These bitter emotions were a flame that was burning he up ee, like the
bushfire in the trunk of a hollow forest tr consuming her from within.
Nicholas knew that he, could not quench that flame, that he could only
hope to distract her for a while. He talked to her quietly, turning her
dark thoughts away from death and vengeance to the challenge of Taita's
game and the riddle of the lost tomb.
By the time that they had changed planes at Nairobi and landed at
Heathrow the following morning, the two of them had sketched out a plan
of action for their return to the Nile gorge and the exploration of
Taita'spool in the chasm. But although now Royan appeared on the surface
to be her usual calm and cheerful self once again, Nicholas knew that
the pain of her loss was still there beneath the surface.
They landed at Heathrow so early that they walked through the
immigration gates without running into a queue, and since they had no
bags in the hold they did not have to play the customary game of
roulette at the luggage carousel - will they arrive or won't they?
carrying the dik-dik skin in the nylon bag under his arm, and with Royan
limping on her cane on his other arm, Nicholas sauntered through the
green channel of HM Customs, as innocent as a cherub from the roof of
the Sistine Chapel.
'You are so brazen,' she whispered to him once they were through and
clear. 'If you can lie so convincingly to Customs, how can I ever trust
you again?'
Their luck held. There was no queue at the taxi rank, and in a little
over an hour after touch-down the taxi deposited them on the pavement
outside Nicholas's town house in Knightsbridge. It was only eight-thirty
on a Monday morning.
While Royan showered, Nicholas went down to the corner shop under an
umbrella to fetch some groceries Then they shared the task of cooking
breakfast, Royan taking care of the toast while Nicholas whipped up his
speciality, a herb omelette.
'Surely you're going to need expert help when we go back to the Abbay
gorge?' Royan observed, as she let the butter melt into the hot toast.
I already have the right man in mind. I have worked before,' he told
her. 'Ex-Royal Engineers. Expert with hi in diving and underwater
construction. Retired and living in a little cottage in Devon. I suspect
he is a little short of the ready, and bored out of his considerable
mind. I expect him to jump at any opportunity to alleviate either
condition.'
As soon as they had finished breakfast, Nicholas told her, 'I will do
the dishes. You take the films of the stele to be developed. There is a
one-hour service at the branch of Boots opposite Harrods.'
'That's what I call a fair distribution of labour,' she remarked with a
long-suffering air. 'You have a dishwasher, and it's raining again
outside.'
'All right,' he laughed. 'To sweeten the pill, I'll lend you my
raincoat. While you are waiting for the films to be developed you can go
shopping to replace the togs you lost in the rockfalls I have some
crucial phone calls to make.'
As soon as she had left, Nicholas settled at his desk with a notepad at
