Daniel might not be in his room. She thought of every excuse for not going to warn him.
I owe him nothing, she thought, and heard Ephrem's voice again in her imagination: Just take Armstrong out into the jungle and get rid of him.
She backed away from the lighted window, not yet certain what she would do until she found herself running along the catwalk beneath the dark trees that dripped with rain. She slipped and fell on her knees but jumped up and kept running.
There was red mud on the front of her robe.
She saw through the trees that there was one light on in the row of guest rooms. The rest of them were in darkness. As she came closer she saw with relief that the light was in Daniel's room.
She did not go up on to the verandah of the guest house, but jumped down off the catwalk and made her way round the back of the building.
Daniel's window was curtained. She scratched softly on the mosquito-mesh screen that covered it, and at once heard a chair scrape back on the wooden floor.
She scratched again and Daniel's voice asked softly, Who is it? For God's sake, Danny, it's me. I have to talk to you. Come inside. I'll open the door. No, no. Come out here. It's desperate.
They mustn't see me.
Hurry, man, hurry. Half a minute later his broad-shouldered form loomed out of the darkness, backlit by the lighted bungalow window.
Danny, Ephrem knows about the Fish Eagle Bay tape. How did he find out? That doesn't matter. You told him, didn't you? Damn you to hell, I have come to warn you. He's issued orders for your immediate execution. Chetti Singh and Kajo are coming for you. They're going to take you into the jungle.
They don't want any evidence. How do you know this? Don't ask bloody fool questions. Believe me, I know. I can't waste another minute. I've got to get back. He'll find I'm gone.
She turned away, but he seized her arm. Thanks, Bonny, he said.
You're a better person than you think you are. Do you want to make a break for it with me? She shook her head. I'll be all right, she said.
Just get out of here. You've got an hour, tops. Get going! She pulled out of his grip and hurried away through the trees. He caught one last glimpse of her: the lights from the bungalow transformed her tumbled hair into a roseate halo and the long white robe made her look like an angel.
Some angel, Daniel muttered, and stood for a full minute in the darkness deciding what he could do.
While there had been only Chetti Singh and Ning Cheng Gong to deal with he had stood a chance. Like him, they had been constrained by the necessity of working in secrecy. None of them had been able to attack the other openly, but now Chetti Singh had open sanction to kill him, a special presidential licence. Daniel grinned as mirthlessly as a wolf.
He could expect the Sikh to act swiftly and ruthlessly. Bonny was right.
He had to get out of Sengi-Sengi within the next few minutes, before the executioners arrived.
From the angle of the building he threw a quick glance down the verandah and around the compound. All was quiet and dark. He slipped back into his room, and lifted his small travel bag down from the cupboard. It contained all his personal documents, passport, airline tickets, credit cards and travellers cheques. Apart from his clothing and toilet bag there was nothing else of value in the room.
He pulled on a light wind-cheater and checked that the key of the Landrover was in his pocket. He extinguished the lights and went out.
The Landrover was parked at the far end of the verandah. He opened the door quietly and threw his bag on to the passenger seat. All the hired VTR equipment was packed into the rear compartment and there was a selection of basic camping and first-aid equipment in the lockers, but there was no weapon of any kind, apart from his old hunting-knife.
He started the Landrover. The engine noise seemed excessively loud in the darkness. He did not switch on the headlights and he let in the clutch gently, keeping the engine revs down.
He drove slowly through the darkened compound towards the main gates.
He knew that the gates were never closed at night, and that a single guard was on duty there.
Daniel was under no illusion as to just how far he was going to get in the Landrover. There was only one road from SengiSengi to the Ubomo river ferry, and there was a road-block every five miles.
A radio call from Sengi-Sengi would alert every one of them.
The guards would be waiting for him with their fingers on the triggers of their AK 47s. No, he would be lucky to make it through the first block, and then he would have to take to the jungle. He didn't relish that prospect. He had been trained for survival and warfare in the drier bushveld of Rhodesia, a long way further south. He would not be nearly as adept in the rain forest, but there was no other way open to him.
The first thing was to get clear of Sengi-Sengi. After that he would face each problem as it arose.
And this is number one, he thought grimly as suddenly the floodlights at the main gates switched on in a bright halogen dawn. The entire compound was brightly lit.
There were half a dozen figures running from the barrack area where guards were quartered. It was obvious they had dressed hastily; some were in undervests and shorts. Daniel recognized both Captain Kajo and Chetti Singh.
Kajo was brandishing an automatic pistol and Chetti Singh was trotting along behind him, shouting and waving at the approaching Landrover, his white turban very visible in the glare of the floodlights. One of the guards was trying to shut the gates. He already had one wing of the steel-framed mesh gate half across the roadway.
Daniel switched on his headlights, put his hand flat on the horn and drove hard at him, the hooter blaring. The guard dived nimbly aside, and the Landrover slammed into the unlocked leaf of the gate and whipped it aside. He roared through.
Behind him he heard the rattling clamour of automatic riflefire. He felt half a dozen bullets slam into the aluminium bodywork of the Landrover, but he crouched low over the wheel and kept his foot hard down on the accelerator.
The first bend in the roadway rushed towards him in the headlights.
Another burst of automatic fire splattered against the rear of the vehicle. The rear window exploded in a storm of glass splinters and something struck him high in the back within an inch of his spine. He had been hit by a bullet before, in that long-ago war, and he recognized the sensation. From the position of the wound, high and close to the spine, it had to be a lung shot, a mortal wound. He expected to feel the choking flood of arterial blood into his lungs.
