Chapter 9.
He lit another cigarette and put the old stub into an overflowing ashtray on his desk.
Squinting through the blue haze he looked at the couple of photos in his hand. They were a little out of focus but the beauty of the cub could be seen. He had been lucky enough to take these. The she leopard kept her cub well out of sight. She was very fierce that one, and not an animal to be argued with. One lash out with an angry paw would skin a man alive.
The cub was still to young at the moment to leave its mother, a little more time, and then he would start the bidding. He had several people in mind. There was the rich russian with his private zoo, not forgetting the arab sheik who loved big cats. He would fall over his headdress to get this one for his own collection. The world could be his oyster with this special prize.
He mused to himself whilst turning the photo over in his hand. He had people watching the leopard from a safe distance, waiting for his call when the time was right.
Now back to this other matter. He looked at the hastily scrawled message he had received the night before. Time was closing in on him, he felt it in his bones. The lucrative life he had had for these last few years could be coming to an end. They were onto him. This would be the last animal he would catch for someone. He would make sure it was worth his while. It had to keep him for the rest of his life, and he liked the odd luxury or two.
Getting up and walking out of the room, quietly thinking and planning what all had to be done, he grabbed a cool beer from the fridge and went out into the yard.
The moon was just coming up over the ridge. There was a loan mournful call from a lion, frogs croaked in a nearby creek. 'God he loved this country, what had got him into all this!
Whilst out hunting with a friend he had been asked if he knew of anyone who could help with the capture of the odd animal for private use.
Some people would pay a fortune for a cheetah to rear as a pet, or a lion cub for their own private reserve.
He had thought about it , and with work, as it was at that time, slow and not so well paid, he had been tempted.
He had helped his father on a private reserve where he worked, so was well trained at catching animals. There it was for illness or some disease that made the capturing of an animal necessary. He had also had to catch young for their own safety when a rogue parent had turned on their own offspring. His father had trained him well, but would be turning in his grave at what he was now doing, and all for the sake of money.
Yes, this would be the last time. He stomped on his cigarette stub and walked back inside. He had a few phone calls to make.
Settling back down at his desk, he cradled a cold dewy bottle of beer he had taken out of the fridge on the way in. Lighting a fag he squinted through the haze of smoke and reached for the phone. Picking up the phone he started talking.
He knew the authorities would catch up with him soon
.
He faced a long cold retirement in a cell if caught. That was something he dreaded.
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With some touching up here and there, I have now started to fill in more of
the background. Later I will use soft pastel to blend in with.
I will now have to think of my next project. Time to sort through all my photo's.
Any suggestions anyone?
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