19
It was a rutted, bone-rattling dirt track, but it was still the closest thing to a main road in this part of the Zambezi Valley. That was why the tree across the left-hand lane aroused jed’s suspicion immediately.
He didn’t want to slow down, but he was travelling at close to seventy kilometres an hour, the maximum he dared try on the loose surface. He changed from fourth down to third. Jed scanned the thick dry bush on either side of the road as the speedometer wound back to thirty. As he slowed he looked at the base of the tree. The stump was close to the edge of the road and he could tell from the bright orange-red of the wood it was still wet.
‘Motherfucker,’ he spat, and planted his foot as he rounded the tree.
The rear of the Land Rover swung out sharply to the right and Jed
