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They sold seventeen thousand hardback in five days, you jumped straight

into the number five slot on the New York Times bestseller list, it's a

freak, a phenomenon, a mad crazy ru

half a million copies of this book standing on our heads.  All the big

papers and mags are screaming for review copies, they've lost the ones

we sent them three months ago.  Doubleday are reprinting fifty thousand,

and I told them they were crazy, it should have been a hundred thousand,

it's only just starting next week will see the west coast catch fire and

they'll be screaming for copies across the whole country There was much

more, Bobby Dugan riding high, shouting his plans and his hopes, while

Debra laughed weakly and kept saying, No!  I can't believe it!  and It's

not true!  They drank three bottles of Veuve Clicquot that night, and a

little before midnight Debra fell pregnant to David Morgan.

Miss Mordecai combines superb use of language and a sure literary touch

with the readability of a popular bestseller, said the New York Times.

Who says good literature has to be dull?  asked Time, Debra Mordecai's

talent burns like a clean white flame.  'Miss Mordecai takes you by the

throat, slams you against the wall, throws you on the floor and kicks

you in the guts.  She leaves you as shaken and weak as if you had been

in a car smash, added the Free Press.

Proudly David presented Conrad Berg with a signed copy of A Place of Our

Own.  Conrad had finally been prevailed upon to drop the Mrs. Morgan and

call Debra by her given name.  He was so impressed with the book that he

had an immediate relapse.

How do you think of those things, Mrs. Morgan?  'he asked with awe.

Debra, Debra prompted him.

She doesn't think of them, Jane Berg explained helpfully.  It just comes

to her, it's called inspiration.  Bobby Dugan was correct, they had to

reprint another fifty thousand copies.

It seemed as though the fates, ashamed of the cruel pranks they had

played upon them, were determined to shower Debra and David with gifts.

As Debra sat at her olive-wood table, growing daily bigger with her

child, once again the words flowed as strongly and as clearly as the

spring waters of the String of Pearls.  However, there was still time to

help David with the illustrated publication he was compiling on the

birds of prey of the bushveld, and to accompany him on the daily

expeditions to different areas of Jabulani, and to plan the furnishings

and the layout of the empty nursery.

Conrad Berg came to her secretly to enlist her aid in his plan to have

David nominated to the Board of the National Parks Committee.  They

discussed it in length and great detail.  A seat on the Board carried

prestige and was usually reserved for men of greater age and influence

than David.

However, Conrad was confident that the dignity of the Morgan name

combined with David's wealth, ownership of Jabulani, demonstrated

interest in conservation and his ability to devote much time to the

affairs of the Board would prevail.

Yes, Debra decided.  It will be good for him to meet people and get out

a little more.  We are in danger of becoming recluses here.  Will he do

it?  I Don't worry, Debra assured him.  I'll see to it.  Debra was

right. After the initial uneasiness of the first meeting of the Board,

and once the other members became accustomed to that dreadful face and

realized that behind it was a warm and forceful person, David gathered

increasing confidence with each subsequent Journey to Pretoria where the

Board met.  Debra would fly up with him and while they were at their

deliberations she and Jane Berg shopped for the baby and the other items

of luxury and necessity that were not readily come by in Nelspruit.

However, by November Debra was carrying low and she felt too big and

uncomfortable to make the long flight in the cockpit of the Navajo,

especially as the rains were about to break and the air was turbulent

with storm cloud and static and heavy thermals.  It would be a bumpy



trip, and she was deeply involved in the last chapters of the new book.

I'll be perfectly all right here, she insisted.  I've got a telephone

and I have also got six game rangers, four servants and a fierce hound

to guard me.

David argued and protested for five days before the meeting and agreed

only after he had worked out a timetable.

If I leave here before dawn I'll be at the meeting by nine, we'll be

finished by three and I can be back here by six-thirty at the latest, he

muttered.  If it wasn't the budget and financial affairs vote, I would

cut it, tell them I was sick.  'It's important, darling.  You go.  'You

sure now? 'I won't even notice you're not here.  Don't get too carried

away by it, he told her ruefully.

J might stay just to punish you.  In the dawn the thunderheads were the

colour of wine and flame and ripe fruit, turning and magnificent,

towering high above the tiny aircraft, high above the utmost ceiling of

which it was capable.

David flew the corridors of open sky alone and at peace, wrapped in the

euphoria of flight which never failed for him.  He altered course at

intervals to avoid the mountainous upsurges of cloud; within them lurked

death and disaster, great winds that would tear the wings from his

machine and send the pieces whirling on high, up into the heights where

a man would perish from lack of oxygen.

He landed at Grand Central where a hire car was waiting for him, and

spent the journey into Pretoria reading through the morning papers.  It

was only when he saw the meteorological prediction of a storm front

moving in steadily from the Mozambique cha

uneasy.

Before he entered the conference-room he asked the receptionist to place

a telephone call to Jabulani.

Two-hour delay, Mr. Morgan.  Okay, call me when it comes through When

they broke for lunch he asked her again.

What happened to my call?

I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan.  I was going to tell you.  The lines are down.

They are having very heavy rainfull in the low veld.  His vague

uneasiness became mild alarm.

Would you call the meteorological office for me, please?

The weather was down solid.  From Barberton to Mpunda Milia and from

Lourenro Marques to Machadodorp, the rain was heavy and unrelenting. The

cloud ceiling was above twenty thousand feet and it was right down on

the ground.  The Navajo had no oxygen or electronic navigational

equipment.

How long?  David demanded of the meteorological officer.  How long until

it clears?

Hard to tell, sir.  Two or three days.

Damn!  DAmn!  said David bitterly, and went down to the canteen on the

ground floor of the government building.  Conrad Berg was at a corner

table with two other members of the Board, but when he saw David he

jumped up and limped heavily but urgently across the room.

David, he took his arm, and his round face was deadly serious.  I've

just heard, Joha

got clean away.

He's been loose for seventeen hours.

David stared at him, unable to speak with the shock of it.

Is Debra alone?

David nodded, his face stiff with scar tissue, but his eyes dark and

afraid.

You'd better fly down right away to be with her.  'The weather, they've

grounded all aircraft in the area.  Use my truck!  said Conrad urgently.

I need something faster than that.  Do you want me to come with you?