Fennel stood up in the Land Rover and stared at the track. He was never sure of himself when in high places, and the sight of the distant valley far below and the narrowness of the rough track brought him out in a sweat.
"We're bitched!" he said, his voice unsteady. "We can't hope to get through there!"
Ken turned and looked sharply at him. Seeing his ashen face and how his hands were shaking, he realized this was a man with no head for heights and felt sorry for him.
"Look, Lew, you get out. I think I can get through. It'll be a tight squeeze, but it can be done."
"Don't be a fool! You'll kill your goddamn self!"
Ken shouted to Themba. "Can I do it?"
The Bantu stood in the middle of the track and regarded the Land Rover, then he nodded.
"Just," he said.
"What's he say?" Fennel demanded.
"He thinks it's all right."
"All right? Hell! You'll go over!"
"You get out."
Fennel hesitated, then picking up his tool bag, he got down on to the track.
"Wait a minute," he said, sweat pouring down his face, "If you're going to kill yourself, I'm goin to get all the equipment off first. If she goes over, we'll be stuck without food or drink."
"Maybe you have something there," Ken said with a wide grin. He climbed over the back and Themba realizing what they were doing joined them. The three men carefully lifted off the tarpaulin, draining the rain water on to the track, then they hastily unloaded all the equipment.
Fennel glanced at his watch. It was 10.55 hrs.
"We'll have a beer," he said. "In five minutes you have to contact Edwards. How much farther have we to go?"
Ken consulted Themba as he opened two beer bottles.
"About twenty kilometres. Then another ten kilometres to the big house," Themba told him.
Ken translated.
"Rough going?"
Themba said once over this bit the going was good.
They finished the beer and then Ken picked up the two-way radio.
"Ken to Garry . . . are you receiving me?"
Immediately: "Garry to Ken . . . loud and clear. How goes it?"
Briefly Ken explained the situation.
"Sounds dicey. Look, Ken, why not use the winch? Anchor ahead and wind yourself in. If the truck slips you have a chance to jump."
"Idea. Roger. Call you back. Out."
"I bet he feels smug," Fennel growled. "Did he say if he's laid that bitch yet?"
"Skip it, Lew," Ken said impatiently. He talked to Themba who nodded and taking the tarpaulin cover off the winch, he ran the cable out until he was beyond the narrowest part of the track. Ken gave Fennel the drag.
"You any good at splicing? It's got to be secure."
"I'll fix it."
Averting his eyes from the drop on his right, Fennel joined Themba, anchor in hand, his tool bag slung over his shoulder. It took him a little over half an hour before he was satisfied. While he worked, Ken sat behind the wheel and smoked. He had steady nerves and was quite cool. He knew there was a risk, but he was also confident that he could get through.
Finally Fennel stood up.
"It's okay."
He had fixed the drag firmly in a root of a massive tree, growing nearby and using a club hammer, he hammered the drag well home.
He walked back to the Land Rover.
"That won't come out. The cable won't burst. Depends now if the winch gets torn out of its casing."
"Cheer up," Ken said, grinning. "Well, let's try. Will you stay behind me, Lew? If the back begins to slide either correct it or yell to me if you can't. I want Themba ahead to watch the offside wheels."
"I'll tell you something," Fennel said, breathing heavily. "You've got more bloody guts than I have."
The two men looked at each other, then Ken turned, set the engine going, released the handbrake and moved the lever operating the winch forward. The drum began to revolve. He quickly cut the speed of the drum and the Land Rover began to inch forward.
Fennel walked behind, both his hands on the tailboard of the truck, his eyes on Themba who was squatting down, his eyes glued to the front wheels, beckoning Ken on.
The truck covered ten metres before Themba raised his hand sharply to stop.
Ken flicked the winch lever to neutral.
"What's the matter now?" Fennel growled from behind. Themba had gone to the drag and was looking at it.
"Does that black ape think I would let it pull loose?" Fennel snarled. "That's in, and it'll stay in!"
"Don't get so worked up," Ken said, taking out a soiled handkerchief and wiping his face.
Satisfied, Themba went back to the middle of the track. "Four more metres and you're on the narrow bit," he called. Ken set the drum revolving again.
The Land Rover began to crawl forward again. Then the unpredictable happened, three metres before the narrows. The road, sodden by the rain, crumbled under the weight of the truck. Fennel felt the back sliding towards the drop and he threw his weight desperately against the tailboard, trying to steer the truck back, yelling to Ken to jump. He felt himself being dragged to the edge, and shuddering, he let go and rolled on his back towards the grass slope. He was on his feet in an instant, but the Land Rover had gone.
He looked wildly up the road. Themba, on the edge of the drop, was staring down, his big eyes rolling. Cursing, Fennel saw the taut cable was vibrating, and steeling himself, he went to the edge, feeling sick and dizzy, and looked over.
Four metres below, dangling by the cable was the Land Rover.
Ken was standing on the back of the seat, his hands gripping the wind shield. Far, far below spread out like an aerial map, was the valley.
Even as he looked, Fennel saw the drum was slowly parting from the casing.
"Get to the drum!" he bawled. "Ken . . . it's coming away! Get the drum!"
Ken balanced himself, stepped over the wind shield and flattened himself up right on the perpendicular bonnet. He caught hold of one of the steel stanchions supporting the drum, heaved forward, his hands around the cable of the drum. Even as he got a grip, the drum parted from the truck and the truck went hurtling down into the void.
Ken swung on the end of the cable. Themba had the cable in his hands and was trying to haul him in. Shaking from head to foot, Fennel joined him. Ken swung hard against the side of the mountain and his feet got a purchase. As the two men hauled, he began to walk up the slightly sloping side and moments later, he rolled on to the track.
He sat up and forced a grin.
"Now, we will damn well have to walk," he said.
As the Land Rover drove into the bush, Gaye sighed with relief.
"Well, thank goodness, he's out of the way," she said. "He was really beginning to get on my nerves."
"Mine too." Garry lit a cigarette. "Do you want some more coffee?"
She shook her head.
"When it gets lighter, I'll have a swim. The pool looks marvellous." She wandered over to the fire and knelt before it.
Garry watched her, thinking how lovely she looked, the flames of the fire lighting up her face. Then he went into the tent, found his cordless electric razor and shaved in the light of the flash-lamp. As he shaved, he thought of the hours ahead of them before they took off. He was sharply aware that they were alone together. Firmly, he put the thought out of his mind. Picking up the towel, he left the tent. The light was brighter now. In another hour the sun would be up, but he felt in need of cold water and was too impatient to wait.
"I'll take my swim first," he called to her. "Are you all right alone here?"
"Yes, unless a lion turns up. It'll be cold."
"That's how I like it."
She watched him move off into the shadows and she fed the fire with more sticks collected in a big heap by Themba. She also thought of the hours ahead. She admitted to herself that Fennel in his brutish way had stirred a dormant desire in her for a man. How long, she pondered, had it been since she had had a satisfactory lover? Her mind went back over the number of men who had shared her bed. She could remember only two who had really pleased and satisfied her. The first had been a little like Garry, not so tall and more handsome . . . an American on vacation. She had been in Paris, modelling clothes. On one hot July night, she had been sitting alone at Fouquet's cafe which had been crowded. He had come up and asked if he could share her table. They had looked at each other, and she knew immediately that she would be sleeping with him within a few hours as he too seemed to know. Again, the second man, also an American and also who had looked a little like Garry, had come out of the dimness of a bar where she had been waiting for friends and had invited her to drink with him. They had left the bar together before her friends arrived. She decided this Garry type of man had sexual attraction for her that sparked with her instantly as two flints struck together will cause a spark.
She had only met these two men once and only knew their Christian names, but the few hours she had spent with them were etched on her mind, and now after that ape Fennel had aroused her after so long, she knew that sometime during the day, Garry would become her lover.
The sun was rising, and already she could feel its warmth. She moved away from the fire and went into the tent to straighten up. By the time she had finished, she could feel the heat of the sun coming through the canvas of the tent and she went out, taking a towel with her.
She saw Garry coming towards her, wearing shorts and shoes, his towel over his shoulder.
She smiled at him.
"Was it good?"
"Marvellous, but cold. It'll be fine now."
"See you later." She was aware that he was looking at her as the two Americans had looked at her, then he looked away.
She nodded and ran off, swinging her towel, towards the pool.
She seldom had the opportunity of swimming naked and this she loved to do. She stripped off and dived in. The sun was fully on the pool by now and the chill was off the water. She swam for some time, then turned on her back, closed her eyes and let herself float.
Two grey, black-faced monkeys high up in a tree watched her. Then as if by agreement, they slid down the tree, moved swiftly to where she had left her shorts, shirt and towel, snatched them up and shinned up the tree again. Having examined the clothes and finding them of no interest, they left them hanging on a high branch and went swinging from tree to tree farther into the forest.
As they went, Gaye opened her eyes and saw them. She watched them, thinking how cute they looked, but she didn't think them cute when, on climbing out of the pool, she found only her shoes on the bank.
Looking up, she caught sight of her towel hanging on a branch. She hesitated, knowing she could never climb up there, then shrugging, she put on her shoes and walked back to the camp. Garry, sitting in the shade of the tent, was examining the aerial map Shalik had given him. He glanced up as she came out of the line of trees and startled, he dropped the map. For a moment, he couldn't believe his eyes, then he got to his feet.
Quite unconcerned, naked as she was born, Gaye came on.
"Monkeys have stolen my clothes . . . the little devils. They are up a tree by the pool. Could you get them for me, Garry?" she called as she was half-way across the plain. She made no attempt to hide her nakedness. Her arms swung loosely at her sides as she moved. She behaved as if she were fully dressed.
"Sure. . ."
He started towards her, then deliberately made a wide half circle so he wouldn't pass close to her and she liked him for that.
They passed and she went into the tent. She was quite sure he hadn't looked back at her. Her heart was beating fast. She went to her rucksack to get her duplicate shirt and shorts. She got them out, looked at them, hesitated, then dropped them to the ground and stretched herself out on top of her sleeping bag. With her legs crossed and her hands covering her breasts, she waited his return.
"It's nearly 11.00 hrs.," Garry said. "They will be coming through on the radio."
She was loath to let him go, but as he moved away from her, she let her arms slide away from his body. She watched him stand up and put on his shorts, then she closed her eyes.
She had been right about him. It had been even better than it had been with the other two Americans, and also, she did know his surname. The tensions that had been building up inside her for the past year had been released by the explosive coupling, and now she felt as if she had had a shot of some hard drug. She didn't wish to be disturbed, but to be allowed to remain still and to do nothing. She drifted off int0 semi-sleep which was all the more relaxing and pleasant in the heat of the tent.
She was startled awake by Garry coming to the opening of the tent and calling her name sharply.
She half sat up and immediately became fully alert at the sight of his worried expression.
"What is it?"
"Those three are in trouble. Put your things on and come out. It's too damn hot in here."
There was a hard note in his voice and she could see he was impatient with her lying there like a cat before a fire. She slipped into her clothes and came out to join him in the shade.
The road collapsed, and they've lost the Land Rover," Garry told her. "Ken was nearly killed."
"Is he hurt?"
"No . . . shaken, but all right, now they'll have to walk and it's a hell of a walk."
"But they'll get there?"
"They think so. They'll be contacting me again in two hours."
"And the equipment?"
"That's all right. They unloaded before attempting to get over the worst part of the track."
"How will they get back?"
"We'll all have to fly out . . . nothing else for it. It'll be a load, but it can be done."
She relaxed, resting her back against the tree.
"So it really isn't so bad . . . they'll just have to walk."