to know Michele better and they get in each other's way. Kosters is something in the diamond business in Amsterdam. Here he comes now.'
Stafford turned and looked at the young man making his way to the bar. He greeted the girl and she smiled at him warmly. Chip said, 'Kosters speaks French which gives him an advantage.'
'Your Adam Muliro is a fund of information. What did he find out about Gunnarsson?'
'He's an insurance broker from New York.'
'In a pig's eye. He runs an industrial espionage outfit. He's ex-CIA.'
'Is he, now?' said Chip thoughtfully. 'That's interesting.'
'And Hendrix; what about him?'
'According to Adam he smokes bhang. You'll know it better as marijuana. That's an offence in Kenya, of course, but it could be useful: If you want him held at any time the police could be tipped off. I could make sure that bhang would be found in his possession.'
'And you accused me of having a devious mind,' Stafford remarked. 'Anything else? Is he bragging about new found wealth, for instance?'
'Not according to Adam. He doesn't talk much about himself.'
'I don't suppose he can, seeing that he's someone else.'
Chip nodded. 'Adam says that Gunnarsson jumped on Hendrix a couple of times and made a change of subject but ' he didn't know why. We know why now.'
'Yes,' said Stafford. 'Hendrix must have been opening his mouth a bit too wide. Making trifling errors and in danger of blowing his cover. It must be wearing for Gunnarsson to be riding shotgun on three million pounds.'
'When is Hendrix getting the money?'
'I don't know, but it will be very soon. Farrar is fixing that now.' Stafford shook his head. 'I'd like to know why Gun narsson and Hendrix are hanging about here in Kenya when the cash is in England. If I were Hendrix I'd be twisting Farrar's arm; urging him to get a move on.'
'You would if you were innocent,' said Chip. 'But Hendrix isn't. Perhaps Gunnarsson thinks he can keep closer to Hendrix here than in England. I wouldn't suppose there's all that much trust between them.'
'No honour among thieves? That might be it. Gunnarsson won't want Hendrix vanishing with the loot as soon as he lays hands on it. He's certainly sticking close to him now.'
Chip stretched his arms. 'Now I understand your problem better, but I don't know how to solve it. What do we do?'
'What we've been doing; we watch and wait. I can't think of anything else.'
Next day they went game spotting again, but this time with a difference; they stayed within easy reach of Gunnarsson's tour group. That was not difficult because Adam Muliro co-operated, never getting too far away. If Gunnarsson spotted them they would just be another group in the distance, and they were careful never to get too close. Stafford did not know why he was taking the trouble because it was a pretty pointless exercise. Action for the sake of action and born out of frustration.
And, of course, they saw animals – sometimes. Stafford found how difficult it is to see an unmoving animal, even one so grotesque as a giraffe. Once Nair pointed out a giraffe and he could not see it until it moved and he found he had been staring between its legs. And the grass was long and the exact colour of a lion. Of them all it was, oddly enough, Curtis who was the best at game spotting.
They were on the way back to Keekorok when Nair braked to a halt. 'We're getting too close,' he said. The Nissan ahead of them topped a rise and disappeared over the other side. 'We'll be able to see it when it rounds the bend over there.' He pointed to where the road curved about a mile away.
Stafford produced a packet of cigarettes and offered them around. Chip said, 'This isn't getting us far, Max.'
Nair smiled. 'Call it a holiday, Chip. Look at the pretty impala over there.'
Curtis said, 'With due respect I think the Colonel is wasting his time.'
Those were strong words coming from the Sergeant who had few words to spare at any time. Stafford said, 'And what would you suggest?'
'Get hold of Hendrix on his own and beat the bejesus out him until he admits he's an impostor,' he said bluntly.
'Sergeant Curtis has a point,' said Chip.
'It's an idea,' said Stafford. 'The problem will be to separate him from Gunnarsson. I don't want to tip him off.' Or anyone else, he thought. There was the peculiar conduct of Brice back at Ol Njorowa College; Stafford had not told Chip about the twenty-seven or so million pounds unaccounted for. That did not tie in at all.
They kicked it around a while, then Nair said, 'Funny. They're not in sight yet.' There was no sign of the Nissan that had gone ahead.
'They've probably found a lion over the hill,' said Chip. 'Tourists stop a long time with lions. They're probably making a fortune for Kodak.'
'Not Gunnarsson and Hendrix,' said Nair.
They talked some more and then Nair moved restlessly. 'Still no sign of them. A long time even for lion.'
'Perhaps there's a track leading off the road just over the hill,' said Stafford.
'No track,' said Nair positively.
He said, 'Then he's gone off the road, track or no track.'
'Adam wouldn't do that; not without giving us a signal.' Chip stubbed out his cigarette. 'Let's move it, Nair. Just to the top there.'
Nair turned the key in the ignition and they moved off. At the top of the rise they stopped and looked down into the little valley. The Nissan was standing in the centre of the road below them about 400 yards away. There was nothing unusual about that; tour buses stood stationary like that all over the Reserve and it was normally the sign that something unusual had been spotted a kill, perhaps.
Chip took binoculars and scanned the vehicle. 'Get down there, Nair,' he said quietly.
They coasted down the hill and came to a halt next to the Nissan. There was not a living soul in it.
The first bizarre thought that came into Stafford's head was the story of the Mary Celeste. Chip shot a spate of words to Nair in a language he did not understand, probably Swahili, and they both got out, ignoring the deserted vehicle and looking about at the landscape. There must have been a watercourse in the valley, now dried up, because there was a small culvert to take water under the road, and the bush was particularly thick and green.
Stafford and Curtis got out to join them, and Chip said sharply, 'Don't come closer.'
Stafford said, 'Where the hell have they all gone?' It was an offence to get out of a car in the Reserve; you could lose tourists that way, and that would be bad for business.
Chip stooped and picked up something which glittered in the sun – a pair of dark glasses with one lens broken. 'They didn't go voluntarily.'
'Kidnapped!' Stafford said incredulously. 'Who'd want to do that?'
'The Jeshi la Mgambo' said Nair. 'Right, Chip?'
'I'd say so.' Chip opened the door of the Nissan and looked inside. 'It's stripped,' he said. 'No cameras, binoculars or anything else. Everything gone.'
Nair looked back along the road. 'They'll have had a man up there watching us.' He turned and pointed. 'Up there, too. They could still be around.'
'Too damned right,' said Chip. He moved quickly to their own Nissan and opened the door at the back. Stafford had inspected the vehicle so he did not know where he got them but when he turned around Chip was holding two rifles. He tossed one to Nair and said to Stafford, 'Can you use one of these?'
'I have been known to,' Stafford said dryly. 'Now will you kindly tell me what's happening?'
'Later,' Chip said, and gave him the rifle.
