Carl Engelbrecht came through the doorway from the cockpit into the main
cabin of the Dakota.
'Are you two happy?' he asked above the deep drone of the engines, and
then grinning with his big brown face, 'I can see you are!' Bruce
grinned back at him and tightened his arm around Shermaine's shoulders.
'Go away! Can't you see we're busy?'
'You've got lots of cheek for a hitch-hiker - bloody good mind to make
you get out and walk,' he grumbled as he sat down beside them on the
bench that ran the full length of the fuselage. 'I've brought you some
coffee and sandwiches.'
'Good. Good. I'm starving.' Shermaine sat up and reached for the thermos
flask and the greaseproof paper packet. The bruise on her cheek had
faded to a shadow with yellow edges - it was almost ten days old. With
his mouth full of chicken sandwich Bruce kicked one of the wooden cases
that were roped securely to the floor of the aircraft.
'What have you got in these, Carl?' 'Dunno,' said Carl and poured coffee
into the three plastic mugs. 'In this game you don't ask questions. You
fly out, take your money, and let it go.' He drained his mug and stood
up. 'Well, I'll leave you two alone now. We'll be in Nairobi in a couple
of hours, so you can sleep or something!' He winked. 'You'll have to
stay aboard while we refuel. But we'll be airborne again in an hour or
so, and the day after tomorrow, God and the weather permitting, we'll
set you down in Zurich.'
'Thanks, old cock.'
'Think nothing of it - all in the day's work.' He went forward
and disappeared into the cockpit, closing the door behind him.
Shermaine turned back to Bruce, studied him for a moment and then
laughed.
'You look so different - now you look like a lawyer!'
Self-consciously Bruce tightened the knot of his Old Michaelhouse tie.
'I must admit it feels strange to wear a suit and tie again.' He looked
down at the well-cut blue suit - the only one he had left - and then up
again at Shermaine.
'And in a dress I hardly recognize you either.' She was wearing a
lime-green cotton frock, cool and crisp looking, white high-heel shoes
and just a little make-up to cover the bruise. A damn fine woman, Bruce
decided with pleasure.
'How does your thumb feel? she asked, and Bruce held up the stump with
its neat little turban of adhesive tape.
'I had almost forgotten about it.' Suddenly Shermaine's expression
changed, and she pointed excitedly out of the perspex window behind
Bruce's shoulder.
'Look, there's the sea!' It lay far below them, shaded from blue to pale
green in the shallows, with a round of white beach and the wave
formation moving across it like ripples on a pond.
'That's Lake Tanganyika.' Bruce laughed. 'We've left the Congo behind.'
'Forever?' she asked.
'Forever!' he assured her.
The aircraft banked slightly, throwing them closer together, as
Carl picked out his landmarks and altered cours towards the north-east.
