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

trap and immobilise them. Have you got the tranquilliser and ear tags?’
    â€˜Troy has them.’
    Eben looked at Troy for confirmation, who nodded.
    â€˜Who has the net?’
    â€˜Me.’ Kalila patted her small backpack.
    â€˜Gloves?’
    â€˜I’ve got them,’ Josie said. ‘Five pairs.’
    â€˜Sandwiches?’ Eben directed the question to Megan.
    â€˜Packed.’
    â€˜Who’s got the tape recorder?’
    â€˜Me.’ Fletch held it up. ‘And spare batteries.’
    They were eating oranges. The one thing Eben Kruger promised before they left Johannesburg was that they’d all lose weight. Two weeks into the field trip, this proved to be the case. Food was basic, wholesome and adequate – just. No alcohol, barring three bottles of cheap Cape Brandywyn for Eben’s
dops.
Bread was baked under a metal bowl covered with hot coals, eaten fresh and warm with no butter. Aside from six pockets of oranges and two each of onions and potatoes, which they’d brought with them – other fresh fruit and vegetables as well as meat were not possible – the team, whether they enjoyed it or not, existed on canned varieties of a tinny flavour and sludgy appearance. Breakfast was tea or coffee, cereal, powdered milk, and oranges to follow. Lunch consisted of roughly made sandwiches using bread from the previous night’s baking, spread with corned beef, jam or Marmite. Dinner, the one hot meal, was whatever revolting mix of tinned food the designated chef decided to throw together, along with rice or noodles and more fresh bread.
    Their diet, combined with hard physical conditions and days spent sweating in whatever scant shade could be found, fulfilled Eben’s promise. All of them had shed a few kilograms.
    Angela looked over at Eben, orange juice dripping from her chin. ‘May I stay in camp today please? I’m not feeling too well. Wrong time of the month.’
    Josie blushed and looked down at her feet. Angela’s frank admission caused her to feel squeamish and she couldn’t understand why the others simply kept eating.
    â€˜Sorry.’ Eben’s voice carried little if any sympathy. ‘No-one, I repeat, no-one is exempt. You’ll just have to deal with it.’
    â€˜It’s the wrong time for me too, Prof. We could both stay behind.’ Troy winked at Fletch.
    Some laughed. Josie and Angela didn’t. Professor Kruger scowled. ‘It’s no joking matter, my boy. Just thank God you’re not a woman.’ Eben’s lack of humour was outstanding in its magnitude. Troy and Fletch had a long-standing bet that Troy could get him to laugh. Fletch thought his money safe. Last year the professor had barely raised an acknowledging, though slightly pained, smile when one of the group complimented him on his lecturing methods.
    â€˜Are we all ready?’ Eben was moving away. ‘Right, team. Let’s go.’

TWO
THE RANGERS
    H e lay propped on one elbow, looking down at the sleeping woman beside him. In the cold half-light of morning, with make-up clogging pores and fine lines, hair squashed from sleep on one side but standing out on the other, imperfections not revealed in last night’s flickering firelight became obvious. Not a bad looker, but her declared forty-three years was in some doubt. Fifty-plus more like. She was snoring slightly and blue-veined eyelids flickered as she slowly surfaced from deep sleep. Bit different from last night’s wild cat. ‘Stupid,’ he castigated himself. ‘Just plain stupid.’ Indeed, it might have been but he knew he’d offend again.
    Dan Penman was very well aware of the rules. Guests paying for luxury accommodation were supposed to be off limits. What rubbish! A woman alone who booked into Etosha’s showpiece lodge on Logans Island had two possible objectives. To be shown the park’s animals by a ranger, or to seek out the animal in her