asked about the dads,” Isaac whispered. “It seemed like they were going to arrest me and then didn’t.”
“Where did they hit you besides the eye?” Brett asked and waited. Isaac turned away, his way of dodging questions.
“Mugabe’s thugs shut down three more independent newspapers.” Isaac’s voice rumbled over his shoulder. “Nshuma dumped me. Threw me over for her sister’s boss. Didn’t like me running with the opposition guys I know. Never liked jazz either. None of that’s important--we must go home to the farm tomorrow. Here.” Isaac handed Brett a telephoto lens. “You owe me.”
“Thanks. I only wish I’d had it thirty minutes ago.” Brett saw the lions emerge from the trees. They were probably safe as long as they stayed near a torch; lions weren’t likely to jump walls. “So a rotten trip all the way round--no girl, no fun. Going home tomorrow is going to be tricky. A small group of tourists flew in and I’m scheduled for the morning game drive and the sundowner.”
“I have to see the folks. I’ll hitchhike.”
“You can’t do that. We’ll bum a vehicle off David. Tell him we’re road testing the alignment or some stunt.” Brett doubted Isaac could walk to the main road to catch the first ride, much less cover the hundred kilometers of walking and hitching. “How can Harare business affect the folks?”
“The Harare business affects us all. I lied and if the bastards find out, I just don’t know what will come of it.” Isaac sounded so tired.
“No worries. I’ll handle David. He’s in an awful mood with so few bookings. Get some sleep and be ready to go right after the dawn ride. I’ll cut it short somehow.”
“It’ll be good to be home for a bit, won’t it?” Isaac asked. Next to Harare, Isaac was probably happiest at the farm, tinkering with beat up engines and old generators.
“Sure, I’ll tell your father about my leopard.” If his own dad didn’t nag him about coming home to farm. “Look,” Brett pointed to the waterhole where the old male lion was drinking. So bulky and heavy compared to his leopard. Isaac was already gone, inside the lodge’s side door. The Harare cops would never bother Isaac here in the veld. He unzipped his camera bag for a filter and tried it on his new telephoto. The moonlight was just right.
In the car park’s gray haze, Brett leaned against the idling Jeep for warmth. His boss David Colton emerged from the lodge lobby, trailed by his son Jeremy and a tourist family of three. The husband was in traditional khaki and the wife in a plaid dress but they had a kid, maybe five or six, which was the worst age to get bored and noisy on a game drive. Brett didn’t move so David wouldn’t change his mind and give him the group. The family climbed into the Land Rover and Jeremy drove out.
Brett chuckled at his luck. If nobody else was awake, he’d be free to drive Isaac right away. He started toward the kitchen wing.
David called, “Wait, you might have a single this morning. Don’t screw it up.”
A woman stood in the doorway, reading a waxy fax sheet. Outfitted in crisp linen and a sleek cascade of hair, she didn’t fit into the lodge’s weathered wood and fieldstone steps. She should be at the Ritz in Paris rather than their dark lobby with its trophy heads of kudu, lion, and warthog.
A straw hat dangled by blue ribbons from her arms. Slender and tall, the woman glided down the lodge steps. She telegraphed elegant and unapproachable, until she crumbled the fax and jammed it in her pocket. “Mr. Colton, I hope I’m not too late for a dawn safari.”
“Miss Elise Jorgensen, Brett will take you.” David gripped Brett’s upper arm. “He’s my best guide.”
She inclined her head, regal again and almost dismissive, and walked to the Jeep, her strippy sandals not skittering on the gravel.
Isaac positioned the step and helped her up the Jeep’s high running board. Elise threw Isaac a closed mouth smile and she murmured something. Isaac didn’t seem to answer; he grabbed the step, pulling his tan cap low on his forehead, probably trying to hide the black eye. Sitting, Elise twisted her blonde hair into a knot at the base of her neck. Brett mentally framed a portrait shot—she had a lush neck, but her nose was a bit too long in profile. Her mouth was rather attractive in its frown.
David hissed, “Keep her happy. No stupid stunts. No filming.”
“Me? Stunts? Never.” Brett winked. David must have her figured for a rich ex-pat with lots of diplomatic rich friends. “Don’t expect miracles,” Brett mock-punched David’s arm.
“Don’t expect your job is secure.” David dodged his punch and laughed, but Brett was glad to see him laugh; he’d been so damn serious lately.
Brett hurried to the Jeep and circled the lodge, planning to show her the bluff, the waterhole, the landing field, the lake, the works--quickly. He explained how the lodge buildings blended into the landscape. How their roads were natural, not tar. How the tourist bungalows were built into the side of the bluff, offering a nice view of sunrise and sunset on the lake. Elise pointed out the third one as hers.
“Let’s try our luck with a leopard. There’s a new female in the vicinity.”
“Somebody told me you never see a leopard on your first safari. They’re too elusive.” She stretched her fingers, no rings, toward the sky.
“Leopards are tough. Sometimes in the early morning, you catch them as they’re settling high in the trees to sleep.” Brett wheeled onto the gravel track. He’d love to pick up where he and the leopard left off. With only a single quiet tourist, he might get close again.
Barks of agitated baboons echoed around them. He hit the brake and the clutch. An alpha with yellow teeth shrieked as he lead the troop across the lane. Brett scanned the trees, hoping his leopard had caused the baboon panic.
Elise huddled in the middle of the bench seat. “Will they jump at us?”
“It’ll be all right. You have me to protect you.” Brett tapped the horn to make the alpha male move. “Humans are the only thing they hate worse than leopards. Maybe one is nearby.”
“Sorry, I’m edgy. I’ve never been on safari before.” Elise brushed trail dust off her jacket sleeves. If she disliked the safari, it would be easy to end this drive early and get away with Isaac.
Brett slipped out his video camera and focused on the baboons drifting into the brush. The mothers and babies first, then the young males, and last the beta male, a nice ambling parade. “No luck, no leopard.”
Elise asked. “Can I try?”
Her fingers squeezed Brett’s as he steadied the camera, but he wasn’t sure if she was aware of holding his hands so tight. He liked her interest, but even more he liked how soft her hands were.
The tape clicked off and she retracted her fingers from his. She was so close he breathed in a slight scent of juniper. “Here in the veld, I never know what will happen next. That’s my fun, finding and filming it.”
“I get it. Every day is different.” Elise began to slip off her jacket and Brett reached to help it off her shoulders. The sun creeping over the treetops warmed the air; it
