The Thrill of the Hunt
"There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter." -Ernest Hemingway
Ajay sat at a table in the middle of a large outdoor cafe shaded by the umbrella canopy above, watching the crowd of tourists who were becoming all too frequent visitors to one of his favorite getaways. He sighed at the raucous created by the people as they chatted with each other about what sights the day was to bring them, what activities they wanted to participate in throughout their stay in Mombasa.
The smell of barbeque wafted through the smoky air as the fires were strengthened to continue roasting the feast of chicken tikka, or barbeque, a popular food at the restaurant. Waitresses were bringing out huge salads for their guests and refilling drinks here and there as the heat of the African sun began to bear down on them.
Ajay picked up some Mishkaki attached to a small skewer from his plate and absentmindedly tore away a piece of the barbequed beef. He nodded in thanks as a waitress poured more liquid into his glass.
It was a beautiful day in Mombasa, but Ajay was bored.
"Roland, what are we doing here?" he asked irritably. His question broke the silence that seemed to surround only their table.
Roland was calmly peering through his glasses which he had pulled from the pocket of his shirt. Holding the small spectacles towards the sky, Roland squinted as his eyes met the bright rays of the sun.
"What do you mean, Ajay?" He blew on the lenses with a sharp breath then, using the end of his shirt, began to clean them further. "Aren't you enjoying your day?"
"Not in the least." Ajay dropped the metal skewer into his plate, producing a high-pitched ringing.
Roland looked out into the crowd. "Neither am I, Ajay, neither am I."
Silence fell upon them once again.
In their younger years, never a day went by that an exciting occurrence did not happen. They were usually the ones to make their own adventures. Other occasions would present their own challenges, such as a safari with some egotistical millionaire hell-bent on showing off to his friends and family back home with a new trophy.
In these types of situations, Roland and Ajay would be hired to guide the man through the African bush so he could experience the joy of hunting the world's most sought after trophies. Always thinking he was better than the two young hunters, the rich man would never cease to amaze Ajay with his endless praises of the hunts he claimed to have been on in years gone by. But, with his bumbling nature and an embarrassingly low knowledge of how a gun works, the likelihood of his resume being as lengthy as he claimed it to be was unsurprisingly small.
Danger always lurked nearby during these times. The end result would inevitably the man wandering off into the bush without thinking of the consequences, forcing Ajay and Roland to come to the rescue at the first roar of a lion or cackle from a hyena.
Close calls were what life was made of in those days. Shooting a charging rhino at point-blank range, something most considered frightening, offered just the adrenaline rush needed to keep them satisfied. Hunting was not only a sport but a way of life.
But now, at their age, nothing exciting or challenging seemed to happen.
Ajay looked at his old friend. Roland was not acting like himself lately. His attitude, while still marked by the same arrogance and air of an English Gentleman of his generation, was dulled by thoughts of a certain subject Roland didn't care to discuss, but it weighed on his mind immensely.
"Retirement, Roland, is not for the faint of heart- not in our line of work. I see no reason for you to pursue the idea so strongly."
Roland's gaze met Ajay's. The man knew Roland better than he knew himself. "How did you know I was contemplating retirement?"
"You've not been yourself lately. That fire, while still present, has lowered in intensity. I can see it in your eyes. You're tired of this life, are you not? You've wasted your life, and now it's time to put away your gun; to put it on its rack and let it gather dust?"
Roland stopped cleaning his glasses, leaving them resting in his hands. A smile slowly came to his face. "I have no intentions of letting that gun collect dust."
"Well forget about the gun then. It has far too much life in it to turn old before its time."
Roland gathered what his friend was implying. "Now just what is that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Roland. Look at yourself. You're bored out of your mind and turning into an old man right before my eyes. What happened to the Roland Tembo of only a year ago? Has he left us so quickly?"
"He has done no such thing. He's merely waiting for something worthwhile to bring him out of early retirement and back into the game. Seeing as how there is no prey that he has yet to conquer, he shall keep waiting."
"Waiting doesn't suit you, Roland. You're not the kind of man to wait for something, you go in search of it."
"But I will not search for something beneath me, and whatever treasures the forests and plains of this world holds has become beneath me. It seems nothing amuses me anymore." He held up his glasses once again to check that he had not missed anything. A familiar flash of khaki reflected in the lenses. Roland paused.
"Unless it comes searching for me," he said. His voice sounded like a predator stalking it's prey once again.
Ajay looked at Roland questioningly, but the hunter's was not paying him any mind. His questions were answered by a quick glance behind Tembo. Immediately Ajay became nervous. He hated confrontations. Roland always fought the battles. Ajay was only a backup player.
Roland heard the sound of the dry earth crunching beneath boots getting closer and closer until the sound ceased.
"Good afternoon Robert. I thought I smelled whiskey. I trust the drive from Nairobi was a pleasant one?"
"Very pleasant. There were more damn people on that train than I'm bloody well used to. Funny how the laughs of fifty tourists sound so similar to a hyena pack. But enough with the small talk; I've come to have a word with you, Tembo."
"You seem to have forgotten your manners at home, Robert. When speaking with superiors, one should always use the prefix Mr.. Sir would have been even better. However, let's not linger on formalities. If your mother never taught you manners, you'll never learn. Do have a seat. Allow me to get you a chair." Roland took his foot and kicked a chair out from under the table for Muldoon.
Roland spoke with an air of bemusement and haughtiness that made the anger boil up under Muldoon's skin, but Muldoon didn't come to bicker like a schoolboy. He came for answers.
"Don't mind if I do."
Muldoon made himself at home in the chair. He tossed his favorite hat on the back of Roland's chair and kicked his muddy boot clad feet up onto the table. His chair leaned back as he lounged, smirking at Tembo. A waitress walked up to take his order, but Muldoon waved her away with a polite smile.
"I'm sure you know why I'm here."
"I'm sure I don't, Robert, but now that you have so graced us..." Roland paused to pick out a clod of dirt that had fallen from the dripping boots into his plate. He flicked it away. "...with your presence, perhaps you could enlighten me."
"Well, if you're sure..." Muldoon reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out something small and shiny. He placed it in front of Tembo. "Look familiar to you, Roland?"
"Of course it does, Robert. It's a bullet. My God, man, are you losing your touch?" Roland chuckled and looked at Ajay who returned the gesture with a bemused smile. "I do hope you didn't travel all this way for me to tell you that."
"No. I know exactly what kind of bullet that is, and what gun it belongs to. Do you?" Muldoon's stare was icy cold and directed squarely in Roland's face. It was a good way to dismantle an enemy's confidence. Just by staring you could get certain people to spill their darkest secrets. Just by staring you could make them believe you knew everything about them. People did not like it. Robert once made a young man piss himself with only his eyes. It was a powerful weapon, but he was sure it would not break down all Tembo's walls.
Roland met Muldoon's gaze and his eyes were twinkling with joy. Tembo was enjoying himself. Robert posed a challenge to him, but Roland was sure he could best the warden. He loved the game. It brought back a little of the fire. "How about a drink, Robert? I'm sure you couldn't pass the offer up. What's your pleasure?" Roland called over the young waitress to the table. "Bring a bottle of scotch for my friend here, would you please? And keep them coming." The waitress nodded, looking confused, and walked away. Muldoon said nothing.
Tembo took a sip of water. "You do like whiskey, don't you Robert?." Muldoon continued to sit and watch Tembo, rocking the tilted chair he was sitting on slowly.
Not missing a beat, Roland picked up the bullet and twirled it around his fingers. "It's for big game hunting, no question Robert. Elephants would be my guess, and I am an exceptional guesser. I'd say a Nitro Express. .600 double barrel no doubt."
"You know the gun that uses it then?"
"Know it? I happen to have one myself, coincidentally of course."
"Of course."
"And why are you so curious? Granted it's no common gun. Not just any hunter carries them, but they're more abundant in this part of the world than anywhere else I'd wager."
"That bullet was found on my preserve not long ago. It was found very near the carcass of a freshly killed elephant. Now, as poaching hasn't been much of a problem lately, I'm curious to find out why, all of a sudden, someone would want to come along and kill that animal. Since ivory is not as valuable as it used to be, and it's an isolated incident, I have led myself to believe it wasn't the animal that whoever did this was after."
The waitress came back with Roland's requested full bottle of Scotch and set three glasses down for the men. Muldoon dropped his feet from the table. Opening the bottle, he poured the whiskey into the glasses. He offered Roland and Ajay a glass. "No thank you, Muldoon, it's too early...for me," Ajay said. Roland shook his head. "I'll stick with water. Now, are you going to keep us guessing?"
Muldoon took his glass and downed the drink in one shot, followed by the other two. "I came to see if you perhaps know something about it?"
"And why would I, Robert?"
"Why wouldn't you? You own a .600 Nitro. You said so yourself. I'm sure you wouldn't let that gun sit around. Most people keep them as collector's items. You're not most people."
"You're saying I had something to do with the poaching incident on your preserve?"
"I'm saying it's a rather strong coincidence finding that bullet. People don't just drop them. They're expensive. Expensive, that is, unless you have a large bank account." Muldoon raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Also, you're not very fond of me, Tembo. Hell, I'm pretty sure you hate me. It also pains me very little to say, I despise you as well."
"Well, now that you've so brilliantly summed up our relationship, why don't you come out and say exactly what it is you are thinking."
"You know very well what I'm saying. You're the poacher."
Roland's face tightened. His eyes had a deadly gleam to them softened only slightly with the thrill of the hunt. His voice turned serious. "Proceed cautiously, Robert. You are treading on very dangerous territory."
"You dislike being called what you are?" Muldoon smiled. He had hit Tembo below the belt. It felt good.
"I dislike being accused before proven guilty, Robert. I also despise that dreadful word."
"Well, as for being proven guilty, I'm working on it. But what have you got against that word?"
"It wrongly defines us." Ajay said.
"It's the connotation that comes with it. Very dishonorable business, Muldoon. You know that. You've shot animals many times before. They don't call you the Great White Hunter for anything, but are you considered a poacher? I think not. So, why am I?" Roland leaned back in his chair. "We are very different, you and I. I would never accuse you of being a drunken has-been who's too blind to see that the world is changing, if I weren't sure you were. You wear your character right on your sleeve. You're so transparent, it's laughable. And you have the bollocks between your legs to accuse me of being a...a poacher. " Tembo struggled slightly with the word. It had a bitter taste.
"Better being transparent than hiding from the world as you do behind your culture, poise, and fancy words. When it comes to me, people know what they're getting."
"That may be, Robert, but we do have something in common." Roland said. "We're both hunters."
"Yes, but with different prey." Muldoon grabbed his hat off the back of Roland's chair. "You, like a hyena, prey on the weak; those without a voice. I myself like to prey on those who go after the weak. For that reason, we shall remain at odds."
Roland got to his feet as well. He stood a head shorter than Muldoon. "I'm sorry we can't be friends, Robert. I'd be lying if I said you don't make a somewhat worthy opponent. I do hope we can do this again."
"Well, this has been less than fruitfull, but it's only the beginning. If you refuse to confess, which I thought you would, I'll have to resort to other means. I'll be in Mombasa for a few days on some...business. I'm sure I'll run into you again, soon."
Roland turned towards Muldoon. "Now what does Robert Muldoon have up his sleeve?"
Ajay chuckled. "A flask of Vodka, perhaps?" He exchanged a joking look with his friend.
Muldoon ignored the quip. "I'll get to the bottom of this, Tembo. Mark my words. You won't always have that cocky little grin on your face."
Roland watched as Muldoon began to march away. "I look forward to hearing from you, boy. In the meantime, I'll pick up your tab."
Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait for a short chapter everyone. Just want to say thank you to all who reviewed, even during my long time away. Thanks Sassy Lil Scorpio for our Tembo/Muldoon chats (along with all the other great JP chats). It helped me get back into this.