“Yes… for him and me, but two nights for Garry and you.” He looked up at the clouds moving across the sky. “The sooner we get off the better. If it rains the road will be a real mess. You’ll be all right on your own with Garry… he’s a good guy.”
“I know.”
He took the sleeping bags into the tent and laid them out. Themba was building a fire some little way from the tent. Ken collected the .22 rifle and pocketed some ammunition.
“I’m going after guinea-fowl. Want to come?”
“Of course.”
They set off together into the bush.
Fennel came out of the trees, moving slowly. His arm still ached. He looked around, then seeing only Themba busy with the fire, he went to the Land Rover, got out his rucksack and went into the tent. He changed out of his wet shorts and put on a dry pair. He came out into the dying sunshine and sat on one of the wooden cases. His mind was smouldering. Well, he would fix her, he told himself as he lit a cigarette. There was time. Get the operation over. On the way back, he’d teach her.
He was still sitting there, brooding, when the helicopter came in to land. After a while Garry came over.
“A beauty,” he said enthusiastically. “Goes like a bird.”
Fennel looked up and grunted.
“Where are the others?”
Fennel shrugged.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“How about a beer?”
“Yeah.”
Garry opened the carton. Themba came over with glasses and a thermos of ice. As Garry was opening the bottles, Gaye and Ken cane out of the bush. Ken had four guinea-fowl hanging from a string to his belt.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Gaye demanded.
Garry shook his head.
“Trial flight. First time I’ve handled her. Cockeyed for both of us to get killed.”
Gaye’s eyes opened wide. She took the beer Themba offered her with a smile. Ken drank from the bottle, sighed, then handed the birds to Themba who took them away.
We’ll eat well tonight,” Ken said and squatted down on the grass. “Let’s talk business, Lew. We two and Themba leave at first light… around 04.00 hrs. We’ll take the rifle and the shotgun, our sleeping bags, rucksacks and food.” He looked over at Garry, “You any good with a .22?”
Garry grimaced.
“Never tried.”
“I am,” Gaye said. “I’ll get you a guinea-fowl, Garry.”
“That’s fine.”
Fennel glanced up, looked at Gaye, then at Garry, then looked away.
“Okay… anyway, you have only one more day here. The day after tomorrow you take off for Kahlenberg’s place.” Ken took a pencil from his pocket and drew a rough circle in the sand. “I’ve been talking to Themba. He’s been up to Kahlenberg’s estate for the past two days.” He glanced over at Lew who was lighting a cigarette. “You listening, Lew?”
“You think I’m goddamn deaf?”
“This circle represents Kahlenberg’s estate. Themba tells me it
is guarded by a lot of Zulus south, west and east, but not on the north side. The road into the estate on the north side is reckoned impassable, but Themba has been over it. He says there’s one really tricky bit, but if we can’t get over it, we can walk. It’s our only safe way in.”
“How far do we walk if we can’t drive?” Fennel asked, leaning forward as Ken marked a spot on the north side of the circle.
“Twenty kilometres as near as damn it.”
Fennel thought of his heavy tool bag.
“But there’s a chance we can get through in the truck?”
“Themba thinks so, so long as it doesn’t rain too hard. If it really rains then we are in trouble.”
“Well; some people have all the luck,” Fennel said, looking over at Garry, but Garry wasn’t to be drawn. He got up and walked over to watch Themba cooking the birds. He wished he could speak Afrikaans. There was something about the big Bantu’s face that appealed to him. As if reading his thoughts, Themba looked up and grinned cheerfully and then continued to turn the spit.
Gaye joined Garry.
“Hmmmm, smells good… I’m starving.”
Themba raised a finger and crossed it with, a finger of his left hand.
“That means you have to wait half an hour,” Garry said. “Come over to the chopper. I’ll tell you about it.”
They walked over to the helicopter.
Fennel watched them, his eyes glittering. Ken had no desire to talk to him. He went over and joined Themba. They spoke together in Afrikaans.
“Looks like rain soon?” Ken said, squatting beside the Bantu.
“Could come tonight.”
Ken grimaced.
“Well, we’ve got the winch. If that doesn’t pull us out, nothing will.”
“Yes.”
They talked on. Half an hour later, the birds were cooked. It was dark now and the air heavy and close. They oil sat around the fire, eating with their fingers. Without Fennel, he party could have been gay, but his dour expression and his silence killed any light-hearted atmosphere.
When they had finished and Themba had cleared up, Ken said, “I’m turning in. We have to be up early tomorrow.”
“Yes… I’m dying to sleep.” Gaye got to her feet.
“Give you five minutes to get into your bag,” Ken said, then I’m coming in.”
Gaye disappeared into the tent.
“I guess I’ll join you,” Garry said, stretching. “That was some meal.” He looked at Fennel. “You turning in?”
“Is the smoke sleeping in there?”
“If you mean is Themba sleeping in there… he is.”
Fennel spat in the fire.
“I don’t dig breathing the same air as a black man.”
“Okay… take your sleeping bag out then.”
Fennel got swiftly to his feet and advanced on Ken, his fists clenched. He was much more powerfully built than Ken who wouldn’t have stood a chance against him. Garry stepped between them, facing Fennel.
“I’m getting fed up with you,” he said evenly. “If you’re aching to hit some one, hit me.”
Fennel eyed him, hesitated, then backed away.
“Go to hell,” he growled and sat down. He sat by the dying fire long after the others were sleeping, then finally realizing he must get some sleep, he entered the tent and crawled into his sleeping bag.
Towards 02.00 hrs. the sound of rain drumming on the roof of the tent woke them all.
Above the sound of the rain came the choked roar of a lion.
Chapter Six
Fennel came awake as someone turned on a powerful flashlight. He could see Ken wriggling out of his sleeping bag. Themba held the flashlight and was leaving the tent.
“Time to go?” Fennel asked with a yawn.
“Just about. Themba’s getting the breakfast. I’m going down for a swim… coming?”
Fennel grunted, slipped on his shoes and shorts and grabbed up a towel. He followed Ken out into the damp half light. It had stopped raining, but the clouds were heavy and swollen.
“Going to be sticky,” Ken said as the two men trotted down to the pool, “but with the winch, and if we’re lucky, we’ll make it.”
Reaching the pool, they dived in, swam across, turned and swam back and came out. They towelled themselves vigorously, slipped into their shorts, then trotted back to the camp.
Both Gaye and Garry were up and squatting by the fire watching Themba frying a batch of eggs and bacon.
By the time they had finished breakfast and Themba had cleared up, it was light enough to move.
“Well, let’s go,” Ken said. Turning to Garry, he went on, “Do you think you can get the tent down and fold it?”
“Sure. I’ll pack it in the chopper… right?”
“If you leave it here, it’ll disappear for sure.” Ken looked a Themba. “All okay?”
Themba nodded.
“Let’s synchronize our watches. We’ll call you on radio at 11.00 hrs. just to report progress. After that we’ll call you every two hours… okay?”