'I did not see a Jeep,' Ndebele said. His mouth twisted suspiciously at one end.
'Deacon Jones and Deacon Canon took it shortly after we arrived,' Pavant replied.
Ndebele reacted with open surprise. 'They left in the dark to drive to Maun? They know better than that. There are no roads, no lights.'
Lying on the bed, Seronga felt his heart speeding up. This was not going well. He hoped that he would have a clear shot at the tour director. The last thing they wanted was for him to go away unconvinced.
'The deacons said they knew the way,' Pavant told him. 'It was felt that two sets of deacons should go to meet the bishop.
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The kidnappers might still be watching. We will take the tour bus.'
Seronga waited. He listened closely. Lying there, pretending to sleep, was one of the most difficult things Seronga had ever done. There was nothing so frustrating as having one's fate in the hands of another.
After a long moment, Ndebele nodded. 'Well, that is probably a good idea,' he said.
Seronga relaxed. There was conviction in the tour director's voice.
'Forgive all of the questions,' Ndebele went on. He sounded a little ashamed now. 'We have all been as anxious as zebras since Father Bradbury was taken away. We jump at any unfamiliar noise or a change in routine.'
'I understand completely,' Pavant replied. 'Now, was there something you needed?'
'Deacon, I came back here because some of our guests wanted to light candles,' Ndebele said. 'I wanted to find out if that would be all right.'
'Of course,' Pavant replied.
'Father Bradbury usually lit the first ones each morning,' Ndebele said. 'Not being Catholic, I didn't know if that's the way it has to be.'
'It will be all right if they do it,' Pavant replied. 'Unfortunately, I cannot join them. We were instructed to remain as invisible as possible. If the kidnappers are watching, we do not want them to move against us.'
'Of course not,' Ndebele replied. 'Though two of them did ask if they might be able to meet with you privately.'
'I don't think that would be a good idea,' Pavant replied.
'I understand. I will tell them,' Ndebele said. 'They are Spanish and very devout. I will ask them not to bother you on the bus, either. Maybe I will tell them that you only speak Bantu.'
'If you like.' Pavant smiled. 'I appreciate your help.'
'I will do anything to help the church of Father Bradbury,' Ndebele said. ^
The director left, and Pavant shut the door. Seronga turned
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around. The Brush Viper commander sat on the edge of the bed. Pavant walked toward him. His easy manner and benevolent expression both vanished.
'I'm proud of you,' Seronga said. 'You handled that situation like a true diplomat.'
'How would you know?' Pavant asked.
'I did not have to shoot him,' Seronga replied. He removed the gun from his waistband and put it on the bed.
Pavant shook his head. 'I hate words. They do not solve things. They only put action off.'
'Well, my friend, that was all we needed to do this morning,' Seronga pointed out.
'So you say,' Pavant said. 'All those gentle words about deacons, priests, and the bishop. I made myself sick. We should bring this place down, to finish the threat completely.'
'Why spend energy to pull down what will fall on its own?' Seronga asked his partner.
'Because these need to play a role,' Pavant said, shaking his fists. 'They have been idle while outsiders cut the heart from our people, our nation. My hands need to be active.'
'They will be,' Seronga said. 'To build, not to destroy.'
As he spoke, Seronga had gone to his backpack and removed several maps. He unfolded them on the bed. Then he sat down with Pavant to review the route that would take them from Maun back to camp. They had already arranged for one of Dhamballa's followers to meet them at the airstrip.
Donald Pavant was still angry. Seronga could see it in the harsh turn of his partner's brow, in the tense set of his mouth. He could hear it in Pavant's clipped words. Growing up on the floodplain, Seronga had seen all kinds of predators. He had watched insect-eating plants, crocodiles, lions, and hyenas. He had observed aggressors from hounds to bees. None of them had the quality that too many humans possessed: the ability to hate and for that hate to feed the predatory instinct. Even when he had been forced to kill, Seronga had always been motivated by positive forces. The desire to hunt with his father. The hope of seeing Seretse Khama become president. The need to protect his nation's borders.
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