Many Thing Begin To Change [antikvár]

Chapter One The District Officer, Maurice Mason, a dark-haired rotund man in his forties, of medium height, stood disbelieving one minute, and pleading for his life to be spared in the next, when the axe finally fell across his neck and a well sharpened machete neatly severed his head from the rest of his body on this Monday morning in Ukana. In the space of an hour, neither his assassins nor any trace of what had just taken place was visible. The clearing, where a man had just been murdered, and which had been teeming with people, was suddenly deserted save for the newly turned earth carefully concealed with dry leaves. And in the years to come this time and place would be nothing but a neat patch of barren land - except to the assassins. In Utuka, the region's headquarters, the inhabitants had also been astir and about their various business. Some could be found in the market place with their wares; others in shops ; and more in the river fishing or up to the palm tree tapping the wine. But in the government offices, Jack Bailey, a young man with a round face topped by blond hair, dressed in white shorts and shirt, and recently appointed as junior secretary to the Regional Government, leaned his elbows on the window of the District Office as he waited for the District Officer, Maurice Mason, to arrive. The scene that spread itself before Bailey was one which he had seen every day since he took up his appointment three months ago. He screwed up his pale blue eyes against the blinding sun from a cloudless African sky, as he stared at the township of Utuka. The phone rang. Bailey picked it up. 'Yes?' 'Please hold the line for the District Commissioner,' said the telephone operator. The voice of George Hughes came on the line. He was an able but gruff administrator of medium build and height with a pair of hazel eyes and a cultivated moustache. 5