Part 94 (1/2)
”Our only chance to clear ourselves!” The red glaze of rage began to fade from Tungata's eyes, but the muscles stood out in his arms from the effort of holding Peter Fungabera's body against the whip and buffet of the wind.
”Help me!” he grated, and in one movement Craig s.n.a.t.c.hed the safety-belt, pulling it off the inertia reel, and buckled it around his own waist. He dropped belly-down on the deck, hooked his ankles around the base of the bench and reached down and out to get a double grip on the nylon strap. Between them they lifted Peter Fungabera back into the port, and his legs were so rubbery with terror that they could not bear his weight when he tried to stand.
Tungata hurled him backwards across the cabin, and Peter hit the rear bulkhead. He slid down it and rolled onto his side, pulling up his knees into the foetal position, and under the crus.h.i.+ng eight of defeat and capitulation he moaned quietly an covered his head with both arms.
Craig climbed unsteadily up into the c.o.c.kpit, and sank into the co-pilot's seat.
”What the h.e.l.l is happening?” Sally' Anne demanded.
”Nothing serious. I only just managed to stop Sam killing Peter Fungabera.”
”Why did you bother?” Sally-Anne raised her voice above the clatter of the rotors overhead. ”I'd love a shot at that swine myself.”
”Darling, can you get a radio connection to the United States Emba.s.sy in Harare?” She thought about it. ”Not from this aircraft.” ”Give them the registration of the Cessna, I'll lay odds it hasn't been reported missing yet.”
”I'll have to go through Johannesburg approach, they're the only station with sufficient range.”
”I don't care how just get Morgan Oxford on the blower.” Johannesburg approach radio responded promptly to Sally-Anne's call and accepted her call-sign with equanimity.
t ”Report your position, Kilo Yankee Alpha.”
”Northern Botswana--2 Sally-Anne antic.i.p.ated by an hour's flying time, ”en route Francistown to Maun.”
”What is the number you wish to connect in Harare?” ”Person,to-person with the cultural attache, Morgan Oxford, at the United States Emba.s.sy. I'm sorry, I don't know the number.”
”Hold on.” And in less than a minute Morgan Oxford spoke through the static.
”Oxford here. Who is this?” Sally-Anne pa.s.sed the microphone to Craig and he held it to his lips and depressed the transmit b.u.t.ton.
”MOrgan, it's Craig, Craig Mellow.”
”Holy s.h.i.+d” Morgan's voice became strident. ”Where die h.e.l.l are you? All h.e.l.l is breaking out. Where is Sally Anne
”Morgan, listen. This is deadly serious. How would you like to interrogate a full colonel of Russian intelligence, complete with his files of planned Russian aggression in and destabilization of the southern half of the African continent?” There was nothing but the hum of static for many seconds and then Morgan said, ”Wait ten!” The w air seemed much longer than ten seconds, and then Morgan came back.
”Don't say anything else. just give me a rendezvous point.” ”These are map references-” Craig read off the map coordinates that Sally' Anne had scribbled down for him. ”There is an emergency landing, strip there. I will light a signal fire. How long for you to get there?”
”Wait ten! ”This time it was shorter. ”Dawn tomorrow.” 'llnderstood,”Craig acknowledged. ”We will be waiting.”
”Over and out.” He handed the microphone back to Sally-Anne.
”Border crossing in forty, three minutes,” she told him.
”That mud pack suits you. I'm beginning to think it's an improvement.”
”And you, beautiful, are a racing certainty for the cover of Vogue!” She blew the hair off her nose and stuck her tongue out at him.
hey crossed the border between Zimbabwe and Northern Botsw asa and seventeen minutes later they saw the kired Land-Rover standing exactly where they had left it on the edge of the wide white salt pan
(my G.o.d, Sarah's buddies are still there that's constancy for you.” Craig made out the two tiny figures standing beside the vehicle. ”We'd better warn them, or when they see die government markings they are going to start shooting.” Sarah called down to the waiting Matabele through the sky-shout” loud hailer as they approached, rea.s.suring them, and Craig saw them lower their rifles as the Super Frelon sank lower. He could make out the beatific grins on the upturned faces of the two young Matabele.