'Listen, buddy, I said no.' Jake removed the cigar from his mouth and

examined it minutely.

'Your company - Pegasus. Can you tell me where your head office is

situated? Who is your managing director?'

'I am a busy man. You are wasting my time.' Helm ,,returned the cigar to

his mouth and began to turn away.

'I will be hunting in this area over the next few weeks.

I would not like to endanger any of your employees with a stray shot.

Can you give me some idea of where you will be working?'

outfit here, mister. I don't

'I am running a prospecting give out news flashes on my movements. Beat

id'

He turned and walked to the gate and gave brusque orders to the guards

before marching back to his office building.

'Satellite disc on the roof,' Nicholas remarked. 'I wonder who our lad

Jake is speaking to at this very moment.'

'Somebody in Texas?' Royan hazarded.

'Doesn't follow, necessarily, Nicholas demurred. Tega, is probably a

multinational. Just because Jake is one, doesn't mean his boss is Texan

also. Not a very instructive conversation, I am afraid.' He started the

engine and Uturned the Toyota. 'But if someone at Pegasus is the ugly

mixed up in this, he will recognize my name. We have given them notice

of our arrival. Let's see what we have flushed out of the bushes.'

When they got back to the Dandera river falls, they found that Boris's

truck had arrived, the tents had been erected, and the chef had brewed

tea for them. Boris was less welcoming than his chef, and maintained a

sullen silence while Nicholas tried to placate him for commandeering his

truck.

It was only after his first vodka of the evening that he mellowed

sufficiently to speak again.

'The mules were supposed to be waiting for us here.

Time means nothing to these people. We cannot start down into the gorge

until they arrive.'

'Well, at least while we are waiting for them I will have a chance to

sight in my rifle,'Nicholas remarked with resignation. 'In Africa it

never pays to be in a hurry. Too wearing on the nerves.'

After a leisurely breakfast the next morning, when there was still no

sign of the mules, Nicholas fetched his rifle case.

When Nicholas lifted the weapon out of its nest of green baize, Boris

took it from him and examined it minutely.

'An old rifle?'

'Made in 1926,'Nicholas nodded. 'My grandfather had it made for

himself.'

'They knew how to make them in those days. Not like the mass-produced

crap they turn out today.' Boris pursed his lips critically. 'Short

Mauser Oberndorf double square, bridge action, beautiful! But it has

been rebarrelled, no?

The original barrel was shot out. I had it replaced with a Shilen match

barrel. It will shoot the wings off a mosquito at a hundred paces.'

'Calibre 7  57, is it?' Boris asked.

Вы читаете The Seventh Scroll
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