'You'll keep me safe from Gunnarsson. You guarantee it?'

Stafford glanced at Chip who nodded. He said, 'We'll put you in a safe place where no one will know where you are. But you'll have to co-operate. Tell us.'

Hendrix still hesitated. 'Anyone got a cigarette?' Chip took a packet from his pocket and shook one out, and Hendrix lit it with a burning twig from the fire. He took a long draught of smoke into his lungs and it seemed to calm him. 'All right. My name's Jack Corliss and Gunnarsson propositioned me a few weeks ago. Christ; I wish he'd never come near me.'

The story was moderately simple. Corliss worked in a bank in New York. He was a computer buff and had found a way to fiddle the electronic books and Gunnarsson had caught him at it. From then on it was straight blackmail. Stafford did not think Gunnarsson had to try too hard because Corliss, was bent already.

'I had to read a lot of stuff about Hendrix,' said Corliss. 'About his family. Then there were tape recordings – a lot of them. Hendrix talking with Gunnarsson. I don't think Hendrix knew he was being taped. Gunnarsson got him to talk a lot about himself; it was real friendly. Gunnarsson got him drunk a couple of times and some good stuff came out.'

'Good for anyone wanting to impersonate Hendrix,' said Chip.

Corliss nodded. 'It looked great. Hendrix was a loner; he had no family. Gunnarsson said it would be dead easy.'

'Dead being the operative word,' said Stafford. 'What else was he offering you, apart from the chance of staying out of jail?' Corliss avoided his eyes. 'Let's have it all.'

'A quarter of a million bucks,' he mumbled. 'Gunnarsson said I'd have to have a hunk of dough to make it look good afterwards.'

'One twelfth of the take,' Stafford said. 'You taking the risk and Gunnarsson taking the cream. What a patsy you were, Corliss. Do you think you'd have lived to enjoy it?'

'For Christ's sake! I had no goddamn choice. Gunnarsson had me by the balls.'

'Where is Hendrix now?'

'How would I know?' demanded Corliss. 'I never even met the guy.'

'Terminated with extreme prejudice,' said Chip. 'That's the CIA expression isn't it?'

Stafford nodded. 'No one knew he was in New York except Hardin. I think that's why Hardin was fired, and I think Hardin was bloody lucky – it could have happened to him. But Gunnarsson underestimated Hardin; he never thought resentment would push Hardin into going to England.'

'What happens to me now?' asked Corliss apathetically.

'Chip and Nair will take you away and put you in a safe place. You'll have clothing and food but no freedom until this is all over. After that we'll get you back to the States where you'd better get lost. Agreed, Chip?'

'If he co-operates and makes no trouble,' said Chip. 'If he does anything foolish there are no guarantees any more.'

'I'll make no trouble,' said Corliss eagerly. 'All I want to do is to get out of this damn country.' He listened to the night noises and shivered, drawing the fatigue jacket closer to him although it was not cold. 'It scares me.'

'There's one more thing,' Stafford said. 'People don't usually get shot for no reason at all. Who'd want to kill you, Corliss? Not Gunnarsson; he wouldn't want to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. Who, then?'

'I don't know,' said Corliss violently. 'No one would want to kill me. I don't know about Hendrix. You guys said it was open season on Hendrix.'

'That was a manner of speaking,' said Stafford.

Corliss shook his head as thought in wonderment at what was happening to him. He said, 'I had an auto accident in Cornwall, but I'm not that bad a driver. The brakes failed on a hill.'

Stafford shrugged. 'It doesn't have to be guns.'

'Cui bono?' said Chip, unexpectedly breaking into Latin. He grinned at Stafford's expression, his teeth gleaming in the firelight. 'This nigger bastard went to university. Who inherits from Hendrix?'

Stafford thought about it, then said slowly, 'The next of kin, I suppose. Corliss, here, says Hendrix had no family but, of course, he had, although he didn't know it. His next of kin would be his cousin, Dirk Hendriks, assuming that Henry Hendrix made no will.'

'I think we can accept that assumption,' said Chip dryly.

Stafford shook his head. 'It's impossible. Dirk went back to England with Farrar. How could he organize a kidnapping into Tanzania? That would take organization on the spot. Anyway, he's inherited three million himself. What's the motive?'

From the darkness on the other side of the fire Nair said, 'Six is better than three. Some people are greedy.'

'I don't see it,' said Stafford. 'Hendriks has no Kenyan connections; he's a South African, damn it. He'd never been in the country until he came with Farrar. How could a man, not knowing either country, organize a kidnapping in Kenya by Tanzanians? I'd say South Africans are a damn sight more unwelcome in Tanzania than they are in Kenya.'

'Yes,' said Chip. 'We're a tolerant people. We don't mind South Africans as long as they behave themselves. The Tanzanians aren't as tolerant.'

They batted it around a bit-more and got nowhere. At last Stafford said, 'Perhaps we're barking up the wrong tree. I know that no tourists have been killed in these Tanzanian raids but it was bound to happen sooner or later when people carry guns. Perhaps this attempt on Corliss was a statistical inevitability – a Tanzanian aberration.'

'No,' said Chip. 'I can understand a gun going off and killing someone. I can understand one man going round the bend and killing someone. But two men deliberately took Corliss and, as you said, it was the nearest thing to an execution I've witnessed. It was deliberate,'

'Jesus!' said Corliss.

'But why?' Stafford asked. No one could tell him.

The fire had to be kept going all night so one man stood" watch while the others slept and Stafford stood first watch. By unspoken agreement Corliss did not stand a watch; no one was going to sleep having him loose with two rifles and a submachine-gun. When his time was up Stafford stretched out on the ground not expecting to sleep, but the next thing he knew Nair was shaking him awake. 'Dawn,' he said.

When Stafford stood up he was stiff and his bones creaked. In his time in the army and in the Sahara he had slept on the ground in the open air many times, but it is a game for a young man and as he grew older he found that it ceased to be fun. He looked around, and asked, 'Where's Chip?'

'He left at first light – ten minutes ago. He said he'll be back in an hour, maybe two.' Nair nodded towards Corliss. 'We have to make arrangements about him. He can't be seen by anyone, including the police.'

Stafford stretched. 'I know that you pair display an amazing efficiency but I'd like to know how Chip is going to fix that. The KPU must still have a lot of pull.'

Nair raised his eyebrows. 'The Kenya People's Union no longer exists. How can it have influence?'

'All right, Nair; have it your own way.'

'Max,' he said, 'a word of warning. It would be most unwise of you to talk openly about the KPU. Loose talk of that nature could put you in prison. It is still a touchy subject in Kenya.'

Stafford held up his hands placatingly. 'Not another word shall pass my lips.' Nair nodded gravely.

It was two and a half hours before Chip came back and he brought with him two men whom he introduced as Daniel Wekesa and Osano Gichure. 'Good friends,' he said.

'Just good friends?' Stafford said sardonically. 'Not brothers-in-law?'

Chip ignored that. 'They'll look after Corliss and get him out of the Mara.'

'Where will they take him?'

'We'll come to that later. The tourists haven't come back yet, and the border is alive with police on the Kenyan side.' He stroked his chin. 'The tour group is probably still in Tanzania. Bare European feet make for slow going. Still, they should come in some time this morning if I know Adam.'