The Khoi Leopard

By EJ Benting

For most of her young life, the fickleness of fate had been cruel to this American woman. Hilary is an orphaned college graduate who leaves her few friends behind to seek employment in LA. After leaving her first job, she finds a job as a PA to a Hollywood couple.

Hilary realizes, even though she had been on a few college dates, she really had become reclusive and very lonely. Her employers, Roger and Liz, recognizing her melancholy, invite her to accompany them on a holiday trip to Cape Town where Lizs parents lives.

After enjoying the sights and sounds around Cape Town, the tourists head out into the hauntingly beautiful Karoo where Hilary befriends a vacationing young man who has an interest in the areas Khoisan rock paintings. They spend much time together - sightseeing; exploring caves; kloofing in the mountain streams and socializing with fellow guests on the farm. They meet two secretive Chinese oil men who clearly wished to keep to themselves.

During their excursions into the nearby hills and the Karoo veld, Hilary and her friend cross paths with two direct descendants of the Khoisan community that had inhabited the region for many centuries - long before the first Europeans set foot in Southern Africa.

Will the American and her new friend be able to handle an ultra-long distance relationship after such a brief holiday romance? Will the dangerous Kowloon based mobsters of the BPC succeed in ending their young lives in order to steal the Khoisans ancestral land?

Remember, wherever you find oil fields, greedy predators were always watching and calculating risk versus reward.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496994264

EJ Benting

For more than forty years EJ Benting has travelled extensively across Africa and has worked with many different people from diverse nations and tribes. Readers will be introduced to the first of a series of stories that originate from across Sub-Saharan Africa. Many of the characters are based on real people whose stories were shared during job interviews or around many camp fires in the African veld. The author's love of the unspoiled vast open spaces on the African continent is matched only by his love of Cape Town where he and his ancestors were born and raised. One of his most powerful eye-opening experiences as a teenager was on a trip to the desolate but beautiful Bushmanland. Here he witnessed what a continuous drought could do to human beings. Zero rain and 99% unemployment create the most unimaginable poverty. Yet, EJ experienced a level of amazing generosity amongst the families who had the least to give. Years later, he would understand that you only survived if you enabled others to survive. In our modern world of consumption, riches are the measure of civilized societies. The Bushmanland taught EJ how authentically civilized poor societies can be. His wife, Karin, is still trying after 35 years of marriage to get him to attain all her high values and standards but as we say in Africa …. “Aluta Continua.” Benting has experienced many of life's lessons, but the most powerful in his sixty-something years, is the one about 'casting one's bread upon the water.' He's so very proud to see that his two sons had already started to practice this at a young age.

Book preview

© 2014 EJ Benting. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/04/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-9425-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-9426-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

The Geography

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

The Khoi Ostrich

About the Author

The Geography

There is a sea of black gold bubbling beneath the hot Karoo Basin – a legacy of the thousands of gargantuan dinosaurs and pre-historic fauna and flora that lived and died in this hot unforgiving cauldron. Millions of tons of decaying fossil remains have accumulated and compacted over tens of thousands of years and formed underground lakes of black gold: crude oil. Just as in pre-historic times, this area has attracted some dangerous predators.

Unscrupulous people abound. These men and women are indistinguishable in appearance and manner from the ethical and value-driven business people who play in the same twisting labyrinths of the multi-national oil industry. Fuelled by greed and ambition, they are used to operating in a clandestine manner. For them Mother Earth is not an entity to be nurtured and respected, but rather something to be raped and plundered. International power players include bankers, oil companies, diamond dealers, armament producers, and the lobbyists and third parties performing the bottom feeding and dirty work so that multinational companies can portray themselves as good corporate citizens.

The Bredasdorp Basin can hardly be described as a well-kept secret. Many people speculate about the possibility of large oil deposits, and some oil companies drilled exploratory wells, but the results were not encouraging. Even though there is a growing fear of unsecured crude oil supply in world markets, the major oil companies remain reluctant to start major exploration in the Karoo Basin.

Crude oil prices have surpassed the $110 per barrel mark and analysts forecast unprecedented levels of $150 to $160 as China, India and Brazil demonstrate an insatiable appetite for raw materials and crude oil. The great strides achieved in renewable energy sources look good on paper, but cannot make any immediate impact on the wide-scale replacement of carbon-based fuels. Although there are a few minor teams on the playing field, the big companies watch from the stands. They continue to be vigilant and interested. Like the vultures circling the African veld, they are always on the lookout for easy pickings.

Prologue

The slight breeze was bone-chilling enough for the two men following Dr Michael Cross to button up their black leather jackets fully. They had already turned up their collars to try to protect themselves from the icy wind.

Hurrying down 52nd Street in downtown Manhattan as fast as his injured left knee would allow, Michael knew he was only six blocks from his destination. Sanctuary for him was the forty-fifth floor of the B&K Building where Bartholomew, Krawczyk & Associates had their offices.

The Chinese assassins, sent to stop Michael, were gaining on him steadily. He wondered whether they knew where he was heading, but quickly dismissed the thought. He had come to learn just how dangerous and well informed these killers were.

As he rushed along the sidewalk, he saw a pedestrian approaching. The New York businessman was deeply engrossed in a mobile phone conversation. Just as Michael reached the man, he heard a dull meaty thud and the man’s white shirt smeared red as he dropped his briefcase and crumbled to the ground.

‘Oh my God,’ thought Michael, ‘there are more than two people trying to kill me. Someone with a high-powered rifle had gotten to higher ground for a better shot.’

Clutching the small leather quiver with its valuable contents firmly in his right hand, he stuck it deeper into the pocket of his long green trench coat. When he turned the corner at the end of the block, Michael saw his opportunity to evade his pursuers.

The Grand NY Express tourist bus was about to pull out of its assigned stop at the Fresenius Centre and the last few customers were in the process of boarding. He reached for his wallet and pulled out one of the three-day tourist passes that enabled him, together with the hundreds of tourists who flood the fabulous city, to get around New York. The driver noted the valid pass, and pulled his bus into the gap left by a slow vehicle in the very busy, but fast moving, traffic.

As the bus rounded the next corner about thirty paces up the road, Michael noticed the frantic body language of his hunters searching for him. He lost sight of them when the bus took another corner. His nerves were jangling as he remembered the faces of the people who had been killed by these Hong Kong-based thugs.

His damaged left knee was slowing him down, and he wondered what to do to survive their next murderous attack.

44552.png

Chapter 1

Michael Cross was a twenty-seven-year-old medical doctor who strongly resented the bureaucracy of state medical services and the stranglehold that drug companies and medical aids have on the welfare of the world’s sick and impoverished.

He worked for an expensive private Medical Clinic owned by a closed corporation of nine health care professionals. They were focused on providing excellent care with high levels of professionalism which, of course, meant high charge-out costs. Doctors were ranked not only on the quality of their patient care but also on how many bills they could generate with the least cost to the hospital. Michael’s boss, Dr Terry Drake, was more concerned with climbing the corporate ladder than being an inspirational leader of his small team of doctors. Michael’s colleagues were pleasant enough and they had been to a few team dinner dates together. Without their esteemed leader of course. Somehow, they always managed to pick a date when they knew he would be out of town, or had a family commitment he could not possibly miss.

The long hours and constant pressure were getting to Michael, so he decided to take some time off. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with his life and where his current career path was taking him. Two years earlier, he had taken a year off from his GP duties to see whether research was what he really wanted to do. Now it was time to move on.

The Medical Clinic’s receptionist had been pestering Michael to handle some of Terry Drake’s excess calls. But, since Terry always promised more than he delivered, he couldn’t get around to everything. Dr Drake loved exploring new opportunities and would not meet a new person until he had assessed whether the new person could offer him something valuable, either to further his career or swell his bank balance. If he decided that the new contact did not meet his hurdle rate, he usually asked his assistant to get rid of them or to fob them off onto some unsuspecting colleague. Like Michael.

Michael looked forward to a break from his humdrum life and all he wanted to do was book his dog, Tyson, into a pet motel, load up his camping gear and head out into the Karoo for a month of fresh air. His thoughts were interrupted by the receptionist when she showed one of the many salesmen, touting all kinds of wares, into his consulting room.

‘Dr Drake has asked that you see Mr Gerber on his behalf as he can’t meet with him today. Something urgent has just come up,’ smiled the receptionist nervously, as she gestured to Gerber to take a seat at Michael’s desk.

He was irritated that the receptionist had imposed this unwelcome visitor on him during his first break of the day. After receiving a crushing handshake from the eager medical salesman, he resigned himself to hearing the sales pitch.

‘I suppose we all have to make a living,’ he thought to himself. ‘Whatever he’s selling… I’m not buying.’

Michael found himself drifting into thinking about his holiday and had to force himself to listen to a boring presentation about features and stats on a wide range of products, but very little on how these would benefit the Clinic or its patients. After a couple of polite questions to indicate he had, in fact, been listening, the salesman left a stack of literature and a price list. And, to sweeten the deal, he left Michael two personal sample kits of what they could offer the customer who spent many hours behind the wheel travelling long distances. Not focusing entirely on what the salesman was saying, Michael found himself agreeing to put one sample kit in his car and to try out its contents before a follow-up sales visit.

The salesman was, at least, astute enough to take the hint when Michael made a show of looking at his wristwatch. He summarised what he thought they had agreed to, and thanked Michael for seeing him without an appointment. He promised to be back in two months’ time, and promptly left.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful and that evening Michael placed his usual two bags and coat in the trunk of his vehicle and, without much thought, tossed the unopened samples into the trunk as well. By the time he got home, the sample kits had rolled into a dark corner where they were promptly out of sight and out of mind.

Roger McPherson and Liz Gunnar were well known in Hollywood circles. Roger was a thirty-nine-year-old actor from Chicago. His hardworking parents had ensured that he’d had the best training and tuition money could buy so that he could follow his dream of becoming a Broadway and Hollywood star. His rugged good looks, courtesy of his working-class family gene pool, as well as great acting skills, put him firmly on the road to stardom. But his most valuable asset was his ability to have cordial working relationships with directors, actors and stage hands. Although he could be considered a rising movie star, he maintained his good humour and never seemed to take himself too seriously.

Roger’s South African wife, Elizabeth Gunnar, was thirty-two. She was born and raised in Durban with her two younger siblings, Ilse and Danielle. At the age of twenty-two, she had decided to seek her fame and fortune in Los Angeles.

Her parents were of good Nordic stock and gave her the blond, blue-eyed good looks that had already made her the new darling of the movie screen. Liz had also inherited her mother’s flawless complexion with a slightly rosy flush to her cheeks. But, more than anything else, it was her sparkling personality that had attracted Roger to her the first time they’d met on a movie set four years before.

After a spell of bit parts, Liz met Roger at the movie studios during a lunch break while they were working on two different movie sets. Their whirlwind romance threatened to burn down Hollywood and nobody was surprised when they were married within five months. Her marriage to Roger opened many studio doors for Liz and she landed a number of good box office hit roles. They had become a real celebrity couple. Between them, they’d appeared in seventeen movies and had been nominated for four Academy awards: three to Roger and one to Liz… but they were hopeful.

Liz decided to show off her husband to members of her extended family and circle of family friends. Her parents had sold off all their assets in KwaZulu Natal and moved to Cape Town where they owned some prime real estate in Bishopscourt. A perfect home base from which they could explore Cape Town.

Since their lives were truly hectic, with demanding shooting schedules, they agreed unless they made a conscious decision, they would never have an opportunity to spend quality time together. She chose from mid-August to the end of September for a four-week vacation at her parents’ home.

Travelling with them was their twenty-six-year-old executive assistant, Hilary Kraus. Hilary was delighted to be invited as she lived alone, and had no real family except for her mother’s spinster sister, whom she disliked. Liz and Roger had become much more than employers; they were more like family to her. She had grown to love and respect them, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for them.

On the Tuesday of their second week in Cape Town, they decided to drive along the West Coast viewing the hundreds of different species of wild flowers. They had never witnessed such incredible wild flowers. No human hand could have laid these vistas out on such a huge scale, seemingly for human appreciation. Like a painter’s palette, there were multiple swathes of colour across the hills and valleys. The visual splendour took their breath away and inspired them to take hundreds of digital photos to record and, later, to refresh their memories.

Whilst playing chief photographer, Roger slipped on a boulder and sprained his ankle. He hobbled along for the rest of the trip. Then, when Liz noticed he was really starting to take strain, she piled the three of them into their hired SUV and returned to Cape Town. She decided to drop Hilary and their camping gear off at her parents’ house before setting off to have Roger treated at the nearest Medical Clinic.

Dr Michael Cross was on duty and he attended to the injured Roger. Normally, the emergency unit was a hectic place with a continuously raging storm of patients arriving; suffering from relatively minor to really life-threatening conditions. Every patient who had come through their doors in the last two hours had either been treated and discharged or stabilised and admitted. With all his paperwork done, and ready to deal with the next onslaught, Michael decided to take a welcome breather. He unwrapped an energy fruit bar and quietly contemplated his upcoming three-week vacation.

Just as he was finishing his snack, Liz wheeled Roger into one of the consulting rooms. The sister on duty had ensured that all the bureaucracy and paperwork had been handled. She did not let on that she recognised the two movie stars, since their facility was renowned for being discreet, and their patients could be sure of the privacy they paid for. Curiosity did not get the better of her and she remained professional and warmly courteous, and stayed no longer than she had to. She introduced the attending doctor to the patient and his partner and left to prepare for the next wave of patients.

With his mind now firmly back on his job, Michael quickly forgot about his vacation plans and concentrated on the task at hand. After a thorough examination and some X-rays, it appeared that the ATFL sprain was not as bad as initially thought. Michael prescribed RICE as treatment - Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation. He gave Roger some painkillers while he started to immobilise his ankle and in no time Roger was back to being his normal good-natured self.

Michael was totally unaware that he had two famous movie stars in his consulting room. He spoke to them in his easy-going manner, just as he would with every other patient. This was a habit he had inherited from his maternal grandfather and mother who had both been raised on a farm in Namibia. They had the knack of starting conversations with complete strangers – from a cabinet minister to the person who swept up the wood shavings left by the cabinetmaker.

Doctor and patient easily found points of common interest and it was during this conversation that Liz left the consulting room. She needed to find a gift shop or vending machine to slake her thirst caused by the dehydrating effects of the hot African sun. She felt happy Roger was in good hands and that he was well on his way to making a quick and full recovery.

Michael let slip that he was looking forward to getting through the next week so that he could take his vacation. He told Roger he planned to drive in the general direction of the Karoo to find some soul space. It was time for peace and quiet to recharge his batteries. He also needed to find a new direction in his life.

While continuing to treat Roger, he told him about the fossils that had been found in the Karoo and the two of them speculated about the kinds of dinosaurs and pre-historic life that might have inhabited the Karoo aeons ago. Since the actor had played a lead role in a dinosaur-type movie in the same genre as Jurassic Park, his knowledge of these pre-historic behemoths was pretty substantial.

The nursing sister had not bothered Michael once since Roger was ushered in and he relished the respite from the normal hectic workings of the emergency consulting rooms.

At this point Michael finally realised that he might be speaking to someone famous. In the straightforward manner for which his countrymen are known, Michael asked Roger what kind of work he did.

‘I guess some would call me an actor,’ remarked a bemused Roger. The penny finally dropped as Michael recalled an article he had read in a local magazine about an American movie star who had married a blond, blue-eyed beauty from South Africa, whose parents were currently living in Cape Town.

‘My good Lord… I am so sorry,’ said Michael in astonished embarrassment, just as Liz returned to the room.

Immediately concerned, she enquired: ‘What’s wrong… what’s gone wrong?

‘Nothing… absolutely nothing, I am perfectly fine,’ chuckled Roger, rubbing Liz’s hand.

‘I’m sorry for startling you, but I just realised who you are,’ Michael blurted out, trying to mask his embarrassment.

After some light-hearted banter and more good wishes, the famous couple departed leaving behind a smiling doctor. Michael Cross had to get his act together quickly then, as two road-accident victims had been admitted. No sooner had the gurneys come to a halt when one of the patients went into cardiac arrest and the emergency team went from zero to flat out speeding in an instant.

While Liz drove them back to their digs, Roger became quiet as he mulled over his conversation with the young doctor. His imagination was fired up when he realised he had travelled thousands of miles around the world to end up so close to where these dinosaurs had lived and died thousands of years ago… and it was only a few hours from Cape Town by road. Many people believed that the cradle of humanity was in Southern Africa. Was it possible that the actual cradle was in this prehistoric Karoo basin where the fossilised evidence could be seen in the open veld and caves?

The beginning of a new plan for the rest of their vacation started to take shape in his mind. Liz glanced at her husband and noticed the grin on his face, but decided not to ask him why it was there. She knew her husband would tell her when he was good and ready. And she could wait.

44554.png

Hilary had enjoyed working for Roger and Liz for the last eighteen months. The couple had rescued her from her first employer and she’d never looked back. She was super-efficient; an excellent organiser. Her uncanny ability to anticipate their needs made her indispensable and truly worth her weight in gold.

Hilary Kraus was born in Cleveland, Ohio on 25 March 1981, and was the only child of Cyril and Susan Kraus. The Kraus household was a caring and loving family unit and Hilary enjoyed helping out after school at the family gas and service station. Her father was a qualified motor mechanic and worked in partnership with his much older bachelor brother, Jeb Kraus. Although there was some reference to a third brother named Peter Daniel Kraus, nobody in her family could be persuaded to talk about him. After many attempts, Hilary finally gave up trying to discover why the people she loved did not want to talk to her about this missing Uncle Peter. She simply accepted that he must have been the proverbial black sheep of their family who was never spoken about in polite company.

Over the years, Hilary came to learn that her Polish grandparents had immigrated to the US with their two very young sons, Jeb (aged four) and Peter (aged 18 months). Hilary’s father, Cyril, was the youngest sibling and was born in the States two months after the family’s arrival. Because of the perpetual difficulty the Americans had when spelling their Polish surnames, Hilary’s grandfather had decided that, if he wanted to do business as a tailor in his new country, then he would have to shorten and anglicise his surname to make it easier for everyone to spell.

Hilary loved sliding under automobiles with her uncle Jeb who enjoyed teaching her some of the mysteries of the automobile engine. By the time Hilary was fourteen she could overhaul an engine with a little help from Uncle Jeb who provided some of the muscle for the physically demanding activities. When her uncle suddenly passed away as a result of a heart attack, he left his whole estate to his loving niece, Hilary.

She had an idyllic childhood. Although they were not rich, Cyril and Susan Kraus made sure that their only child would want for nothing. When she wanted to learn to play the guitar and professional lessons were expensive, they scrimped and saved to make sure she could learn to play. And, when she started battling with mathematics in Grade 6 and needed extra classes, they found her the best tutor they could find, a certain Ms Goodall, and made sure she passed with good grades.

Hilary was never an extravagant or demanding child and never knew that her father and Uncle Jeb had financial problems. Well, except for one summer when she was in Grade 6. She remembered she had been sitting outside the house in their back yard reading a book. It was just before supper when Uncle Jeb called by the house. The adults sat in the kitchen discussing grown-up things, oblivious of her presence. She had not been eavesdropping or anything, but her ears pricked up when she heard her name. It was only then that she focused on what was being said, and immediately realised she was overhearing an earnest conversation.

Forgetting about the book, she discovered that the Kraus business was seriously in the red and that either Uncle Jeb or her Dad would have to leave the business to find some other form of employment. The banks would not extend them any more loans and they desperately needed some diagnostic equipment, and technical training, to be able to compete with their main competitors. It sounded pretty grim and she could tell that the grown-ups were worried about their uncertain future.

Hilary immediately resolved to stop her guitar lessons and also to work harder at maths so she could sustain her own marked improvement without the ongoing tutoring by Ms Goodall. Three days later Hilary announced at supper that, although she was still passionate about music, she had decided to give up guitar lessons as she realised she would never really be good at it. Although they appeared outwardly calm and supportive, Cyril and Susan Kraus were more than just a little relieved when they heard this news. A week later Hilary persuaded Ms Goodall to inform her parents that she had reached a high enough level of proficiency to sustain her own ongoing improvement. Again, her parents suspected nothing and were so thrilled at the good news that her mother baked Hilary her favourite milk tart to celebrate her success.

Even though she had a large circle of friends, Hilary was closer to her parents than to any of her friends. Then, a tragic automobile accident, caused by a distracted driver chatting on his mobile phone, robbed her of her parents. She was effectively orphaned at the age of sixteen. Hilary had been an only child and received generous payouts from various insurance policies held by her deceased parents. The gas and service station was eventually sold to a large supermarket chain and promptly razed to the ground, and replaced with an ultra-modern convenience store. The family lawyer arranged that all the funds be held in trust for her until she turned twenty-one.

In the meantime, Hilary was forced to move in with her only blood relative, Miss Elaine Turnbull. Hilary had only to endure a few years of hell under her mother’s sister’s roof, before she finally fled this cold and unwelcoming nest. Elaine, a bossy spinster, did not really have much joy in her life and was damned if she was going to give much joy to her new boarder.

44557.png

Four months before her eighteenth birthday, Hilary found herself alone at home. Her aunt, who had been warming herself at the fireplace in her neat lounge, was interrupted by the telephone. She put her knitting away and took the call. After a short conversation, she grabbed her coat and informed Hilary that she needed to run some personal errands and would be back soon.

After her aunt had left, Hilary inadvertently knocked over the knitting basket, which had been left carelessly in the middle of the floor of the sitting room. Without wishing to snoop, she bent down to retrieve the items that had fallen out of the upturned basket. She noticed some letters and folded documents at the bottom of the basket. They had been tightly bound with an elastic band. Although she had meant to put everything back, she could not help but notice that the letters were all addressed to her mother. When she looked at the back of the last one, she noticed a brightly coloured ‘Post It’ sticker. On it had been written in big block letters ‘For attention: Miss Hilary Kraus.’

She quickly unwrapped the small bundle of documents and, starting with the first letter from their solicitors, Barnes, Sedgwick & Partners, quickly scanned its contents. Shocked by her discovery, Hilary found her mind racing at the new information and the old pain and heartache that the memories evoked. She saw the letters were addressed to her mother, Susan Kraus and noticed that each envelope had the name and address of the sender neatly printed on its back. The sender’s addresses appeared to be different but the handwriting was that of the same person. She needed to put the documents back into the basket. Guiltily, she made sure there was no sign of her aunt returning and finding her snooping. When she had everything back in place, she returned to her own room to think about what she had just read. It was so incredible it wasn’t long before she wondered if she had misunderstood the various documents.

Incredulity was replaced by a hot resentment when she realised that these letters were in fact her personal property and had been forwarded to her aunt by the solicitors. Judging from the date on the lawyer’s covering letter, they had been sent more than ten months ago. She knew her aunt had no right to withhold any of the documents from her.

Making up her mind quickly