Vulture Is a Patient Bird Page 15

  “Could be embarrassing if Mr. Tak arrived on the scene.”

  “It could. So instead, we had better do some work.” She sat up, crushing out her cigarette. “Have you thought about how Fennel is to get in?”

  “Through here.” Garry waved his hand to the big lounge. “With us here, he has only to walk in.”

  “Would it be as easy as that?”

  “I think so. There could be guards patrolling the house at night. I don’t see any of them around now.”

  “Perhaps Kahlenberg is so sure no one could get through the jungle, the house isn’t guarded.”

  “Want to take a look at the garden?”

  “Not now. It will be terribly hot out there.”

  “Then you take a nap… I’m going.” Garry got to his feet. “You have more energy than I have. You’ll be roasted.”

  “See you,” and with a wave of his hand, Garry wandered off down the green cement path.

  She watched him go, then she closed her eyes and thought about him. When the job was done, they would all separate. She wondered what he would do. She would have liked to have had a long weekend with him in Paris, and then say good-bye. She was twenty-six years of age, and she was sure Shalik would continue to make use of her for at least five more years before he began to look around for a younger woman. She had no illusions about Shalik. In those five years she would have made and saved enough money to give her complete independence and that was what she wanted more than anything else. To be financially free to live well, to travel and possibly get married.

  She considered the possibility of marrying Garry, but decided it wouldn’t work out. Although he attracted her physically, she knew she wasn’t in love with him and also he hadn’t her need for gracious living. Luxury was essential to her whereas it wasn’t to him. No… he was a good bed companion, but nothing else. If she were to marry, she must find a man who was wealthy, intelligent, cultured and luxury loving. She knew this was a pipe dream for she had met many men in her life, had many proposals of marriage, but there was always some snag, or was it that she valued her freedom too much?

  Anyway, pipe dreams were pleasant when lying in a comfortable chair in the shade, surrounded by luxury.

  She dozed off, and it was more than an hour later that Garry, returning, awakened her.

  “Want a drink, lazybones?” he asked, moving to the bar.

  She nodded, stretched and sat up.

  “Find anything interesting?”

  “Yes and no. There’s no access to the far end of the house.” Garry brought over two Tom Collins and sat down. “The path leading to it is guarded by a Zulu who looks as if he’s stepped right out of a movie. He was wearing a leopard skin, ostrich plumes and carried a shield and an assagai. He turned me back without trying to be polite.”

  “Kahlenberg’s quarters, I suppose.”

  “Yes. Another thing: there’s a big pool full of enormous crocodiles at the far end of the garden and sitting on surrounding trees are about ten well fed looking vultures. That corner of the garden gave me the creeps.”

  Gaye laughed.

  “But why?”

  “Just struck me it would be a marvellous place to dispose of a body.”

  She looked at him and seeing he was serious, she asked, “Why should Kahlenberg want to dispose of a body?”

  Garry sipped his drink, then cradling the glass in his hand, shaking it slightly so the ice cubes tinkled, he shrugged.

  “The atmosphere of the place made me think of it, but I’m uneasy about all this, Gaye. I think we were invited in too easily. I don’t like the look of Tak. Once or twice while you were talking to him, I got the idea he was laughing at you. Particularly when you asked if this place was his. It struck me he knew you knew it belonged to Kahlenberg.”

  “Do you think he suspects us?”

  “I think he could.”

  “You don’t think he guesses we are after the ring?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he thinks we are phonies.”

  “So what do we do?”

  As if in answer to this question, Garry saw Tak coming along the path towards them.

  “Here he is now,” he said, getting to his feet.

  “Please don’t let me disturb you,” Tak said, approaching. There

  was a thin smile on his lips and his glittering eyes moved from Garry to Gaye. “Did you enjoy your lunch?”

  “It was wonderful, thank you.” Gaye gave him her most charming smile. “It really is lovely here.”

  “Yes… it is very pleasant.” He paused, then went on, “Miss Desmond, would you be interested to see Mr. Kahlenberg’s museum?”

  Although her heart skipped a beat, Gaye kept her face mildly interested.

  “Has Mr. Kahlenberg a museum?”

  “Mr. Kahlenberg is one of the most famous collectors in the world.”

  “I knew that, but I didn’t know he had a museum. I thought…”

  “He has a museum, and he wondered if it would interest you to see it.”

  “Very much. I would love to see it.”

  “And you, Mr. Edwards?”

  “Sure… thanks.” Garry kept his expression dead-pan, but like Gaye, he had been startled.

  Gaye got to her feet. “Is it far from here?”

  Again Garry caught a jeering expression come into the dark eyes. It came and went so quickly unless he had been watching closely he wouldn’t have seen it.

  “You are standing on it,” Tak said.

  “You mean it is underground?”

  “That is correct.”

  “May I bring my camera, Mr. Tak?”

  He shook his head.

  “I regret not.” He turned. “Will you follow me, please?”

  He entered the lounge and walked into the corridor.

  Gaye and Garry exchanged swift glances as they followed him. They all got into the electric trolley and Tak drove down the long corridor, past the big lobby and front door of the house and on down the corridor.

  “Here is where Mr. Kahlenberg has his quarters,” he explained as they drove past several doors. He stopped the trolley by what appeared to be a blank wall and got out. Watching him closely, Garry saw him put his fingers under the ledge of one of the big windows. The wall he was facing slid back to reveal double doors. As he approached these doors, they slid open.

  “Mr. Kahlenberg is a cripple,” Tak explained, regarding Gaye. “All doors in his quarters are electronically controlled. This is the elevator that takes us down to the museum.”

  The three entered the green satin lined cage. There were four different coloured buttons on the control panel. Garry watched Tak press the green button and the elevator descended smoothly and silently. While it descended Tak pressed the red button, paused, then pressed the yellow button.

  “What are all those buttons for, Mr. Tak?” Gaye asked innocently.

  “The green button controls the elevator. The yellow button turns on the lights in the museum and the red button turns off the alarm,” Tak told her.

  “Thank you… you’re marvellously well equipped.”

  The doors slid back and they entered a cool, vaulted chamber.

  “Would you wait here for a moment?” Tak said and he crossed to a grey painted door. He spent a minute or so at the door, his

  hands busy, his body concealing what he was doing.

  Again Garry looked at Gaye, lifted his eyebrows, then looked away as Tak turned.

  “The museum contains many priceless treasures,” he said. “We have taken every precaution against theft. This door that leads into the museum is armour plated and specially treated to make it impossible to cut into. The walls either side are five feet thick. The lock to the door is controlled by a time switch which is set every night at 22.00 hrs. and no one can open the door until 10.00 hrs. the following day. Please come in.”

  They followed him into a vast domed ceiling room, lit by diffused lighting. On the walls hung many pictures. Gaye recognized a Rembra
ndt, several Picassos and a number of Renaissance masterpieces which she was sure she had seen in the Uffizi, the Vatican museum and the Louvre.

  “These aren’t the originals, Mr. Tak?” she asked.

  “Of course they are the originals.” Tak frowned as if annoyed by such a question. “I told you Mr. Kahlenberg has the finest private museum in the world. The inner room will amuse you more I think.” He led the way through the picture gallery and entered another vast room.

  In the middle of the room stood a four metre high Buddha in shining gold.

  “This is an interesting piece,” Tak went on. “It comes from Bangkok. During the last war, the Japanese, knowing it was in the city, searched for it, but the priests were too clever for them. They moved it to a lesser temple and covered it with dirty cement. Although the Japanese visited this temple they failed to recognize what they were looking for.”

  “You mean this is solid gold?” Garry said, gaping at the glittering figure.

  “Yes, it is solid gold.”

  He led them around the room, pausing to explain various objets d’art. Garry had no knowledge of art treasures, but even he was impressed by what he saw.

  “But surely that is one of the panels of Ghiberti’s Gates to Paradise,” Gaye said, pausing before a beautifully carved panel on the wall. “What a wonderful copy!”

  “The copy is in Florence, Miss Desmond. This is the original,” Tak said, an acid note in his voice. “And this statue of David by Bernini is also the original. The copy is in the Bargello in Florence.”

  Gaye was so startled by the effrontery of this remark, that she turned away. It was then she caught sight of the Caesar Borgia ring in a small glass box on a pedestal in the lighted alcove. “And what is this?” she asked, moving to the glass box and peering at the ring.

  “The Caesar Borgia ring,” Tak said. “It was made by an unknown goldsmith at Borgia’s request. It is a poison ring and so the story goes, the goldsmith was its first victim. To test its efficiency and to stop the man from talking, Borgia gave him his fatal handshake while wearing the ring. There is a needle hidden in the cluster of diamonds and this scratched the victim’s hand while he was shaking hands with Borgia. Ingenious, don’t you think?”

  “Those were cruel, horrible times,” Gaye said with a little grimace. “Is it dangerous now?”

  “Oh no, Miss Desmond. It would have to be recharged with poison before it could be dangerous, and I doubt if the needle is now sharp enough to scratch.”

  He led them on, showing them a beautiful alabaster unguent jar which he told them came from the tomb of Tutankhamen. They spent a further half-hour in the museum and then Tak, looking at his watch, suggested they might like a drink before dinner. He led them from the museum, closed the door and Garry watched him spin the dial, scrambling the combination; then they took the elevator up to the corridor. He drove them back to their suite and after accepting their thanks, said a servant would conduct them to the main terrace in an hour and a half and left them.

  The time now was 19.3o hrs. and they both went out on to the terrace.

  “I want something short and strong,” Gaye said sitting down. “A vodka martini on the rocks.”

  “I’ll dig for that too.” Garry began to mix the drink. He filled two cocktail glasses and carried them over to the table and sat down. Did you spot the TV snoopers in both rooms?”

  “No… did you?”

  “Yes. Fennel said there were six monitors and therefore six rooms in the museum. Tak only showed us two of the rooms. You know, Gaye I’m liking this less and less. I have an idea we could have walked into a trap.”

  Gaye looked startled.

  “Surely not! He wouldn’t have shown us what he did if he is really suspicious of us.”

  “That’s what puzzles me. He must realize we have guessed most of those exhibits have been stolen. Then why did he let us see them? Why did he tell us how the elevator works and about the time lock? He must know we will talk about this visit when we leave unless…” He paused, frowning, then shook his head.

  “Unless… what?”

  “Unless he’s not going to let us leave.”

  Gaye stiffened.

  “He can’t keep us forever. Garry, do talk sense.”

  Garry sipped his drink.

  “All right, but I don’t like it. If Fennel and Ken weren’t out there, I’d be worried. I’m going to talk to them.” He got up and went into his bedroom.

  Gaye waited. She was also puzzled that Tak had taken them into the museum, but she wasn’t worried. She told herself that Kahlenberg was so confident about his safety precautions, he didn’t mind strangers seeing his museum.

  Garry returned after some twenty minutes.

  “Fennel agrees it looks suspicious. Themba has been left guarding the equipment. Fennel is coming here on his own, leaving Ken to keep watch. If Kahlenberg starts trouble, at least Ken can do something to help us. When we get the ring, we’ll signal Ken and we’ll all meet at the airfield and take off. We’ll pick up Themba and get back to Mainville.”

  “Do you think Kahlenberg will start trouble?”

  “I’ll tell you when I’ve met him,” Garry returned. “How about another drink?”

  At exactly 21.00 hrs., a Zulu servant came to take them to the main terrace.

  Seated in his chair, Kahlenberg was waiting for them. He greeted them pleasantly and waved them to chairs near him.

  “Tak tells me you are from Animal World, Miss Desmond.” he said, after Gaye had thanked him for receiving them. “Have you been with them long?”

  “Not very… six months.”

  “It is a magazine I take regularly. I am interested in animals. Why don’t they give you a credit line, Miss Desmond?”

  Watching, Garry was relieved to see Gaye was cool and seemed quite at ease. She laughed a little ruefully.

  “I am one of the small fry, Mr. Kahlenberg. I do the routine work. I was hoping you would allow me to photograph this lovely house. I would get a credit for that.”

  He studied her.

  “I am afraid then you will have to wait a little longer for your

  credit. Photography is forbidden here.”

  She met his blue-grey eyes, smiling.

  “Even to me? I promise I will be most discreet and photograph only the house and the garden.”

  “I am sorry.” He changed the subject by asking if she found his museum interesting.

  “It is magnificent. I congratulate you.”

  Three Zulus came silently on to the terrace and stood waiting before a beautifully laid table. At the same time, Hindenburg who had just finished his dinner, came slowly across the terrace to Kahlenberg.

  “What a beauty!” Gaye exclaimed. “May I stroke him?”

  “It would be unwise,” Kahlenberg said, rubbing the cheetah’s ear. “My pet is a little uncertain with strangers… even beautiful strangers, Miss Desmond.” He set his chair in motion and drove up to the table. “Let us have dinner.”

  When they were seated, Kahlenberg turned to Garry.

  “And you, Mr. Edwards, have you been a professional pilot for long?”

  Garry shook his head.

  “Just started,” he said easily. “Miss Desmond is my first client. Of course I’ve done a lot of chopper flying in the States, but I like a change, so I’ve set up business in Durban.”

  “I see.”

  Iced melons were served.

  “You are after big game, Miss Desmond?”

  “Yes. We were on our way to Wannock Game Reserve when saw this wonderful house and I felt I had to see more of it. I do hope you don’t think I was presumptuous.”

  “Not at all. If I didn’t wish you to be here, Tak would have sent you away. No, it is a pleasure to have such unexpected guests.”

  “You are certainly out in the wilds… don’t you find it lonely?” she asked.

  “When one is as busy as I am, one hasn’t time to feel lonely. It surprises me that you are a photographer
.” Kahlenberg looked directly at her. “I should have thought by the way you walk and by your appearance that you would have been a model.”

  “I have done modelling, but I find photography more interesting.”

  “I too am interested in photography in an amateurish sort of way. I suppose you work entirely in colour?”

  Gaye who had only the haziest knowledge of photography, realized they were getting on to dangerous ground.

  “Yes, I work in colour.”

  “Tell me, Miss Desmond…” Kahlenberg began when the second course of blue trout was served.

  Gaye immediately began to enthuse about the fish, hoping to change the subject.

  “It’s my favourite fish,” she told him.

  “How fortunate, but I was…”

  Garry too had seen the red light and he tried to steer the conversation into another channel.

  “Mr. Kahlenberg, I took a walk in your wonderful garden and came across a Zulu in full war dress… at least, I think it is war dress from what I’ve seen on the movies… a magnificent specimen.”

  “Yes, I have over a hundred of these men,” Kahlenberg said. “I like them to dress in their traditional costume. They are great hunters of beasts… and of men. They are the guardians of my estate. No one approaches here without being seen and turned back. They patrol the surrounding jungle day and night in shifts.”

  “Not the garden?” Garry asked casually as he could as he removed the back bone of the fish.

  There was such a long pause that he glanced up to find Kahlenberg’s eyes on him. The amused contempt in those eyes made Garry look quickly down at his fish.

  “No, Mr. Edwards, they don’t patrol the garden at night, but I have a few of them in the garden during the day when there are strangers here.”

  “Well, they are certainly impressive,” Garry said, laying down his knife and fork. “That was excellent.”

  “Yes,” Kahlenberg absently reached out his hand and began to stroke Hindenberg’s rough fur. The cheetah began to purr.

  “What a marvellous sound,” Gaye exclaimed. “Have you had him long?”

  “A little over three years. We are inseparable.” Kahlenberg looked over at Garry. “He is a magnificent watch-dog or I suppose I should say watch-cat. I had good proof of this a few months ago. One of my servants went mad and tried to attack me. He came into my office with a knife, but before he could even reach me, Hindenberg had literally torn him to pieces. The cheetah is the fastest moving animal on earth. Did you know that, Mr. Edwards?”