are.' Once more his head and shoulders disappeared under the engine
cowling and there was the clink of the spanner against metal and the
monotonous repetition of 'Tiger Rag' in a low off-key whistle for
another ten minutes, then again Jake went to the crank handle.
'You are going to do it my way, baby and what's more you're going to
like it.' He spun the handle and the engine kicked viciously,
back-fired like a rifle shot, and the crank handle snapped out of
Jake's hand with enough force to have taken his thumb off if he had
been holding it with an opposed grip.
'Jesus,' whispered Jake, 'a real little hell catV He scrambled up into
the turret and reached down to the controls and reset the ignition.
At the next swing of the crank handle she bucked and fired, caught and
surged, then fell back into a steady beat, quivering slightly on her
rigid suspension, but come alive.
Jake stepped back, sweating, flushed, but with his dark green eyes
shining with delight.
'Oh you beauty, 'he said. 'You bloody little beauty.'
'Bravo,'
said a voice behind him, and Jake started and turned quickly. He had
forgotten that he was not the only person left on earth, in his
complete absorption with the machine, and now he felt embarrassed, as
though he had been observed in some intimate and private bodily
function.
He glowered at the figure that was leaning elegantly against the hole
of the mango tree.
'Jolly good show,' said the stranger, and the voice was sufficient to
stir the hair upon the nape of Jake's neck. It was one of those pricey
Limey accents.
The man was dressed in a cream suit of expensive tropical linen and
two-tone shoes of white and brown. On his head he wore a white straw
hat with a wide brim that cast a shadow over his face. But Jake could
see the man had a friendly smile and an easy engaging manner. He was
handsome in a conventional manner, with noble and regular features,
a face that had flustered many a female's emotions and that fitted well
with the voice. He would he a ranking government official probably, or
an officer in one of the regular regiments stationed in Dares Salaam.
Upper class establishment, even to the necktie with its narrow diagonal
stripes by which the British advertised at which seat of learning they
had obtained their education and their place in the social order.
'It didn't take you long to get her going.' The man lolled gracefully
against the mango, his ankles crossed and one hand thrust into his coat
pocket. He smiled again, and this time Jake saw the mockery and
challenge in the eyes more clearly. He had judged him wrongly. This
was not one of those cardboard men. They were pirate eyes, mocking and
wolfish, dangerous as the glint of a knife in the shadows.
'I have no doubt the others are in as good a state of repair.' It was
an enquiry, not a statement.
'Well, you're wrong, friend. 'Jake felt a pang of dismay. It was
absurd that this fancy lad could have a real interest in the five
vehicles but if he did, then Jake had just given him a generous
