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business. Thank you for keeping us informed, Mr Kruger. You have been most helpful.'

CHAPTER FOUR
The Cessna started losing height.
Since Abele's mysterious warning, there had been almost no conversation in the cabin, and Ben had resorted to gazing aimlessly out of the window and watching the vastness of Africa pass beneath him. From that height it was difficult to make out the landscape over which they were flying, but as they prepared for landing, he found himself able to make out more distinct features: the thick canopy of jungle, the occasional weather-beaten road, the river. They called Africa the dark continent, but all Ben could see was a riot of colour.
The landing was a lot less smooth than the one they had experienced in Kinshasa Airport earlier that day - Ben was pleased he had heeded the instruction of the smiling pilot to strap himself in. Finally, though, the vigorously jolting plane came to a stop, the doors were opened and the passengers stepped out into the oppressively humid outside. Ben felt his clothes cling immediately to his skin as Abele pulled down their luggage and carried it to the side of the runway. There was little to distinguish this airfield from any other patch of cracked earth - Ben squinted as he looked around at the unfamiliar, slightly hostile surroundings. Nothing. No buildings, no shelter: just an expanse of earth covered with low brush and brown dust. Abele spoke to the pilot in an African dialect: he shook his head and then walked over to Ben and his father, hand outstretched and grin still intact, revealing several misshapen, yellow teeth interspersed with four or five gaps.
'You are not coming to the village with us?' Ben's dad asked in that loud, slow voice people use when addressing someone who doesn't speak their language.
If anything, the pilot's grin became wider as he shook his head and waved a finger in front of him, before turning and clambering back into the cockpit. The Cessna was gone as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the three of them alone with their bags and an uncomfortable silence, staring as the plane disappeared into the skies.
By the side of the road was a small copse of palm trees which cast a long shadow in the afternoon sun. The trio took shelter in the shade as Ben and his dad waited for Abele to tell them how they were to be transported from here. 'They send someone to collect us,' he murmured, before turning his back on his two English companions and gazing out into the distance. Ben peered around him. The mid-afternoon sun was causing a wavy haze of heat in the near distance, making it difficult for him to focus on any one thing, even with the expensive Polaroid shades his mum had insisted on buying for him. In one direction, though - a mile away, perhaps less, perhaps more - he saw something moving across the horizon. It was a crowd of animals, travelling at some speed, though he could not make out what they were.
Suddenly he jumped as he heard Abele's voice right next to him. 'Olive baboon,' he noted, a look of distaste in his face.
'Are they dangerous?' Ben asked, unable to take his eyes off the troop.
Abele shrugged. 'Not wise to get too close. But more nuisance than dangerous. They steal food.'
Just then their attention was distracted from the baboons by the quivering, hazy sight of a car appearing in the distance. Abele raised his arm in the air and stood by the side of the road while Ben and his father waited wordlessly behind him. It took the car longer to reach them than Ben would have expected - it was a beaten-up old thing, trundling slowly along. Finally, though, it pulled up at a short distance - perhaps ten metres - from the trio, who were eagerly awaiting its arrival. The driver switched off the noisy engine, opened his door and started walking towards them. The smile on his face was perhaps broader even than that of the pilot who had just left them, though he walked with a curious posture, his hands held firmly behind his back. Noting the