1969 - The Vulture is a Patient Bird by James Hadley Chase

Author:James Hadley Chase [Chase, James Hadley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

chapter six

Fennel came awake as someone turned on a powerful flashlight. He could see Ken wriggling out of his sleeping bag. Themba held the flashlight and was leaving the tent.

"Time to go?" Fennel asked with a yawn.

"Just about. Themba's getting the breakfast. I'm going down for a swim . . . coming?"

Fennel grunted, slipped on his shoes and shorts and grabbed up a towel. He followed Ken out into the damp half-light. It had stopped raining, but the clouds were heavy and swollen.

"Going to be sticky," Ken said as the two men trotted down to the pool, "but with the winch, and if we're lucky, we'll make it."

Reaching the pool, they dived in, swam across, turned and swam back and came out. They towelled themselves vigorously, slipped into their shorts, then trotted back to the camp.

Both Gaye and Garry were up and squatting by the fire watching Themba frying a batch of eggs and bacon.

By the time they had finished breakfast and Themba had cleared up, it was light enough to move.

"Well, let's go," Ken said. Turning to Garry, he went on, "Do you think you can get the tent down and fold it?"

"Sure. I'll pack it in the chopper . . . right?"

"If you leave it here, it'll disappear for sure." Ken looked a Themba. "All okay?"

Themba nodded.

"Let's synchronize our watches. We'll call you on radio at 11.00 hrs. just to report progress. After that we'll call you every two hours . . . okay?"

They checked their watches, then Garry offered his hand.

"Good luck . . . watch that bastard."

Fennel was putting his tool kit in the Land Rover. He got in at the back and sat on the bench seat, staring moodily ahead.

"Sweet type, isn't he?" Ken grinned. He turned to Gaye and shook hands. They watched him slide into the driving seat. Themba waved a cheerful hand and got in the front seat beside Ken.

Ken drove into the jungle where it was dark enough for him to put on the headlights. He drove slowly, and Fennel wondered how the hell anyone could know where he was going in this dense jungle. Themba was continually directing Ken. Maybe this blackie wasn't all that of a monkey, Fennel thought. He knew he himself would be helpless on his own, and this thought riled him.

As they progressed, the sun began to come up and Ken switched off the headlights. He was able to increase speed' slightly. It was a nagging, bumpy ride and Fennel had to hang on.

Themba suddenly pointed and Ken slowed.

"To your right . . . a rhino!"

Fennel swivelled his head.

Standing not more than twenty metres away was a huge rhinoceros. The ungainly animal slowly turned its head to stare at them. Fennel eyed the big horn and he reached for the Springfield, aware his heart was beginning to thump.

"They're dangerous, aren't they?" he asked, his voice low. "That's the white rhino. He's docile," Ken told him. "It's the black one you have to watch out for."

He drove on, increasing speed.

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