Vulture is a Patient Bird

"That guy must have been born lucky," Fennel growled, picking up the jerrycan. "He doesn't know how well off he is." They continued on, and at 13.00 hrs., they left the track and sat down in the shade of the jungle. Ken contacted Garry and reported progress.

"We should be in position by 18.00 hrs.," he said, and added the going was rough.

Garry made sympathetic noises, said he would be standing by at 15.00 hrs. and switched off.

After half an hour's rest, they continued on for another hour, then Ken said it was time to eat. They left the sun soaked track and sat down in the shade of the trees. Themba opened cans of steak pie and baked beans.

"How much farther?" Fennel asked, his mouth full.

Ken consulted Themba.

"About six kilometres and then we'll be in the jungle."

"Ask him if he wants me to carry the bag again."

"He's okay . . . don't bother about it."

"Ask him! That bag's goddamn heavy!"

Ken spoke to Themba who grinned and shook his head.

"Black people are used to carrying white men's burdens," Ken said, keeping his face straight.

Fennel eyed him.

"Okay, I'll take that . . . so he's a better man than I am."

"Skip it or I'll burst into tears."

Fennel smiled sourly.

"My time's coming. You two may be pretty hot with this jungle and walking crap, but you wait until you see me in action."

Ken offered his pack of cigarettes and the two men lit up.

Do you think he's giving it to her?" Fennel asked abruptly. When not on his discomforts, his mind kept returning to Gaye.

"Who's giving what to whom?" Ken asked blandly.

Fennel hesitated, then shrugged. "Forget it!"

An hour later, they again contacted Garry and again reported progress, then they left the mountain track and entered the jungle. Although it was steamy hot, the relief of constant shade helped them to quicken their pace.

Themba led the way with Ken and Fennel following. A narrow track through the dense undergrowth forced them to walk in single file. Overhead, Vervet monkeys swung from tree to tree, watching them. A big sable buck that was standing in the middle of the track as they rounded a high shrub went crashing away into the jungle, startling Fennel.

They had to keep a watch-out for shrubs with long, sharp thorns, and they all concentrated on the ground ahead of them. None of them suspected that they were being watched. High on a branch of a tree sat a giant Zulu, wearing only a leopard skin. In his right hand, he held a two-way radio. He waited until the three men had passed, then spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece of the radio, his message being picked up by Miah, Kahlenberg's secretary, who had been detailed to keep in touch with the twenty watching Zulus positioned to report the movements of strangers on the estate.

From the moment the three men entered the jungle, they were never out of sight from the watchful eyes of the Zulus, hidden in the undergrowth or concealed in the tree tops.

Miah took down the Zulus' reports in rapid shorthand, passed them to Ho-Du who rapidly transcribed them on a typewriter and then had them sent immediately to Kahlenberg.

Kahlenberg was enjoying this. The drama of the Land Rover had been observed and reported to him, and now he knew these three men were actually on his estate.

He turned to Tak. "The Bantu is expendable," he said. "Give the order that if the occasion presents itself, he is to be got rid of. As he seems to be acting as a guide, it is unlikely the others will be able to find their way out without him."

Tak picked up a two-way radio and spoke softly into it.

While he was speaking, Ken called a brief rest as they reached a clearing in the jungle. The three men sat down in the shade and all took a drink of water.

Ken talked to Themba for a few minutes. Themba pointed. Ahead of them was a narrow track that led into dense undergrowth.

"That's the track that leads directly to Kahlenberg's place," Ken explained to Fennel. "We can't miss it. We'll leave Themba here, and we'll go on. If we come unstuck, I don't want him involved. When we have done the job, we'll pick him up here and he'll guide us out. Okay?"

"You're sure we can find our way without him?

"We follow the track. It leads directly to the house."

"Well, okay." Fennel looked at his watch. "How long will it take to get to the house?"

"About two hours. We'll go now. We'll get near enough to the house before dark."

Fennel grunted and got to his feet.

Ken talked again to Themba who grinned, nodding his head.

"We'll take some food with us. I've got a water bottle," Ken said, turning to Fennel. "You'll have to carry your kit again."

"Okay, okay, I'm not a cripple."

Themba put some canned food into Ken's rucksack.

"We'll leave our other stuff here," Ken went on, shouldering the rucksack, "and the rifle." He shook hands with Themba. Speaking in

Afrikaans, he said, "We'll be back the day after tomorrow night. If we are not back in four days, go home."