Assegai

‘A man of such wisdom as you must have thought of another plan?’ Leon asked.

Manyoro gave his su

‘What have you brought me, brother?’

‘Fishing nets!’ he cried, and dissolved into a gale of giggles. ‘That is a very good joke,’ Leon said, ‘but now tell me the truth.’

‘It is the truth.’ Manyoro staggered weakly with an excess of mirth. ‘You shall see, M’bogo, you shall see, and then you will praise me even more.’

The thirty-six oxen were driven down the lake shore by several hundred fisherfolk, with their women and children. On the back of each ox was strapped an enormous brown bundle of some amorphous material. Under Manyoro and Loikot’s stern supervision, the bundles were unloaded and laid out on the beach. When they were unrolled they proved to be two-hundred-foot lengths of hand-woven netting. The mesh was little more than an inch across and the knots were neat and firm. Leon stretched a section over his shoulders and tried with all his strength to break it. The villagers danced and hooted when he turned red with his vain efforts.

‘Look at his face!’ they told each other. ‘It is the colour of a turkey buzzard’s wattles. Our nets are the finest and strongest in the land. Even the largest crocodiles ca

The nets were laid out, joined together, then carefully rolled into a long, bulky hawser two or three feet in diameter, thicker and heavier than the mooring ropes of an ocean liner. Gangs of villagers carried one end out to where the Butterfly stood, her wings canted at a forlorn, abandoned angle. Leon wound the end around the landing gear and secured it with the leather thongs that the villagers had brought with the nets. The teams of oxen were backed to the edge of the mud and inspa

When the hysteria of celebration and self-congratulation abated, Leon gave the village headman a generous gift, sufficient to purchase several more oxen. Then he bade Max farewell and watched him set off jauntily on foot for the German police post at Longido, his rucksack on his back. As soon as he had disappeared into the bush, Leon and the Masai started the Butterfly’s engines and climbed into the cockpit. When he was airborne, Leon turned north on to a heading for Nairobi.

The following days were feverishly busy as Leon reported to Lord Delamere and took over his new job as his lordship’s intelligence and liaison officer. Despite all this distraction, Eva was never far from his mind. Her image rose unexpectedly to haunt him at odd hours of his day.

When Penrod left for his new assignment in Egypt Leon was at the railway station to see him off. Their relationship had cooled noticeably since Eva had come between them. At the last moment, as they stood on the railway platform and the train conductor gave a blast on his whistle, Leon could contain himself no longer. Once again he asked his uncle if there was any way in which he could contact Eva now that Germany and Britain were at war and all regular cha

‘You should forget about that young lady. I’ve pulled your irons out of the fire once already and I don’t want to be forced to do it again. She can bring you nothing but trouble and heartbreak,’ Penrod replied, and climbed up on to the balcony of his carriage. ‘I shall give your love to your aunt. That will please her.’

It was almost a week later and Leon was leaving Lord Delamere’s office in the Barclays Bank building. As he stepped out through the main doors into the road he felt a small soft hand press into his. Startled, he looked down – into the huge dark eyes of a Vilabjhi cherub. ‘Latika! My sweet lollipop!’ he greeted her.

‘You remembered my name,’ she exclaimed, with delight.

‘Of course I did. We’re friends, aren’t we?’

Only then did she remember her errand. She placed a small folded square of paper in his hand. ‘My daddy said I should give this to you.’

Leon unfolded it and read quickly: ‘I must speak to you. Latika can bring you to my emporium as soon as you can come. Signed by Mr Goolam Vilabjhi Esq.’

Latika was tugging at his hand, and he allowed her to lead him away to where his horse stood at the hitching rail down the street. He mounted, then reached down from the saddle to take the child under her armpits and lift her behind him. She clasped him around the waist, and they rode the length of the street with Latika squeaking and wriggling ecstatically.

When they entered Mr Vilabjhi’s shop Leon saw that his own little shrine had been maintained assiduously, and now contained more memorabilia: pictures of him in flying gear, and newspaper articles about the open day at the polo ground.

Mr Vilabjhi rushed out of the back room to welcome him, and his wife brought in a tray of strong Arabic coffee and sweetmeats. She was followed by all of their daughters, but before they could entrench themselves their father drove them out, with fond cries of ‘Be gone, you wicked and rowdy female personages!’ He bolted the door behind them. Then he came back to Leon. ‘I have a most pressing and urgent matter on which I plead for your wise counsel.’

Leon sipped the coffee and waited for him to proceed.

‘Without any doubt you are aware that your uncle, the eminent sahib Major General Ballantyne, asked me to receive messages from the lovely memsahib von Wellberg on his behalf and forward these to the correct authority.’ He looked at Leon quizzically.

Leon was about to deny any knowledge of this arrangement, but then he realized that would be a mistake so he nodded. ‘Of course,’ he agreed, and Mr Vilabjhi looked relieved. ‘The reason that the General chose me is that I have a niece who lives with her husband in Altnau, a small town in Switzerland on the north shore of Lake Bodensee. Across the lake is the town of Wieskirche in Bavaria. This is where the castle of the German count is situated, and also the main factory of the Meerbach Motor Works. It is also where Memsahib von Wellberg lives.’ Mr Vilabjhi had phrased it delicately. ‘My niece works in the Swiss cablegram company. Her husband has a small fishing-boat on the lake. The shore is not heavily guarded by the egregious Germans, so it is easy for them to cross the water at night and pick up any message at Wieskirche, then return home and telegraph it to me. I take it to General Ballantyne. But now the esteemed general has gone. Before he left he told me I should deliver any future messages to the man who has taken over his job at KAR Headquarters.’

‘Yes. Colonel Snell,’ Leon said calmly, although his heart raced at the prospect of messages coming directly from Eva.

‘Ah, of course I am telling you nothing that is not already well known to you. However, a terrible thing has happened.’ Mr Vilabjhi broke off and rolled his eyes tragically.

Leon’s heart was chilled with dread. ‘Something has happened to Memsahib von Wellberg?’ he asked.

‘No, not in the very least, not to the memsahib, but it has happened to me. After the departure of the general I took the first despatch from my niece to the office of Colonel Snell. I learned in no ambivalent terms that the man is an enemy of the general. Now that he has left for Egypt, Snell will not pursue or foster any enterprise initiated by your honourable avuncular relative. I think it is because the praise and success arising from it would redound to the general’s credit, rather than to Snell himself. Also it seems he knows that you and I are friends and he looks upon you as an enemy. He knew that if he insulted me and questioned my veracity, he would be getting at you. He drove me away with harsh words.’ Mr Vilabjhi paused. It was obvious that he had been deeply hurt by his encounter with Snell. Then he went on bitterly, ‘He called me a “devil-worshipping wog”, and told me not to go back to him with my vaunting claptrap about secret despatches.’ Tears welled in his dark eyes. ‘I am at the end and far limit of my wits. I know not what to do so I appeal to you.’