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the name of a Cayman Island company, and the unlisted telephone there

did not route through an internal switchboard. No ownership could be

traced to him personally. Before he had met Rosalind the flat had played

an important part in his social life. But nowadays Nicholas only used it

for confidential and clandestine business. Both the Libyan and the Iraqi

expeditions had been planned and organized from here.

He hadn't used the flat for months, and it was cold and musty-smelling

and uninviting. He put a match to the gas fire in the grate and filled

the kettle. With a mug of steaming tea in front of him he placed a call

to a bank in  Jersey, followed immediately by another to a bank in the

Cayman Islands.

"A wise rat has more than one exit from its burrow."

This was a family maxim, passed down through the generations. He was

going to need funds for the expedition, and the lawyers had most of

those locked up already.

He gave the passwords and account numbers to each of the bank managers,

and instructed them to make certain transfers. It always amazed him how

easily matters could be rranged, as long as you had money.

He checked his watch. It was still early morning in Florida, but Alison

picked up the phone on the second ring. She was the blonde feminine

dynamo who ran Global Safaris, a company that arranged hunting and

fishing expeditions to remote areas around the world.

"Hello, Nick. We haven't heard from you in over a year. We thought you

didn't love us any more."

"I have been out of it for a while," he admitted. How do you tell people

that your wife and two little girls had died?

"Ethiopia?" She did not sound at all disconcerted by the request. "When

did you want to go?"

"How about next week?"

"You have to be joking. We only work with one hunter there, Nassous

Roussos, and he is booked two years in advance."

"Is there nobody else?" he insisted. "I have to be in and out again

before the big rains."

"What trophies are you after? she hedged. "Mountain nyala? Menelik's

bushbuck?"

"I am planning a collecting trip for the museum, down the Abbay river."

It was as much as he was prepared to tell her.

She hedged a little longer and then told him reluctantly, This is

without our recommendation, do you understand. There is only one hunter

who may take You on at such short notice, but I don't even know if he

has a camp on the Blue Nile. He is a Russian, and we have had mixed

reports about him. Some people say he is ex-KGB an was one of Mengistu's

bunch of thugs."

Mengistu was the "Black Stalin' who had deposed an  then murdered the

old Emperor Haile Selassie, and in sixteen years of despotic Marxist

rule had driven Ethiopia to its knees. When his sponsor, the Soviet

Empire, had collapsed, Mengistu had been overthrown and fled the

country.

"I am desperate enough to go to bed with the devil," he told her. "I

promise I won't come back to you with any complaints."

"Okay, then, no comebacks-' and she gave him a name and a telephone

number in Addis Ababa.

"I love you, Alison darling Nicholas told her.

"I wish," she said, and hung up on him.

He didn't expect that it would be easy to telephone Addis, and he wasn't

disappointed in his expectations. But at last he got through. A woman

with a sweet lisping of Ethiopian accent answered and switched to fluent

English when he asked for Boris Brusilov.

"He is out on safari at present," she told him. "I am Woizero Tessay,

his wife." In Ethiopia a wife did not take on her husband's name.

Nicholas remembered enough of the language to know that the name meant

Lady Sun, a pretty name.

"But if it is in connection with safari business I can help you," said

Lady Sun.

Nicholas picked Royan up outside the hospital entrance.

"How is your mother?"

"Her leg is doing well, but she's still distraught about is Magic -

about her dog."

You will have to get her a puppy. One of my keepers breeds first-class

springers. I can arrange it." He paused and then asked delicately, "Will

you be able to leave your mother? I mean, if we are going out to

Africa?"

"I spoke to her about that. There is a woman from her church group who

will stay with her until she is well enough to fend for herself again."

Royan turned fully around in her seat to examine his face. "You have

been up to something since I last saw you," she accused him. "I can see

it in your face."

He made the Arabic sign against the evil eye, "Allah save me from

witches!'

"Come on!" He could make her laugh so readily, she was not sure if that

was a good thing or not. "Tell me what you have up your sleeve."

"Wait until we get back to the museum." He would not be moved, and she

had to bridle her impatience.

As soon as they entered the building he led her through the Egyptian

room to the hall of African mammals, and then stopped her in front of a

diorama of mounted antelope. These were some of the smaller and

mediumsized varieties - impala, Thompson's and Grant's gazelle, gerenuk

and the like.

"Madoqua harperii." He pointed to a tiny creature in one corner of the

display. "Harper's dik-dik, also known as the striped dik-dik."

It was a nondescript little animal, not much bigger than a large hare.

The brown pelt was striped in chocolate over the shoulders and back, and

the nose was elongated into a prehensile proboscis.

"A bit tatty," she gave her opinion carefully, unwilling to bend, yet

knowing he was inordinately Proud of this Specimen. "Is there something

special about it?, "Special?" he asked with wonder in his voice. The

Woman asks if it is special." He rolled his eyes heavenward and she had

to laugh again at his histrionics. "It is the only known specimen in

existence.

creatures on earth. So rare that It is One of the rarest now. So rare it

is probably extinct by that many zoologists believe that apocryphal,

that it never really existed. They think it is  that my sainted

great-grandfather, after whom it is named, actually invented it. One

learned reference hinted that he may have taken the skin of the striped

mongoose and stretched it over the form of a common dik-dik. Can you

imagine a more heinous accusation?)

"I am truly appalled by such injustice,'she laughed.

"Darned right, You should be. Because we are going to Africa to hunt for

another specimen of Madoqua harpent, to vindicate the honour of the

family., "I don't understand."

"Come with me and all will be explained."He led her back to his study,

and from the jumble on the tabletop Picked out a notebook bound in red

Morocco leather. The cover was faded and stained with water marks and

tropical sun light, while the corners and the spine were frayed and

battered.

"Old Sir Jonathan's game book,) he explained, and opened it. Pressed

between the pages were faded wild flowers and leaves that must have been

there for almost a century. The text was illuminated by line drawings in

faded Yellow ink of men and animals and wild landscapes.

Nicholas read the date at the top of one page.

2nd of February 1902.