Nair stepped forward and held the Hunts in conversation leaving Hardin to talk privately with Stafford. 'Things began happening yesterday,' Hardin said. 'We didn't know how to contact you but Nair had the bright idea of following the balloon. You gave us quite a chase.'

He related the facts about Gunnarsson, and Stafford looked at the taxi with its array of antennas. 'You were a damn fool to try a trick like that on an old pro like Gunnarsson. Now he's alerted.'

'It was Nair – not me,' protested Hardin.

'Look, we must have a conference; you, me, Nair, Curtis and Chip, if he's around.' Stafford took the camera from his pocket and extracted the film cassette. 'We'll hold the conference as soon as you get this developed and prints made.'

'How can we let you know?'

'I can see the fence from my bedroom,' said Stafford. 'There's a place on the other side of the fence about a hundred yards long where the grass has been burned over. Curtis will know where it is; he's been scouting the perimeter of Ol Njorowa. In the middle of the burned area there's an acacia. When you're ready have someone take a fairly big sheet of newspaper and stick it on one of the thorns as though it's been blown there. That will be the signal. Where are you staying ?'

'I couldn't stay at the Lake Naivasha hotel,' said Hardin. "Gunnarsson is there. I booked into a place called Safariland.' He told Stafford where it was.

'Then that's where we'll talk.'

'What about?' said Hardin.

'About using you to spook Gunnarsson and drive him towards the wolves.' Stafford smiled. 'The wolves being at present located at Ol Njorowa.'

Chapter 25

Stafford spent the rest of the morning wandering over the grounds of Ol Njorowa, at first with Hunt and then with Dirk Hendriks. He was shown the propagation sheds, the soil testing laboratory, the fertilizer testing laboratory, the this laboratory and the that laboratory, and the scientific terms were pumped remorselessly into one ear only to escape from the other. However, he managed to keep his end up by showing a halfway intelligent interest while keeping his eyes open.

He came to a few conclusions, the first of which was that Hunt was probably not in Brice's pocket. All the time he was in Hunt's company he noted that they were under discreet surveillance by three men, two blacks and a white, who apparently had nothing better to do than potter about in the middle distance. When Hunt excused himself to go about his business they vanished, too, and Hendriks took over the guided tour. The conclusion was that Hunt was not trusted to steer Stafford away from dangerous areas but that Hendriks was.

A second conclusion was that he was being conned and, had it not been for the bugged picture frame in his bedroom, he might have fallen for it. It was being demonstrated to him with some assiduity that Ol Njorowa was an open book in which he might read from any scientific page. The trouble was that science was a foreign language to him and he could have done with a translator.

At last Dirk looked at his watch. 'Well, that's about it, Max. It's nearly lunchtime. I think you've seen about everything.' He laughed. 'Not that I'm qualified to show you. I don't know all that much about the place myself. Brice was going to give you the tour himself but something came up.'

'Yes,' said Stafford. 'He must be a busy man.' He looked around. 'How big is this place?'

'About six hundred hectares.' Hendriks paused to figure it out. 'A little over two square miles.'

Stafford smiled. 'I couldn't have worked it out so quickly.'

'We have the metric system in South Africa now. It makes you bilingual in mathematics.'

As they strolled in the direction of the Admin Block which was about a quarter of a mile away Stafford thought glumly that one could hide a hell of a lot in two square miles. But could one? Assuming that Ol Njorowa was a going concern as a genuine agricultural college then most of the staff would be genuine agricultural specialists. They would be wandering all over the place and could quite easily stumble across something illicit and wonder what it was. No, thought Stafford; hiding something at Ol Njorowa would not be as easy as all that.

They went into the dining room and threaded their way among the tables to where Brice sat. Judy Hunt was sitting with her brother and waved to him as he passed. He waved back as Dr Odhiambo caught his arm. 'Are you enjoying yourself, Mr Stafford?'

'Very much so,' Stafford assured him.

They sat at Brice's table and Stafford looked around the room which was noisy with animated conversation. Brice said, 'Did you enjoy your flight with Hunt?'

'It was great.' Stafford tasted the soup which was placed before him. 'Alan says hot air ballooning is becoming popular m England. I might take it up when I get back."

Brice grimaced. 'I don't think I'd like a sport where every landing is a crash landing. And when are you going back to England?'

'Any day now. As it is I've been away too long. I have a business to take care of, you know.'

'Yes.' Brice buttered a slice of bread. 'Dirk has been telling me something of what you do. It must be interesting and adventurous.'

'You mean cloak and dagger?' Stafford laughed. 'Not much adventure behind a City desk, Mr Brice.'

'Oh, please call me Charles.' Brice looked up as a waiter came to the table and gave a card to Hendriks who glanced at it and passed it to Brice. They had a brief conversation in murmurs and Hendriks excused himself and left the table. 'An… er… acquaintance of yours has just arrived,' said Brice casually. 'Perhaps he'll join us for lunch.'

'Oh?' Stafford raised his eyebrows. 'Who can that be? I know few people in Kenya.'

'I believe you met him in the Masai Mara at Keekorok. An American called Gunnarsson. I wonder what he wants. Never mind; no doubt we'll find out. And what do you think of Ol Njorowa after your morning's exploration?'

Stafford managed to convey a spoonful of soup to his mouth without spilling a drop. 'A truly remarkable place,' he said. 'You're doing good work here." As he pushed away his soup plate he thought that the next few minutes would probably prove interesting.

'We'll be able to really push it now we have the Hendrykxx inheritance. It's been a hard slog up to now.' Brice looked up as Hendriks and Gunnarsson came into the dining room. 'Would that be Mr Gunnarsson?'

'Yes.' Stafford watched Gunnarsson's face intently and caught the instant change of expression as Gunnarsson saw him sitting next to Brice; from blankness it changed to apprehension and then suspicion.

He and Brice stood up and Hendriks introduced them. 'This is Mr Brice, the Director of the Foundation, and Max Stafford I think you already know.'

'I sure do,' said Gunnarsson as Brice ordered another place set at the table. 'We met at Keekorok.' There was something of a baffled look in his eyes as he stared at Stafford.

'That's right,' said Stafford. 'How are your feet, Mr Gunnarsson?'

Gunnarsson grunted as he sat down. 'Better.' He looked around the table: at Hendriks who was finishing his soup; at Brice who, with bottle poised, was asking blandly if he would like wine; at Stafford who was leaning back to allow a plate to be put before him. Here they all were and what the hell was going on?

Hendriks said, 'I went to the American Embassy and did no better than you, Mr Gunnarsson; a complete blank wall. Have you heard any further news of my cousin?'

'No,' said Gunnarsson briefly. He started on his soup. 'What are you doing in Kenya, Mr Stafford?'

'I'm on holiday,' said Stafford easily.

Gunnarsson grunted. 'If you're like me you don't take vacations.' He looked at Dirk. 'Do you know who he is?'

Hendriks looked surprised. 'Yes; he's Max Stafford."