Windfall

'Not Corliss,' said Hardin suddenly. 'Hank Hendrix. Someone took a shot at Hank in Los Angeles and that was before Gunnarsson made the substitution.'

'So you think whoever is trying to kill him is unaware that Gunnarsson made the switch?' queried Stafford. 'It could be.' He looked at Chip, 'That business on the Tanzanian border seemed authentic in the sense that such kidnappings have happened before. What do you think, Chip? How easy is it to lay hands on Tanzanian uniforms and Kalashnikovs?'

Chip smiled thinly. 'Given enough money you can buy anything on the Tanzanian border. As for Kalashnikovs, Kenya is surrounded by the damn things – Tanzania, Somalia, Ethiopia, Uganda. There'd be no problem there. You think the kidnapping was a put-up job to lay the blame on the Tanzanians?' He nodded thoughtfully. 'That could very well be.'

'Then Brice would have organized it,' said Hardin. 'Dirk Hendriks was in England at that time.'

'But all this is supposition,' said Stafford. 'We're not sure of a damned thing. What move will you make now, Chip? It's your country, after all.'

'We can't move openly against the Foundation,' said Chip. 'That would make waves. Newspaper stories and too much publicity. I'll have to take this to my superior officer.' He held up his hand. 'And don't ask who he is.'

Curtis stirred. 'Would the Colonel mind a suggestion?'

'Trot it out, Sergeant,' said Stafford. 'We could do with some good ideas.'

'Give Corliss back to Gunnarsson. Then stand back and see what happens.'

'You've got a nasty mind,' said Hardin. 'That would be like setting him up in a shooting gallery.'

'But we'd stand a chance of seeing who's doing the shooting.' Stafford looked at Chip. 'What do you think? He'd need a good cover story.'

'No cover story would stand up,' said Chip. 'We've had him too long. In any case he's a bad liar; we'd be blowing our own cover.' He thought for a moment. 'No; we've got to get someone inside Ol Njorowa to have a look around.'

'And maybe not find anything,' said Hardin morosely.

'I think there's something to be found,' Chip stubbed out a cigarette. 'Since you drew my attention to Ol Njorowa I've been looking at it carefully. The security precautions are far beyond what's needed for an agricultural college.'

'The Hunts explained that away,' said Stafford. 'Judy said things were being stolen; she said mostly small agricultural tools which didn't matter very much, but when it came to experimental seed it was different. And Alan Hunt; came up with a story of a leopard.' He thought about the Hunts. 'Chip, the whole damned staff can't be in South African intelligence. The Hunts are white Kenyans and Dr Odhiambo is an unlikely agent.'

'There's probably just a cell,' agreed Chip. 'Coming back to Hendriks – how long has he lived in England?'

'I don't know,' said Stafford. 'He came into my life two years ago when he married Alix.'

'If he is in South African intelligence he'd be a sleeper planted in England and the Brits wouldn't like that. I think some liaison with London is indicated; and on a high level.' Chip stood up. 'And I'll see if I can get a man into Ol Njorowa.'

'Wait a minute,' said Stafford. 'Dirk knows I'm in Kenya -I told him I'd be taking a holiday here and that I might see him. I think I'll invite myself to Ol Njorowa. Besides, I have an invitation from the Hunts to go ballooning.'

'Going alone?' asked Hardin.

'No, I'll take the Sergeant.' Stafford smiled at Curtis. 'How would you like to go ballooning, Sergeant?'

The expression of disgust on Curtis's face was an eloquent answer.

The air of tension in Brice's office was electric as Hendriks said, 'Why the hell didn't you tell me that Stafford was mixed up in this?'

'Because I didn't know," snapped Brice.

'Christ, he'd been here! You'd met him, damn it!'

'So how would I know who he was?' Brice asked plaintively. 'You'd never mentioned him. All I knew then was that he was a friend of the Hunts; they were dining together at the Lake Naivasha Hotel with an Indian, a Sikh called Nair Singh.'

'Who is he?'

'A friend of Alan Hunt. They were at University together.'

'And then Stafford turned up in the Masai Mara chasing after Hendriks. Couldn't you put two and two together?'

'I didn't hear about it. It wasn't reported in the press. Who is Stafford, anyway?'

'A friend of Alix,' said Dirk broodingly. 'And he's sharp, Brice; damned sharp.' He told Brice exactly who and what Stafford was. 'It's not coincidence that he's popping up here and there at critical times and places. Did he mention me when he was here?'

'No.'

'Why not?' demanded Dirk. 'He knew I was coming.' His mind was busy with possible implications, then he said explosively, 'Good God!'

'What's the matter now?' said Brice tiredly.

'He's seen the bloody will, that's what's the matter,' said Dirk viciously. 'A man called Hardin came to see Alix when I was in South Africa.' He told Brice about it, then said, 'I never met Hardin. Alix said he'd gone back to the States.'

'And you never thought to tell me about this?' said Brice acidly.

'I was too busy thinking about what to do with Hendrix. But that doesn't matter now. What matters is that Stafford knows the Foundation has inherited a hell of a lot more than seven million.'

Brice shrugged. 'We've got a cover for that. I told you about it. I'll just have to report the full extent of our windfall. A pity, but there it is.' He stood up and began to pace. 'This is a damn funny tale you're telling me. Hardin, an American, tells your wife that you had an unknown cousin. Further, Hardin has taken the trouble to get a copy of the will. Why should he do that?'

'He said he was suspicious of the man he was working for according to Alix. I told you I never met the man.'

'And who was he working for?'

'A private detective agency in New York.'

'The name?'

'I don't know. Alix didn't say.'

'Who employed the detective agency?'

'Farrar, the Jersey lawyer.'

Brice Stopped his pacing and faced Hendriks. 'Now tell me something,' he said coldly. 'How did Farrar know there was an American heir?' Dirk was silent. Brice said, 'How many people knew there was an American heir?'

'Pretoria knew,' said Dirk. 'I knew, but I didn't go near Farrar. Mandeville knew, of course.' He stopped.

'Mandeville knew,' repeated Brice. 'The eminent Queen's Counsel knew. Do you know what happened, Hendriks? While Pretoria was chasing Hendrix in Los Angeles he was also being chased by American detectives employed by Farrar at the instigation of Mandeville. Pretoria nearly got Hendrix but he was rescued by Mandeville's crowd. What a balls-up! Hasn't anyone heard of co-ordination and liaison? We've been fighting ourselves, you damned fool.' His tone was cutting. 'What made Mandeville go off half-cocked like that?'

'He always said Pretoria was slow off the mark,' said Dirk. His voice was sullen.

'I think you'd better talk to Mandeville. Find out if our reasoning is correct. If it is, you tell him never to do anything without orders again.' He picked up the telephone. 'Find out the delay on London calls, please.' As he put down the telephone he said, 'And you might ask him for the name of the American detective agency.'

'Why? It doesn't matter any more.'

'How do you know that? Have you got crystal balls?' Brice slammed his hand on the desk with a noise like a pistol shot. There's been too much going wrong on this operation. I haven't been sweating blood here to see it torpedoed by inefficiency.' He sat down. 'Now tell me more about Stafford? How did he come to see the will?'