If they had gained one thing from one hundred years of white domination, it was the white man’s art of vetting unwanted telephone callers. ‘A friend of Ben Tsenong – from England.’

A surprisingly high-pitched man’s voice came through the receiver. ‘Ogomo speaking. Who are you, please?’

‘A friend of Ben Tsenong – from England.’

‘What do you want?’ He sounded tense.

‘I have a message from Ben. I must speak to you in private. I’m in danger, and it’s very urgent.’

‘Do you want to come here?’

‘No good.’

‘You tell me where?’

‘Have you a car?’

‘Of course.’

‘Take the Okandja Road, and take the turning for Otjiwarongo. Go on for about three miles and you pass a bar on the right-hand side of the road – it’s called the Beerstop. About four hundred yards further on, there’s a turning to the right marked with a small post which says Otjosundu. You take that turning. Immediately on the left is a piece of flat land. You’ll see a yellow Datsun parked there. I’ll be in that car waiting for you. Leave your car and join me. If anyone comes with you I shall know something is wrong and will drive straight off.’

‘I understand,’ said Ogomo in a voice that sounded as if he didn’t understand at all. However, he repeated correctly the directions I had given him.

‘Half past nine this evening.’

‘Half past nine,’ he said.

I hung up and went back to the hotel, leaving everything locked in the boot of the car except for the syringes, which I took up to my room. I opened my briefcase, and removed a small black box containing two phials labelled with the names of chemicals used for rock-testing analysis. From each one I filled a syringe, then I emptied the remainder of the chemicals down the sink, and rinsed the phials out carefully. I put the syringes into a plastic bag, together with one of the cloths I had bought, sealed the bag carefully, and put it into my jacket pocket. Outside, dusk was beginning to fall. I wanted to get to the site before it was completely dark in case there was anything I hadn’t noticed as I had jolted past on two occasions earlier that day.

The drive took about forty minutes. The place was even better than I had at first thought. The bar, with two battered cars and the remains of a bicycle outside, could not accurately be described as the hub of the universe, and there was no other building anywhere in view. I pulled the Datsun a good way off the road, switched off the lights, and settled down to wait until night had fallen completely. It was a calm, muggy evening; there was a new moon and the sky was quite dark, which pleased me – I didn’t have any desire to be floodlit.