been hunted down and the ring returned to me, I will mail it to Mercial.' He rubbed his jaw as he stared at Tak. 'We mustn't make a mistake. It would be dangerous if even one of them got away. What chances do you think
they have against a hundred of my Zulus and the jungle?'
Tak considered the problem, then shook his head.
'No chance at all, sir.'
'That's what I think.' Kahlenberg paused, thinking of the photograph locked in his desk. 'Pity about the woman.'
Tak got to his feet.
'Is there anything else, sir?'
'Yes . . . let me have the Borgia ring.'
When Tak had gone, Kahlenberg flicked down a switch on the intercom and said, 'Send Kemosa to me.'
A few minutes later an old, bent Bantu, wearing immaculate white drill came into the office. Kemosa had served Kahlenberg's father and was now in charge of the native staff, ruling them with a rod of iron. He stood before Kahlenberg, waiting.
'Is the old witch doctor still on the estate?' Kahlenberg asked. 'Yes, master.'
'I never see him. I thought he was dead.'
Kemosa said nothing.
'My father told me this man has great experience with poisons,' Kahlenberg went on. 'Is that correct?'
'Yes, master.'
'Go to him and say I want a slow working poison that will kill a man in twelve hours. Do you think he could supply a poison like that?'
Kemosa nodded.
'Very well. I want it by tomorrow morning. See he is suitably rewarded.'
'Yes, master.' Kemosa inclined his head and went away.
Kahlenberg pulled a legal document towards him and began to study it. A few minutes later Tak came in carrying a small glass box in which, set on a blue velvet support, was the Caesar Borgia ring.
'Leave it with me,' Kahlenberg said without looking up. Tak placed the box on the desk and withdrew.
After reading the document and laying it down, Kahlenberg picked up the glass box and leaning back in his chair, he slid off the lid and took out the ring.
He took from a drawer a watchmaker's glass and screwed it into his eye. He spent some moments examining the ring before he found the minute sliding trap, covered by a diamond that gave access to the tiny reservoir that held the poison.
They left the Rand International hotel a little after 08.00 hrs. and headed for Harrismith on the N.16 highway.
They were all wearing bush shirts, shorts, knee stockings, stout soled shoes and bush hats around which was a band of cheetah skin. The men all eyed Gaye as she climbed into the front seat of the Land Rover. The outfit set off her figure and suited her. Again Fennel felt a stab of frustrated desire go through him.
Ken Jones took the wheel and Garry and Fennel sat on the rear bench seat. It was a tight squeeze for the four of them and their equipment. Each had brought along a rucksack containing their personal essentials and these were piled on the rear seat between the two men.
The sky was grey and the atmosphere was close and steamy and they were glad when they had left the city and had got on to the open road.
'This is going to be a pretty dull run,' Ken said. 'Two hundred kilometres to Harrismith, then we turn off the National road and head down for Bergville. We'll get to Mainville for lunch, pick up our guide and then we have thirty kilometres through jungle to the camp. That'll be fun: we're certain to see some game.'
'Who's looking after the chopper?' Garry asked, leaning forward. 'You haven't just left it in the jungle, have you?'
Ken laughed.
'I hired four Bantus to guard it. I know them . . . they're okay. It only arrived yesterday. You've nothing to worry about.'
Gaye said she was glad to leave Johannesburg.
'I didn't like it.'
