Stafford turned to go to his room and met Hardin who said, 'Were you two talking in code or something? That meeting was supposed to be about Chip.'

'Ben, I know where I am now.' Stafford clapped him on the back. 'Bismarck was reputed to be silent in seven languages, but I'll bet his silence told more than his speeches. It was what Pasternak didn't say that interested me.'

'Nuts!' said Hardin disgustedly.

Chapter 21

Next morning after breakfast Stafford said to Hardin, 'Ben I'm tired of this pussyfooting around; we're going to do some pushing.'

'Who are you going to push?'

'We'll start with Chip. Sergeant?'

Curtis stiffened. 'Yes, sir.'

'You've been liaising with Chip. I want him in my room by ten o'clock.'

'Yes, sir.' Curtis pushed back his chair from the breakfast table and left the room.

Hardin said, 'Why Chip? He's on our side.'

'Is he?' Stafford shook his head. 'Pete Chipende is on no side other than his own. What's more, he has Corliss hidden somewhere and that gives him leverage should he want to use it. You uncovered Corliss but Chip has got him and I don't like that one little bit.'

'You have a point,' acknowledged Hardin. 'But I don't think he'll push easy.'

'We'll see,' said Stafford.

At nine-thirty Curtis reported back. 'Chip will see the Colonel at ten as requested. He asked what the Colonel wanted. I said I wasn't in the Colonel's confidence.'

'You are now,' said Stafford, and told Curtis what he wanted him to do.

Hardin said, 'Max; are you sure about this?'

'Yes, Pasternak told me.', 'I didn't hear him.'

'He didn't say anything,' said Stafford, leaving Hardin baffled.

He spent the next half hour guarding his back.

He wrote a letter to Jack Ellis in London asking that the resources of Stafford Security Consultants be put to investigating thoroughly one Anthony Abercrombie-Smith from the time of his birth. to the present day; his schools, clubs, work, friends if any, investments and anything else that might occur to him.

As he put the sheet of notepaper into an envelope Stafford reflected on Cardinal Richelieu who had said, 'If you give me six lines written by the most honest man, I will find something in them to hang him." That surely would apply to Abercrombie-Smith should he have to be leaned on.

He had just sealed the envelope when Chip arrived. 'You want me?'

Stafford glanced at Hardin and Curtis. 'Yes. Where's Corliss?'

'He's quite safe,' assured Chip. 'No doubt. But where is he?'

Chip sat down. 'Don't worry, Max. If you want Corliss at any time he can be produced within half an hour.'

Stafford smiled gently. 'You keep telling me not to worry and that worries the hell out of me.' He apparently changed the subject. 'By the way, Abercrombie-Smith sends his regards.'

Chip paused in the act of lighting a cigarette, just a minute hesitation. He 'continued the action and blew out a plume of smoke. 'When did you see him?'

'We had lunch in the Muthaiga Club yesterday.'

'What did he want?'

'Ostensibly he wanted to know why I hadn't reported in to the High Commissioner's office after the kidnapping. He really wanted to know about you.'

Chip's eyebrows lifted. 'Did he? What did you tell him?'

'What could I tell him? I know nothing about you.'

Hardin stirred. 'True enough.'

Chip said, 'Do you know who he is?'

Stafford smiled. 'He'll be listed as a trade advisor or something like that, but really he's the MI6 man in Nairobi, serving the same function that Mike Pasternak does for the CIA.'

Chip sat on the bed. 'You've been getting around. Have you talked to him, too?'

'We had a chat over a beer. Nothing important.'

'For a stranger in the country you get to know the most interesting people.'

'I didn't go out of my way to find them,' said Stafford. 'I attracted them as wasps to a honeypot. We seem to be stirring up some interest, Chip. When can we expect the KGB?'

'It's not a matter for joking,' he said soberly. 'I don't know that I like this.'

'Oh, come on,' said Stafford. 'It's not that bad. They approached me openly enough. Hardin knew Pasternak years ago so Pasternak couldn't deny he's a CIA man. As for Abercrombie-Smith, he's a bad joke.'

'Don't be fooled by Abercrombie-Smith,' warned Chip. 'You may think all that "dear boy" stuff is funny but underneath he's as cold as ice. Max, why should you attract the attention of the foreign intelligence services of two countries?'

'I don't know that I have,' said Stafford. 'They didn't seem to be all that interested in me. I think you are attracting the attention. They both wanted to know what you are doing.'

Chip smiled sourly. 'And all I'm doing is what you tell me to do. Did you tell them that?'

'i forgot to,' said Stafford apologetically. 'It slipped my mind.'

'Very funny.'

'I'm noted for my sense of humour,' agreed Stafford. 'Here's another sample. Which branch of Kenyan Intelligence are you in, Chip?'

Chip stared at him. 'Are you joking?'

'Not two intelligence services, Chip – three. And maybe another to make four.'

Hardin said, 'You're losing me fast, Max.'

Chip said, 'He's already lost me.' He laughed.

Stafford ticked off points on his fingers. 'One; you could get us rooms at the drop of a hat in any hotel or game lodge I might suggest at the height of the tourist season. That takes pull. Two; you got the information on Brice from Zimbabwe too fast. Three; you could put Adam Muliro into Corliss's party as courier and driver at short notice. Four; in the Masai Mara you could whistle up support to take Corliss into custody at equally short notice. Five; you're too well aware of the identities of foreign agents operating in Kenya to be my ordinary man. Six; when I was talking to Pasternak he rattled off a string of names, all in intelligence, and your name and Nair's were included. I made a crack that we hold a secret service congress and Pasternak didn't disagree. Seven; we were interviewed and photographed by journalists but nothing appeared in the press, and that takes pull too. I'm not surprised you didn't want your picture in the paper – the well-known secret service agent is a contradiction in terms. Eight…' Stafford broke off. 'Chip, as you said in the Mara -i man can run out of fingers this way.'

'I didn't say I had no organization,' said Chip. 'The Kenya People's Union…" He stopped. 'But I'm not going to talk about that.'

'You'd better not,' said Stafford grimly. 'Because you'd be telling me a pack of lies. I'm saving the best until last. Eight; when we entered the Masai Mara you didn't pay; a little bit of economy which was a dead giveaway. You showed some kind of identification which you probably have on you now. Sergeant!'

Before Chip knew it Curtis had stepped from behind and pinioned him and, although he struggled, he was no match for Curtis who had mastered many an obstreperous sailor in his day. 'Okay, Ben,' said Stafford. 'Search him.'

Hardin swiftly went through Chip's pockets, tossing the contents on to the bed where Stafford checked them. He searched Chip's wallet and found nothing, nor did he find any form of identification, except for a driving licence, among the scattering of items on the bed. 'Damn!' he said. 'Try again, Ben.'

Hardin found it in a hidden pocket in Chip's trousers – a plastic card which might have been mistaken for any credit card except that it had Chip's photograph on it. 'All right, Sergeant,' he said mildly. 'You can let him go.'

Curtis released Chip who brushed himself down, straightening his safari suit. Stafford clicked his finger nail against the card and said, 'A colonel, no less,' then added dryly, 'I probably have seniority. Military Intelligence?'