pleasure, ma'mI'll get out the whisky bottle, said David. That's kind
of you, said Conrad Berg seriously, but the missus and I only drink Old
Buck dry gin, with a little water. 'I'll see to it, said David just as
seriously.
Jane Berg was a slim woman of about Conrad's age. She had a dried-out
face, lined and browned by the sun. Her hair was suribleached and
streaked with grey, and, as Debra remarked, she was probably the only
thing in the world that Conrad was afraid of.
I'm talking, Connie, was enough to halt any flow of eloquence from her
huge spouse, or a significant glance at her empty glass sent him with
elephantine haste for a refill. Conrad had a great deal of trouble
finishing any story or statement, for Jane had to correct the details
during the telling, while he waited patiently for an opportunity to
resume.
Debra chose the main course with care so as not to give offence,
beefsteaks from the deep freeze, and Conrad ate four of them with
unreserved pleasure although he spurned the wine that David served.
That stuff is poison. Killed one of my uncles, and stayed with Old Buck
gin, even through the dessert.
Afterwards they sat about the cavernous fireplace with its logs blazing
cheerfully and Conrad explained, with Jane's assistance, the problems
that David would face on Jabulani.
You get a few of the blacks from the tribal areas coming in from the
north Or across the river, Jane added.
Or across the river, but they are no big sweat They set wire snares
mostly, and they don't kill that much. But it's a terribly cruel way,
the poor animals linger on for days with the wire cutting down to the
bone, Jane elaborated.
As I was saying, once we have a few rangers busy that will stop almost
immediately. It's the white poachers with modern rifles and hunting
lamps 'Killing lamps, Jane corrected.
killing lamps, that do the real damage. They finished off all your game
on Jabulani in a couple of seasons. Where do they come from? David
asked, his anger was rising again, the same protective anger of the
shepherd that he had felt as he flew the skies of Israel.
There is a big copper mine fifty miles north of here at Phalabora,
hundreds of bored miners with a taste for venison. They would come down
here and blaze away at every living thing, but now it's not worth the
trip for them. Anyway they were just the amateurs, the weekend
poachers. 'Who are the professionals? Where the dirt road from
Jabulani meets the big national highway, about thirty miles from here -
At a place called Bandolier Hill, Jane supplied the name. - there is a
general dealer's store. it's just one of those trading posts that gets
a little of the passing trade from the main road, but relies on the
natives from the tribal areas. The person who owns and runs it has been
there eight years now, and I have been after him all that time, but he's
the craftiest bastard, I'm sorry, Mrs. Morgan I have ever run into.
'He's the one? David asked.
He's the one, Conrad nodded. Catch him, and half your worries are over.
