Connolly watched the group dissolve, then suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘You’re right, Captain. It certainly does keep good time,’ he repeated as they entered the cabin.
Evidently tired by the encounter with Ryker, Pereira slumped down among Connolly’s equipment and unbuttoned his tunic. ‘Sorry about Ryker, but I warned you. Frankly, Lieutenant, we might as well leave now. There’s nothing here. Ryker knows that. However, he’s no fool, and he’s quite capable of faking all sorts of evidence just to get a retainer out of you. He wouldn’t mind if the bulldozers came.’
‘I’m not so sure.’ Connolly glanced briefly through the porthole. ‘Captain, has Ryker got a radio?’
‘Of course not. Why?’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Absolutely. It’s the last thing the man would have. Anyway, there’s no electrical supply here, and he has no batteries.’ He noticed Connolly’s intent expression. ‘What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?’
‘You’re his only contact? There are no other traders in the area?’
‘None. The Indians are too dangerous, and there’s nothing to trade. Why do you think Ryker has a radio?’
‘He must have. Or something very similar. Captain, just now you remarked on the fact that his old alarm clock kept good time. Does it occur to you to ask how?’
Pereira sat up slowly. ‘Lieutenant, you have a valid point.’
‘Exactly. I knew there was something odd about those two clocks when they were standing side by side. That type of alarm clock is the cheapest obtainable, notoriously inaccurate. Often they lose two or three minutes in 24 hours. But that clock was telling the right time to within ten seconds. No optical instrument would give him that degree of accuracy.’
Pereira shrugged sceptically. ‘But I haven’t been here for over four months. And even then he didn’t check the time with me.’
‘Of course not. He didn’t need to. The only possible explanation for such a degree of accuracy is that he’s getting a daily time fix, either on a radio or some long-range beacon.’
‘Wait a moment, Lieutenant.’ Pereira watched the dusk light fall across the jungle. ‘It’s a remarkable coincidence, but there must be an innocent explanation. Don’t jump straight to the conclusion that Ryker has some instrument taken from the missing Moon capsule. Other aircraft have crashed in the forest. And what would be the point? He’s not running an airline or railway system. Why should he need to know the time, the exact time, to within ten seconds?’
Connolly tapped the lid of his monitoring case, controlling his growing exasperation at Pereira’s reluctance to treat the matter seriously, at his whole permissive attitude of lazy tolerance towards Ryker, the Indians and the forest. Obviously he unconsciously resented Connolly’s sharp-eyed penetration of this private world.
‘Clocks have become his ide ftxe,’ Pereira continued. ‘Perhaps he’s developed an amazing sensitivity to its mechanism. Knowing exactly the right time could be a substitute for the civilization on which he turned his back.’ Thoughtfully, Pereira moistened the end of his cheroot. ‘But I agree that it’s strange. Perhaps a little investigation would be worthwhile after all.’
After a cool jungle night in the air-conditioned cabin, the next day Connolly began discreetly to reconnoitre the area. Pereira took ashore two bottles of whisky and a soda syphon, and was able to keep Ryker distracted while Connolly roved about the campong with his monitoring equipment. Once or twice he heard Ryker bellow jocularly at him from his window as he lolled back over the whisky. At intervals, as Ryker slept, Pereira would come out into the sun, sweating like a drowsy pig in his stained uniform, and try to drive back the Indians.
‘As long as you stay within earshot of Ryker you’re safe,’ he told Connolly. Chopped-out pathways criss-crossed the bush at all angles, a new one added whenever one of the bands returned to the campong, irrespective of those already established. This maze extended for miles around them. ‘If you get lost, don’t panic but stay where you are. Sooner or later we’ll come out and find you.’
