“Okay… see you,” and Fennel left the garage and headed for the hotel.
Ken watched him go, frowning. Then shrugging, he moved over to where Sam Jefferson was working on the Pontiac.
They all met at the Checkmate restaurant which is part of the Rand International Hotel a little after 20.30 hrs. As was her privilege, Gaye was the last to arrive, wearing a lemon-coloured cotton dress and making every male eye in the restaurant stare at her with that hungry look males have for really beautiful women.
Fennel eyed her as she slid into her chair and felt sweat break out down his fat back. He had known many women in his life, but none to compare with her. He felt a white hot surge of desire go through him and it so shook him that he purposely dropped his serviette so he could bend, grope for it while he forced the desire out of his face.
“Well, what are we going to eat?” Garry asked.
They were all hungry and chose sea food on the broche and breaded veal with french fry.
“How’s it been going?” Garry asked Ken. He was aware of Fennel’s tenseness and glanced at his flushed face, then looked away.
“All under control. We have everything organized now. We could leave tomorrow if that suits you two.”
“Why not?” Garry looked at Gaye for confirmation and she nodded.
“The sooner we’re off, the easier for us it will be. The rains have started. There is a chance the rain hasn’t reached Drakensberg yet, but if it has, Fennel and I will have quite a trip. So, if it’s all right with you, we will leave at 08.00 hrs. tomorrow morning. We drive in the Land Rover… it won’t be too comfortable as we’re pretty loaded. We have around three hundred kilometres to our camp at Mainville.” The sea food was served and when the waiter had gone away, Ken went on, “Mainville is about four hundred kilometres from Kahlenberg’s place. The chopper will be at Mainville. The airlift won’t take long unless anything goes wrong. You two will stay in camp for a day while Fennel and I go on by road. Then you take off. We’ll be in touch with you on the two-way radio. I’ve tested them… they’re good. We’ll reach Mainville just after noon with luck. Fennel and I will start around 05.00 hrs. the following morning. You will take off around 10.00 hrs. the following morning. You should arrive at Kahlenberg’s place in an hour or so. You don’t want to be too early. How does it sound?”
“Sounds fine,” Garry said. “And the chopper? How about service and gas?”
“All that’s taken care of. You’ll have enough gas to take her in and bring her out. I have a guarantee she will be fully serviced. It’s up to you to satisfy yourself she is okay, of course, but from what I’ve been told, she’ll be there waiting for you and ready to go.”
“What’s Mainville like?” Gaye asked, laying down her knife and fork.
Ken grinned. “A horse and buggy town. I have the camp organized five miles out of town in the bush.”
They began eating the veal which they enjoyed. They discussed further details of the operation. Both Gaye and Garry were aware that Fennel had little to say except to grunt over his food and keep looking at Gaye. At the end of the meal, they had coffee while Ken talked. He was an easy and interesting talker and he amused them.
“You’ll have fun driving to Mainville,” he said. “I won’t be going on the highway on the last lap and you’ll see game… warthogs, Impala, waterbuck, vervet monkeys and so on. I’ll give you the dope on them when we see them if you’re interested. I was once a game warden on a swank reserve… taking people around in a Land Rover to spot game.”
“What made you give it up?” Gaye asked. “I should have thought it was a lovely life.”
Ken laughed.
“You would, wouldn’t you? Nothing the matter with the animals, but the clients finally got me down. You can’t expect to go into the bush and just find animals waiting for you. You have to be patient. There are days, especially in this season, when you can drive for miles without seeing a thing. The clients always gripe… blaming me. After a couple of years I got fed up with it. There was one client who really bore down on me. Okay, he had no luck. It was the rainy season, and he wanted to photograph a buffalo. He had a thousand dollar bet with a pal back in the States that he would bring the photo back… no buffaloes. We drove for hours hunting for them, but no luck, so he took it out on me.” Ken grinned. “I hauled off and busted his jaw… got eighteen months in jail for it so when I came out, I quit.”
Fennel who had been listening impatiently, broke in, “Well, I don’t know what you two guys are going to do, but I’m inviting Miss Desmond to come along with me and take a look at the nightspots.” He stared directly at Gaye, his face set. “How about it?”
There was a slight pause. Garry looked quickly at Fennel’s flushed face and then at Gaye who smiled, completely relaxed.
“That is nice of you, Mr. Fennel, but excuse me. If I’m going to get up so early, I need my sleep.” She got to her feet. “Good night. See you all in the morning,” and she made her way, followed by male stares, out of the restaurant.
Fennel sat back in his chair, his face pale, his eyes burning. “Some brush-off,” he snarled. “Who the hell does she think she is?”
Ken got to his feet.
“I’ll fix the bill and then I’m going to bed,” and he walked over to the cash desk.
Garry said quietly, “Take it easy. The girl’s tired. If you want to go somewhere I’ll come with you.”
Fennel didn’t appear to hear. He sat there, his eyes slightly mad, his face now getting back some colour. He got heavily to his feet and walked out of the restaurant and to the lift. He was shaking with frustrated rage.
All right, you bitch, he was thinking as the lift doors swung open. I’ll fix you! Just let me get you alone for ten minutes and I’ll fix you so goddamn fast you won’t know what’s hit you.
He reached his room, slammed the door shut and tore off his clothes. He threw himself down on the bed, his nails biting into the palms of his hands, sweat running down his heavy jowls.
For more than an hour, his lewd mind enacted the things he would do to her when he had her alone, but after a while, the erotic thoughts became exhausted and his mind began to return to normal.
He suddenly remembered what Shalik had said: You will leave Gaye Desmond strictly alone… try something like that with Miss Desmond and I promise you Interpol will receive your dossier from me.
How had Shalik found out about the three killings?
Fennel moved uneasily on the bed. He reached for a cigarette, lit it and stared across the room, lit by the revolving sign across the way.
He was suddenly back in Hong Kong, coming off a junk at Wanchai’s Fenwick Street pier. He had been on a smuggling trip with three of his Chinese friends. They had unloaded a cargo of opium at Chu Lu Kok Island without any trouble and Fennel had $3,000 in his hip pocket. He was due to fly back to England in ten hours. After being cooped up in the stinking junk for six days, he was in need of a woman.
His Chinese friends had told him where to go. He had walked along Gloucester Road amid rickshaws, the fast moving traffic, the fruit vendors and the crowds of noisy Chinese until he had come to the brothel, recommended.
The Chinese girl was small, compact with heavy buttocks which Fennel liked, but she was as animated as a side of beef. She acted merely as a receptacle for his lust and when the unsatisfactory union was over, Fennel, with half a bottle of whisky inside him, dulling his senses, slept, but Fennel only ever slept slightly below the level of unconsciousness. He had always led a dangerous life and had trained himself never to become entirely unconscious, no matter how much he drank. He came awake to find the girl, still naked, her ivory skin lighted by the street light