THE VIEW WAS SPECTACULAR FROM THE VERANDA OF THE New Stanley Hotel. Over the tops of the city buildings, the high plains rolled away to the horizon, ending abruptly against the towering snow-capped peak of Mount Kenya. Cherry, Bob, and Major Welsh did not pay much attention today to the view. The MATS major was making notes; he would file a report at once. So would Bob.
“It was that evening in Cairo,” Cherry was saying. “Krynos must have just happened to be in that café in Cairo; he couldn’t have known we were coming there. And he happened to overhear us talking about our medical project in Kenya. So he came over to our table and asked questions—it must have occurred to him that we might be the perfect front for his diamond-smuggling operation. Do you recall how Mr. Krynos forced himself on us, Bob?”
“Yes, I remember your saying so after we left.”
“And then there was that weird telegram that fell out of his wallet, mentioning the Mzabite and the order that was stopped. It gave me a creepy feeling that something odd was going on. Of course at the time I had no idea what it might be. Since then, I’d surmise that the telegram referred to the antelope head that the Mzabite taxidermist had stuffed with rough gems.
“So when Mr. Krynos left us at the café, he probably telephoned his accomplice Ed Smith in Nairobi, and asked him to look us up.”
Major Welsh shook his head, then laughed. “The CIA or the Interpol boys ought to hire you, Miss Ames. You seem to have a natural nose for wrongdoing. But it’s a pretty nose,” he added hastily, “even if it is peeling a little from overexposure to the Kenya sun.”
Bob said, smiling, “You are quite a girl to figure all this out. As far as I was concerned, I was a million miles away. Go on, Cherry. I want to hear it all.”
“Well, if you remember—Ed Smith came along the first day we were here in Nairobi, and he introduced himself to us, right on this very porch where we’re sitting. He didn’t even know the name of the editor of the magazine he was supposed to be working for; and on top of that, he pretended to know a man that I made up on the spur of the moment. It was about then that Long Jack Robertson told us the disturbing story of the antelope head that was filled with smuggled diamonds.”
“I hope you didn’t suspect my old friend, Long Jack, too?” Bob said.
“Yes, I did, that evening when I saw Long Jack and Smith talking together here in the lobby. After I got acquainted with the hunter, and he seemed such a good sort, I wondered if that wasn’t silly of me. But I did suspect Smith—rightly, as it turned out. Why, Smith was never connected with Click magazine—and since he never took any film into Keeler’s to be developed, he probably isn’t even a photographer. He was probably snapping an empty camera all the while, using that as an excuse to stay on in Ngogo.
“Then that first day at the clinic, when you, Bob, showed Smith the tubes of blood samples, and explained how you were going to send them to Washington by MATS planes, he saw his solution. He would put the diamonds inside the test tubes, telephone a confederate in the States, and have him pose as an Abercrombie man and pick them up. You remember that evening when he sent a radio message to someone—named Simon, as I recall—in Nairobi? The message went something like: ‘I have my story idea figured out.’ That must have meant he had found a foolproof way to get the stones out of the country. And my hunch is that Mr. Simon was actually Spiro Krynos, using another name.”
“Miss Ames,” Major Welsh said, “if I ever forsake my career as an Air Force officer for a high-paying life of crime, I am going to stay several hundred miles away from you.”
Cherry smiled but shook her head. “No, Major, at first I didn’t really know that anything out of the way was happening. You told me, Bob, on our drive out to Ngogo that first day, that my suspicions just were due to the mysterious atmosphere of Africa working on me. So I tried to forget it.
“Then I saw Mr. Krynos talking to the pilot of the orange plane at the Nairobi airport—but both Krynos and Gus Fisher turned away when I called to them. And the next day Krynos showed up at our village, and denied that he had been in Nairobi the previous day. What was I to make of that?
“When Krynos showed up at Ngogo, you remember, he shared Smith’s tent. How convenient for them! Krynos must have brought some rough diamonds with him—a lot of them—because little Kandi found one when he swept out under the cot. Possibly the gem fell off the table, unnoticed, when Krynos and Ed Smith were counting or examining the diamonds. Anyway, that’s my theory.”
“Do you use a pocket-size crystal ball, Cherry,” Bob asked, “or a regular one?”
“Neither one,” Cherry said, blushing slightly. “This is what my brother Charlie would call ‘Monday morning quarterbacking.’ Even that bloodstain on Ed Smith’s sleeve after he had delivered your first package, Bob, didn’t have any meaning until later, when we knew more.”
A white-uniformed native policeman came up the steps to the veranda from the sidewalk, looked around, saw them, and walked over to their table. He saluted briskly, a swagger stick tucked under his left arm.
“Major Welsh? Dr. Barton?” They nodded. “Police headquarters asked me to report to you that Mr. Spiro Krynos took a BOAC jet out of Eastleigh this morning bound for Istanbul. He will be held and questioned by Turkish police when he arrives there. Your truck was found abandoned near the airport, but there has been no trace of Mr. Ed Smith. Mr. Gus Fisher, the bush pilot, has been interrogated, but he apparently knows nothing of any smuggling activities. He was released, but was asked to remain on call.” The policeman waited. “Anything else, Major? Doctor?”
“Not at the moment, thanks,” Major Welsh said. “I’ll keep in touch with your office.”
“Thank you very much,” Bob said.
The policeman again saluted, did a crisp about-face, and left the veranda.
“Well,” Bob said, “it looks as if we are just about where we were two hours ago. What’s the rest of your story, Cherry?”
“I’m only guessing, you know,” Cherry said. “Where was I? Smith—When little Kandi found that diamond under Ed Smith’s cot, everything seemed to add up. I decided it just wasn’t my overworked imagination after all.”
“We still need proof,” Major Welsh said. “But your account is entirely reasonable. It sounds complete, too.”
“It does,” Bob said. “It sounds as if you may have solved the big diamond mystery, Cherry, even though nobody yet has been nabbed for it. But I guess we can leave that to the police. Did I tell you that the police sergeant on the phone asked me to stay in town until tomorrow and explain all these details to the Kenya officials?”
“Then I’d better not leave the clinic unattended overnight, Bob.” Cherry looked at her watch. “I’ll be able to get back to Ngogo before dark.”
Bob said he would feel easier, too, if at least one of them were on call there tonight. “It’s a safe bet that Ed Smith won’t show his face around the place. You take the Rover, Cherry. I’ll pick up our truck from the police and drive out in that tomorrow.”
“And I,” Major Welsh said, “had better see that my planes keep moving out of here on schedule.” He got to his feet. “Miss Ames, if we have any more mysterious goings-on in MATS, I’ll look you up.” He had a second thought. “As a matter of fact, I just might do that anyway. There’s a dance at the Officers’ Club next Saturday night. And maybe by that time you and Bob won’t have so many weighty matters on your minds.”
Cherry thanked him, saying it was not possible to answer now. Just then a safari car drove by, curving in and out of traffic as though the driver was in a hurry.
“Isn’t that Jack Robertson?” Cherry asked.
“Yes, and he looks as if he’s going somewhere in a rush. He must have a new bunch of clients coming in on the afternoon plane.”