Stafford said, 'I wish I could check out Brice; he seems too good to be true.'

'What would you want to know?" asked Chip.

'I'd like to know if Mr and Mrs Brice had a farm near Umtali in Zimbabwe. I'd like to know if the farm was burned and the Brices killed by guerillas. I'd like to know if their son… what's his name, anyway?'

'Charles,' said Nair. 'Charles Brice.'

'I'd like to know if their son, Charlie, left when he says he did.'

'I think we could find that out,' said Chip seriously.

'How?'

'I think our brothers in Zimbabwe would co-operate. Wouldn't you say so, Nair?'

'I think they would,' said Nair. 'I'll see to it.'

Stafford took a deep breath. 'You boys seem to have an extensive organization.'

'People are supposed to help and support each other,' said Chip, smiling. 'Isn't that what Christianity teaches? So we're helping y ou.' 'At the request of some Indian in London?' said Stafford incredulously. 'At the request of Curtis? Pull the other leg, it's got bells on it. What do you think, Sergeant?'

'It does seem rum, sir,' said Curtis.

Chip looked hurt. 'I don't think Max appreciates us, Nair.'

Nair said, 'Suspicion corrodes the soul, Max.'

'Oh, balls!' he said. 'Look, I appreciate your help but I doubt your motives. I'll be quite plain about that. I don't know who you are and I don't know what you want. The helping hand you are so kindly offering is bloody unnatural, " and Christianity hasn't got a damned thing to do with it. Nair isn't even a Christian, and I doubt if you are, Chip.'

Chip smiled.' "Him that is weak in the faith receive ye, but not to doubtful disputations." Romans 14:1.1 was educated in a mission school, Max; I'll bet I know more of the Bible than you. Don't be weak in the faith, Max; and let's not have any doubtful disputations. Just accept.'

'Chip is right,' said Nair. 'Is there anything else you'd like us to do?'

It was obvious to Stafford that he was not going to get anything out of this pair that they did not want him to know. If they were members of a banned political organization then it was obvious they would be careful. But he wished he knew why they were being so damned helpful. He was sure it was not because they liked the colour of his eyes.

Chip had been driving but at Narok Nair took over. Chip said, 'He's the better driver.'

'Will a better driver be needed?'

'You'll see.'

After Narok they left the asphalt and encountered the most God-awful road it had been Stafford's fate to be driven over. He had been more comfortable in a tank going across country in NATO exercises in Germany. Where heavy rains had washed gullies across the road they had not been filled in and repaired, and the traffic of heavy trucks had worn deep longitudinal grooves. Several times Nair got stuck in those and Stafford heard the underside of the chassis scraping the ground.

'Manufacturers of exhausts must do a roaring trade out here.' He looked back and saw they were creating a long rooster's tail of dust. 'Why the hell don't they repair this road? Don't they encourage visitors to Masai Mara?'

Chip said, 'Narok District and the Government are having an argument about who pays. So far no one pays – except to the repair shops.'

Stafford took out the map he had bought in Nairobi and discovered they were driving across the Loita Plains. Every so often they passed villages of huts and sometimes a herdsman with his cattle. They were tall men with even taller spears and dressed in long gowns. Chip said they were Masai.

'What tribe are you?' Stafford asked.

'Kikuyu.'

Stafford remembered Hardin's lecture on African tribal politics. 'Not Luo?'

Chip slanted his eyes at Stafford. 'What makes you think I'd be Luo?'

'I haven't the slightest idea.' Chip frowned but said nothing.

They passed a petrol tanker that had not made it. It was overturned by the side of the road and burnt out. They crossed a narrow bridge and Stafford checked the map. There were only two bridges marked and, after the second, the road changed status from being a main road to a secondary road. He commented on this with feeling and Nair burst out laughing.

Oddly enough, after the second bridge the road improved somewhat. Game began to appear, small herds of antelope and zebra and some ostriches. Chip played courier to the ignorant tourist and identified them. 'Impala,' he would say, or 'Thomson's gazelle.' There were also eland and kongoni.

'Are we in the Reserve yet?' Stafford asked.

'Not until we pass the Police Post.'

'Then there are more animals in the Reserve than here?'

'More?' Chip laughed. 'Two million wildebeest make the migration from the Serengeti to the Mara every year.' Stafford thought that was a lot of venison on the hoof. Chip rummaged around and found a map. 'Here's a map of the Mara. I thought you'd like to see what you're getting into.'

At first glance Stafford thought he was not getting into much. He checked the scale and found there were large chunks of damn-all cut through by what were described as 'motorable tracks.' Since the horrible road from Narok had been described as a main road he regarded that with reservation. There were two lodges, Keekorok and Mara Serena, and Governor's Camp; also about a dozen camp sites scattered mainly in the north. Streams and rivers abounded, there were a couple of swamps thrown in and, as Chip had said, a couple of million wildebeest and an unknown number of other animals, some of which were illustrated on the map.

He said, 'Is there really a bird called a drongo? I thought that was an Australian epithet.'

They arrived at the Police Post at the Olemelepo Gate and Nair drew to a halt. Chip said, 'I'll see to it. Be my guest.' He got out and strolled across to the police officer who sat at a table outside the Post.

Stafford got out to stretch his legs and when he slapped his jacket a cloud of dust arose. Curtis joined him. 'Enjoying yourself, Sergeant?'

Curtis brushed himself down and said ironically, 'Not so dusty.'

'People pay thousands for what you're going through.'

'If I have a beer it'll hiss going down.'

Stafford unfolded the map and checked the distance to Keekorok Lodge. 'Not long to go – only eight miles to your beer.'

Chip came back and they started off again and well within the hour the beer was hissing in the Sergeant's throat.

Chapter 13

Keekorok was 105 miles south of the Equator and at an altitude of 5,258 feet; there was a sign at the front of the Lodge which said so. It was a pleasant sprawling place with an unbuttoned air about it, a place to relax and be comfortable. There was a patio with a bar overlooking a wide lawn and that evening Stafford and Chip sat over drinks chatting desultorily while watching vervet monkeys scamper about in the fading light of sunset.

'We might as well do the tourist bit tomorrow,' said Chip. 'We'll go and look at animals. I'll be courier – I know the Mara well.'

Stafford said, 'I want to be here when Gunnarsson and Hendrix arrive.'

'They won't be here until six in the evening.'

'How do you know?'

'Because that's what the courier has been told,' said Chip patiently.

Stafford sat up straight. 'What do you mean by that?'

'I mean that Adam Muliro, the driver, has been told when to deliver the party. I told him.' Chip paused and added with a grin, 'He's my brother-in-law.'

'Another?' said Stafford sceptically.

'You know us Third World people – we believe in the extended family. Now take it easy, Max.' He spread out a map on the table. 'I'll show you hippo here, at Mara New Bridge.' He tapped his finger on the map.

The River Mara ran a twisting course north to south and the place where it was bridged was close to the Tanzanian border. If the scale of the map was anything to go by the road ran within three hundred yards of the border. Stafford thought of the different political philosophies of the two countries; the Marxist state of Tanzania and Kenya with its mixed economy. He had heard there was no love lost between them. 'Does Kenya have problems with Tanzania?"