Mark of the Lion (35 page)

As the assault continued, the snarls rose in pitch and volume. A rock struck the enraged animal on the snout; then one massive paw swiped a second rock aside. The lion tensed, gathering its muscular hindquarters beneath it to charge the throwers. Avery took careful aim with a Jeffery rifle and fired a soft-nosed bullet into the cat’s side as it leaped. The shot diverted the furious animal’s attention from the gun bearers to the hunters but failed to pierce the heart. Now over five hundred pounds of dun-colored muscle hurled itself in Avery and Jade’s direction.

The lion launched itself into the air.

“Shoot it!” screamed Beverly.

Two rifles cracked simultaneously as both Jade and Avery fired into the massive chest. The lion twisted in midair in pain and rage and fell in a heap four feet in front of them. Razor-sharp claws scrabbled in the dirt as it writhed. Its jaws convulsed once in a stifled roar, and the great cat lay still.

Harry ran up to make certain the animal was truly dead before allowing anyone else to come closer. “Excellent shooting,” he said as he examined the lion’s chest. “Both of your bullets penetrated within an inch of each other and entered the heart.” He looked at Dunbury with a sly grin. “You’ll have to share this one with Jade.”

Jade shook her head. “Avery shot first. It’s his. I’m just glad it can’t come back after the men tonight.” She stood apart and watched as the others swarmed over the carcass like hungry scavengers. Even Memba Sasa took part in the poking, measuring, and general conquest of the beast’s remains. He drew a knife and, after using it to measure the hind limbs, cut a small bit of hair from the lion’s very sparse mane.

“Hey!” said Jade suddenly. “That’s the wrong lion.” The others looked up in astonishment and stared at her as though she had spoken some foreign gibberish.

“Impossible,” declared Roger with more venom than Jade had heard in his voice before. “We tracked the blood trail from the compound wall itself.”

“No. This lion has no mane to speak of.”

“Of course not, Miss del Cameron.” Roger sounded like a weary adult instructing an annoying, ignorant child. “The Tsavo males aren’t the same as the Serengeti lions. We explained that to you yesterday.”

Jade clenched and released her fist with mounting impatience. “That’s the point,” she persisted. “The lion in the compound last night
did
have a big mane. I saw it when he moved into the firelight just before he jumped the fence.” She looked to the others for confirmation without results. Madeline and Beverly had stayed behind in their tents, Avery had arrived after the lion cleared the
boma
wall, and Roger had fallen into Harry before the cat moved into the light.

Harry moved to the cat’s rear quarters and examined the hind legs. “If you need more proof, it’s right here,” he said. “There’s a fairly fresh scrape on the hind leg where your bullet grazed it last night.”

Jade stepped forward and examined the leg. The wound looked fresh, and a spot of red came away on her fingertips. “It’s bleeding,” she said. “It should have scabbed over by now.”

Harry shook his head. “Not necessarily. Walking out here in all this thorn would either keep it open or reopen it easily enough. You probably saw shadows and thought it was the mane. It’s what everyone expects to see.”

Jade scowled again but didn’t answer his patronizing suggestion. True, a running animal might bleed longer, but the wound itself looked wrong. A grazing bullet should have scraped off some hide on either side and made a troughshaped wound. This looked too sharp and fresh.

“Photograph it, Jade, before the men skin it out,” said Avery.

Jade handed her Winchester to Pili and started to take the camera bag instead. She stopped in midreach. “Is that the lion that clawed your tent, Pili?” she asked.

The young Somali shrugged. “It was dark, mistress. I mostly saw his claws.”

Jade turned her outward attention to gratifying Avery’s good-natured vanity. Inwardly, something didn’t feel right about the entire episode, but she couldn’t pinpoint what was awry.

The Wakamba skinned out the cat with swift, expert strokes before they hauled it back to the base camp. The rhino head had been attended to on its arrival to camp, and they stretched out the great lion skin near it. Avery examined his two trophies like a child with new toys, and Beverly smiled as she watched him. Her “Isn’t he wonderful” came out more as a statement of fact than as a question. Jade didn’t bother to reply, but Madeline, more sympathetic to the emotions of a new bride, agreed. The two women discussed the relative merits of their spouses while Jade cleaned her Winchester. Eventually, Beverly noticed Jade’s pensive silence and nudged Madeline.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, love,” said Beverly. “Here we are carrying on like two love-struck schoolgirls without a thought to you.”

“I assure you, I don’t mind in the least,” replied Jade while peering down the barrel. “I actually found it rather amusing.”

Beverly frowned. “You really must stop dwelling on David,” she said finally. “I know you miss him terribly, but you cannot”—she searched for the word she wanted—“focus on him any longer.” She put a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. “There will be someone else for you someday; I know it.”

Jade looked at the hand and then locked her green eyes on Beverly’s. “You know nothing of the sort, Bev,” she said softly. “But,” she added, “I wasn’t thinking about David just now.”

“Oh?”

“No. I’m still bothered by that lion Avery shot.”

“Roger’s convinced it’s the same one,” said Madeline. “And Harry—”

Jade held up her hand to interrupt. “I know you put prodigious faith in Harry, Madeline, including his ability to make me forget David.” She frowned at Madeline, and the latter ducked her head from Jade’s penetrating eyes. “Nevertheless, they’re both wrong.” She finished with her rifle and set it on her lap. “There’s something wrong about a lot of things,” she muttered.

“Such as?” asked Madeline.

“Such as why the lion last night went for Pili in his tent rather than one of the exposed men sleeping outside. Such as the way Memba Sasa tracked today. Did you notice? He barely looked at the ground or the vegetation. I did. I didn’t see any blood spoor.” She took a deep breath and exhaled in a loud huff. “I don’t like that man.”

“Who?” asked Bev. “Memba Sasa? What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know for certain. Nothing and everything.”

“Oh, well, that’s specific,” said Beverly in a sarcastic tone. “Really, Jade, you are just overwrought. I worried that this entire assignment would be too much for you. We all know you’re tremendously brave and positively splendid, but there is a limit to what anyone can endure. I’m just glad that your crusade to find David’s brother is over.” She smiled and nodded in the direction of the men. “You were right, darling. You did find him out here.”

“And how wonderful for Roger,” added Madeline. “The poor boy’s had such a run of bad luck. Maybe now he’ll move on with his life and marry that silly Leticia.”

“Who’s Leticia?” asked Beverly.

“A local girl,” answered Madeline. “Very pretty, but a little fool, if you ask me. Her father fell into debt and was bought out by Godfrey Kenton with Leticia thrown into the bargain even though Roger loved her. Godfrey was a bit of a dolt and a rounder. Pity how he died though.” She shuddered. “It was horrid finding him.”

“We don’t know how he died,” said Jade. “I still think he was murdered and his body tossed onto Colridge’s land to confuse the issue. That car proved he was at the flumes.”

“But not that he was killed there,” added Beverly. “I’m inclined to agree with the commissioner. He may have been drunk, passed out, and died of exposure.”

“And his body just happened to get hauled for miles?” Jade asked.

“Maybe Leticia shot him,” suggested Madeline. “But I can’t see that little thing moving his body. She’d need an accomplice. Just about everyone hated him. I know Harry did.”

“So did Donaldson, and Roger’s still in love with her,” said Jade. “At least if the way he behaved at the Muthaiga Club is any indication.”

“Well, then, perhaps Roger will get Leticia after all, if that Mrs. Estes person takes her claws out of him,” added Beverly. “I got the impression he was one of her toys, her
many
toys.”

Jade rose from her seat. “How can anyone keep up with these webs that people weave down here? I just want to find a killer. But with Kenton buried, we’re not likely to find the real cause of death, and everyone has a motive. With Gil, I know
how
he died; I just have no idea why.” She headed for her tent.

As she turned away, Bev called after her, “How is your knee handling the walking?”

Jade stopped and shook her leg. “It’s fine. In fact it only seems to hurt on two different occasions. One, when it’s going to rain.”

“And what’s the other occasion?” prompted Bev.

“When something’s about to kill one of us.”

Later in the afternoon, Roger led the crew out to hunt for the pot. Harry had scheduled a day trip to the Chyulu Hills and they needed enough food to last the meat-eating Wakamba until they returned. This time Memba Sasa came along, but Jade noticed he acted more like Roger’s bodyguard and less like a tracker. Pili insisted on accompanying Jade. The Mannlicher required considerable repair to be usable; consequently, there was little need of a gun bearer. Jade reasoned that he wanted to make amends by being responsible for her camera if not for her extra gun.

He was certainly an interesting young man, she thought. Handsome, too, with his finely chiseled features, glowing bronze complexion, black hair, and clear hazel eyes. Before this hunt, she’d examined his wound for any sign of pustulance and discovered he spoke French. At least he swore in that language when she peeled off the stuck bandage and took a few arm hairs with it. Well, he was French Somali, and Jade recalled that Lord Colridge said he went to school at the mission. That certainly reckoned with the gold cross and chain around his neck. Perhaps she could write an article about him. She made a mental note to ask him about his life working for the flamboyant old horse breeder.

Two rifle reports disrupted her thoughts. Madeline brought down a Thomson’s gazelle with her shot, but Beverly, who had never hunted before, attempted to use her husband’s largercaliber rifle. The sharp recoil brought her onto her backside as neatly as Madeline’s shot brought down the Tommy. Jade stifled her laughter by looking away. Beverly kicked her friend in the ankle anyway.

“That’s for thinking about laughing,” she said and then broke out in a melodious chuckle. Her husband pulled her up and kissed her while the others pretended not to see.

Harry and Ruta followed the herd in hopes of bagging a second animal and left Roger, Memba Sasa, and several Wakamba to deal with Madeline’s Tommy. Soon after, they heard the report of Harry’s rifle. Roger dispatched a couple more Wakamba to assist with whatever his partner had bagged.

“You chose a good man for a partner,” said Avery.

“Who, Harry? Yes, he’s quite a good chap,” replied Roger with little feeling. He peered at Jade. “You’re a cool one, too, Miss del Cameron,” he added. “After watching you toy with that rhino and fire into the lion this morning, I doubt anything rattles you.”

Jade was too taken aback by the personal comment to reply. Beverly jumped in.

“She is positively amazing, Mr. Forster. It’s no wonder your brother took such a fancy to her. The only time I ever saw our Jade rattled, as you put it, is when she had to transport a load of shell-shocked soldiers and they started laughing in the most insane—” Beverly saw Jade’s lips tighten and stopped. “I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m a bloody fool.”

“Quite all right, Bev,” Jade whispered. But it wasn’t. The reminder of that terrible experience sickened her. Jade declined Harry’s offer of an evening stroll just outside the
boma
and retired early that night, grateful that no unwanted visitors entered the compound.

 

His body swayed rhythmically to the barely mumbled chants as he sat naked on the ground. No chance for a fire here. Too many nosy humans about. He put a piece of dried weed under his tongue and let its magic work through him, feeling it dribble first down into his stomach, hot and potent. The heat entered his blood and coursed through his arteries, feeding his muscles. Though his eyes were shut, he could see. He saw the wild predators of the night and mentally sorted through them all. The jackal was too small. The leopard turned and ran when he bent his thoughts to it. None would face the ointment smeared on the heathen’s tent. No worry, the heathen would fall. And the woman? She was too clever, and consequently, too dangerous. He would take care of her himself. There would be an opportunity soon enough.