Gunnarsson said, 'What are you doing?'

Stafford zipped the leather case closed and dropped it into his suitcase. 'What does it look as though I'm doing? I'm packing. I came here for the sole reason of having a balloon flight with Alan Hunt. I had the balloon flight this morning so that's it. When I've got this suitcase packed I'll be going down to say goodbye to Brice, Dirk and the Hunts. Then I'm going back to Nairobi. If you want a lift you're welcome.'

'I have my own car.'

Stafford became sarcastic. 'And if you want notice of my further movements I'll be leaving for London on the flight tomorrow morning or the day after, depending on whether I can get a seat. Does that satisfy you?'

Gunnarsson watched him folding a shirt. 'Why should you want to satisfy me?'

'I wouldn't know,' said Stafford. 'But this was intended to be a holiday, the first I've had for three years, and it hasn't really turned out that way. I became involved, quite accidentally, in the kidnapping of a group of tourists, and since then everyone has been questioning my motives. Even Charles Brice has been asking pointed questions. Well, I've had enough. I'm going home.' He opened drawers to make sure he had packed everything, then closed his suitcase hoping that Brice was taking it all in.

He said, 'Gunnarsson; what do you think happened to young Henry Hendrix? You were there.'

'I don't know what to think. How about you?'

'I think the group was kidnapped by Tanzanians. It's happened before. I think Hendrix was killed, probably accidentally, and buried. Probably not even buried – the scavengers would take care of him. And I think you're wasting your time, Gunnarsson. You've lost out on your con game. Why don't you go home as I'm doing?'

Gunnarsson regarded Stafford sardonically. 'It'll be a long, long day before I take advice from you. There's something goddamn phoney going on here, and if you can't see it then I can. I'm sticking around to do some probing.'

Stafford shrugged and picked up his case. 'Suit yourself.' He walked to the door. 'I suppose we'll meet again, probably in New York. Brace yourself for a fight.'

'I fight rough,' warned Gunnarsson.

'I don't mind that." Stafford stood at the door, his hand on the handle. 'Are you coming down or do you think you've inherited this bedroom?'

'Go to hell!' said Gunnarsson, but he stood up and followed Stafford down the stairs. On the ground floor they parted, Gunnarsson going back into the dining room and Stafford to the Nissan to deposit his suitcase. As he walked back to the entrance of the Admin Block he was well satisfied. The conversation he had had with Gunnarsson had been really aimed at Brice and Hendriks and he hoped the picture frame bug had been in working condition.

On his return to the dining room he saw Brice and Hen driks at their table talking to Gunnarsson. As he sat down Brice said, 'Mr Gunnarsson tells us you're leaving.'

'That's right. I'm here to say goodbye and to thank you for your hospitality.' Stafford looked at Hendriks. 'Sorry about your cousin, Dirk. Keep in touch and let me know what happens. I might be moving around when I get home but letters addressed to the office will find me.'

'I'll do that.'

Brice said, 'Did you and Mr Gunnarsson resolve your differences? I hope so.'

Stafford laughed. 'We have no differences – not here.' A waiter put down a cup before him and filled it with coffee. 'Those will begin in New York.' Gunnarsson snorted, and Stafford said evenly, 'That's why I told Dirk I'd be moving around.'

'You think you can muscle in while I'm away?' Gunnarsson chuckled. 'Not a chance, buster.'

Stafford drank his coffee, then turned to Brice and held out his hand. 'Nice to have known you, Mr Brice – Charles. I hope your plans for Ol Njorowa turn out well.' They shook' hands and Stafford got up and went around the table. He clapped Hendriks on the shoulder. 'When do you expect to be back in London, Dirk?'

'I don't know. I seem to have my hands full here.'

'You don't mind if I pop in to see Alix and my godson, do you?'

'Of course not. She'll be glad to see you.'

Stafford looked across the room. 'I'd better catch Alan Hunt before he leaves. Goodbye, and thanks for everything.'

With a wave he went striding across the room to intercept Hunt at the doorway of the dining room. 'Alan, I'm going now. Thanks for the balloon flight.'

'I only did it for the champagne,' said Hunt with a grin.

Stafford put a hand on Hunt's elbow and steered him towards the entrance hall. 'I'd like to have a word with you. You were born in Kenya, weren't you?'

'That's right.'

'So it's your native country. What do you think of the way it's run.'

'On the whole not bad. The government makes mistakes, but what government doesn't.' Hunt frowned. 'What are you getting at, Max?' lt; They walked down the steps into the sunlight and towards Stafford's Nissan. He said, 'Would you consider yourself a patriot?'

'That's a hell of a question,' said Hunt. 'You mean dying for my country and all that?'

'I'd rather you lived for it,' said Stafford. 'Look, Alan; a problem has come up. Do you know where Safariland is?'

'Of course.'

Stafford checked the time. 'Could you meet me there in half an hour. There's a few people I want you to meet."

'I suppose so,' said Hunt uncertainly. 'What's this all about?'

'You'll be told when you get there.' Stafford opened the door of the Nissan and got in. 'I'd rather you didn't tell anyone where you were going. Maybe you'd better invent a shopping errand in Naivasha.'

Hunt smiled faintly. 'It sounds very mysterious – but all right.'

'I'll see you there.' Stafford reversed out of the parking slot, waved, and drove towards the gates of Ol Njorowa very slowly because of the sleeping policemen. He looked in the mirror and saw Brice walking from the Admin Block to meet Hunt. He hoped Hunt had sense enough to keep his mouth shut as he had been told.

Chapter 26

Stafford had expected to see Hardin at Safariland but instead he was met by Curtis who walked forward as the Nissan drew to a halt. He got out, and said, 'Good afternoon, Sergeant. Where is everyone? What's the drill?'

Curtis said, 'Colonel Chipende thought it advisable to hold the meeting on Crescent Island. That's an island in the lake, sir. If the Colonel will follow me I have a boat ready.'

Stafford smiled. Now that Chipende was revealed, Curtis was giving him full military honours. He said mildly, 'I think we'll still call him Chip, Sergeant.' He looked at his watch. 'We can't go yet. I'm expecting someone else. Perhaps fifteen minutes.'

So they waited and presently Hunt arrived and, somewhat to Stafford's consternation, he had brought Judy. They got out of the car and Stafford said, 'I told you not to tell anyone else.'

Hunt gave a lop-sided grin- 'I wanted a witness.'

'And I'm a patriot, too,' added Judy. 'What's going on, Max? It's all very mysterious.'

Stafford stood undecided for a moment then he shrugged. 'Very well. You might as well come along.'

'That's not very gracious,' she said.

'It wasn't intended to be,' he snapped, and turned to Curtis. 'Carry on.'

Curtis led the way to the edge of the lake where there was a rough timbered jetty alongside which was moored an open boat with a black Kenyan sitting in the stern. They got in and the Kenyan started the outboard engine and soon they were cruising at a respectable speed towards an island which lay about a mile offshore. 'Why are we going to Crescent Island?' asked Judy.

'I don't know, but we'll soon find out,' said Stafford. He nudged Curtis. 'Who's there?'

'Col…' Curtis swallowed and began again. 'Chip and Nair, and Mr Hardin. And there's another man. I don't know who he is.'