Page 87 of Duty Preserved

At the first carcass, Zayn had offered the local explanation. Old .303s from the colonial era. Surplus AKs. Somebody’s uncle’s rifle that got loaned out, borrowed, or traded through a dozen hands. A .375 H&H didn’t fit that picture. This was imported sporting equipment, the kind of weapon a professional hunter carried into the bush. A rifle like that didn’t drift through a village on loan. It didn’t prove outsiders on its own, but the local explanation was cracking.

Baraka’s voice carried from the far side of the site. “Over here.”

He was standing near the base of an acacia, holding something between his thumb and forefinger. I crossed to him, and he held it out.

A cigarette pack. Crumpled, half empty. The branding was in Afrikaans.

“Where was it?”

“In the grass. Stepped on.” He turned it over. The writing on the side panel was unmistakable.

“South African cigarettes,” Andrew said quietly.

Baraka looked at Zayn. Zayn looked at the pack, then at the ground where the tracks led away. Two other rangers exchanged a glance.

Nobody local was smoking South African cigarettes in the deep bush of the Laikipia Plateau. The men who had been standing at this carcass this morning had come from somewhere else.

The conversation dropped into Swahili and stayed there. Not the loose back-and-forth of a normal patrol. Their faces turned toward one another and away from Andrew and me. I didn’t understand the words, but the tone needed no translation.

Then one of the rangers turned to me. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen.

“Why are South Africans killing rhino in Kenya?”

I didn’t have an answer for him. Nothing I could be certain of—for now, at least.

They finished combing the area for anything else the shooters might have left behind. Zayn said almost nothing for the rest of it. He did what needed doing with his eyes on the ground, but clearly, his mind was deep in thought.

Sarah packed her samples and stripped off her gloves. Her documentation was started, her work at the carcass complete. She caught my eye across the site, and I could see she’d arrived at the same place I had.

Because the operative fact was already sitting in my chest. Fresh kill meant the men who did this were still out here. The trail wasn’t a week cold and running into a village where a hundred paths crossed. It was hours old and still going, made by men who were somewhere in this reserve right now. And possibly still hunting.

“The trail’s hot,” I said. “If we wait, we lose it the way we lost the last one.”

Zayn looked up. Every ranger at the site turned toward me.

“We should follow it,” Zayn said. “I think I know where these tracks are heading. There is a vehicle pull-off on the western access track, maybe eight kilometers from here. If they have transport, that is where it would be. We can cut toward it on the high ground and be in position before dark.”

“How sure are you?”

“It is the only road that reaches this country without passing an outpost. I am certain of it. If they are not using a vehicle, then they could be many other places. But if they are, that is most certainly how they got here.”

The rangers stood around us. Each one clearly eager to pursue.

This was what they’d trained for. They knew it. I knew it.

I pushed back anyway, because everybody in this conversation needed to hear what I was about to say.

“Listen to me. All of you.” I waited until I had every set of eyes. “Whoever killed that rhino is carrying a .375 H&H Magnum—an expensive, professional weapon—and the men behind it are not messing around. We don’t know how many of them are out there. Could be a shooter and a spotter. Could be a full crew. We start now in daylight, but that trail leads deeper into the reserve, and we will be in the dark before long. Finding armed men you can’t count in terrain you can barely see is not the same exercise as running an obstacle course. It is a different thing entirely, and I need every one of you to hear me say that.”

Nobody flinched. Nobody looked away.

“I hear you,” Zayn said. “We all hear you. And we want to go.”

I held his eyes for a long moment. Then I looked at Andrew.

Andrew gave me a short nod.

“All right. We follow the sign now, while it’s still readable, toward the likely ground. We put ourselves in position, and we see what’s there. Nobody plays hero. Nobody breaks off. We move together, or we don’t move at all.” I looked at Zayn. “You’re on point. Baraka, you’ve got rear security. Triple-check your ammo, radio batteries, and water. We want to be light enough to catch up but armed enough to fight. We step off now.”