Suddenly Chip went down on one knee and held the Uzi over his head with both hands. Stafford stopped and snapped off the safety catch on the rifle. Chip motioned him forward so he went up to him and knelt beside him. There was a distant murmur of voices and a louder burst of laughter. 'Cover me,' said Chip, and went forward on his belly.

For a moment Stafford lost sight of him in the long grass, then he came into view again. Chip beckoned and Stafford dropped flat and went to join him. Chip had parted the grass and was staring at something. 'Take a look,' he said quietly. The voices were louder.

Stafford parted the stems of grass and found that he was looking into a clearing by the river. They were all there, the Tanzanians and the tour group. The Tanzanians wore camouflaged battle fatigues and were all armed with automatic rifles. Two of them wore grenades attached to their belts and one, with sergeant's stripes, had a pistol in a holster.

The tour group was in a bad way. They had been stripped of most of their clothing and Mam'selle and Madame Roche were down to their bras and panties. Madame Roche's face was blotchy as though she had been crying and her husband, a ridiculous figure with his big belly swelling over his underpants, was trying to comfort her. Michele Roche had paled under her tan so that her face was a jaundiced yellow. She looked scared, and young Kosters was talking quietly to her, his hand on her arm.

If Gunnarsson was frightened he did not show it. His face was dark with anger as he stooped to pick up a shoe and as a rifle was nudged into his back he straightened with a quick truculence and shouted, 'Goddamn it, you've gotta leave us shoes.' The answer was a shake of the head and another dig with the rifle. He dropped the shoe and glowered.

Hendrix, also stripped, was standing separately from the group flanked by two Tanzanians. The young black sitting on the ground with a set, expressionless face would be Adam Muliro, the courier. Before him, striking dazzling reflections from the sun, was the loot – cameras, lenses, binoculars and other equipment, together with a pile of clothing.

Slowly Stafford let the grass escape from his fingers to form a screen. Chip put his mouth to Stafford's ear. 'We can do nothing. We could cause a massacre.'

That was certainly true. Those Kalashnikov rifles scared Stafford and the sight of the grenades frightened him even more. He had been a soldier and he knew what those weapons could do. If, as had happened before, the prisoners were turned loose to walk back to Keekorok, the only discomfort they would suffer would be sunburn and cut and sore feet. Under the circumstances a shooting match was out of the question. They were outnumbered and outgunned and the safety of the prisoners could not be risked.

Chip indicated that Stafford should withdraw so he wriggled backwards and then turned, still lying flat. Then he looked back to see Chip running towards him at a crouch. Chip waved his arm wildly as he passed and then flung himself headlong into a thick patch of long grass and vanished from sight. Stafford got the message and picked himself up and ran for the nearest tree.

Just as he got there he heard voices. The tree trunk was not as thick as his body and he set himself edge on to it, moving slowly around so as to keep it between him and the approaching men. They came closer and he could distinguish a baritone and a lighter voice; and could even catch words but did not understand the language. As they went by he risked a glance. Hendrix was hobbling by the river bank, walking painfully because of his bare feet. He was clad only in his underpants and behind him came two Tanzanians, one of them prodding him in the back with a rifle. They disappeared from view.

Chip's head came out of the grass. He waved his arm in a wide circle and then ran to the river bank and began to follow. Stafford turned to find Nair and saw him emerge from hiding. He waved him to follow Chip and then took off, making a wide circle. Chip was still at the point, Stafford was now flanker and Nair was rearguard. Stafford stayed about fifty or sixty yards from the river and kept parallel with it, occasionally going in as closely as he dared to keep track of Hendrix and his captors.

Once he got close enough to hear Hendrix wail, 'Where are you taking me? What have I done?' There was a thump and a muffled grunt and a short silence before he said desolately, 'Christ! Oh, my Christ!' Stafford guessed he had been hit in the kidneys by a rifle butt but did not risk going close enough to see.

They went on this manner for quite a distance, perhaps half a mile, and then Stafford lost them. He backtracked a hundred yards and found that they had stopped. Hendrix was standing quite close to the edge of the river facing the Tanzanians, one quite young, the other an older man. The young one had Hendrix at rifle point keeping him covered; the other had his rifle slung and was smoking. He took the cigarette stub from his mouth, examined it critically, then casually dropped it and put his foot on it before he unslung his rifle. He lifted it to his shoulder and aimed at Hendrix, his finger on the trigger.

Hastily Stafford brought up his own rifle but it was then that Chip cut loose with the Uzi. The burst of fire caught the man in the back and he was flung forward. The young Tanzanian whirled around and Stafford shot him in the head. He grew a third eye in the middle of his forehead and staggered back and fell into the river with a splash. After that sudden outburst of noise there was a silence broken only by insect noises and the whimpering of Hendrix who was on his knees staring unbelievingly at the sprawling body before him.

Chip came into sight, gun first and cautiously, and then Nair. Stafford went to join them. He said, 'The bastard was going to shoot Hendrix,' and heard the incredulity in his own voice. He snapped his fingers. 'Just like that.'

Chip stirred the body with his foot, then bent down to check the pulse at the side of the neck. He straightened up. 'They've gone crazy,' he said blankly. 'They've never tried anything like this before.' He turned to Nair. 'Get back there – about a hundred yards – and keep watch.'

Stafford went over to Hendrix. Tears streaked his face and he was making gagging noises at the back of his throat. Stafford tried to help him to his feet but he went limp and lay down in a foetal position. 'For God's sake, man,' said Stafford. 'Get up. Do you want to be killed?

'He's been nearly frightened to death,' said Chip.

'He'll be the death of us if he doesn't move,' Stafford said grimly. 'They'll have heard those shots.'

'They were expecting to hear shots,' said Chip. 'Let's hope they can't tell the difference between an Uzi and a Kalashnikov. But they're pretty far away.' He bent down and began going through the pockets of the dead man.

Stafford walked to the river bank which here was about six feet high. The river moved sluggishly and the body of the man he had shot had not drifted far. He was the first man Stafford had ever killed as far as he knew and he felt a little sick. His soldiering had been mostly in peacetime and even in those faraway days in Korea it was surprising how rarely you saw the enemy you were shooting at. And later they did not go too much for bodies in Military Intelligence.

Chip said, 'No identification; just this.' He held up a wad of currency. 'Kenya twenty-shilling notes.' He put them into his pocket. 'Help me get his clothes off.'

'Why strip him?'

Chip nodded towards Hendrix. 'He's not going to move far or fast without clothes and boots. And we don't have much time; not more than a few minutes. These men will be expected back and when they don't show someone will come looking.'

While Stafford was unlacing the Tanzanian's boots Chip stripped him of his bloody and bullet-ripped jacket and, together, they took off his trousers. Undressing a dead man is peculiarly difficult. He does not co-operate. Then they rolled the body to the edge of the bank and dropped it over the side. It fell with a splash into the muddy water. The other body had gone.