Vulture is a Patient Bird

Fennel came up to Themba. He looked slightly embarrassed as he pointed to his bag of tools, then grinning sheepishly, he offered his hand. Themba was delighted and grinning widely, he gripped the offered hand.

As he fell into step beside Ken, Fennel said, "I was wrong about him . . . he's a good man."

"We all make mistakes," Ken looked at Fennel with a sly grin. "I seemed to have been wrong about you."

Themba watched them walk into the jungle and disappear. He set out collecting sticks for the fire he would light at dusk. He liked being on his own and was always at home in the jungle. He was slightly curious why the two white men had gone off on their own, but decided it was no business of his. He was being well paid for acting as a guide, and already Ken had given him enough money to enable him to buy a small car when he returned to Durban where he rented a bungalow in which his wife and son lived. He didn't see much of them as he was constantly on various game reserves in the district, but every other week-end, he would come home . . . something he always looked forward to.

He made a neat pile of sticks near the tree where the equipment was stacked, then moved into the jungle to find a few dead branches to give guts to the fire.

Suddenly he paused to listen. Something had moved not far from him. His keen ears had distinctly heard the rustle of leaves. A baboon? he wondered. He stood motionless, looking in the direction of the sound.

Out of a thicket behind him, rose a Zulu, wearing a leopard skin across his broad muscular shoulders. The sun glittered; on the broad blade of his assagai. For a brief moment, he balanced the heavy stabbing spear in his huge black hand, then threw it with unerring aim and with tremendous force at Themba's unprotected back.

High in the evening sky, six vultures began to circle patiently.

Chapter Seven

"There it is on your right," Garry said suddenly.

Gaye peered through the helicopter's window. They were flying over dense jungle, and as Garry banked, the jungle abruptly terminated and she could see acres of rich green lawns, green cement paths and vast beds of flowers that would have done credit to a botanical garden. Beyond the lawns she saw the one storey house which was built in a slight curve, and from this height, seemed to her, to be at least seventy metres long. Behind the house, some two hundred metres away were numerous small bungalows with thatched roofs and white painted walls in which she supposed the staff lived.

"It's enormous!" she exclaimed. "What an extraordinary shape! Imagine walking from one end to the other several times a day."

"Perhaps they use skates," Garry said. "It's certainly big." He circled the house again. They could see a swimming-pool, terraces, sun umbrellas and lounging chairs. "We'd better get down. Are you nervous?"

She shook her head, smiling.

"Not a bit . . . excited. I wonder if we'll get in."

"You've got to get us in," Garry said.

He spotted the airfield and a hangar. As he came lower, he saw three Zulus in white drill, staring up at the helicopter.

He landed not far from them and as he slid back the door, he saw a jeep coming along the road from the house, driven by a Zulu with a white man in a grey city-suit sitting at his side.

"Here comes the welcoming committee," he said and dropped to the ground.

Gaye handed him down the Rolleiflex camera and her camera bag, and then joined him on the runway as the jeep pulled up. Tak got out of the jeep and came towards them. Leaving

Garry, Gaye advanced to meet him.

"I am Gaye Desmond of Animal World magazine," she said and held out her hand.

Tak regarded her, thinking she was even more lovely than her photograph. He took her hand briefly and gave her a little bow.

"I apologize for landing like this," Gaye went on. There was something about this tall man that she instantly distrusted and disliked. "I'm on my way to Wannock Game Reserve, and I saw this lovely house and just couldn't resist calling. If I shouldn't have, please tell me, and I will leave at once."

"Not at all, Miss Desmond," Tak said silkily. "We seldom have such a beautiful visitor. Now you are here, I hope you will stay to lunch."

"How nice of you! We would love to, Mr. . . ." She looked inquiringly at him.

"Guilio Tak."

She turned to Garry who joined them.

"Mr. Tak, this is Garry Edwards, my pilot."

Again Tak bowed.

"Mr. Tak has kindly invited us to lunch."

Garry shook hands with Tak. He too didn't like the look of him.

Gaye went on, "The house is marvellous and so isolated! I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw it. Have you had it long, Mr. Tak?"

"This is not my residence, Miss Desmond. It belongs to Mr. Max Kahlenberg."

Gaye stared at him, her eyes widening.

"You mean the millionaire? The Mr. Max Kahlenberg?"

The expression in his black eyes was slightly sardonic as Tak said, "That is correct."

"But I have heard he is a recluse!" Gaye said. Watching her, Garry thought she was putting over the act well. "We'd better go. We mustn't disturb him."