He stripped once again and, even though he had not worn it at the scene, placed all his clothing in a plastic bag. He was concerned that the faintest trace of blood might linger upon it.
Then he showered. He stood under the steaming spray for almost half an hour, shampooing his hair twice and scrubbing his hands and fingernails with a stiff brush.
When he felt that he had washed away every last trace of blood or gunpowder, he dressed in fresh clothing from his dressing-room and carried the plastic bag containing his clothing; back to the Mercedes parked in the residence garage. He placed the plastic bag in the boot beside his canvas grip. He was anxious to get rid of every single item that he had taken to Chiwewe, even his binoculars and his bird-book.
He reversed the Mercedes out of the garage and parked it in the front driveway of the residence. The gates were open and he left the key in the ignition.
Although it was by now after two in the morning and it had been a day and night filled with activity and intense nervous strain Cheng could not sleep. In a brocaded silk robe he paced his bedroom restlessly, until he heard the starter of the Mercedes whirl. He switched off the bedside lamp and darted to the window overlooking the front driveway.
He was just in time to see his car, with darkened headlights, pull out of the driveway and turn into the deserted street. He sighed with relief and at last went to bed.
As he composed himself to sleep he thought how swiftly Chetti Singh had arranged it. Chetti Singh's son managed the, Harare branch of the family interests. He was almost as astute and reliable as his father.
In the morning, after breakfast, Cheng telephoned the police and reported the theft of the Mercedes. They found it twenty-four hours later, out near Hatfield on the way to the airport. It had been stripped of tires. and engine and set on fire. The fuel tank had exploded and nothing was left of the vehicle but the soot-blackened carapace. He knew that the insurance company would pay out in full, without too much delay or protest.
The following morning an anonymous caller on Cheng's unlisted line spoke without introduction or explanation. Look at page five of today's Herald, he said, then broke the connection, but the accent had been Asian, very similar to Chetti Singh's manner of speech.
Cheng found the article at the foot of the page. It was six lines under an insignificant heading, Stabbed in Drunken Brawl. Gomo Chisonda, a ranger employed by the National Parks Service, had been stabbed to death by an unknown assailant during an argument in a township beerball.
The next day the same anonymous caller told Cheng, Page seven. This time Cheng was certain that he recognised the voice of Chetti Singh's son.
The heading of the newspaper article was Railway Accident, squib read, The body of David Shiri, an off-duty and the ranger in the National Parks Service, was found on the railway line near Hartley.
The dead man had a high blood alcohol level. A spokesman for Zimbabwe Railways warned the public of the danger of using unguarded crossings.
This- is the fourth accident of the same kind on the Hartley line since the beginning of the year. As Chetti Singh had promised, there were no longer any surviving witnesses or accomplices.
Three days later, Cheng received a telephone call from the commissioner of police in person. I am very sorry indeed to disturb you, Your Excellency. I presume you have read about the murderous attack on Chiwewe Camp. I believe that you may be able to assist our enquiries into this most unfortunate incident. I understand that you were a visitor . . at the camp on that day, and that you left only hours before the attack. That is correct, Commissioner. Would you have any objection to making a statement to assist us? You know that there is no obligation for you to do so. You are fully protected by diplomatic privilege. I will cooperate in any way possible. I particularly admired and liked the warden who was murdered. I will do all I can to help you apprehend the perpetrators of this foul crime.
am most grateful to you, Your Excellency. May I send one of my senior inspectors to call upon you? The inspector was a burly Shana in plain clothes. He was accompanied by a sergeant in the smart uniform of the Zimbabwean police, and both of them were elaborately obsequious.
With profuse apologies the inspector took Cheng through a recital of his visit to Chiwewe, including his departure with the convoy of refrigerator trucks. Cheng had rehearsed all this and he went through it faultlessly. He was careful to mention his meeting with Daniel Armstrong.
When he had finished, the inspector fidgeted uncomfortably before asking, Doctor Armstrong has also made a statement, Your Excellency.
His.
account confirms everything you have told me, except that he mentioned that he noticed there were bloodstains on your clothing.
When was that?
Cheng looked puzzled.
When he encountered you and the Parks trucks, as he was returning to Chiwewe, after having seen the tracks of the raiders on the road.
Cheng's expression cleared. All yes. I had been an interested spectator of the Parks elephant culling. As you can imagine, there was much blood about during the operation, I could easily have stepped in a puddle. The inspector was sweating with embarrassment at this stage.
Do you remember what you were wearing that evening, Your Excellency?
Cheng frowned as he tried to remember. I was wearing an open-neck shirt, blue cotton slacks, and probably a pair of comfortable running shoes. That is my usual casual attire. Do you still have those items?
Yes, of course.
The shirt and slacks will have been laundered by now, and the shoes will have been cleaned. My valet is very efficient. . . He broke off and smiled as though a thought had only just occurred to him.
Inspector, do you want to see these items? You might even wish to take them away for examination. Now the police inspector's embarrassment was painful. He squirmed in his chair. We have no right to ask for that kind of cooperation, Your Excellency. However, in view of the statement made by Doctor Armstrong. If you had no objection. Of course not.
