o Chapter One []
The great， blazing ball of the sun shifted imperceptibly
from magenta， through red， to hot white as it rose majesti-
.caUy above the eastern horizon. Far out on the Northern
7_alambian plain， a herd of Grant s Zebra grazed， glancing
nervously at the cough of a lion.
\"Simba， his is Dik-Dik. The whispery voice spoke mat-
ter-of-factly， seemingly from the empty African veldt. After
a moment s hesitation a small， tinny， equally disembodied
answer came.
\"Ah... good on you， Old Boy，\" the unmistakably British
inflection continued after exchanging call signals. \"Our
friends should be along shortly. As I read this bloody map，
we re some three hours from your position and on a hot
spoor. Able is fairly panting， don t you know? Simba is
ovah and out.\" Only the faintest hint of Matabele accent
clung to the African s words.
Grass trembled slightly， then moved restlessly， as beneath
it Jason Trowbddgc cased a hand forward to press a little red
plastic plunger and snap up the tight-fitting dust cover from
the rear， then the objective， lens of the big Lcupold scope.
Hc snuggled into the buttstock of his lovingly rebuilt 1917
Enfield and began to sight in on various irregularities
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