of the others queried his choice.
'This is restricted to the family. We bring in nobody from outside until it is absolutely necessary,' he warned them.
He set up two large boards on easels, one each side of the desk. On one he hung a large-scale map of Africa, south of the Sahara. The second board he left blank for the time being, except for a photograph which he pinned at the top.
It was one that Isabella had taken of Nicholas on the beach. He was in bathing-trunks, his hair tousled by seasalt and wind as he was laughing into the camera.
'That's to remind me what this is all about,' Garry told them. 'I want to imprint that face on my mind. As Nana has said - from now on that is all that counts. That face. That child.'
49e He scowled at it. 'All right, young Nicky, where are you?' , He turned to Isabella, who was seated at the desk, and placed the heavy volume of 7ane's All the Worws Aircraft in front of her.
'OK, Bella. Let's presume that it was a Russian military freighter that flew you from Lusaka to this base where you met Nicky. Let's find what type it was.' He opened the book in front of her and began turning the pages.
'That's it,' she said, and stabbed at one of the illustrations.
'Are you certain?' he demanded, and leant over her shoulder.
'11yushin 117e. NATO reporting name Candid,' he read aloud. 'Yane's lists its estimated cruise speed as to 8oo kilometres an hour.' He jotted it down on his navigation-pad. 'OK, you say the course was 3oo degrees magnetic and the flying time was two hours fifty-six minutes. We know it was on the Atlantic coast - let's mark that up on the chart.' He went to the map and set to work with the dividers and protractor.
'Garry' - Isabella was worried -'just because Nicky was there last year does not mean that he will still be there, does it?' 'Of course not,' he agreed without looking round from the chart. 'However, from what you tell us, Nicky seemed to be settled at that camp. He was in school and had been there long enough to make friends and build a reputation as a soccer-player - Pele?' He turned and beamed at her through his spectacles like a friendly goldfish. 'We know from both Israeli and South African intelligence reports that your friend El Zorro is still operating in Angola. He was spotted in Luanda by a CIA agent as recently as fourteen days ago. And we have to start planning somewhere. Until we find out for sure that Nicky is not there, we'll presume he is.' He stepped back from the map. 'There we go,' he muttered. 'It looks like somewhere north of Luanda and south of the Zaire border. There are five, no, six rivermouths in that general area within a hundred miles of each other. Cross-winds could have made a ten-degree deviation in the Candid's course either way.' He came back to the desk and picked up the large sheet of art paper on which Isabella had sketched from memory a map of the airstrip and river-mouth. He studied it dubiously, and then shook his head. 'It could be any one of the six rivers shown on the map.' He peered closely at the map.
'They are the Tabi, the Ambriz, the Catacanha, the Chicamba, the Mabubas and the Quicabo - do any of those names ring a bell, Bella?' She shook her head. 'Nicky called the base Tercio.' 'That is probably a code-name,' said Garry, and pinned her sketch-map beside Nicky's photograph on the second board. 'Any comments so far?'He looked across at Centaine and Shasa. 'What about it, Pater?' 'It's a thousand kilometres from the Namibian border, which is our nearest friendly territory. We can forget about any overland attempt to reach Nicky.' 'Helicopters?' Centaine asked. Both men shook their heads simultaneously.
'Out of range, without refuelling,' Garry said, and Shasa agreed.
'We'd be flying over a battle zone. According to our latest intelligence the Cubans have a solid radar chain covering the Namibian border and at least a squadron of Mig-23 fighters based just north of the border at Lubango.' 'What about using the Lear?'Centaine insisted, and both men laughed.
'We can't outrun a Mig, Nana,'said Garry. 'And they've got more guns than we have.' 'Yes, but you can circle around them, fly 'way out over the Atlantic and come back in behind them. I know fighters can't fly very far, and the Lear can go to Mauritius.' They stopped laughing and looked at each other. 'You think she got rich by being stupid?' Garry asked, and then addressed her directly.
'Supposing we could get there in the Lear, then what? We can't land or take off - the Lear needs a thousand-metre runway. From what Bella tells us, it's a short strip and a guerrilla training base with South American or, more likely, Cuban paratroopers guarding it. They aren't going to hand Nicky over to us, not without an argument.' 'Yes. I expect we'll have to fight,' Centaine nodded. 'So now it's time to send for Sean.' 'Sean?' Shasa blinked. 'Of course!' 'Nana, I love you,' said Isabella, and picked up the telephone.
'International, I want to put an urgent call through to Ballantyne Barracks at Bulawayo in Rhodesia.' The call took almost two hours to come through, by which time Garry had telephoned the airport and spoken to his pilots. The Lear was already on its way to Bulawayo when Sean finally came on the line.
Garry said, 'Let me talk to him,' and took the telephone out of Isabella's hand. They argued for less than a minute, and then Garry snarled: 'Don't give me that crap, Sean. The Lear will be at Bulawayo airport within the next hour to pick you up. I want your hairy arse on board, but pronto. I'll phone General Walls or Ian Smith if necessary. We need you here. The family needs you.' He hung up and looked at Centaine. 'Sorry, Nana.' 'I have heard the expression before,' she murmured. 'And sometimes a little strong language works wonders.'
Major Sean Courtney of the Ballantyne Scouts stood before the makeshift situation-board in the Weltevreden. gunroom and studied the photograph of his nephew. His promotion to major and second-in- command of the Scouts was only three months old. Roland Ballantyne had finally manoeuvred him into a full-time billet with the regiment.
'You can see he's Bella's boy. Takes after her. Ugly little 4'
brat.' Sean grinned at her. 'No wonder she's been keeping him up her sleeve.' She stuck out her tongue at him. He was good for her; he gave her hope again. He was so hard and competent and tough-looking, he brimmed with such sublime confidence in his own strength and immortality that she had to believe in it, too.
'When will they let you see Nicky again?' he asked, and she thought for a second. She could not tell him about the promise to give her access as soon as the Cyndex tests were completed. That would mean admitting to all of them that she was a traitress.
'I think it will be soon. I haven't seen Nicky for almost a year. It must be soon. Days rather than weeks from now.' 'You won't go,' Garry cut in. 'We aren't going to give you into their clutches again.' 'Oh, shut up, Garry,' Sean snapped. 'Of course she has to go. How the hell will we know where they are holding Nicky, if she doesn't?' 'I thought. Garry began, his face flushing with anger.
'OK, matey. Let's make a bargain here. I run the actual operation - you are responsible for all the logistics and back-up. How about it?' 'Good!' Centaine cut in. 'That's the way we'll do it. Go on, Sean. Tell us how you'll carry out the rescue.' 'OK. In broad outline, this is it. We will work out the details later.
First of all we have to accept that it's a fully offensive operation. We are sure as hell going to run into heavy opposition. They are going to try to kill us - we've got to kill them first. We are not going to mess around.
If we want Nicky, we have to fight for him. However, if things go wrong, we might have to face a political and legal storm both here and abroad. We might be deemed guilty of anything from terrorism to murder. Are we prepared to accept that?' He looked around the circle of attentive faces. They all nodded without hesitation.
'Good. That's settled. Now for practicalities. We assume Nicky is being held in northern Angola at this coastal base. Bella goes in as she did last time. Once she is in position with Nicky she calls us in.' 'How?' Garry demanded.
'That's your problem. You have Courtney Communications at your beck and call. Get them to come up with some kind of miniature radio or even a transponder. As soon as she is in position, Bella will activate it and give us a fix.' 'OK,' Garry agreed. 'We have those electronic positionmarkers that we use for flagging aerial geological surveys. We should be able to adapt one of those. How will Bella smuggle it in?' 'Again, that's your problem,' Sean told him brusquely. 'Let's get on with it. So Bella is in the target area. She gives us a fix. We go in-' 'How?' Garry asked again.
'There is only one way - from the sea.' Sean swept his hand across the map of the southern Atlantic and down to the nose of the African continent.
'We've got the trawling and canning factory at Walvis Bay. One of those new long-range trawlers of yours, Garry, the ones you send down to Veerna Seamount. They'll do nearly thirty knots, and have a range of four thousand miles.' 'Dairm it, yesp Garry beamed. 'Lancer has just finished a major refit in Cape Town docks. She is at sea at this very moment, on her way back to Walvis Bay. I'll tell them to hold her there, fully refuelled and ready for sea. Van Der Berg, the skipper, is a first-class seaman.' 'Tell them to unload the nets and all the other heavy items we won't need,' Sean added.
'Right. I'll also arrange extra war and all-risks cover on the insurance policy. I know the way you bang up equipment.' Garry was becoming indignant. 'Hell, you went through four Landcruisers last year.' 'That's enough squabbling.' Centaine brought them firmly back on track. 'Tell us, Sean. Are you going to sail Lancer into this river?' 'No, Nana. We'll use landing-craft to run into the beach, inflatables with outboard motors. Do you know anybody at Simonstown naval base?' 'I know the minister of defence,' Bella cut in.
