Flyaway / Windfall (53 page)

‘I have my own car.’

Stafford became sarcastic. ‘And if you want notice of my further movements I’ll be leaving for London on the flight tomorrow morning or the day after, depending on whether I can get a seat. Does that satisfy you?’

Gunnarsson watched him folding a shirt. ‘Why should you want to satisfy me?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Stafford. ‘But this was intended to be a holiday, the first I’ve had for three years, and it hasn’t really turned out that way. I became involved, quite accidentally, in the kidnapping of a group of tourists, and since then everyone has been questioning my motives. Even Charles Brice has been asking pointed questions. Well, I’ve had enough. I’m going home.’ He opened drawers to make sure he had packed everything, then closed his suitcase hoping that Brice was taking it all in.

He said, ‘Gunnarsson; what do you think happened to young Henry Hendrix? You were there.’

‘I don’t know what to think. How about you?’

‘I think the group was kidnapped by Tanzanians. It’s happened before. I think Hendrix was killed, probably accidentally, and buried. Probably not even buried—the scavengers would take care of him. And I think you’re wasting your time, Gunnarsson. You’ve lost out on your con game. Why don’t you go home as I’m doing?’

Gunnarsson regarded Stafford sardonically. ‘It’ll be a long, long day before I take advice from you. There’s something goddamn phoney going on here, and if you can’t see it then I can. I’m sticking around to do some probing.’

Stafford shrugged and picked up his case. ‘Suit yourself.’ He walked to the door. ‘I suppose we’ll meet again, probably in New York. Brace yourself for a fight.’

‘I fight rough,’ warned Gunnarsson.

‘I don’t mind that.’ Stafford stood at the door, his hand on the handle. ‘Are you coming down or do you think you’ve inherited this bedroom?’

‘Go to hell!’ said Gunnarsson, but he stood up and followed Stafford down the stairs. On the ground floor they parted, Gunnarsson going back into the dining room and Stafford to the Nissan to deposit his suitcase. As he walked back to the entrance of the Admin Block he was well satis—fied. The conversation he had had with Gunnarsson had been really aimed at Brice and Hendriks and he hoped the picture frame bug had been in working condition.

On his return to the dining room he saw Brice and Hendriks at their table talking to Gunnarsson. As he sat down Brice said, ‘Mr Gunnarsson tells us you’re leaving.’

‘That’s right. I’m here to say goodbye and to thank you for your hospitality.’ Stafford looked at Hendriks. ‘Sorry about your cousin, Dirk. Keep in touch and let me know what happens. I might be moving around when I get home but letters addressed to the office will find me.’

‘I’ll do that.’

Brice said, ‘Did you and Mr Gunnarsson resolve your differences? I hope so.’

Stafford laughed. ‘We have no differences—not here.’ A waiter put down a cup before him and filled it with coffee. ‘Those will begin in New York.’ Gunnarsson snorted, and Stafford said evenly, ‘That’s why I told Dirk I’d be moving around.’

‘You think you can muscle in while I’m away?’ Gunnarsson chuckled. ‘Not a chance, buster.’

Stafford drank his coffee, then turned to Brice and held out his hand. ‘Nice to have known you, Mr Brice—Charles. I hope your plans for Ol Njorowa turn out well.’ They shook hands and Stafford got up and went around the table. He clapped Hendriks on the shoulder. ‘When do you expect to be back in London, Dirk?’

‘I don’t know. I seem to have my hands full here.’

‘You don’t mind if I pop in to see Alix and my godson, do you?’

‘Of course not. She’ll be glad to see you.’

Stafford looked across the room. ‘I’d better catch Alan Hunt before he leaves. Goodbye, and thanks for everything.’

With a wave he went striding across the room to intercept Hunt at the doorway of the dining room. ‘Alan, I’m going now. Thanks for the balloon flight.’

‘I only did it for the champagne,’ said Hunt with a grin. Stafford put a hand on Hunt’s elbow and steered him towards the entrance hall. ‘I’d like to have a word with you. You were born in Kenya, weren’t you?’

‘That’s right.’

‘So it’s your native country. What do you think of the way it’s run?’

‘On the whole not bad. The government makes mistakes, but what government doesn’t?’ Hunt frowned. ‘What are you getting at, Max?’

They walked down the steps into the sunlight and towards Stafford’s Nissan. He said, ‘Would you consider yourself a patriot?’

‘That’s a hell of a question,’ said Hunt. ‘You mean dying for my country and all that?’

‘I’d rather you lived for it,’ said Stafford. ‘Look, Alan; a problem has come up. Do you know where Safariland is?’

‘Of course.’

Stafford checked the time. ‘Could you meet me there in half an hour? There are a few people I want you to meet.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Hunt uncertainly. ‘What’s this all about?’

‘You’ll be told when you get there.’ Stafford opened the door of the Nissan and got in. ‘I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone where you were going. Maybe you’d better invent a shopping errand in Naivasha.’

Hunt smiled faintly. ‘It sounds very mysterious—but all right.’

‘I’ll see you there.’ Stafford reversed out of the parking slot, waved, and drove towards the gates of Ol Njorowa very slowly because of the sleeping policemen. He looked in the mirror and saw Brice walking from the Admin Block to meet Hunt. He hoped Hunt had sense enough to keep his mouth shut as he had been told.

Stafford had expected to see Hardin at Safariland but instead he was met by Curtis who walked forward as the Nissan drew to a halt. He got out, and said, ‘Good afternoon, Sergeant. Where is everyone? What’s the drill?’

Curtis said, ‘Colonel Chipende thought it advisable to hold the meeting on Crescent Island. That’s an island in the lake, sir. If the Colonel will follow me I have a boat ready.’

Stafford smiled. Now that Chipende was revealed, Curtis was giving him full military honours. He said mildly, ‘I think we’ll still call him Chip, Sergeant.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We can’t go yet. I’m expecting someone else. Perhaps fifteen minutes.’

So they waited and presently Hunt arrived and, somewhat to Stafford’s consternation, he had brought Judy. They got out of the car and Stafford said, ‘I told you not to tell anyone else.’

Hunt gave a lop-sided grin. ‘I wanted a witness.’

‘And I’m a patriot, too,’ added Judy. ‘What’s going on, Max? It’s all very mysterious.’

Stafford stood undecided for a moment then he shrugged. ‘Very well. You might as well come along.’

‘That’s not very gracious,’ she said.

‘It wasn’t intended to be,’ he snapped, and turned to Curtis. ‘Carry on.’

Curtis led the way to the edge of the lake where there was a rough timbered jetty alongside which was moored an open boat with a black Kenyan sitting in the stern. They got in and the Kenyan started the outboard engine and soon they were cruising at a respectable speed towards an island which lay about a mile offshore. ‘Why are we going to Crescent Island?’ asked Judy.

‘I don’t know, but we’ll soon find out,’ said Stafford. He nudged Curtis. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Col…’ Curtis swallowed and began again. ‘Chip and Nair, and Mr Hardin. And there’s another man. I don’t know who he is.’

Stafford grunted and wondered about that but did not let it worry him. The time to worry was when he thought it might cause trouble. Hunt said, ‘Do you mean Nair Singh?’

‘Yes,’ said Stafford shortly, and watched the island ahead.

At last they drew alongside the rocky foreshore and were able to land. Chip came down to meet them. He looked at the Hunts and frowned, then said to Stafford, ‘Could I have a word with you?’ Stafford nodded and they walked out of earshot. ‘I don’t think this is a good thing, Max. Why did you bring them?’

‘I didn’t bring
them,
’ said Stafford irritably. ‘I wanted Hunt along; his sister came without invitation.’

‘But why even Hunt?’

‘We’ve got to have someone on the inside and I elected Hunt,’ said Stafford. ‘I have my reasons and I’ll justify them. Curtis tells me you’ve brought along your own surprise.’

Chip nodded. ‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t introduce him. He’s here…er…incognito.’

‘One of your bosses?’

Chip smiled. ‘Could very well be.’

‘So that’s why we’re here on an island,’ said Stafford. ‘All right; let’s get on with it. We have a lot to discuss.’

Chip hesitated, then nodded. ‘All right; let’s go.’

Stafford jerked his head at Curtis and the Hunts and they all followed Chip up a slope which led down to the beach, walking among trees. Once Stafford was alarmed as a big animal broke away from quite close and he saw a whiteringed rump as it plunged away from them. ‘Water-buck,’ said Curtis dispassionately.

‘They do very well here,’ said Chip. ‘They swim across from the mainland. The big cats don’t like water very much, at least not to the extent of swimming a mile, so the waterbuck are safe from predators.’ Stafford thought with some humour that even now Chip could not resist acting the courier, but became alert when Chip said, ‘Watch out for snakes.’

They pressed on and eventually came to a piece of level ground on which were the foundations of a building. Whether the building had fallen down or whether the builder had just got as far as putting in the foundations Stafford could not decide. Here, waiting for them, were the others—Nair, Hardin and a stranger. He was an elderly black Kenyan with greying hair and an expressionless face. Chip went over to him and talked in low tones.

Stafford walked over to Hardin. ‘Hello, Ben. Who’s the old man there?’

‘He doesn’t say—neither does Chip. I’d say he’s top brass. He doesn’t talk so you’d notice.’

‘He’s come to assess the evidence,’ said Stafford. ‘I have some to give him.’

Chip stepped forward and said to the Hunts, ‘I think we ought to introduce ourselves. I’m Pete Chipende, but call me Chip. This is…’

‘No!’ said Stafford sharply. ‘Let’s not pussyfoot around.’ He looked at Alan Hunt. ‘This is Colonel Peter Chipende of the Kenyan Army.’ There was a flash in Chip’s eyes which he ignored. ‘You already know Nair but you don’t know his rank and neither do I.’

Nair stepped forward. ‘Captain Nair Singh, at your service.’

Hunt raised his eyebrows. ‘I didn’t know you were in the army, Nair.’

‘You still don’t know,’ said Chip flatly. ‘This conversation isn’t happening. Understand?’

Stafford said, ‘Ben Hardin you’ve already met, and this is Curtis. That gentleman over there I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to know. Chip is right. What you learn here you keep under your hats.’

Judy laughed nervously. ‘All very portentous.’

‘Yes,’ said Hunt. ‘Very cloak and dagger. What’s it all about?’

‘Tell him, Chip,’ said Stafford.

Chip said, ‘We have reason to believe that Ol Njorowa is not as it seems, that it is an illicit base in Kenya for a foreign power—a centre for espionage.’

‘You’re crazy,’ said Hunt.

‘Alan, you haven’t heard the evidence. Wait for it.’ Stafford turned to Nair. ‘Have you got the photographs?’ Nair gave them to him and he said, ‘You produced these damned quickly.’

‘My brother-in-law is a photographer. He did them.’

Stafford grimaced. ‘That joke is becoming pretty thin, Nair.’

‘But it’s true,’ protested Nair. ‘My brother-in-law really is a professional photographer in Naivasha. He says because he did them so quickly they won’t last; the colours will fade. He’s doing a more permanent set now.’

Stafford flipped through them. ‘These will do for now.’ He sat on the edge of the crumbling concrete foundation and began to lay them out. As he did so he said, ‘Has anything happened I ought to know about, Chip?’

‘Not much, except that someone was inquiring about Gunnarsson at the New Stanley. He wasn’t there, of course; he was already in the hotel here.’

‘Who was being inquisitive?’

‘We don’t know yet. It’s being followed up.’

Stafford had got the photographs spread out. ‘Right. These are pictures taken of Ol Njorowa during an overflight in Alan’s balloon this morning. Anyone got any comments?’

He drew back to let the others inspect them. They crowded around except for the elderly Kenyan who had seated himself on a nearby rock and was placidly smoking a pipe. There was silence for a while then Hardin said, ‘Yeah; this tower here. What is it?’

‘That’s the water tower,’ said Hunt. ‘The water is pumped up there and then distributed by gravity.’

Curtis coughed. ‘Perhaps I could point out to the Colonel that the water tower is in the wrong place.’

‘Why, Sergeant?’

‘The natural place to build a water tower would be on the highest point of land.’ Curtis pointed at another photograph. ‘Which would be about there.’

Hunt looked at Stafford curiously. ‘Are you a colonel, too?’

‘I’m trying to retire but Sergeant Curtis won’t let me,’ said Stafford dryly. ‘All right, a water tower in the wrong place.’

Hardin picked up the photograph. ‘It’s close to the perimeter fence where it angles. I’d say it’s an observation tower. From the top you could cover a hell of a lot of that fence. Good place to put a couple of TV cameras.’

Chip said, ‘What about at night? Is the fence illuminated?’

‘No; I checked,’ said Stafford.

‘Could be infra-red,’ said Nair. ‘You couldn’t see that.’

‘No infra-red. You’re behind the times, Nair.
If
there is TV coverage of the fence they’d probably use photomultipliers—the things they use as night sights in the army. Even on a moonless, cloudy night you get a pretty good picture.’

‘Are you serious about this?’ demanded Hunt.

‘Very.’ Stafford waved his hands over the photographs. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yeah,’ said Hardin. ‘But it doesn’t show in these pictures.’ He turned to Hunt. ‘You said a leopard was getting over the fence and that’s why there was an armed guard. Right?’

Hunt nodded. ‘Brice had a patrol out. He reckoned the leopard was getting over by climbing a tree which was too near the fence.’

‘Yeah, that’s what you said.’ Hardin jerked his head at Curtis. ‘Tell him, Sergeant.’

‘Acting on instructions of the Colonel I did a tour of the perimeter from the outside. The vegetation has been cut back on the outside of the fence to a distance of at least thirty feet. There is no tree near the fence. I found evidence of weed killer; there was an empty paper sack. I didn’t remove it but I made a note of what it was.’ He took a piece of paper and gave it to Stafford.

‘Pretty powerful stuff,’ said Hardin, looking over Stafford’s shoulder. ‘It’s the defoliant we used in Vietnam, and it’s now illegal for commercial use. It looks as though someone wants a clear view along the fence.’

‘How long is the fence?’ asked Stafford.

‘About six and a half miles, sir,’ said Curtis.

‘A ten foot chain-link fence six and a half miles long,’ commented Stafford. ‘That’s pretty much security overkill for an innocent agricultural college short of funds, wouldn’t you say, Alan?’

‘I hadn’t really thought of it in that light,’ said Hunt, ‘It was already there when I came to Ol Njorowa.’ He shook his head. ‘And I hadn’t noticed the cleared strip on the outside.’

Chip picked up a photograph. ‘This interests me.’

‘It interests me, too,’ said Stafford. ‘In fact, it’s the key to the whole bloody situation. What about it, Alan?’

Hunt took the photograph. ‘Oh, that’s the animal movement laboratory. I don’t know much about it. I’ve never been inside.’

‘Tell Chip about the pretty wildebeest,’ said Stafford ironically.

Hunt retailed all he knew about the work done there on patterns of animal migration. He shrugged. ‘I don’t know much more; it’s, not my field. In any case it’s not really a part of the College; we just give them house room.’

‘I’ve been all over Ol Njorowa,’ said Stafford. ‘I’ve been given the grand tour; I’ve been everywhere except inside that so-called laboratory. Alan has been at Ol Njorowa for two years and he hasn’t been inside.’

‘Well, it’s not used all the year round,’ said Hunt. ‘And the wildebeest migration doesn’t begin for another six weeks.’

Judy said, ‘We don’t see much of those people, anyway. They’re not good mixers.’

‘So Alan remarked before.’ Stafford looked at the sky and said dreamily, ‘Up there, a little over 22,000 miles high, is an American satellite for extended weather research, a laudable project and no doubt quite genuine. But it contains equipment used by these people at Ol Njorowa. It occurred to me that a signal sent from that dish antenna to the satellite could be relayed and picked up in, say, Pretoria which is about 25 degrees south. Or possibly somewhere in the Northern Transvaal such as Messina or Louis Trichardt which are about 22 to 23 degrees south.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve been looking at maps.’

Hunt said, ‘This is all sheer supposition. You talk of TV cameras on the water tower, but you don’t know they’re there. And all this waffle about signalling to Pretoria is just sheer guff in my opinion. If this is what you’ve brought me to hear you’re wasting my time.’

‘Alan,’ said Stafford gently. ‘Does a respectable establishment bug the guest bedrooms?’

‘You’re sure of that?’ said Chip sharply.

‘Dead sure. Microphone and radio transmitter disguised as a picture of an elephant.’ He described what he had found.

Chip blew out his cheeks in a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God!’ he said. ‘It’s the first firm evidence we’ve had.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Stafford. He recounted the events of the day in detail, then said, ‘I manoeuvred Gunnarsson into a private conversation in the bedroom because I was pretty sure that Brice would be listening. All the time I talked to Gunnarsson I was really addressing Brice.’ He grinned. ‘I needled Gunnarsson into saying that he’s going to stick around to investigate Ol Njorowa because he thinks it’s a phoney set-up.’

‘He always was a sharp operator,’ said Hardin soberly. ‘I’ll give him that. He doesn’t have cotton wadding between his ears.’

‘Yes, but Brice will have heard him saying it.’ Stafford laughed, ‘It will be interesting to see what happens now.’

Hunt looked at his sister. ‘What do you think?’

‘Until Max told about the picture in his room I wasn’t convinced,’ she said. ‘But he’s really getting to me now.’

‘Have you seen the TV camera in the entrance hall of the Admin Block?’ asked Stafford helpfully.

Hunt looked startled. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘That’s not surprising; it’s hard to spot unless you know what you’re looking for. As you face the counter it’s behind and to your left in the top corner. Now, don’t go staring at it, for God’s sake! Just do an unobtrusive check.’

Hunt shook his head in bewilderment. ‘You know, last year Brice showed me a couple of papers in a journal about the work done by the animal migration lab. From what I could see it was really good stuff.’

‘No doubt it was. The best cover is always genuine.’ Stafford turned to Chip. ‘When I was talking to Gunnarsson I indicated I was leaving Kenya and going back to London. Brice might believe it or he might not. Can you do anything to support that story?’

Chip thought about it. ‘We don’t know yet how big an organization Brice has built up, or how far we’ve been penetrated. I’ll have someone book air tickets in the names of you and Curtis. Let me have your passport numbers, and the records will show that you left tomorrow morning. In the meantime you’ll have to go to ground.’

‘Why not here?’ said Nair. ‘Here on Crescent Island. It’s close to Ol Njorowa and it’s quiet. We can bring a tent and sleeping bags and anything else you might need.’