The Hunter by Tony Park

did, Patrick seemed intent on putting his clients in harm’s way, and Brand now felt some moral obligation to try and make sure they all returned from this afternoon’s walk alive. ‘No, I’m coming along.’
    Patrick stopped the vehicle and, to his credit, quickly reiterated the key parts of his briefing. Brand loaded his rifle. ‘Keep up with me, Yank,’ Patrick said to Brand as he set off.
    Brand thought it odd that Patrick was forging ahead. Patrick, Brand knew, was a freelance guide like himself, but he’d had more to do with Gert’s camp than Brand had. Brand had assumed that he would have been out front, tracking, and that Patrick would be in the second position, looking after the guests. That was how he would have arranged it. Brand was the hired hand on this occasion and as such he shouldn’t have had a speaking role. But perhaps Patrick guessed, correctly, that if Brand was number one rifle he would have chosen a safer route, and one with less potential to deliver hefty tips. Brand always made a point of telling people on a guided safari walk that he was not looking for big game, and explained his reasons why.
    Brand slipped into his role as the commentator for this walk. ‘We’re here to look at the small things as well as the big animals – spider webs, tracks, insects and trees,’ he said. ‘Your safety is our number one priority so we won’t go out of our way to find dangerous game.’
    Brand could sense Patrick bridling as the other man moved off, down a sandy bank into the thick bush and towering sycamore figs and fever trees that lined the banks of the largely dry river. Brand said a small prayer and held his rifle across his chest, at the ready.
    Patrick, Brand observed, was not unskilled as a tracker or guide. He moved carefully and quietly and tested the wind by allowing a handful of fine sand to run slowly from his closed fist. He led them so that the wind was in their faces and he insisted they keep the talking to a minimum. If he wanted to walk them into an encounter with a surprised and ornery buffalo or a protective lioness and cubs then he was going about it the right way.
    Brand called a halt and deliberately allowed his voice to carry as he showed the guests the shell of a leopard tortoise. A hole had been pecked in the hapless creature’s back and Brand explained that the ground hornbill, with its long, strong, black beak was one of the few creatures that could crack the tortoise’s armour.
    ‘Can we move on, if you’re finished with the dead tortoise?’ Patrick said, not trying to hide his impatience.
    Asshole , Brand thought. Patrick’s skilled tracking paid off, though, when he picked up a herd of elephant feeding ahead of them and called the tourists forward without alerting the elephants to their presence. They crouched in the riverbed, in the shade of a towering jackalberry tree, and watched the giant creatures for a while, peaceably munching on foliage around them. They were oblivious to the humans, until the auto-focus beep on Darlene’s camera alerted the herd’s matriarch. The elephant turned to them, flapped her sail-like ears and shook her head. At her signal, a rumbling from her belly, the herd gathered and moved away from the people, out of the riverbed and deeper into the surrounding bush.
    Patrick glared at Darlene. ‘Can’t you silence that?’
    ‘Sorry.’
    Brand was astounded Patrick would address Darlene in such an abrupt manner.
    Darlene fiddled with some buttons on the camera. ‘I don’t know how. Maybe I shouldn’t take any pictures.’
    ‘Here, let me have a look,’ Brand said to her. As a guide he had developed a basic understanding of cameras and photography early on and as a private investigator he found his knowledge of light, shutter speeds and lenses was a bonus during surveillance work. He found the settings menu on the camera and was able to cancel the beeping noise. ‘All done.’
    Darlene laid her hand on his and smiled up at him.