Penrod stood up and reached across his desk to shake Leon’s hand, then indicated the chair facing him. ‘This comes as a bit of a surprise, Leon. Didn’t expect you back in Nairobi for another month or so. What happened?’

‘Percy’s dead, sir.’ Leon’s voice caught as he made the bald statement.

Penrod stared at him speechlessly. Then he left his desk and went to the window to stand gazing out across the parade-ground, his hands clasped behind his back. They were silent for a while, until eventually Penrod came back to his seat. ‘Tell me what happened,’ he ordered.

Leon did so, and when he had finished, Penrod said, ‘Percy knew it was coming. He asked me to witness his will before he left town. Did you know he had made one?’

‘Yes, Uncle. He told me where to find it. I’ve already lodged it with the registrar.’

Penrod stood up and placed his cap on his head. ‘It’s a bit early, sun isn’t over the yardarm, but we’re duty-bound to give Percy a decent wake. Come on.’

Apart from the barman, the mess was empty. Penrod ordered the drinks and they sat together in the quiet corner traditionally reserved for the commanding officer and his guests. For a while their conversation revolved around Percy and the manner of his dying. Finally Penrod asked, ‘What will you do now?’

‘Percy left everything to me, sir; so I’m going to keep the company running, if for no other reason than to honour his memory.’

‘I’m pleased about that, for all the reasons of which you’re well aware,’ Penrod said, in hearty approval. ‘However, I suppose you’ll change its name.’

‘I’ve already done so, Uncle. I registered the new name at the Deeds Office this morning.’

‘Courtney Safaris?’

‘No, sir. Phillips and Courtney. P and C Safaris.’

‘You haven’t dropped his name. Instead you’ve given it the priority over your own that it never had before!’

‘The old name was decided on the spin of a coin. Percy really wanted it as it is now. This is just my way of trying to repay a little of all he did for me.’

‘Well done, my boy. Now, I have some good news for you. P and C Safaris is off to a flying start. The Princess Isabella Madeleine Hoherberg von Preussen von und zu Hohenzollern has given her endorsement to your company. It seems that Graf Otto von Meerbach, a family friend of hers, spoke to her on her return to Germany and she recommended you without reservation. Von Meerbach has accepted the quotation from Percy that I sent him and has already paid the requested deposit into your bank account. He’s confirmed that he’ll be coming out to British East Africa with his whole entourage at the beginning of next year for a six-month safari.’

Leon grimaced and swirled the ice in his glass. ‘Somehow it doesn’t seem to matter very much, now that Percy has gone.’

‘Cheer up, my boy. Von Meerbach is bringing out a couple of prototypes of his flying machines. Apparently he wants to test them under tropical conditions. Ostensibly he’s developing them as mail-carriers, but on this safari he plans to use them to spot game from the air. Anyway, that’s what he’s saying but, given his connections with the German Army, I doubt that this is the whole truth. I believe he’ll be using them to scout the back country along our border with German East Africa, with an eye to any future military offensives against us. Be that as it may, you might get the opportunity to fulfil your dream of sailing among the clouds while picking up some useful snippets of intelligence for me. Now, if you finish your drink we can return to my office. I’ll give you a copy of the confirmation von Meerbach sent. It’s the longest cablegram I’ve ever laid eyes upon, twenty-three pages in all, setting out his requirements for the safari. It must have cost him a ruddy fortune to send.’

Leon was waiting on the beach of Kilindini lagoon when the German tramp steamer SS Silbervogel anchored in the road-stead. He went out to her in the first lighter. When he went up the companion ladder five passengers were waiting to meet him on the afterdeck, the engineer and his mechanics from the Meerbach Motor Works, part of the team that Graf Otto von Meerbach had sent out as his vanguard.

The man in charge introduced himself as Gustav Kilmer. He was a muscular, capable-looking fellow in his early fifties, with a heavy jaw and close-cropped iron-grey hair. His hands were stained with embedded grease, and his fingernails were ragged from working with heavy tools. He invited Leon to take a glass of pilsener with him in the passenger saloon before they disembarked.

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