LITMIR.BIZ

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III Bumi Hills, 5:30 a.m.

      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 must be nearly 7 a.m.

      An engine hiccuped about a half kilometer away. He slipped the camera into his bag and pushed it under the front seat, out of sight. If Jeremy saw the camera, he’d tell tales to his dad. The engine grinding grew.

      “Jeremy is abusing second gear at the top of the trail. We have enough territory, we almost never have two vehicles crowding the animals. Let me show you the buffalo herd. I’ll find you some zebras and maybe a lion eating one of them.”

      She settled against the passenger door and stretched her legs toward him.

      Revving the starter, Brett began his quick history lesson as they wound down the trail past the lodge toward the lake front.

      Brett rattled on about Bumi Hills as a paradise, how the animals outnumbered the people. His usual game guide riff was punctuated with her questions about the birds they heard and the impalas they zipped past. Elise tri-folded her jacket and checking her pockets, found a tissue which she used to wipe dust off her nose and cheeks.

      They emerged from the trees on the long stretch of grasslands which bordered the lake and served as their airstrip.

      Brett shouted over the engine noise. “We buzz a vehicle down the middle before every flight’s arrival to clear off the animals.”

      “I had a rather rocky landing,” Elise braced against the dashboard as the Jeep bounced along. “The pilot banked to avoid a group of zebras.”

      “Zebras--pushy little brutes. They think they own the place.” Brett slowed down as the outside wheels ran on the lakeshore sand. He rattled through his script about Lake Kariba being the result of a British-built hydroelectric dam across the Zambezi River, which provides power to Zambia and Zimbabwe. As the dam widened the river’s channel, during the five years for the lake basin to fill, a massive rescue and relocation project called Operation Noah moved all the people and thousands of animals to higher ground. He paused in his recitation to point. “Like this bluff above us where the lodge rests.”

      Elise interrupted to ask how many animals and how they were relocated. It was a nice change to talk about the animals and not the current politics, but if he didn’t get back soon, Isaac would try that stupid hitchhiking home.

      Fifty cape buffalo with an assortment of puku, impala, and some zebra were disappearing into the trees, but there at the edge was the bonus Brett wanted--puffs of ground dust stirred near the water’s edge. He braked and pulled out his video camera and scanned a faraway group of buffalo, moving faster than normal this early in the day.

      “We’ve got a predator.” Brett accelerated down the landing strip until they were in the edge of the dust cloud. “There. To the right. Two lionesses.”

      The last buffaloes had pivoted to face outward, presenting a wall of horns to the strolling lionesses. Brett dropped into first gear, rolling within about twenty meters.

      “Are we going to

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