Rhodesia

by Nick Carter

  Barnes laughed heartily. "Talk about the understatement of the decade. As I see it, you triggered a native revolt. Broke up a fight between our army and some guerrillas. And you've exposed enough smuggling and double-crossing by THB to turn part of our government on its ear. The radio has been wailing from HQ so much I got away from it."

  "Gee," Nick said innocently, "did I? Just an accidental chain of events. But lucky for you, eh? THB was abusing workers, cheating your customs, and helping your enemies — they sold to everyone, you know. You ought to get a fine commendation out of this."

  "If we ever straighten it out."

  Of course they straightened it out. Nick noticed how simple it is when you're dealing with a lot of gold that has tremendous power and no patriotism. The free world felt better with the yellow metal flowing into hands that appreciated it. Judas was traced to Lourenço Marques and his trail vanished. Nick could guess where — up Mozambique Channel to the Indian Ocean in one of the big oceangoing ketches he favored. He said nothing, for technically his own objective had been reached and he was still Andrew Grant, visiting escort with tour group.

  Indeed, an assistant chief of the Rhodesian police gave him a commendation scroll at a small dinner. The publicity helped him decide not to take Hawk's suggestion, via coded cable, that he leave the tour on some excuse and return to Washington. He decided to complete the trip for the sake of — appearances.

  After all, Gus was good company, and so were Booty and Ruth and Janet and Teddy and...