Tony Park - Silent Predator

Tom smiled politely and noticed Sannie rolling her eyes.

‘By the way,’ Carla asked, ‘how is Nick? Is he ill? I got your email saying you’d be carrying out the advance and assumed he wasn’t well.’

‘Actually, he didn’t report for work the other day. We’re trying to locate him.’

‘Oh, shame,’ Carla said. ‘That doesn’t sound good. He always struck me as particularly… conscientious.’

Tom glanced at Sannie and saw she was making a show of looking away out over the Sabie River.

‘Were you in contact with Nick at all in the last week or so, in the lead-up to this visit?’ Tom asked.

‘Err, well… I mean, there was the official notification of the meeting between the two ministers, which came through two weeks ago from the British Embassy, and the bookings for the rooms and conference room…’

Tom said nothing. Something about Carla’s tone of voice and Sannie’s attitude and earlier remark told him Carla had had more than official contact with Nick. He knew that the best way to get someone talking was to keep quiet and let the other person fill the void.

‘Perhaps one or two other follow-up messages,’ Carla said, looking down and brushing the front of her pale linen pants with her palms. ‘There was nothing odd, if that’s what you mean.’

‘Odd?’ Tom said.

‘Well, Nick sounded fine in his emails. He liked Africa and working with Robert, and was looking forward to coming back again and seeing…’

‘Seeing?’ Sannie prompted.

Tom smiled inwardly. He didn’t mind that she had interrupted his questioning; he would have said exactly the same thing. Carla couldn’t stop talking once she started. Her accent was softer than Sannie’s and Tom guessed from her name being Sykes, which he assumed was her maiden name as she wore no wedding ring, she was a South African of British descent, as opposed to an Afrikaner.

‘Seeing all the fabulous game we have here on the concession,’ Carla said to Sannie, punctuating the sentence with pursed lips.

‘Thank you, Carla, I’m sorry to put you on the spot like that, but we’re trying to put together a picture of Nick’s movements and contacts over the days leading up to his not reporting for work. Any bit of information might help.’

‘Well, if I think of anything, I’ll pop by later,’ she said, smiling again at Tom. ‘Now, if there’s nothing else you need to discuss, I’ll show you to your rooms. Your afternoon game drive is at four, in just over an hour. I presume you want to go on it?’

‘The minister’s itinerary includes an afternoon drive, so I’d like to see the route we’ll be taking,’ Tom said.

‘Don’t forget your camera — for research purposes only, of course,’ Carla laughed. She appeared to be grateful the talk had switched from the topic of her and Nick back to preparations for the visit.

Their suites were separate dwellings, strung out along the Sabie River. The rooms were linked by a walk-way made of timber logs, set about a metre above the ground. While the bush had been cleared in front of each suite to allow uninterrupted views of the river, the trees and other vegetation between and behind the individual units appeared to be natural.

‘What about wild animals coming into the grounds?’ Tom asked Carla on the way to his room.

‘We’ve got low-level electric fences around the accommodation which deter rather than prevent the game moving to and from the river. Our guests like the feeling of being in the wild and everyone is escorted to and from their suite after dark by a security guard.’

‘So animals such as lions could feasibly jump over the fences?’ Tom asked, doing his best to sound unperturbed.

‘We’ve got a resident leopard that manages to wander around at will. I think he walks under the fence. You might get to see him if you’re lucky,’ Carla said brightly.

‘Right.’

Inside the suite he could see why Tinga charged what it did. This was as luxurious as he imagined an African safari lodge could be. The room was arranged in a linear layout with the separate lounge, bedroom and bathroom all facing the river through large plate-glass windows. Sliding doors opened from the lounge onto a private deck with table, chairs, sun beds and a personal plunge pool. Tom knelt and dipped a finger in. It was heated. Of course.

Back inside there was airconditioning, a sound system, widescreen television and a DVD player, and a phone and computer connection. The bathroom boasted a deep tub on a raised platform, for game viewing while washing, and a shower big enough for two.

‘I’ll leave you to settle in,’ Carla said.

She was a beautiful, sexy, apparently single woman. Why wouldn’t she and Nick have become involved? Tom wondered. It wasn’t a particularly professional thing to do, although Nick wouldn’t have been the first protection officer to get lucky on an away trip. Tom thought that he’d have to report back to Shut-tleworth and maybe get Carla to print out hard copies of Nick’s emails. If Nick had been telling her he was looking forward to getting back to South Africa to see her, that was a good indicator he had no plans to skive off from a free trip here.

Tom dumped his bags and then, using the key Carla had given him, went next door to the room which would be used by Greeves. This part of the recce was second nature to him.

He walked through the room first, making sure the layout and orientation were the same as his. He checked the locks on the entry door and the sliding door out onto the private deck, testing them, making sure they could be secured from inside. He’d get a list from Carla later of how many duplicate keys and master keys the lodge held, and who had access to them. Walking out onto the deck he looked to see if any of the other suites overlooked this one. As he had expected, privacy was part of the package at Tinga, which was good, but it also meant Tom couldn’t keep an eye on the exterior of Greeves’s suite. The bush was as thick around this room as it was around all the others — and that was a minus.

The lack of other team members continued to niggle at Tom. There were ways around this, though. The police at Skukuza didn’t have the manpower to provide night duty uniform cover, so Tom intended bringing a passive alarm system back with him from the UK. He would set up infra-red sensors on the deck and outside Greeves’s door, so that if the beams were broken Tom would get a warning signal in his room. The risk wouldn’t normally warrant the extra security, but in this case technology could help make up for the lack of round-the-clock coverage.

Tom checked the room’s landline was working, and noted the internet connection as well. He would check out the private dining room in which Greeves and his South African counterpart would take their meals when he went up for his own, after the game drive. He’d also put Carla on notice that he’d need a list of restaurant staff, cleaners and other people who had access to the areas the officials would visit. He wanted dates of birth and other details of new employees. He’d give the list to Sannie to run through the South African criminal records system.

Satisfied for the time being, Tom locked the door to Greeves’s room and went back to his own. He changed out of his business shirt, jacket and chinos into a pair of dark blue shorts and a white T-shirt, and swapped his brogues for a pair of trainers and white socks. Feeling himself starting to tire after the flight and long drive, he grabbed a can of Coke out of the well-stocked mini-bar. There was a knock at the door.

‘Shame, man, you can’t go into the bush dressed like that!’ Sannie said. She was wearing green shorts — which were very short — rubber sandals with Velcro straps decorated with some sort of geometric African pattern, and a sleeveless khaki button-up shirt which hung over her holster.