'Yes, sir.'

'Where would you send the money?'

'Kenya,' said Hendriks unhesitatingly. 'We need strengthening in East Africa.'

'Yes,' said Malan reflectively. 'Kenyatta has been crucifying us in the United Nations lately.' He leaned back in his chair. 'And we have an interesting proposition put to us by Frans Potgeiter but we're running into trouble on the funding. Do you- know Potgeiter?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Could you work with him?'

'Yes, sir.'

Malan leaned forward and tapped the report. 'Your grandfather is old, but not dead old. He could live another twenty years and we can't have that."

'I doubt if he will.' Hendriks took an envelope from his breast pocket and pushed it across the desk. 'Hendrykxx's medical report. I got hold of it the day before I left London. He has a bad heart.'

'And how did you get hold of it?'

Hendriks smiled. 'It seems that someone burgled the offices of Hendrykxx's doctor. Looking for drugs, the Belgian police say. They did a lot of vandalism; you know how burglars are when they're hopped up, sir.'

Malan grunted, his head down as he scanned the medical documents. He tossed them aside. 'Looks all right, but I'll have a doctor go over them. The Brussels Embassy wasn't involved, I hope.'

'No, sir.'

'This will have to be gone into carefully, Hendriks. The Department of Finance will have to come into it, of course. And the will – that must be carefully drawn. We have a barrister in London who can help us there. I rather think I'd like to move Hendrykxx out of reach of his friends and where we can keep an eye on him. That is, if this goes through. I can't authorize it, so it will have to go upstairs.' He smiled genially. 'You're a slim kerel, Hendriks,' he said approvingly.

'Thank you, sir.' Hendriks hesitated. 'If Hendrykxx doesn't die in time he could always… er… be helped.'

Malan's eyes went flinty. 'What kind of a man are you?' he whispered. 'What kind of man would suggest the killing of his own grandfather? We'll have no more of that kind of talk.'

The operation was approved at top level and that was in the days when the South African intelligence and propaganda agencies were riding high. There was money available, and more if needed. Hendrykxx had his arm duly twisted and caved in when offered the choice. He was removed from Belgium and installed in a house in Jersey under the supervision of Mr and Mrs Adams, his warders in a most luxurious jail. Jersey had been chosen because of its lack of death duties and the general low tax rate; not that much tax was paid -when a government goes into the tax avoidance business it takes the advice of the real experts. 15M was injected into the scheme which, at the time of Hendrykxx's death, had magically turned into 40M. It is surprising what compound interest can do to a sum which has proper management and is left to increase and multiply.

Frans Potgeiter went under cover and surfaced as Brice, the liberal Rhodesian, the real Brice having conveniently been killed in a motor accident while trying to do the Johannesburg-Durban run in under five hours. He went to England to establish a reputation, and then moved to Kenya to manage the Ol Njorowa Foundation. Hendriks returned to his undercover post in London.

All was going well when came the debacle of Muldergate in 1978 and gone were the days of unlimited funds. One by one the stories leaked out; the setting up of the newspaper, The Citizen, with government funds, the attempted purchase of an American newspaper, the bribery of American politicians, the activities of the Group of Ten. All the peccadilloes were revealed.

In 1979 Connie Mulder, the Minister of Information, was forced to resign from the Cabinet, then from Parliament, then from the party itself. Dr Eschel Rhoodie, the Information Secretary, took refuge in Switzerland, and appeared on television threatening to blow the gaff. Mulder did blow the gaff – he named Vorster, once Prime Minister and then President of the Republic of South Africa, as being privy to the illegal shenanigans. Vorster denied it.

The Erasmus Judicial Commission of Enquiry sat, considered the evidence, and issued its report. It condemned Vorster as 'having full knowledge of the irregularities.' John Balthazar Vorster resigned from the State Presidency. It was a mess.

Hendriks, in London, read the daily newspaper reports with horrified eyes, expecting any day that the Hendrykxx affair and the Ol Njorowa Foundation would be blown. But someone in Pretoria must have done some fast and fancy footwork, scurrying to seal the leaks. It was not Colonel Malan because he was swept away in the general torrent of accusations and resigned his commission.

Hendriks had worried about his uncle Adriaan whom, of course, he had never met, and his particular worry revolved about the possibility of Adriaan fathering legitimate offspring. An inquiry was put in motion and thus he discovered Henry Hendrix, then in his last year in high school. Hendriks wanted, as he put it, 'to do something about it,' a euphemism which Malan burked at. 'No,' Malan had argued. 'I won't have it. We'll do it some other way when the need arises.'

But after Muldergate, when Malan was gone and Hendriks wanted to 'do something', Henry Hendrix had dropped out of sight, an indistinguishable speck of dross in the melting pot of 220 million Americans. From London Hendriks had tried to rouse Pretoria to action but the recent brouhaha of Muldergate had had a chilling effect on the feet and nothing was done.

It was only when Alix became pregnant and it was necessary that Hendrykxx should go that Pretoria took action, half-heartedly and too late. Hendrykxx had left 20,000 in his will to his jailers, Mr and Mrs Adams. Mandeville had insisted upon that, saying that the will had to look good. They responded by killing him, a not too difficult task considering he was senile and expected to die any moment, even though he was inconsiderately hanging on to life tenaciously.

Pretoria bungled in Los Angeles and Hendrix got away. He had survived the car crash in Cornwall, too, by something of a miracle, but now Potgeiter had finally solved the problem in a somewhat clumsy way. Or had he?

Hendriks was roused from his reverie by the ringing of the telephone next to his bed. It was Potgeiter. 'Get down here. Gunnarsson has gone on the run. I've sent Patterson after him.'

Chapter 28

Stafford thought the lake flies constituted the worst hazard of Crescent Island until he nearly broke his neck.

Chip, Nair and the Hunts had departed; the Hunts back to Ol Njorowa, Chip to Nairobi, and Nair to Naivasha to round up supplies. Nair came back in the late afternoon in a boat loaded with provisions and camping gear. They helped him get it ashore, then he said, 'We'll camp on the other side of the island where lights can't be seen from the mainland.'

'Are you staying with us?' asked Stafford in surprise.

Nair nodded without saying anything and Hardin snorted. I guess Chip thinks we want our hands held.'

Stafford had a different notion; he thought Nair was there to keep an eye on them. The mystery of Ol Njorowa had almost been solved and all that remained was to bust up the South African operation. But Chip, and possibly others, did not want premature activity and Nair was there to see that Stafford's party stayed put.

They lugged the supplies to the other side of the island, a matter of half a mile, and then made camp. Nair was meticulous about the setting up of the mosquito nets which were hung on wire frames over the sleeping bags, and fiddled for a long time in a finicky manner until he was sure he had got it right. 'Get much malaria around here?' asked Hardin.

'Not here.' Nair looked up. 'Lot of lake flies, though.' He did not elaborate.