Jackal's Dance by Beverley Harper Read Free Book Online Page A

resentment.
    Fletch stood talking to the professor. The deep red of his thick hair, the translucence of a clear pale skin and startling blue eyes, seemed to take on extra depth as the first rays of sun fell on them. He was, without a doubt, the most interesting-looking of the group, each feature a well-defined, absolute block of colour. His nose sat neat and unobtrusive over well-defined lips. Good-looking, but not flamboyantly so. Fletch had a presence that grew on people, surprising them when they inevitably acknowledged that he was actually quite handsome. The standard red hair and freckles didn’t apply – there was not a freckle to be seen. He did have to watch his skin, though. It burned easily and never seemed to go brown. Reasonably tall at just over one hundred and eighty centimetres, well proportioned and extremely fit, if it hadn’t been for Fletch’s love of the bush he’d probably have turned to professional tennis. He had been good enough and still played a demon game, which kept him the university’s number one player and unbeatable in inter-varsity matches.
    Fletch was the son every mother dreamed of having. Even-tempered, easygoing, popular, good at school, captain of his house, up to the usual pranks when he was younger but nothing heart-stopping, polite, subtle though seriously funnysense of humour, athletic. The boy would, his parents knew, marry an acceptable girl and father two healthy children, one of each sex. He would never divorce, do drugs, become an alcoholic, drive recklessly or break the law in any shape or form.
    Oh the blindness of besotted parents!
    True, Fletch was a nice enough guy. But he certainly wasn’t perfect. There was more to Fletch than met the eye. At school, during his final year, he made smoke bombs courtesy of the science laboratory and set them off after lights out in the boarding house showers. The smoke alarms went bananas, the building was hastily evacuated and the fire brigade called. When the cause was discovered, an irate headmaster addressed one hundred or so pyjama-clad boys. ‘If the culprit is found he will be expelled,’ thundered the furious man. Fletch, as house captain, was instructed to make inquiries. He did so, then solemnly reported back that he’d been unable to discover who was responsible.
    During a formal dinner dance at the neighbouring girls’ school, Fletch was found under a hedge in compromising circumstances with one of the girls. Her headmistress, despite the late hour, telephoned his headmaster to report the incident. Luckily the man had a soft spot for Fletch, never believing for one minute that the boy was capable of anything truly dire. In any event, he didn’t particularly like the headmistress. She had not been pleased, therefore, when he sourly replied, ‘Half his luck.’ There had been a pregnancy scare, discreetly taken care of by the girl’s parents, and a warning toFletch: ‘For God’s sake, boy, wear a condom.’ The head’s attitude was that boys will be boys and the unfortunate girl had obviously led the lad on. He didn’t report the matter to Fletch’s parents.
    Friends called him a lead-foot because, especially when pissed, he drove like the clappers. Only an occasional pot smoker, Fletch drank to excess whenever he could afford to, partied at the drop of a hat and screwed whenever he got the chance. All in all, a typical university student. Butter did melt in his mouth, he said boo to geese whenever he saw them and the halo perceived by his adoring mum and dad was in dire need of replacement.
    For all that, those in authority saw potential and Fletch, despite his best efforts, was regarded as a quiet achiever and a born leader.
    The professor had almost finished his briefing. ‘You, Megan, Troy and Kalila make straight for the den. Josie, Angela and I will come in from the west. With luck, the family will be sleeping off breakfast and we can easily