Rhodesia Read Online Free Page A

Booty sooner or later she bumped metal.
    "We're going to Africa," Nick reminded her, "where our clients are exposed to a lot of dangers. Among other things I'm your security guard. We've never had any trouble there, the place is really civilized now, but..."
    "And you'll protect us from lions and tigers and natives with spears?"
    "That's the rough idea." He felt foolish. Booty had the most annoying way of saving ordinary things that laughed at you. The delightful fingers made one final stroke that made him squirm involuntarily, and were withdrawn. He felt both disappointed and foolish.
    "I think you're talking nonsense," Booty whispered. "Are you with the FBI?"
    "Of course not."
    "If you were I suppose you'd lie."
    "I hate lies." That was the truth. He hoped she didn't revert to her DA role and cross-examine him about other government agencies. Most people didn't know about AXE, but Booty wasn't
most people.
    "Are you a private detective? Did any of our fathers hire you to keep an eye on one of us or all of us? If he did I'll..."
    "You've got a big imagination for such a young girl." That stopped her. "You've been in your comfortable, protected world so much of your life you think that's all there is. You ever go into the Mexican shack towns down home? Have you seen El Paso's slums? Remember the Indian hovels on the back roads in Navaho country?"
    "Yes," she replied hesitantly.
    He kept his voice low but crisp and firm. This might work — when in doubt and pressed, attack. "Where we're going those folks would qualify as high-income suburbanites. In Rhodesia itself the whites are outnumbered twenty to one. They keep a stiff upper lip and smile because if they don't their teeth will chatter. Count in the revolutionaries glaring over the borders and the odds in some places are seventy-five to one. When the opposition gets arms — and they're getting them — it'll be a worse setup than Israel facing the Arab legions."
    "But tourists aren't usually bothered — are they?"
    "There have been plenty of incidents, as they're called. There may be danger and it's my job to cool it. If you're going to tease me about it I'll change my seat and we'll make the rest of the trip as business friends. You enjoy yourself. I'll work."
    "Don't be angry, Andy. What do you think about the African situation where we're going? I mean — the Europeans did grab the best parts of the country away from the natives, didn't they? And the raw materials..."
    "Politics don't interest me," Nick lied. "I suppose the natives get some benefits. Do you know the girls who are joining us at Frankfurt?"
    Booty didn't She fell asleep nestled against him.
    The eight additions to the group were all eye-catchers, each in her own way. Nick wondered if wealth helped good looks or if it was the good food, extra vitamins, educational polish, and expensive clothes. They changed airlines at Johannesburg, had their first looks at Africa's mountains, jungles, and endless plains of
bundu,
the veldt or bush country.
    Salisbury reminded Nick of Tucson, Arizona, with Atlanta, Georgia's, suburbs and vegetation added. They were given an introductory tour of the city in the contractor's shiny Austins. Nick noted that the contractor-trade name for local providers of cars, guides, and travel services — brought four big men with him in addition to the seven drivers with the cars. Security?
    They saw a modern city with wide streets lined with colorful, flowering trees, with plentiful parks and contemporary British architecture. Nick rode with Ian Masters, the contractor, with Booty and Ruth Crossman in the same car, and Masters pointed out sites they would revisit at leisure. Masters was a powerful man with a booming voice which fitted his curved black lancer's moustache. You expected him to roar at any moment, "Trooo-o-p. Canter. Charge!"
    "Well arrange special visits to suit individuals," he said. "I'll give out checklists at the dinner tonight You mustn't miss the museum and