And they were. Within forty-eight hours, Skip King had called. His voice was smooth as champagne.
"It's set," he said, as if he were talking about a day trip to the Smokies.
"It is?"
"The CEO had sanctioned all the funding we need. A suitable transportation vessel is being chartered, and by the time we return with it, a climate-suitable habitation will be waiting."
"Where?"
"Somewhere near Burger Triumph World Headquarters. Maybe in it. We have a rather large basement."
"What!"
"We have a very large basement. It will be converted into a suitable temporary habitat."
"As long as it's temporary," Nancy had told him.
"We estimate we'll be able to leave in three to four weeks."
"Impossible."
"Not for us."
"Us?"
"I intend to lead this safari, Miss Derringer."
The statement floored her. But it had been delivered with such calm self-assurance that Nancy had been taken utterly off guard.
"Do-do you have any experience in this sort of project?" Nancy had stammered.
"Miss Derringer, special projects are my life."
"That's not what I mean. I meant field experience."
"Miss Derringer, I happen to be a graduate of the Wharton School of Business. I'm sure you've heard of it."
"Somewhere. And if you don't mind, it's Dr. Derringer."
King had sniffed thinly-the first hint of his true character, Nancy realized now. "And where did you go to school?"
"Oh, let's see. B.A. from Columbia-"
"A nice school, I hear. But no Wharton."
"-received my master's from Texas Technological University, and studied herpetology at the University of Colorado."
"You studied herpes?"
"Herpetology," Nancy said patiently, "is the study of reptiles. I've done extensive field work all over the globe for the Colloquium, and additionally I'm a member of the Crocodile Specialist Group of the International Union for the Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources."
"Oh," said Skip King in a tiny voice. "Well, I graduated magna cum laude."
Nancy suppressed a sigh. Two could play at this infantile game, she thought. "Summa cum laude."
"Second place is nice, too," King said smugly.
"Summa cum laude means highest honors, Mr. King. Magna cum laude happens to be second place. And unless you want to contract a wide variety of pernicious tropical diseases," Nancy added firmly, "we're not going until we've been thoroughly inoculated."
There was a protracted pause on the line. When his voice returned, it was almost a croak.
"Does that mean needles?"
"Yes. Long, sharp ones."
"I hate needles." And his voice was so dead that for a moment Nancy was afraid he would call the whole thing off.
He hadn't. But now, weeks later, Nancy was beginning to wish he had.
It had started when he had shown up at the departure point wearing a "Safari Til You Puke" T-shirt.
Nancy was able to overlook that. But when they reached Port Chuma, he had insisted the native bearers wear Burger Triumph T-shirts and pith helmets-and address him as B'wana King.
Ralph Thorpe, the British guide, had coaxed the Bantus into humoring King. Behind his back, they grinned and laughed. It was a big joke.
To Nancy, Thorpe had confided, "I've seen this happen before. Our Mr. King has gone 'bushy.' "
"Bushy?"
"Intoxicated by the African bush."
"But we aren't there yet."
"Let's hope it wears off by the time we do," said Thorpe.
It hadn't. It had only gotten worse. And they nearly lost their bearers when, on the first day out, they had broken out the provisions and King had insisted upon keeping the best food for the white expedition members and feeding the natives reheated Bongo Burgers, cheesefries, and flat soft drinks.
"Why are they spitting out their food?" King had complained. "Each Silly Meal is five bucks American. That's more than these guys make in a week."
"They are used to real food," Thorpe had warned. "And if they do not receive it, we shall all be fending for ourselves."
King had relented. And complained and complained.
That was when Nancy started to wonder if King was not "bushy" after all-just a few fries short of a Silly Meal.
Now they were walking single file through the bush. Ahead loomed the denseness of the rain forest, packed like green, leafy lettuce and cabled by hairfine lianas and thick creepers. They were coming to the impenetrable Kanda Tract, where even the Bantus seldom ventured.