the gendarmes round the cooking fires and Bruce settled down to drive.
In the rear-view mirror he watched the camp disappear round the curve in
the road. There were puddles of rainwater in the road, but above them
the clouds had broken up and scattered across the sky.
'How's it for a beer, boss?' 'Instead of coffee?' asked Bruce.
'Nothing like it for the bowels,' grunted Ruffy and reached down to open
the case.
Wally Hendry lifted his helmet and scratched his scalp. His short red
hair felt stiff and wiry with dried sweat and there was a spot above his
right ear that itched. He fingered it tenderly.
The Ranchero disappeared round a bend in the road, the trees screening
it abruptly, and the hum of its motor faded.
Okay, so they haven't taken the diamonds with them. I had a bloody good
look around. I guessed they'd leave them.
The girl knows where they are like as not. Perhaps - no, she'd squeal
like a stuck pig if I asked.
Hendry looked sideways at Shermame; she was staring after the
Ranchero.
Silly bitch! Getting all broody now that Curry's giving her the rod.
Funny how these educated Johnnies like their women to have small tits -
nice piece of arse though.
Wouldn't mind a bit of that myself. Jesus, that would really get to Mr.
High Class Bloody Curry, me giving his pretty the business. Not a chance
though. These niggers think he's a god or something. They'd
tear me to pieces if I touched her. Forget about it! Let's get the
diamonds and take off for the border.
Hendry settled his helmet back on to his head and strolled casually
across to the truck that Ruffy had been driving the day before.
Got a map, compass, coupla spare clips of ammo - now all we need
is the glass.
He climbed into the cab and opened the cubby hole.
Bet a pound to a pinch of dung that they've hidden them somewhere in
this truck. They're not worried - think they've got me tied up here.
Never occurred to them that old Uncle Wally might up and walk away.
Thought I'd just sit here and wait for them to come back and fetch me
take me in and hand me over to a bunch of nigger police aching to get
their hands on a white man.
Well, I got news for you, Mr. Fancy-talking Curry!
He rummaged in the cubbyhole and then slammed it shut.
Okay, they're not there. Let's try under the seats. The border
is not guarded, might take me three or four days to get through to Fort
Rosebery, but when I do I'll have me a pocket full of diamonds and
there's a direct air service out to Ndola and the rest of the world.
Then we start living!
There was nothing under the seats except a greasy dustcoated jack and
wheel spanner. Hendry turned his attention to the floorboards.
Pity I'll have to leave that bastard C'brry. I had plans for him.
There's a guy who really gets to me. So goddam cock-sure of himself.
One of them. Makes you feel you're shit - fancy talk, pretty face, soft
