Krieger signed his name.

Botha turned a few pages. “And here. And there. And then another round. Attaboy, Tots.”

Krieger scribbled without reading. His lawyers were going to tear these documents to pieces. No contract in Zimbabwe would stand up to his money. Botha knew that, too, surely.

“That it?” Krieger asked.

“That’s it, Tots,” Botha said.

The teenager slipped from the driver seat and joined the other tracker in the back of the Land Rover. Zoeller climbed behind the wheel.

“Going to shoot me now? Hunting accident?”

“No,” Botha said. He fired two shots from Krieger’s rifle, each shot deafening, with a recoil powerful enough to put an unsuspecting man on his back. But Botha handled the rifle like it was a pellet gun. “Fuckin’ Pommies,” he said, admiring the engraved rifle. “Am I right, Tots?”

Botha took the rifle by the barrel and flung it high and into the grass, then climbed into the passenger seat, leaving Krieger standing beside the road. Zoeller tossed Krieger’s pistol into the grass and started the truck.

“You know who wins from this?” Krieger said. “Yurchenko. You think he won’t be worse than me?”

“Ya. I told the man that,” Botha said. “You know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said, ‘We bury them one at a time.’ Crazy motherfucker.”

Botha gestured over his shoulder to the trackers. “That’s Isaac’s brothers in the back. One’s John on the left. Other’s Isaiah. Say hallo, boys.”

Krieger barely looked in the boys’ direction, and the boys showed no sign of hearing Botha. They stared at Krieger with hate-filled eyes. Botha pointed. “That’s the father, Njovu, coming up the hill now. You might remember him.”

This time Krieger did look. An old man was walking slowly up the track toward them, carrying a rifle.

“An elephant never forgets,” Botha said.

Krieger tilted his head.

“Did you forget your Chichewa, Tots? ‘Njovu’ means elephant.”

Krieger watched the older man.

“I’m sure he remembers you,” Botha said.

Zoeller put the Land Rover in gear and drove Botha and the sons away.

Krieger remained focused on Njovu. “Njovu!” he called. “Njovu! We have an opportunity now. Just you and me. You have a family. I can make you very—”

Njovu took a knee. He chambered a round, pushed the bolt forward, and took aim at Terry Krieger.

Krieger began to run.