find a new boss when we got back to Kariba.’
Jed laughed again. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘It’s true, I swear, man.’
‘Was it worth losing your job over?’
‘Sure.’
‘Remind me never to believe anything you say.’
‘See, you’re already smarter than most of the tourists I deal with.’
Jed smiled, pleased he had Moses along for the ride. He was certain the amiable tracker would help him in his quest – all he needed to work out now was what he was looking for.
She found that if she dived deep and kept swimming she eventually passed through the warm water into a deliciously cool layer. She levelled out and swam as far as she could in what she had nicknamed the fast chill zone. It refreshed her body and her mind. The ascent back to the surface was just as nice, but in reverse, warming her skin as she kicked for the light.
The whine of a marine engine made her look around as soon as her head broke the still surface of the Indian Ocean.
It was the Zodiac inflatable, its big outboard screaming at full pitch. She smiled. She had been looking forward to his return. She raised an arm and waved. She felt guilty about what she had done in his absence, but at the same time she was relieved. He had been gone for half the day, a business trip to the mainland, giving her plenty of time to search the luxury cruiser. The vessel was like something out of
Miami Vice
. Long, sleek, powerful – the ultimate rich boy’s toy. If she didn’t know better she would have said he was compensating for some anatomical deficiency.
After he had launched the boat and was out of sight, she had padded on bare feet along the thickly carpeted companionway from the saloon to the master bedroom at the bow, where they had made love and slept together these past two nights. They had been sharing a bed for a month, alternating between her place and his. She had been sure enough of him to have sex, but today had been her first chance to investigate his things, to delve into his private life, without him being present. Perhaps it was some niggling doubt in the back of her mind that made her conduct the search.
The master cabin smelled of his aftershave. His fragrance was subtle, not overpowering like the cheap stuff. She searched the cupboards and found a couple of expensive linen suits, tailored shirts, chinos, shorts, boxers, socks, running shoes and loafers. Nothing incriminating in the pockets. Nothing hidden beneath the underwear. She pulled out each drawer and checked underneath to see if anything was taped there. Again, nothing. There was a small amount of cash in a waterproof wallet in the drawer of the bedside table, and a box of condoms. She smiled and replaced them exactly as she had found them. In the second drawer was a binder with loose-leaf clear plastic inserts holding various documents. These were for the boat – registration papers, insurance, receipts for maintenance and provisions. There was a magazine face-down at the bottom of the drawer, a cigarette ad on the back cover. She picked it up. It was a glossy pornographic magazine. She sat on the bed and leafed through it. It was much more explicit than she would have imagined. Attractive models, males and females, females and females, in elegant settings doing some very inelegant things. She felt her cheeks redden, but kept turning the pages. The pictures did nothing for her, but she skimmed a couple of outrageously pornographic letters. She swallowed hard. She felt the wetness well between her legs and, not a little embarrassed by her involuntary arousal, quickly closed the magazine and replaced it, cover down, and shut the drawer.
No safe, no bundles of cash, no drugs, no fake passports, no weapons, nothing. Of course, there were lots of places to hide contraband on a boat which she could never hope to find, but the things she did find were helping her make up her mind. In the galley she found a gourmet French cookbook.
She already knew he loved to cook. In his brushed aluminium briefcase she found a thank-you letter from the children of a Catholic orphanage in Zambia he had donated five thousand American dollars to. The bookshelf in the galley held a few mass-market paperbacks, but also some modern classics and nonfiction books about a range of subjects from world trade and business administration to the Gulf War. There was a copy of the latest biography of the President of the United States.
She powered up his laptop and was relieved to see he did not use a password. Nothing to hide, she told herself. She found files relating to his hotels and the lodge. She found letters to universities in Zambia and Tanzania offering to establish scholarships for underprivileged students in his father’s name. She did a search and found the internet browser cache file. By opening that she could get an idea about what sites he surfed, through files that had been automatically downloaded. She clicked randomly on jpeg picture files and found images that related to online electrical goods stores, an international wildlife conservation charity and a British bank.
The evidence had confirmed what she already knew of him – that he was a philanthropic, progressive, successful heterosexual businessman with a passion for wildlife conservation, who was also wealthy, well read, well dressed and well educated. She’d shut down the computer, sunbathed on deck for a while then gone for a swim.
He cut the Zodiac’s motor and coasted up to where she trod water. He reached over the edge, offering his hand, and hoisted her effortlessly up over the side of the boat.
She kissed him.
‘Nice and salty,’ he said, ‘like a mermaid.’