Vulture is a Patient Bird

Perhaps of the three of them, Fennel was the most affected. He had come to admire Ken. The episode with the Land Rover on the narrow track had enormously impressed him. He knew he hadn't the guts to have done such a thing. Ken's coolness when he was dangling at the end of the cable had completely wiped out Fennel's hostility. Ken's death now left him viciously angry, and in a brooding, homicidal state of mind. Why hadn't this sonofabitch Edwards gone into the stream first? He and his whore weren't worth a tenth of what Ken had been worth. He looked at them out of the corners of his small glittering eyes. Garry had his arm around Gaye and Fennel felt a hot, furious rush of blood to his head. Well, I'll fix them, he thought. No one shoves me around as that bitch did without paying for it.

Garry was speaking quietly to Gaye.

"This rain's lucky. It'll wash out our tracks. This was the one thing I was praying for. They can't track us after this storm."

Gaye clutched his hand. She was still too shocked to speak.

After some ten minutes, the rain began to slacken.

"We must get on," Garry said, getting to his feet. We've got to cross the river." He turned to Fennel. "Think we could build a raft?"

"I've thrown my goddamn tool kit away," Fennel told him, "How the hell can we build a raft without tools?"

Garry walked to the edge of the river. The opposite bank was thick with high grass and shrubs. Were more crocodiles lurking on the bank, hidden from sight, waiting for them? After what had happened to Ken, he decided the risk was too great to attempt a crossing. He decided to push on down the river in the hope that they would come to a clearing where crocodiles couldn't conceal themselves.

"Before we go further, let's eat," he said, and opening Ken's rucksack, he produced a can of stewed beef. "We'll split this between the three of us."

"I'm not hungry . . . I don't want any," Gaye said listlessly.

"You've got to eat!" Garry said sharply. Now, come on."

"No . . . leave me alone."

Garry looked closely at her. Her white drawn face, her eyes that had become sunken, began to worry him.

"Are you all right?"

"I have a headache. The thought of food makes me feel ill . . . just leave me alone."

Was it shock? he asked himself. Or was she ill? He flinched at the thought. To fall sick now would be a disaster.

The meal finished, the two men got to their feet. Garry went over to Gaye and touched her lightly on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, and again he felt a pang of alarm at the heavy, dull look in her eyes. She dragged herself to her feet.

"You're not ill, Gaye?" he asked.

"No."

"Come on!" Fennel barked. "I want to get going if you don't!"

Garry walked by Gaye's side. She moved listlessly and had lost the spring in her step. He took her arm.

"Don't fuss!" She tried to pull away. "I'm all right. It's just this awful headache."

He kept hold of her and walked on, but they weren't making the speed they had made earlier on.

"Keep moving for God's sake!" Fennel barked suddenly. "What the hell are you two loitering for?"

Gaye made an effort and quickened her pace. They kept on, but after a couple of kilometres, she again began to lag and Garry found he had to force her on. He was seriously worried now. She seemed to be walking in her sleep, dragging one foot after the other.

"You're feeling rotten, aren't you?" he said at last. "What is it?"

"My head feels as if it is going to burst . . . I suppose it's the sun."

"Let's rest for a moment."

"No . . . I'll manage. Just don't fuss."

Another three kilometres brought them to a place Garry was hoping to find. The jungle fell away, either side of the river mud flats with no cover spread out before them.

"This is where we cross," Garry said. He eyed the swift moving river. "Do you think you can manage, Gaye?"

"Yes, if you keep near me."

Fennel came to the edge of the bank and surveyed the water suspiciously.

"Are you going first?" he asked Garry.

"Don't get excited . . . it's safe enough and it's not far across," Garry said curtly. He led Gaye to some shade. "Sit down. I want to find a branch of a tree to get our stuff over dry."

She sank down as Garry went off into the jungle.

Fennel eyed her, thinking all the glamour had gone out of her now.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he demanded, standing over her.

She put her head in her hands.

"Leave me alone."

"Are you sick?"

"I have a headache . . . leave me alone."

The sunlight reflected on the diamonds of the Borgia ring, making them sparkle. Fennel eyed the ring.

"You better give me the ring to carry. I don't want it lost. Come on, give it to me!"

"No!"

Garry came out of the jungle dragging a long branch covered with foliage behind him.

Muttering under his breath, Fennel moved away from Gaye.

It took Garry very few minutes to tie the rucksacks and their shoes to the branch.

"Let's go," he said to Gaye. "Hang on to the branch. I'll push it over."