Elephant Song - Smith Wilbur. Страница 43

Goodness gracious me!  he said, and touched the side of her neck with the points of the prod.  Blue electricity flashed and the leopard recoiled from the sting of it and bounded to the tunnel at the end of the cage.

Chawe was ready for this, and he dropped the mesh door behind her.

Now she was trapped.  Her nose was against the steel hatch in the warehouse wall, while at her heels the mesh door prevented her backing away.  The tunnel was so low that it almost touched her back and she could not rear up, it was so narrow that she could not turn her head to protect her heaving flanks.  She was helplessly pinioned and Chetti Singh handed the prod to Chawe.

He returned to the table near the door and uncoiled the lead of a small electric soldering iron and plugged it into the wall socket.

With the plastic-covered lead trailing behind him he came back to where the leopard crouched in the tunnel.  He reached through the bars and stroked her back.  Her pelt was thick and silky, and she could not avoid his touch.

Her whole body seemed to swell with her fury and she snarled and tried to twist her neck to savage his hand but the bars prevented it.

Chetti Singh lifted the soldering iron and spat on the copper point to test its heat.  His spittle sizzled and evaporated in a puff of steam. He grunted with satisfaction and reached through the bars once again. He grasped the leopard's tail and lifted it high, exposing her fluffy genitalia and the tight puckered black collar of her anus.

The leopard hissed with outrage and ripped at the cement floor with her claws fully extended.  She knew what was coming and she tried to lower her tail and cover her delicate parts.

Help me, Chetti Singh grunted, and Chawe seized the tail.

It writhed like a serpent in his grip but he forced it upwards, allowing his master free use of both hands.

Chetti Singh inspected the delicate flesh thoughtfully.  It was dimpled and cratered with healed scars, some so fresh that the cicatrice was stilt pink and glossy.  He reached out gently with the hot iron, choosing the spot to burn with care, avoiding the freshly healed skin.

The cat felt the heat of the approaching iron and her body convulsed in anticipation.  Just a little one, my beauty, Chetti Singh assured her.

Just enough to make you very angry if you should meet Doctor Armstrong tonight.  Unmolested, leopards are not a serious threat to human beings.

Man does not form a part of their natural prey, and their instinctive fear is enough to make them avoid rather than attack him.  However, once injured or wounded, or particularly when they are deliberately tormented, they are, amongst the most dangerous and vicious of all African animals.

Chetti Singh touched the glowing iron to the soft rim of the leopard's anus.  There was a puff of smoke and the stink of burned skin and hair.

The leopard shrieked with pain and bit at the steel bars.

Chetti Singh inspected the injury.  With practice he could inflict a burn that was exquisitely painful, but which would heal within the week and would not damage the animal's appearance nor hamper her movements when she attacked.  Good!  he congratulated himself.  The iron had only superficially penetrated the outer skin.  It was a shallow painful little wound, yet it had infuriated the golden cat.

He laid the soldering iron back on the table and picked up a bottle of disinfectant.  It was raw iodine, dark yellow and pungent on the swab that he pressed against the open wound.

The sting of it would increase her fury.

The leopard shrieked and hissed and struggled wildly against the restraining bars.  Her eyes were huge and yellow and froth lined her open snarling lips.  That's enough.  Open the hatch, Chetti Singh ordered, and the Angoni released the cat's tail.  She whipped it down between her legs to protect herself.

Chawe went to the handle of the steel hatch and raised it.

With one last snarl the leopard bounded through the opening and disappeared into the warehouse beyond.

At first it had been difficult to get the cat to leave the warehouse at dawn each morning, but with free use of the electric prod and the lure of the goat's meat on which she was fed, she had at last been trained to return to her cage in the shed on command.

It was the only training she had received.  All night she prowled the warehouse, tormented and murderous.  At dawn she returned to the shed and crouched there in the gloom, growling softly to herself and licking her deliberately inflicted injuries, awaiting the first opportunity to avenge her humiliation and pain.

Chawe closed the hatch behind the leopard and followed his master out into the last glow of the sunset.  Chetti Singh mopped his face with a white handkerchief It had been hot in the fetid little shed.  You will remain in your guardhouse at the main gate, -he commanded.  Do not patrol the fence or attempt to stop the white man from entering the warehouse.

If he does get in, Nandi will warn you .

They both smiled at the thought.  They remembered the last intruder and his condition as they took him down to the casualty department of the general hospital.  When you hear Nandi working on him, ring me from the main gate.  The telephone is beside my bed.  Do not enter the warehouse until I arrive.  It will take fifteen or twenty minutes for me to get here.  By that time Nandi may have saved us a great deal of trouble.

His wife had one of her magnificent curries prepared for his dinner.

She did not question where he had been.  She was a good and dutiful wife.

After dinner he worked on his accounts for two hours.  His was a complicated system of accountancy: he kept two, separate sets of books, one for the civil tax collector which reflected a fictitious profit figure, and another authentic set which was meticulously correct.  From this Chetti Singh calculated the tithe that he paid to the temple.  it was one thing to cheat on income tax, but a prudent man did not mess around with the gods.

Before he went to bed he unlocked the steel safe built into the back of his wardrobe and took out the double-barrelled twelve-bore shotgun and a packet of SSG cartridges.  He had an official police permit for the firearm, for, whenever possible and convenient, he was a law-abiding man.

His wife gave him a puzzled look, but made no comment.  He did not satisfy her curiosity, but propped the weapon in the corner nearest the door, ready to hand.  He switched out the lights and under the sheets made love to her with his customary dispatch.  Ten minutes later he was snoring sonorously.

The telephone beside his bed rang at seven minutes past two in the morning.  On the first peal Chetti Singh was awake, and before it could ring again he had the receiver to his ear.  In the warehouse, Nandi is singing a pretty, song, said Chawe in Angoni.  I am coming, Chetti Singh replied, and swung his legs off the bed.

There were no street lights, which makes the job a little easier, Daniel murmured as he parked the Landcruiser on one of the open plots three hundred yards from the boundary fence of Chetti Singh's central depot. He had driven the last mile at walking speed without headlights.

Now he switched off the engine and stepped out into the darkness.  He stood listening for almost ten minutes before he checked his wristwatch.

It was a little after one o'clock.

He already wore navy-blue slacks and a black leather jacket.