Windfall

Stafford winced and looked down at the rifle he held. The Russian Kalashnikov is a fully automatic weapon which can spew out bullets as water from a hosepipe. The sporting rifle, while not exactly a toy, was not in the same league. 'And we're going after them?'

Chip gave him a quick glance. 'What else would you suggest? Curtis is the oldest; nearly sixty. That's why I sent him back. It could be a rough trip.'

Stafford said mildly, 'On those grounds Curtis could have given you an argument.'

'Besides, we have only three guns.'

Nair said, 'The border is over there – two miles. They can't have got much of a start and the prisoners will slow them down. Also they'll have to cross the Losemai.'

'Easy at this time of year,' said Chip. 'Let's go.'

They went on foot because to track from a Nissan is impossible, and it was Chip who did the tracking. He went confidently, going by signs which eluded Stafford and as he marched behind he wondered about these men who could produce an armoury at the drop of a hat. An Uzi isn't something you pick up casually at the comer shop.

Chapter 14

In the African bush there is a species of acacia known as the wait-a-bit thorn. It is well named. Chip and Nair knew enough to avoid them while Stafford, trailing in the rear, did not. He found it was like being trapped in barbed wire and his temper suffered, as did his suit and his skin.

After a while he got the hang of it and learned to travel in the master's footsteps and then it became better. Chip kept up a cracking pace, stopping occasionally to cast around. Twice he pointed out the signs of passage of those they were pursuing – footprints on the dusty earth. Nair nodded, and said in a low voice, 'Military boots.'

Once Chip threw his arms wide and the party came to a sudden halt. He waved and they made a wide circuit of a patch of ground on which Stafford saw a snake, not very long but with a body as thick as a man's brawny arm. Afterwards Chip told him it was a puff adder, and added, 'Most snakes get out of the way when they sense you're coming, but not the puff adder – he's lazy. So, if you're not careful you tread on him and he strikes. Very poisonous. Don't walk about at night.'

It was hot and Stafford sweated copiously. Heavy physical exercise on the Equator at an altitude of 5,000 feet is not to be recommended if you are not acclimatized. The Kenyan Olympics Team has a training camp at 9,000 feet where the oxygen is thin and the body becomes accustomed to its lack. When they go to sea level that gives a competitive edge, an advantage over the others. But Stafford was a reverse case and he suffered, while Chip and Nair were in better shape.

The terrain consisted of rolling plains with an occasional outcrop of rock. The trees, mostly flat-topped acacias, were scattered except where they tended to grow more thickly in the now dry watercourses, and the grass was waist high. The ground was so open that anyone looking back would surely see a long way.

Consequently they made good time in the valleys between the ridges but slowed. as they came to a crest, creeping on their bellies to peer into the next shallow valley. As they came up to the top of one such ridge Chip said quietly, 'We're in Tanzania. There's the Losemai.'

Ahead, stretching widely, was a green belt of thicker vegetation which marked the Losemai River. It looked no different than any similar place in the Kenyan Masai Mara. Chip took his binoculars, and said, 'Hold up your hand to shade these from the sun.'

Stafford put up his hand to cast a shadow on the lenses, and reflected that Chip was up to all the tricks of the trade. He didn't want a warning flash of light to be reflected; it would have been like a semaphore signal. He wondered where Chip had learned his trade. More and more there were certain things about Chip and Nair which didn't add up into anything that made sense.

Chip surveyed the land ahead, the binoculars moving in a slow arc. Suddenly he stopped, pointing like a hunting dog. 'There – entering the trees at two o'clock.' Another military expression.

Away in the distance Stafford saw the minute dots and strained his eyes to count. Chip said, 'I make it thirteen. You were right, Nair; Jeshi la Mgambo, six of them. And six in the tour group plus Adam. They're all there.'

Nair said, 'Do you think they'll stop at the Losemai? What happened before?'

'They might,' said Chip. 'They've got good cover down there and it's a convenient place to strip the tourists.'

Stafford said, 'It seems a lot of trouble for little profit.'

Chip snorted. 'Oh, there's profit. Take your tourist; he comes here to photograph animals so he usually has a good camera, still or cine. Plus telephoto lenses and other goodies such as a wristwatch. He also has money, traveller's cheques and credit cards, and there's a good trade in cheques and cards. A tourist, particularly a German or American, can be worth up to 1,000 on the hoof, and that's a damn sight more than the average Tanzanian makes in a year.'