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"Not a damned thing." Craig shook his head. "Despite Timon's assurances, we don't know that he is still alive, and even if he is, we don't have the faintest idea where he is, or how to find him." They rattled across the railway lines and into the main street of Francistown.

""Jewel of the north"," said Craig. "Population two thousand, main industry consumption of alcoholic beverage, reason for existing uncertain." He parked outside the single hotel. "As you can see, total population now in permanent residence in the public bar." However, the young Botswana receptionist was pretty and efficient.

"Mr. Mellow, there is a lady waiting to see you," she called, as Craig entered the lobby. Craig did not recognize his visitor, not until Sally-Anne ran forward to embrace her.

"Sarah!" she cried. "How did you get here? How did you find usT Craig's room had two single beds with a dressing-table between them, a threadbare imitation Persian rug on the shiny red-painted cement floor and a single wooden chair.

The two girls sat on one bed, with their legs curled up under them in that double-jointed feminine attitude.

"They told me at the Red Cross that you had been found in the desert and brought in by the police, Miss Jay."

"My name is Sally' Anne Sarah." Sarah smiled softly in acknowledgement. "I wasn't sure if you would want to see me again, not after the trial. But then my friends here told me how you had been ill-treated by Fungabera's soldiers. I thought you might have realized that I was right all along, that Tungata Zebiwe was not a criminal and that he needs friends now." She turned towards Craig. "He was your friend, Mr. Mellow. He told me Rout you. He spoke of you with respect and great feeling. He was afraid for you, when he heard that you had returned to Zimbabwe. He realized that you wanted to take up your family land in Matabeleland, and he knew there were going to be terrible troubles and that you would be caught up in them. He said that you were too gentle for the hard times that were coming. He called you "Pupho", the dreamer, the gentle dreamer, but he said that you were also stubborn and obstinate. He wanted to save you from being hurt again. He said, "Last time he lost his leg this time he could lose his life. To be his friend, I must make myself his enemy. I must drive him out of Zimbabwe."

it Craig sat in the sttaight-backed wooden chair and remembered his stormy meeting with Tungata when he had come to him for assistance in acquiring King's Lynn.

Had it been an act, then? Even now he found that hard tory so believe. Tungata's passion had been so real, his fit convincing.

41 am sorry, Mr. Mellow. These are very rude things that I am saying about you. I am telling you only what Tungata said. He was your friend. He still is your friend."

"It doesn't really matter any more, what he thought of me, "Craig murmured. "Sam is probably dead by now."

"No!" For the first time Sarah raised her voice, her tone vehement, almost angry. "No, do not say that, never said that! He is alive. I have seen and spoken to him. They can never kill a man like thad" The chair creaked under Craig as he leaned forward eagerly. "You have seen him? When?"

"Two weeks ago."

"Where? Where was he?"

"Tuti at the camp."

"Sam alive!" Craig changed as he said it. TIte despondent slump of his shoulders squared out, he held his head at more alert angle and his eyes were brighter, more eager.

He wasn t really looking at Sarah. He was looking at the wall above her head, trying to marshal the torrent of emotions and ideas that came at him, so he did not see that Sarah was weeping.

It was Sally-Anne who put a protective and comforting arm about her, and Sarah sobbed. "Oh, my lord Tungata.

The things they have done to him. They have starved and beaten him. He is likea village cur, all bones and scars.

He walks likea very old man, only his eyes are still proud." Sally-Anne hugged her wordlessly. Craig jumped up from the chair and began to pace. The room was so small, he crossed it in four strides, turned and came back. Sally Anne dug in her pocket and found a crumpled tissue for Sarah.

"When will the Cessna be ready?" Craig asked, without pausing in his stride. His artificial leg made a tiny click each time he swung it forward.

"It's been ready since last week. I told you, didn't ! Sally-Anne replied distractedly, fussing over Sarah.

"What is her all-up capacity?"

"The Cessna? I've had six adults in her, but that was a squeeze. She's licensed for-" Sally' Anne stopped. Slowly her head turned from Sarah towards him and she stared at him in total disbelief.

"In the love of all that's holy, Craig, are you out of your mind?" "Range fully loaded?" Craig ignored the question.

"Twelve hundred nautical miles, throttle setting for maximum endurance but you can't be serious."

"Okay." Craig was thinking aloud. "I can get a couple of drums in the Land-Rover. You can land and refuel on a pan right on the border I know a spot near Panda Matengal five hundred kilometres north of here. That is the closest point of entry-"

"Craig, do you know what they'd do if they caught us?" Sally-Anne's voice was husky with shock.

Sarah had the tiss& over her nose, but her eyes swivelled between thL* two of them as they spoke.

"Weapons," Cra I ig muttered. "We'd need arms. Morgan Oxford? No, damn it, he's written us off."

"Guns?" Sarah's voice was muffled by tears and tissue.

"Guns and grenades," Craig agreed. "Explosives, whatever we can get."