“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.”
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.”
“You won’t do that. Mr. Kahlenberg is not a recluse. I am sure he will be pleased to meet you.”
“Would it be possible to photograph the house. I also freelance for Life. It would be a marvellous scoop for me.”
“That you must ask Mr. Kahlenberg. But don’t let us stand here in the sun.” Tak moved to the jeep. “I will take you to the house.”
Gaye and Garry got in the back seat and Tak beside the driver. The Zulu turned the jeep and sped back down the road.
A few minutes later, Gaye and Garry were being ushered into a huge lounge which led through wide french windows to a flower ladened terrace with a big swimming-pool. The luxury of the room stunned Garry who had never seen anything to compare with it and even impressed Gaye who had been in many luxurious homes in her time.
“If you would wait here, I will tell Mr. Kahlenberg of your arrival.”
A Zulu in white drill came in silently.
“Have a drink please while you are waiting,” Tak continued and then went away.
The Zulu went behind the bar and stood waiting.
They asked for two gin and tonics and then moved out on to the terrace.
“I don’t like the look of that guy,” Garry said in a low whisper. “There’s something about him…”
“Yes. He gives me the creeps. He looks as if he sleeps in a coffin.”
“Don’t you think we got in very easily?” Garry went on, pulling up a basket chair for Gaye and then sitting down himself.
“It’s my charm.” Gaye smiled.
“I’m irresistible to spooks. The chances are we will be thrown out as soon as Mr. K. hears we have arrived. Tak must be his major-domo or secretary I suppose.”
The Zulu brought the drinks with two plates of delicious looking canapes and silently withdrew.
“What a gorgeous way to live!” Gaye sighed. “I adore this place. Wouldn’t you love to own it?”
Garry sipped his drink, then shook his head.
“Not for me. I like something a bit more rugged. This is too lush.”
“Oh, no!” She helped herself to a cracker covered with caviar. “I think it is marvellous.”
They had eaten most of the canapes and had finished their drinks before Tak appeared again.
“Mr. Kahlenberg is happy to have you here, Miss Desmond,” he said. “Unfortunately, he is tied up with a series of long distance calls and other business and won’t be free to meet you until tonight. Is it possible for you to stay?”
“You mean… stay the night?” Gaye asked, looking up at the pale face.
“Certainly. That is what Mr. Kahlenberg suggests.”
“But I have no clothes with me.”
“That is no problem. We have a number of women secretaries here. One of them will gladly lend you something.”
“How nice! Did you ask him if I could take photographs?”
Tak shook his head.
“I thought it would come better if the request came from you, Miss Desmond.”
“Well, then we will stay the night. It is very kind of Mr. Kahlenberg.”
“It will be his pleasure.” Tak glanced at his watch. “Lunch will be served in an hour. Perhaps you would care to change?”
As they got to their feet, Tak turned to Garry.
“You too, of course, have no clothes with you, Mr. Edwards?”
“Only what I’ve got on.”
“That can be arranged.” Tak turned as Miah came out on to the terrace. “This is Miss Das. She will take care of you both. If you will excuse me now,” and with a stiff little bow, Tak left them.
Miah came forward.
“Please follow me.”
She led them across the lounge into a wide corridor that stretched away into the far distance. What looked like an electric golf cart stood nearby and she slid under the driving wheel while the other two took the rear seats.
“This corridor is so long,” she said, turning to smile at them, “we have to use this to save our legs.”
“I was wondering how you managed,” Gaye returned. “When I saw the house from the air, I thought of the tremendous amount of walking it must make.”
Silently the trolley took them quickly past many closed doors until they reached the far end.
“This is the guest wing,” Miah said, stopping the car. She walked to a door and opened it. “Please come in.”
They entered a long narrow luxuriously furnished room which led on to a small terrace, also with a swimming-pool and a bar.
“You will find everything you want here,” Miah said. “Your lunch will be served on the terrace at 13.00 hrs. This is your bedroom, Miss Desmond.” She crossed the room and opened a door. “I will send a maid to help you dress. I thought it would be the easiest thing for you to wear one of my saris. Would that be all right?”
“It would be perfect.” Gaye stood in the doorway looking into the bedroom. It was a delightful room, decorated in pale-blue with a king’s size bed, closets, a big dressing-table on which stood a variety of face creams, lotions, perfumes and a make-up kit in a flat, silver box. Moving around the room, Gaye saw on the opposite wall, facing the bed a huge mirror which made the room seem to be twice its size. The bathroom was equipped with every luxury, including a sun lamp, a cabinet equipped with nozzles from which hot air could be released thus saving the fatigue of drying oneself on a towel, and a vibro-massage machine.
While Gaye was exclaiming over the room, Garry was moving around the sitting-room, making a careful examination of the doors and windows.
Miah came to show him his bedroom and bathroom, both of them as luxurious as Gaye’s.
A tall Zulu maid came in carrying the sari. Gaye said she didn’t need her help and could manage on her own. A Zulu manservant brought Garry a pair of white slacks, heelless slippers and a white shirt.
“Mr. Kahlenberg is quite informal,” Miah said. “Dinner tonight will be on the main terrace. Please make yourselves at home. If you wish to swim, there are swim suits in the changing-room. Do explore the garden. If there is anything you wish for, please use the telephone.” With a nod of her head and a smile, she left the room.
Gaye and Garry looked at each other and Garry whistled. “Talk about living it up . .
There came a tap on the door and a Zulu came in with their rucksacks. These he set on the floor and withdrew.
Garry went quickly to his rucksack and satisfied himself the two-way radio hadn’t been removed. He looked at Gaye.
“I wonder if they spotted this?”
“It doesn’t matter if they did, does it?” Gaye’s mind was occupied with the luxury surrounding her. Her eyes shining, she went on, “Isn’t it really marvellous! I’m taking a bath. See you later.” Picking up her rucksack, she went into her bedroom and shut the door.
She quickly undressed. Naked, she stood for a moment admiring herself in the big mirror, then she went into the bathroom and turned on the bath taps. Again while waiting for the bath to fill, she regarded herself in the mirror, striking poses and laughing happily to herself.
What she didn’t realize was that both the big mirrors were twoway: anyone behind the mirrors could see her as if the mirrors were plain glass, whereas from the front she imagined the mirrors were genuine and not trick ones.
His affairs forgotten, his desk neglected, Kahlenberg sat in his wheelchair in a narrow passage which was air conditioned and took his fill of Gaye’s naked beauty.
From the edge of the jungle, Fennel watched the helicopter land. He and Ken had found a vantage point on a big balancing rock, formed by soil erosion, surrounded by trees and bushes, yet giving them an excellent view of Kahlenberg’s house, garden and airfield far below them.
Fennel had powerful field glasses to his eyes. He saw Tak arrive in the jeep and Gaye meet him. He watched Gaye and Garry get into the jeep and drive to the house. He saw them enter and the front door close.
“Good for them! They’re in!” he said, lowering the glasses.
“That was pretty easy, wasn’t it?” Ken asked, puzzled. “From what I hear of Kahlenberg, he doesn’t welcome strangers.”
“Shalik said he was a sucker for a glamour puss. Looks like Shalik knew what he was talking about.”
“Yes… but I didn’t think it would be that easy.” Ken picked up the two-way radio. “I’ll keep this switched on. Garry may be coming through any time now.”
Fennel lit a cigarette and stretched out on the rock. He was feeling tired after the long walk, carrying his tool bag. He dozed while Ken kept watch. After some little time, Fennel sat up, lit a cigarette, yawned, then asked, “When you’ve got the money, what are you going to do with it?”
“A pal of mine in Jo’burg is starting a travel agency,” Ken told him. “He needs more capital. I’m going into partnership with him.”
“Travel agency? Is that so hot?”
“It’s good. We plan a de luxe service. Personally conducted tours around the game reserves. That’s where I’ll score. There’s a lot of money in it. The Americans are heavy spenders if you give them real personal service. I’ve been dealing with them for some years. I know what they want, and I plan to give it to them.”
Fennel grunted.
“Sounds like hard work to me. I don’t believe in work. Only suckers work.”
“So what are you going to do with your share?”
“Spend it… that’s what money is for. I’ve got no time for the punks who save their money. What happens? They kick off and some other punk gets it.”
“Maybe that’s what they wan
t.”
“To hell with that! There’s always money around. When I’ve
spent what I get from Shalik, I’ll do another little job. I’ve got plenty of contacts. They know I’m good so I’m never short of a job.”
Ken held up his hand, cutting him short. He had heard a crackle on the two-way radio and he put the set to his ear.
“Ken… hi, Garry… hearing you loud and clear… over.” He listened for some moments while Fennel watched him intently. “Roger. Good luck. Out,” and he switched off.
“Well?”
“They’re staying the night,” Ken told him. “Kahlenberg seems pleased they dropped in. I must say that surprises me. Anyway, they are meeting him at 21.00 hrs. Garry says he’ll call back at 23.00 hrs., and for us to stand by.”
Fennel grunted. He looked at his watch. It was just after midday.
“You mean we stay on this goddamn rock for twelve hours?”
“I guess so. We don’t want to walk into any of the guards. I reckon it is safe up here. Let’seat.” He brought out the inevitable can of beans.
“Goddamn it! Isn’t there anything else to eat except beans?”
“Steak pie… want that?”
“That’s better than beans.” Fennel brooded as Ken searched in the rucksack for the can. “I bet those two are doing themselves well.” His mind dwelt on Gaye and a vicious spurt of rage ran through him. Get this job over, he told himself, and then you fix her and you fix her good.
“What’s bitten you?” Ken asked, seeing the savage expression on Fennel’s face.
“Nothing… how much longer are you going to take to open that can?”
“I wish I knew we weren’t going to be disturbed,” Garry said. Gaye and he were sitting on the terrace after an excellent lunch served by two Zulu waiters.
Gaye was stretched out on a reclining chair, a cigarette between her fingers. Garry thought she looked lovely in the red and gold sari. It was the type of costume that suited her, and which he admired.
“Why?” Gaye asked, looking at him.
“Obvious reasons,” Garry returned with a grin. “I would take you into the bedroom.”
She laughed.
“When I too wish we knew we weren’t going to be disturbed.”
Vulture Is a Patient Bird Page 14
