that hung down his back. He seemed to cultivate the buccaneer image.
"My name is Papadopoulos." He grinned for the first time.
"And the talk of money is sweet like music." He held out his hand.
Gareth and Vicky Camberwell came to Jake's camp in the mahogany forest,
bearing gifts.
"This is a surprise," Jake greeted them sardonically as he straightened
up from the welding set with the torch still flaring in his hand. "I
thought you two had eloped."
"Business first, pleasure later." Gareth handed Vicky down from the
ricksha. "No, my dear Jake, we have been working hard." J can see
that. You look really worn out with your labours." Jake doused the
welding torch and accepted the bucket of Tusker beer. He broached two
bottles -immediately, handing one to Greg and lifting the other to his
own lips. He wore only a pair of greasy khaki shorts.
When he lowered it, he grinned. "But, what the hell, I was dying of
thirst and so I forgive you."
"You have saved our lives, Major
Swales and Miss Camberwell," agreed Greg, and saluted them with the de
wed bottle.
"What on earth is this?" Gareth turned to inspect the massive
construction on which Jake and Greg had been working, and Jake patted
it proudly.
"It's a raft." He circled the complicated platform of empty oil drums
with its decking of timber slats, indicating its finer features with
the half-empty beer bottle.
"Armoured cars don't swim, and we have to land them on a shelving
beach. It's unlikely we will be able to get within a hundred yards of
the shore. We'll float them off." Vicky was looking at the fine
muscling of Jake's shoulders and arms, at the flat belly and the dark
pelt of hair that covered his chest, but Gareth was fascinated by the
crudely constructed raft.
"I was going to talk to you about landing the cars, and suggest
something like this," Gareth said, and Jake lifted an eyebrow at him in
disbelief.
"All we must make sure of is that the vessel that lands us has a
derrick strong enough to swing the cars outboard."
"What do they weigh?"
"Five tons each."
"Fine, the HirondeUe can handle that."
"The Hirondelle?"
"The vessel that's transporting us."
"So you have been working."
Jake laughed. "I would never have believed it of you. When do we
sail?"
"Dawn, the day after tomorrow. We will load during the night not
wanting to advertise our cargo and we will sail at first light."
"That doesn't give me much time to teach Miss Camberwell to drive one
of the cars." Jake turned to her now, and once again felt the thrill
of looking into those speckled eyes of green and gold. "I'm going to
need a deal of your time."
"That's one thing I've got plenty of at the moment." For Vicky the
interlude in Dares Salaam had served to rest her tired and strained
nerves. her previous assignment at Geneva had been irksome and
wearying. She had spent the last few days exploring the ancient port
and writing a two-thousand-word filler on its origins and history. She
had enjoyed Gareth Swales's attentions and the by-play of avoiding his
more serious advances. Now she was becoming aware of Jake
Barton's smouldering admiration. Nothing like being pursued by two
tough, dangerous and forceful males to relax a girl, she thought, and
smiled at Jake, enjoying his reaction, and watching Gareth Swales
bridle and move in to intervene.
"I can give Vicky a bit of instruction on the jolly old machines, don't
want to take you off important work." Vicky did not turn her head, but
went on smiling at Jake.
"I think that's rather Mr. Barton's department," she said.
"Jake," said Jake.
"Vicky," said Vicky.
This whole business was turning out very well indeed. A good story to
chase, a worthy cause to support, another daring escapade to add to the
blooming lustre of her reputation. She knew none of her colleagues had
dared the League's sanctions and violated international frontiers with
a gang of gun-runners to file a story.
As a bonus, there were two attractive males for company, It all looked
very good indeed, just as long as she kept it all on a manageable
basis, and did not let her emotions get into an uproar once more.
They followed the path down through the mahogany forest, and she smiled
secretly to herself as she watched Gareth and Jake jockeying for
position beside her. However, when they reached the clearing, Gareth
stopped abruptly.
"What now? "he demanded.
"The paint job is Greg's idea," explained Jake. "Make people think
twice before they start shooting at us." The four vehicles were now
painted a glistening snowy white, and the turrets were emblazoned with
a flaming scarlet cross.
"if the French or the Italians try to stop us, we are a unit of
armoured ambulances of the International Red Cross.
You, Greg and I are doctors, and Vicky is a nursing sister."
"My
God, you have been busy." Vicky was impressed.
"Also the white paint will be cooler in the desert," Greg explained
seriously. "They call it the "Great Burn" with good reason."
"The carrying racks I designed," said Jake. "Each vehicle will be able
to carry two forty-gallon drums of gasoline and one of water at the
