Free The Taste of Fear by Jeremy Bates

road,” Sal explained. “It’s not the differential. Could be a worn ring and pinion gear.”
    “I can’t help you there, unfortunately. I’m afraid I know rather little about mechanics. What I can do, however, is give you all a lift to the top.”
    They got underway, and Scarlett was incredibly grateful to be moving again. Sal fiddled with a knob on the dash until the vents blasted out warm air. A CD played Latino music on very low volume.
    “So you’re here on safari by yourself?” she asked the Irishman.
    “I’m in Africa on business, Miss Cox. A coworker recommended Ngorongoro Crater.”
    “What do you do, Ben?” Sal called everybody by their first name.
    “My firm specializes in risk analysis.”
    “Well, if you’re looking for a risky place to do business, you found it.”
    Sal and the Irishman talked shop for another few minutes before moving on to their golf games. When Sal started on his hole-in-one story, which involved several Japanese investors and requisite gift-giving, Scarlett tuned out. She’d heard the stories many times before.
    Half an hour later they reached the summit of the crater.
    “If I recall correctly, Miss Cox,” the Irishman said as the truck bumped and slid over the muddy road, “you mentioned you were heading to the Serengeti today?”
    “Yes, that’s right. But it seems like we’re going to be delayed, seeing as we have no vehicle.”
    “Would you like me to take you back to your lodge, where you can get some sort of transportation arranged?”
    “That would be marvelous! But is it out of your way?”
    “What else does an old man have to do with his day?”
    “Hold on, Ben,” Sal said, leaning forward to peer out the windshield. “Yes. Slow down. I think that’s a park ranger’s vehicle up ahead.”
    “Nonsense,” the Irishman said. “I have no problem driving you back myself.”
    “Pull over.”
    “Really, Mr. Brazza—”
    “Dammit, Ben, pull over.”
    For a crazy moment Scarlett thought the Irishman was going to continue driving straight past. But then he eased to the side of the road next to the parked vehicle. Sal got out and knocked on the ranger’s window. The ranger set aside his radio and wound the window down. Sal began talking and gesturing. When he returned, he told Silly to transfer their luggage to the other vehicle.
    “What’s going on?” Scarlett asked.
    “I offered the guy some money to drive us to the Serengeti. Now we won’t have to waste time going back to the lodge and waiting around for another truck.”
    “What about the one down in the crater?”
    “I’ll have someone back at the lodge take a look at it. Silly can return today with the ranger instead of tomorrow as originally planned and pick it up.”
    It sounded good to Scarlett. She said, “Looks like we’ll be getting out now after all, Ben. Thank you so much for the lift. I hope you have a fabulous time here.”
    “Thank you, Miss Cox,” the Irishman replied, giving her a strange smile. “The same to you.”
    As Fitzgerald watched Brazza and Cox get into the ranger’s Land Rover and drive away, he continued to smile to himself, both pissed off and amused at how one unknown variable could throw a wrench in the most simple of plans.
    Originally he’d planned to take the two of them plus the guide down the road toward their lodge, beat them all senseless and leave their bodies in the forest for the wildlife to feast upon. By the time morning came and a search party organized, there would be little left of their remains to be found, certainly not enough to determine their true cause of death. Investigators would be forced to conclude that when their vehicle broke down, they’d attempted to leave the crater on foot, got lost on the way back to their lodge, and were attacked by an animal and eaten. It happened more than most people thought.
    What bad luck running into the bloody ranger. For a moment Fitzgerald had considered driving on, but if the ranger spotted Brazza