stated today that the removal of missile equipment from the
Russian bases in Cuba had been confirmed by aerial reconnaissance-'
'That's all that we are interested in.' Bruce switched off the radio.
'What a shambles! Ruffy, where is Senwati Mission?'
'Top end of the swamp, near the Rhodesian border.'
'Fifty miles from Port Reprieve,' muttered Bruce, not attempting to
conceal his anxiety.
'It's more than that by road, boss, more like a hundred.'
'That should take them three or four days in this weather, with time off
for looting along the way,' Bruce calculated.
'It will be cutting it fairly fine. We must get through to Port
Reprieve by tomorrow evening and pull out again at dawn the next day.'
'Why not keep going tonight?' Hendry removed the bottle from his lips to
ask. 'Better than sitting here being eaten by mosquitoes.'
'We'll stay,' Bruce answered. 'It won't do anybody much good to derail
this lot in the dark.' He turned back to
Ruffy.
'Three-hour watches tonight, Sergeant Major. Lieutenant Haig will
take the first, then Lieutenant Hendry, then Lieutenant de Surrier, and
I'll do the dawn spell.'
'Okay, boss. I'd better make sure my boys aren't sleeping.' He left the
compartment and the broken glass from the corridor windows crunched
under his boots.
'I'll be on my way also.' Mike stood up and pulled the ground sheet over
his shoulders.
'Don't waste the batteries of the searchlights, Mike.
Sweep every ten minutes or so.'
'Okay, Bruce.' Mike looked across at Hendry. 'I'll call you at nine
o'clock.'
'Jolly good show, old fruit.' Wally exaggerated Mike's accent. 'Good
hunting, what!' and then as Mike left the compartment, 'Silly old
bugger, why does he have to talk like that?' No one answered him, and he
pulled up his shirt behind.
'Andre what's this on my back?'
'It's a pimple.'
'Well, squeeze it then.' Bruce woke in the night, sweating, with the
mosquitoes whining about his face. Outside it was still raining and
occasionally the reflected light from the searchlight on the roof of the
coach lit the interior dimly.
On one of the bottom bunks Mike Haig lay on his back.
His face was shining with sweat and he lolled his head from side to side
on the pillow. He was grinding his teeth - a sound to which
Bruce had become accustomed, and he preferred it to Hendry's snores.
'You poor old bugger,' whispered Bruce.
From the bunk opposite, Andre de Surrier whimpered.
In sleep he looked like a child with dark soft hair falling over his
forehead.
The sun was hot before it cleared the horizon. It lifted a warm mist
from the dripping forest. and the rain petered out in the dawn.
As they ran north the forest thickened, the trees grew closer together
