Cry Wolf

thirty-two years, this despite her father's large fortune and respected
title.
Gareth glanced sideways at her and saw all too clearly why this should
be. The first adjective which sprang to mind was "horsey', but it was
not the correct one, Gareth decided.
"Comely'or'camel-like' would convey a much more accurate description.
A besotted camel, he thought, as he intercepted the adoring gaze which
she fixed upon him as she sat sideways upon the luxurious leather
seats.
"Jolly good of you to let me take your Pater's bus for a spin, old
girl. And she simpered at the endearment, exposing the huge yellowish
teeth under the large nose.
A V A "Definitely thinking of buying one myself, when I get home.
Can't beat the old Benters, what?" Gareth swung the long black
limousine off the metal led road and it plunged forward smoothly over
the dusty rutted track that led northwards along the coast through the
palm trees.
An ask ari policeman recognized the fluttering pennant on the front
wing, red and blue and gold with rampant lion and unicorn, and he
pulled himself to foot-stamping attention and flung a flamboyant
salute. Gareth touched the brim of his hat to the manner born, then
turned to his companion who had not taken her eyes from his tanned and
noble face since they had left the grounds of Government House.
"There is a good view place up ahead, looks out across actually.
Thought we'd park the channel, very beautiful there for a while." She
nodded vehemently, unable to trust herself to speak.
Gareth was glad of that she had a squeaky little treble and he smiled
his gratitude. That brilliant, completely irresistible smile,
and the girl blushed a mottled purple.
She had good eyes, Gareth tried to convince himself, that is if you
like camels" eyes. Huge sorrowful pools with long matted lashes.
He would concentrate on the eyes and try and avoid the teeth. He felt
a sudden small twinge of concern. "I hope she doesn't bite in the
critical moments.
With those choppers, she could inflict a mortal wound." For a moment
he considered abandoning the project. Then he made himself imagine a
pile of one thousand sovereigns, and his courage returned.
Gareth braked the Bentley and searched for the turnoffs It was well
concealed by underbrush and he missed it and had to back up.
Gently he eased the gleaming limousine down into a small clearing,
walled in by fern and scrub and roofed over by the cathedral arches of
the palms.
"Well, here we are, what?" Gareth pulled on the hand brake and turned
to his companion. "Actually you can see the channel if you twist your
neck a bit." He leaned forward to demonstrate, and with a convulsive
leap the Governor's daughter sprang upon him. Gareth's last controlled
thought was that he must avoid the teeth.
Jake Barton waited until the huge glistening Bentley began to heave and
toss on its suspension like a lifeboat in a gale, before he rose from
the cover of the ferns and, carpet-bag in hand, crept around to the
bonnet with its gleaming winged initial V and the stiffly embroidered
household pennant.
The noise he made in opening and lifting the engine cowling was
effectively smothered by the whinnying cries of passion that issued out
-of the car, and Jake glanced through the windscreen and caught one
horrifying glimpse of the Governor's daughter's white limbs, long and
shapeless and knobbly kneed as a camel's kicking ecstatically at the
roof of the cab before he ducked his head into the engine.
He worked swiftly, his lips pursed but the tune stealthily muted,
and his brow creased with concentration as the carburettor jumped and
heaved unpredictably under his hands and the whinnies of passion and
the high-pitched exhortations to greater effort and speed rang
louder.
The resentment he had felt at Gareth Swales's refusal to assist in
painting the iron ladies faded swiftly. He was pushing and pulling his
full weight now, and his efforts made even the most gruelling manual
labour seem insignificant.
As Jake lifted the entire carburettor assembly off the engine block and
stowed it into the carpet-bag, there was one last piercing shriek and
the Bentley came to an abrupt rest while a ringing silence fell over
the palm grove.
Jake Barton crept silently away through the undergrowth leaving his
partner stunned and entangled in a mesh of lanky limbs and expensive
French underwear.
"I want you to believe that in my weakened condition it was a long walk
home. At the same time, I had to try and convince the lady that we
were not betrothed."
"We'll get you a citation," Jake promised him,
and emerged from the engine housing of the armoured car.
"With disregard for his own personal safety Major Gareth Swales held
the pass, stan ned the breach, battered down the gates-"
"Terribly amusing," growled Gareth. "But, just like you, I have a
reputation to maintain. It would embarrass me in certain circles if
this got out,
old son. Mum's the word, what?"
"You have my word of honour," Jake told him seriously, and stooped over
the crank handle. She fired at the first turn and settled to a steady
rhythm to which Jake listened for a few moments before he grinned.
"Listen to her, the bloody little beauty," and he turned to
Gareth. "Wasn't it worth it just to hear that sweet burbling song?"
Gareth rolled his eyes in agonized memory and Jake went on. "Four of
them. Four lovely, well-behaved ladies. What more could you ask out
of life?"
"Five,"said Gareth promptly, and Jake scowled.
"We'd put my name on the fifth one," he wheedled. "I'd sign a
statement to protect your reputation." But the expression on Jake's
face was sufficient answer.
"No?" Gareth sighed. "I predict that your sentimental,
oldfashioned outlook is going to get us both into a lot of trouble."
"We can split up now."
"Wouldn't dream of it, old son. Actually, it would have been dicey
peddling a dead one to those Ethiops. They've got these dirty great
swords, and it's not only your head that they lop off or so I hear. No,
we'll settle for just the four, then." May
22nd the Dunnottar Castle anchored in the Dares Salaam roads and was
immediately surrounded by a swarm of barges and lighters. She was the
flagship of the Union Castle Line, outward bound from Southampton to
Cape Town, Durban, Lourenco Marques, Dares Salaam and Jibuti.
Two suites and ten double cabins of the first class accommodation were
taken up by Lij Mikhael Wasan Sagud and his entourage. The Lij was a
scion of the royal house of Ethiopia that traced its line back to
King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. He was a trusted member of the
Emperor's inner circle and, under his father, the deputy governor of a
piece of mountain and desert country in the northern provinces the size
of Scotland and Wales combined.
The Ras was returning to his homeland after six months of petitioning
the foreign ministers of Great Britain and France, and lobbying in the
halls of the League of Nations in Geneva, trying to gather pledges of
support for his country in the face of the gathering storm clouds of
Fascist Italian aspirations towards an African Empire.