'And they're armed?'

His reply was brief and chilling. 'Kalashnikovs.'

Stafford winced and looked down at the rifle he held. The Russian Kalashnikov is a fully automatic weapon which can spew out bullets as water from a hosepipe. The sporting rifle, while not exactly a toy, was not in the same league. 'And we're going after them?'

Chip gave him a quick glance. 'What else would you suggest? Curtis is the oldest; nearly sixty. That's why I sent him back. It could be a rough trip.'

Stafford said mildly, 'On those grounds Curtis could have given you an argument.'

'Besides, we have only three guns.'

Nair said, 'The border is over there – two miles. They can't have got much of a start and the prisoners will slow them down. Also they'll have to cross the Losemai.'

'Easy at this time of year,' said Chip. 'Let's go.'

They went on foot because to track from a Nissan is impossible, and it was Chip who did the tracking. He went confidently, going by signs which eluded Stafford and as he marched behind he wondered about these men who could produce an armoury at the drop of a hat. An Uzi isn't something you pick up casually at the comer shop.

Chapter 14

In the African bush there is a species of acacia known as the wait-a-bit thorn. It is well named. Chip and Nair knew enough to avoid them while Stafford, trailing in the rear, did not. He found it was like being trapped in barbed wire and his temper suffered, as did his suit and his skin.

After a while he got the hang of it and learned to travel in the master's footsteps and then it became better. Chip kept up a cracking pace, stopping occasionally to cast around. Twice he pointed out the signs of passage of those they were pursuing – footprints on the dusty earth. Nair nodded, and said in a low voice, 'Military boots.'

Once Chip threw his arms wide and the party came to a sudden halt. He waved and they made a wide circuit of a patch of ground on which Stafford saw a snake, not very long but with a body as thick as a man's brawny arm. Afterwards Chip told him it was a puff adder, and added, 'Most snakes get out of the way when they sense you're coming, but not the puff adder – he's lazy. So, if you're not careful you tread on him and he strikes. Very poisonous. Don't walk about at night.'

It was hot and Stafford sweated copiously. Heavy physical exercise on the Equator at an altitude of 5,000 feet is not to be recommended if you are not acclimatized. The Kenyan Olympics Team has a training camp at 9,000 feet where the oxygen is thin and the body becomes accustomed to its lack. When they go to sea level that gives a competitive edge, an advantage over the others. But Stafford was a reverse case and he suffered, while Chip and Nair were in better shape.

The terrain consisted of rolling plains with an occasional outcrop of rock. The trees, mostly flat-topped acacias, were scattered except where they tended to grow more thickly in the now dry watercourses, and the grass was waist high. The ground was so open that anyone looking back would surely see a long way.

Consequently they made good time in the valleys between the ridges but slowed. as they came to a crest, creeping on their bellies to peer into the next shallow valley. As they came up to the top of one such ridge Chip said quietly, 'We're in Tanzania. There's the Losemai.'

Ahead, stretching widely, was a green belt of thicker vegetation which marked the Losemai River. It looked no different than any similar place in the Kenyan Masai Mara. Chip took his binoculars, and said, 'Hold up your hand to shade these from the sun.'

Stafford put up his hand to cast a shadow on the lenses, and reflected that Chip was up to all the tricks of the trade. He didn't want a warning flash of light to be reflected; it would have been like a semaphore signal. He wondered where Chip had learned his trade. More and more there were certain things about Chip and Nair which didn't add up into anything that made sense.

Chip surveyed the land ahead, the binoculars moving in a slow arc. Suddenly he stopped, pointing like a hunting dog. 'There – entering the trees at two o'clock.' Another military expression.

Away in the distance Stafford saw the minute dots and strained his eyes to count. Chip said, 'I make it thirteen. You were right, Nair; Jeshi la Mgambo, six of them. And six in the tour group plus Adam. They're all there.'

Nair said, 'Do you think they'll stop at the Losemai? What happened before?'

'They might,' said Chip. 'They've got good cover down there and it's a convenient place to strip the tourists.'

Stafford said, 'It seems a lot of trouble for little profit.'

Chip snorted. 'Oh, there's profit. Take your tourist; he comes here to photograph animals so he usually has a good camera, still or cine. Plus telephoto lenses and other goodies such as a wristwatch. He also has money, traveller's cheques and credit cards, and there's a good trade in cheques and cards. A tourist, particularly a German or American, can be worth up to 1,000 on the hoof, and that's a damn sight more than the average Tanzanian makes in a year.'

'Don't bother about convincing Max of what he can see with his eyes,' said Nair acidly. 'How do we get there?'

'The last of them has gone into the trees,' said Chip. He took the glasses from his eyes, withdrew from the top of the ridge and rolled over on to his back, then looked about him. He jerked his thumb. 'We can't follow them that way; they might have someone keeping watch. I know they're undisciplined, but we can't take that chance.'

Nair looked along the ridge. 'That thin line of trees there might be a stream going down to join the Losemai. It could give cover.'

'We'll take a look,' said Chip.

They went along the ridge, keeping below the crest, and found that it was a stream or, rather, it would be when the rains came. Now it was dusty and dry although if one dug deep enough one would find dampness, enough to keep the acacias green in the dry season. The force of rushing water during the rains had carved into the soft soil making a channel which averaged a couple of feet deep. It would provide cover of a minimal kind.

So they went down on their bellies, following the winding of the watercourse. It was something Stafford had not done since his early days in the Army and he was out of practice. Once he jerked his hand up as he was about to put it on something which moved. It scuttled away and he saw it was a scorpion. He sweated and it was not all because of the African heat.

It took a long time but finally they got down to the shelter of the trees which fringed the Losemai and were able to stand up. Chip put his fingers to his lips and cautiously they made their way to the river and lay close to the bank, hidden by tall grass. Stafford parted the stems and looked to the other side.

It was not a big river by any standards; the depth at that time of year was minimal and Stafford supposed one could cross dry shod by jumping from sandbank to sandbank. The flow of water was turgidly slow and muddy brown. In a clearing on the other side a giraffe was at the water's edge, legs astraddle and drinking. Something on a sandbank moved and he saw a crocodile slip into the water with barely a ripple, and changed his mind about jumping from sandbank to sandbank.

Chip said softly, 'I don't think they've crossed; that giraffe wouldn't be there. We'll go up river on this side very slowly.'

They went up river in military formation. Chip, with the sub-machine-gun, was point; behind him Stafford was backup, and Nair was flanker, moving parallel but about fifty yards away and only visible momentarily as he flitted among the trees, his rifle at high port.

It was very slow and very sweaty work. The river bank was full of noises; the croaking of frogs and the chirping of grasshoppers and cicadas. Occasionally Stafford jerked as he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye but always it was the quick flash of a brightly coloured bird crossing the river. Once there was a splash from the water and he saw a small brown animal swimming away because Chip had disturbed it in its waterside home.