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Daniel sprang from the bed and spun around to face it. His heart hammered wildly as he looked around for a weapon. He snatched up the flimsy chair, and with the strength of his fear tore off one of the legs.
With this weapon in his hand he regained control of himself. He was still breathing rapidly and he experienced a quick rush of shame. As a game ranger he had stood down the determined charges of buffalo and elephant and the great killer cats. As a soldier he had parachuted into enemy territory and fought it out in hand-to-hand combat, but now he was panting and shaking at a phantom of his imagination.
He steeled himself to go back to the bed. With his left hand he took the corner of the sheet, raised the chair leg with the other hand and flung back the bedclothes.
A striped forest mouse was in the centre of the white sheet. It had long white whiskers and its bright inquisitive button eyes blinked rapidly in the sudden light.
Daniel was barely able to arrest the blow that he had already launched at it, and he and the tiny creature stared at each other in astonishment. Then his shoulders sagged and shook with nervous laughter. The mouse squeaked and leapt off the bed. It darted across the floor and vanished into a hole in the wainscoting and Daniel collapsed on to the bed and doubled up with laughter. My God, Chetti Singh, he gasped. You won't stop at anything, will you? What other nefarious tricks have you got up your sleeve? The helicopter came in from the east. They heard the whoppity-wop of its rotors long before it appeared in the hole in the forest canopy high above. It descended into the clearing with all the grace of a fat lady lowering herself on to a lavatory seat.
The helicopter was a French-built Puma and it was obvious that it had seen many years of hard service, probably with a few other airforces, before it had reached Ubomo.
The pilot cut the motors and the rotors slowed and stopped.
President Taffari vaulted down from the main hatch. He was lithe and vitally handsome in combat fatigues and parachutist's boots. Bo
Behind him Ning Cheng Gong used the boarding ladder to descend from the Puma. He was dressed in a cream-coloured tropical suit. His skin was almost a matching creamy yellow that contrasted strongly with his eyes, dark and bright as polished onyx.
He looked around quickly, searching for somebody or something; and he saw Daniel standing back, out of camera shot.
Ning Cheng Gong's eyes licked Daniel's face for only an instant, like the black tongue of an adder, and then were past.
His expression did not change. There was not the least sign of recognition, but Daniel knew with certainty that Chetti Singh had managed to get a message to his master, to warn him of Daniel's presence in Ubomo. Daniel was startled by his own reaction. He had known that Cheng would be on the helicopter.
He had steeled himself for the first sight of him, but still it was as much of a physical shock as a punch under the ribs. It required an effort to respond normally to President Taffari's handshake and greeting.
Ah, Doctor; as you see, Mohammed has come to the mountain. I have set aside the afternoon to cooperate with your filming. What do you want me to do? I am yours to command. I am very grateful, Mr.
President. I have drawn up a shooting schedule. In all, I will need about five hours of your time, that includes make-up and rehearsal.
. Daniel resisted the temptation to glance in Cheng's direction, until Chetti Singh intervened. Doctor Armstrong, I'd like you to meet the managing director, head of UDC, Mr. Ning. Daniel was almost overcome by a strange sense of unreality as he shook Ning's hand and smiled and said. We know each other. We met briefly in Zimbabwe, when you were ambassador there.
I don't suppose you recall? Forgive me. Cheng shook his head.
I met so many people in the course of my official duties. He pretended not to remember and Daniel forced himself to keep smiling.
It seemed incredible that the last time he had seen this man was on the escarpment of the Zambezi valley, only hours before he discovered the mutilated and abused corpses of Joh
He wanted to gouge out those implacable shark's eyes and pop them between his fingers. He wanted to wash his hands inNing Cheng Gong's blood.
He turned away as soon as he could. He could trust himself no longer.
For the first time, he faced -what he had to do. He had to kill Ning Cheng Gong, or be killed in the attempt.
He expected no personal gratification from it. It was the fulfilment of the oath he had sworn over the body of his friend.
It was a simple duty and a debt to the memory of Joh
Daniel was directing the sequence, and both Chetti Singh and Cheng were spectators, although they kept in the background.
Bo
Daniel had to admit that he was a natural actor, completely at ease in front of the camera. With those look$ and with that voice he could grab the complete attention of any female audience anywhere in the world. The vehicle on which I am riding weighs one thousand tons. . .
Daniel was making editing notes on his schedule as Taffari spoke. At this point he would cut away to a full shot of the gigantic MOMU vehicle riding on its banks of tracks. There were twelve separate sets of steel tracks each of them ten feet wide to give it stability over the most uneven terrain.
Steel hydraulic rams automatically adjusted the trim of the main platform keeping it on an even keel, tilting and dipping to counterbalance the ponderous wallowing, pitching movements of the tracks as they climbed and fell over the contours of the forest floor.
The size of the machine was not much less than the battleship that Taffari had suggested in his opening remarks. It was over one hundred and fifty yards long and forty wide.
Taffari turned and pointed forward over the railing.
Down there, he said, are the jaws and fangs of the monster.
Let's go down and take a look. It was easily said on camera, but it meant moving down to a new vantage point and setting up the angles, then rehearsing the new shot. However, Taffari was a joy to work with, Daniel admitted. He needed only one walk-through and he knew his lines. He delivered them with natural timing and without fluffing once, even though he was forced to raise his voice to a shout to compete with the noise of the machinery.