'Yes,' said Chip. 'You shouldn't have done that. I could get you tossed out of the country.'

'You could,' agreed Stafford. 'But you won't. You still need us.' He frowned. 'What puzzles me is why you were interested in us in the first place. Why did you latch on to us?'

Chip shrugged. 'There was a KPU connection. The address Curtis got in London was a KPU safe house. It wasn't as safe as all that because we'd infiltrated and we intercepted Curtis. Naturally we were most interested in why you, a one-time British intelligence agent, were investigating something with the help of the Kenya People's Union. At least you seemed to think you were working with the KPU. As time went on it became even more interesting. Complicated, too.'

Hardin snorted. 'Complicated, he says! Nothing makes any goddamn sense.'

'Tell me,' said Stafford. 'Who were those two men you conjured up in the Masai Mara to take care of Corliss?'

Chip smiled slightly. 'I borrowed a couple of men from the Police Post on the Mara and put them into civilian clothes.'

'And where is Corliss now?'

'About two hundred yards from here,' said Chip calmly. 'In a cell in police headquarters on the corner of Harry Thuku Road. I told you he was quite safe.' He lit another cigarette. 'All right, Max; where do we go from here?'

'Where do you want to go?'

'I'm quite prepared to go on as before.'

'With me picking your chestnuts out of the fire,' said Stafford sarcastically. 'Not as before, Chip. There'll be no secrets and we share information. I'm tired of being blindfolded. You know, there's more to this than Gunnarsson trying to push in with a fake Hendrix. There's a hell of a lot at stake.'

'And what is at stake?' asked Chip.

Stafford stared at him. 'You're not stupid. Suppose you tell me.'

'About twenty-seven million pounds,' he said easily. 'The money Brice didn't declare from the Hendrykxx estate.'

'Balls!' snapped Stafford. 'It's not the money and you know it. But how did you get on to that?'

'Because you were inquisitive about the Ol Njorowa Foundation so was I,' said Chip. 'I rang the Kenya High Commission in London and had someone look at the will. Quite simple, really. But tell me more.'

Stafford said, 'I could kick myself. It's been staring me in the face ever since Ben, here, came back from investigating old Hendrykxx and said there was no Kenya connection. That really stumped me. But then I saw it.'

'Saw what?'

'The bloody South African connection,' said Stafford.

'Bull's eye!' said Chip softly. 'But tell me more.'

'Everywhere I've looked in the case the South African connection has popped up. Old Hendrykxx lived there. Dirk Hendriks is a South African. Mandeville, the English QC, is a right-winger who takes holidays in South Africa. He's there now. I think Farrar, the Jersey lawyer, is a cat's paw and I'll bet it was Mandeville who drew up the will.' Stafford drew a deep breath. 'Brice made a mistake in underestimating the size of the Hendrykxx estate – he was greedy. Are you sure he's in the clear, Chip? Because I'm betting he's another South African.'

For the next hour they hammered at the problem trying to fit the bits and pieces of their knowledge together without a great deal of success. At last Chip said, 'All right; we've got a consensus of opinion; we think that Dirk Hendriks might be a South African intelligence agent, and the same could apply to Brice. What we can't see is where Gunnarsson fits in and who has been trying to kill Corliss."

'Not Corliss,' said Hardin suddenly. 'Hank Hendrix. Someone took a shot at Hank in Los Angeles and that was before Gunnarsson made the substitution.'

'So you think whoever is trying to kill him is unaware that Gunnarsson made the switch?' queried Stafford. 'It could be.' He looked at Chip, 'That business on the Tanzanian border seemed authentic in the sense that such kidnappings have happened before. What do you think, Chip? How easy is it to lay hands on Tanzanian uniforms and Kalashnikovs?'

Chip smiled thinly. 'Given enough money you can buy anything on the Tanzanian border. As for Kalashnikovs, Kenya is surrounded by the damn things – Tanzania, Somalia, Ethiopia, Uganda. There'd be no problem there. You think the kidnapping was a put-up job to lay the blame on the Tanzanians?' He nodded thoughtfully. 'That could very well be.'

'Then Brice would have organized it,' said Hardin. 'Dirk Hendriks was in England at that time.'

'But all this is supposition,' said Stafford. 'We're not sure of a damned thing. What move will you make now, Chip? It's your country, after all.'

'We can't move openly against the Foundation,' said Chip. 'That would make waves. Newspaper stories and too much publicity. I'll have to take this to my superior officer.' He held up his hand. 'And don't ask who he is.'

Curtis stirred. 'Would the Colonel mind a suggestion?'

'Trot it out, Sergeant,' said Stafford. 'We could do with some good ideas.'

'Give Corliss back to Gunnarsson. Then stand back and see what happens.'

'You've got a nasty mind,' said Hardin. 'That would be like setting him up in a shooting gallery.'

'But we'd stand a chance of seeing who's doing the shooting.' Stafford looked at Chip. 'What do you think? He'd need a good cover story.'

'No cover story would stand up,' said Chip. 'We've had him too long. In any case he's a bad liar; we'd be blowing our own cover.' He thought for a moment. 'No; we've got to get someone inside Ol Njorowa to have a look around.'

'And maybe not find anything,' said Hardin morosely.

'I think there's something to be found,' Chip stubbed out a cigarette. 'Since you drew my attention to Ol Njorowa I've been looking at it carefully. The security precautions are far beyond what's needed for an agricultural college.'

'The Hunts explained that away,' said Stafford. 'Judy said things were being stolen; she said mostly small agricultural tools which didn't matter very much, but when it came to experimental seed it was different. And Alan Hunt; came up with a story of a leopard.' He thought about the Hunts. 'Chip, the whole damned staff can't be in South African intelligence. The Hunts are white Kenyans and Dr Odhiambo is an unlikely agent.'

'There's probably just a cell,' agreed Chip. 'Coming back to Hendriks – how long has he lived in England?'

'I don't know,' said Stafford. 'He came into my life two years ago when he married Alix.'

'If he is in South African intelligence he'd be a sleeper planted in England and the Brits wouldn't like that. I think some liaison with London is indicated; and on a high level.' Chip stood up. 'And I'll see if I can get a man into Ol Njorowa.'

'Wait a minute,' said Stafford. 'Dirk knows I'm in Kenya -I told him I'd be taking a holiday here and that I might see him. I think I'll invite myself to Ol Njorowa. Besides, I have an invitation from the Hunts to go ballooning.'

'Going alone?' asked Hardin.

'No, I'll take the Sergeant.' Stafford smiled at Curtis. 'How would you like to go ballooning, Sergeant?'

The expression of disgust on Curtis's face was an eloquent answer.

The air of tension in Brice's office was electric as Hendriks said, 'Why the hell didn't you tell me that Stafford was mixed up in this?'

'Because I didn't know," snapped Brice.

'Christ, he'd been here! You'd met him, damn it!'

'So how would I know who he was?' Brice asked plaintively. 'You'd never mentioned him. All I knew then was that he was a friend of the Hunts; they were dining together at the Lake Naivasha Hotel with an Indian, a Sikh called Nair Singh.'

'Who is he?'

'A friend of Alan Hunt. They were at University together.'

'And then Stafford turned up in the Masai Mara chasing after Hendriks. Couldn't you put two and two together?'

'I didn't hear about it. It wasn't reported in the press. Who is Stafford, anyway?'