The critics' opinion:

Hammer Spade, a single private investigator and his best friend, Jack Kane, have traveled to Africa to determine who is smuggling diamonds from a well-known firm.  When they arrive, they find that surface appearances are deceiving.

Using a safari as a cover, Hammer and Jack display their marksmanship abilities, impress the natives, and overpower the opposing force.  Solving the mystery of who is behind the diamond stealing becomes more and more difficult because for each puzzle solved, more obstacles are thrown their way.

Hammer Spade is a roll-with-the-punches kind of guy.  In this novel, he is paired with an eclectic cast of characters.  But whether he is dealing with an African bushman or a British aristocrat, Hammer’s common sense and quick wit allow him to deal with the current situation all the while maintaining his calm demeanor.

No matter how serious the circumstances, there is always humor to be found somewhere.  Hammer and his friends never lacked for something to provide light entertainment.  For example, zebra steaks sound quite tasty.  However, after reading this book, I do not think I will ever be enticed into trying one!  This book is an enthralling read.

Judy Jacobs 

St. Joseph MO.

October 18, 2006

---------------------------

Readers write

I finished Hammers latest adventure.  That was a great book.  I felt like I was there, great descriptions and details.  You must of either had to
travel to the setting or you did a lot of research, either way ~ Great job!!
Melanie Walker
 

---------------------------

Excerpts:

Page 15:

“You have a lot of leverage,” he told me as soon as we sat down in the atrium. “This project will carry a premium price tag.”

“Why?”

“They lost two investigators and an informer last week.”

“What happened?”

“They don’t know. They were in radio contact and it was abruptly cut off.”

“Don’t they use aerial surveillance?”

“They tried to use a drone in an earlier contact but the courier didn’t show up.”

“Somebody on the inside knows what’s going on.”

“Many in the diamond business can be bought.”

“With so many suspects, where do you start?”

“We’ll meet Kurt at his hotel tomorrow at nine and we’ll find out then.”

Page 30:

“We’ll do ground scouting tomorrow to acclimate you to the terrain. Then we’ll fly to Cape Town and interview your Zulu tracker. After we do that, you can scout some more or go back home and get your gear ready.”

“I’ll get on back. We already have most of what we need.”

“You and Kane are to report on the seventh of September.”

“He’s ready.”

Kurt directed the pilot to skim closer to the ground and told him to follow a dry creek bed until it ended on the slope of the mountain. Then he took us through the gap between the mountains where we would see a vehicle track following the valley in a direction that would take us to Namibia.

In a couple of minutes, we were maneuvering through trees and underbrush at two hundred kmph. This guy was good.

Page 31:

“Did Robert tell you what this is about?” Kurt asked.

“Robert say this hush-hush. That all he say.”

“We’re going after smugglers.”

Mandla grunted something unintelligible.

“You will guide Mr. Spade,” Kurt pointed to me, “and his friend in the Vaal area to wherever the trail takes them.”

“I tracker, not guide,” Mandla informed us.

“But you are familiar with the area?”

“I familiar with all my homeland.”

“Mr. Spade and his friend are unfamiliar with our wildlife. You must keep them out of trouble.”

“I keep everybody out of trouble.”

“That will be your responsibility.”

“Who cook?”

“Can’t you cook?”

“I not cook. You need cook.”

“Can you find one?”

“I find one. What pay?”

“Ten rand.”

“Ten rand very good. Who carry gear?”

“We have a lorry.”

“Who unload lorry and load lorry?”

“Can’t you and the cook unload the lorry?”

“I not unload lorry. Cook cook, not lorry loader.”

Kurt sighed. “Can you get a baggage handler?”

“I get baggage handler. How much?”

“Eight rand.”

“Eight rand good. We eat store meat or he kill meat?” He pointed to me.

“He’ll have provisions. But it’s okay to kill fresh meat.”

“I not like store meat. I want fresh meat.”

“Okay, he’ll kill the game that you point out to him.”

“We need butcher.”

“Can’t the cook butcher what Mr. Spade kills?”

“Cook cook. Not butcher. I not butcher. Need good butcher.”

Kurt sighed again. “Can you find a butcher?”

“Find butcher. How much?”

“Eight rand.”

“Eight rand not good. Need nine rand to get good butcher.”

“Nine rand is okay,” Kurt agreed resignedly. “Anybody else?”

“Cook, baggage man and butcher plenty. When we start?”

“September tenth.”

“September tenth good. Where we start?”

“Danielskuil at noon.”

“Danielskuil good. Mandla see you September ten.”

Mandla rose and left without another word.

“I have hired his wife or mistress to cook, his brother or a cousin to load and unload and his father or grandfather to butcher what you kill for them to eat. I hope you enjoy hunting. You’ll have a tribe to feed.”

I thought it was rather funny. “I guess we’ll track the smugglers in our spare time.”

Kurt didn’t find this at all amusing. “That is the way it is in Africa. Get used to it.”

Page 42:

        Sir Burton had enjoyed himself. “Thank you two for a wonderful evening and for you, Mr. Kane, I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation. We shall meet again.” He paused. “On which shore, or mountain, we can only guess,” he observed philosophically. Then he became serious. “I appreciate you two agreeing to assist us on this matter. We are tolerant of a certain amount of pilferage, but injuring and killing our employees is beyond reasonable bounds. We shall prevail and we will obtain retribution in the fullest sense. You two are our instruments to accomplish that.”

Lady Cynthia proposed a toast. “To success in battle on whatever shore.” She smiled at Jack. We clinked glasses and drank the remainder of the wine. She extended her hand to me for a handshake. After we shook hands, she extended her hand to Jack. He took her hand in his and kissed it while Sir Burton observed with a bemused smile.

“Good luck gentlemen,” Sir Burton said seriously. “And I wish you success on all counts.” Then he added with a smile, “We must dine together again at the earliest opportunity so Mr. Kane and I may continue our little adventure.”

Page 52:

The “plane” was a beat up old Beechcraft D-18 like the one Sky King flew before he upgraded to the Piper Twin. A big puddle of oil was on the ground under the right engine. When we looked inside, Jack commented that they must use this plane to haul livestock. Our Polish pilot from before was tinkering with the left engine and a second man, who I learned later was the co-pilot, was helping him.

This was not a regular airport. It was a dirt runway with tall trees at one end and a steep cliff at the other. It was so primitive that the windsock was a huge pair of woman’s red drawers that waved from the top of a thirty-foot tree. I was glad we had the Polock pilot.

We loaded our gear and waited another hour while the pilots worked on the left engine. Not a good sign.

Kurt asked Jack if he had ever flown one of these planes.

“Yeah, once,” Jack replied. “It’s easy to fly.”

Finally the pilots put their tools into a toolbox, wiped the grease off their hands with a rag and loaded the toolbox onto the plane. I guess this was a regular thing.

The seats were placed at random locations. These must have been the only places where the seat latches worked. Jack and I made faces at each other while the pilots went through their routine.

The left engine wouldn’t start, the one that didn’t leak oil. They tried several times before it hit and when it finally fired up it was running so rough that it shook the whole plane. They kept revving it up trying to get it to run smoother. They obviously subscribed to the notion that if a motor doesn’t run well, racing it will fix the problem.

The engine that leaked oil started with the first try. I guessed it didn’t have all that oil in it to mess it up.

The left engine smoothed out about halfway down the runway and we were skimming along slightly off the ground. I couldn’t describe it as a “take-off” because that would imply that we had achieved a meaningful separation from the ground.

Page 65:

Around ten o’clock the pickup guy rode up on a trail motorcycle. He had been briefed about us being in place. He wasn’t told where we would be or how many of us there were. We watched him smoke and pace nervously about while he waited.

Thirty minutes later we heard another motorcycle and we watched as he approached Kurt’s undercover guy. The motorcyclist stopped a few feet from the waiting man and approached him as if he were about to shake his hand. While Kurt watched through the spotting scope, Jack was on my rifle watching through the riflescope.

When the undercover agent reached to shake the courier’s hand, the courier grabbed his hand, jerked him closer and in the blink of an eye stabbed the agent in the lower chest angling the knife upwards toward the heart.

“Kill him,” Kurt rasped to Jack.

Before I could say anything, Jack fired, hitting the murderer in his right ear.

I was furious at Kurt and Jack. “Now that was real stupid!”

“What are you talking about?” Kurt asked. “He killed a company employee right before our eyes. In case you hadn’t heard about the others, that made the fourth man they’ve killed.”

“What have we got now? Two dead men. Dead men don’t talk. Wounded men do. Jack could have shot his legs instead of his head.”

“Sorry, Ham,” Jack said with a downcast expression. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Kurt didn’t admit his error. “He murdered a company employee,” Kurt insisted.

“Do you have a contingency plan?” I asked Kurt.

He shook his head.

“Let’s go see if he’s got the diamonds,” I said. “Maybe he’ll have some written directions.”

We marched to the scene and searched the courier’s body and his motorcycle. We found nothing. No diamonds, no instructions and no identification. The man didn’t even have a tattoo, scars or any visible abnormality we could use to distinguish him from millions of other men. This was a real downer. What a flub up!

While we were standing there feeling depressed and wondering what to do next, we heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance.

Page 95:

            After traversing a particularly difficult section about half way to our goal we stopped to take a break. It was close to eleven a.m. and we had climbed off the vehicles to take a stretch. Kurt was kicking tires and Depart was tightening lug nuts when, without warning, we were surrounded by a dozen natives carrying spears. The one with the most paint on his face, who I took to be the leader, started jabbering to Mandla.

            “What do you think?” Jack asked me under his breath. “Are they going to eat us or invite us to lunch?”

            “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

            “Where’s your shotgun?” Jack asked.

            “In the truck where Depart left it.”

            “Mine too. But I’ve got my Webley.”

            “Me too. We can club them,” I suggested.

            “Quit making fun of that fine product of the British Empire on which the sun never set.”

            “You missed Levi twice with yours.”

            “He was running zigzag. I can’t hit moving targets with a pistol. Besides you missed too.”

            “Its hard to hit a running man forty yards away with a 24 power scope.”

            “You’re just making excuses.”

            Mandla got the chief to slow down and apparently made some sense of what he was saying. Mandla pointed at me. I thought Mandla was my friend.

Page 106:

             At five minutes before ten, I heard the sound of a helicopter and I watched as it circled the field to make sure I was alone. It was a six-passenger chopper. I watched as it landed a few yards from where I stood. It’s rotors kicked up dust and debris from the dry surface. The door on my side opened and two men stepped out. One carried a submachine gun. The second man approached me while the one with the gun stayed by the helicopter. There was another man wearing a suit and tie and sunglasses in the passenger compartment looking out the open door in my direction.  He looked very much out of place out here.

The unarmed man approached me. “Levi?”

I nodded.

“You’re supposed to have two bags of uncut diamonds.”

I motioned toward the motorcycle. “They’re in the saddlebags.” 

“You were supposed to bring some paperwork.”  

I handed him the manila envelope. When he flipped to the third page and started reading, I whispered, “I know what the third page says.”

            He was startled and looked up quickly at me. The man with the machine gun was watching closely and came to attention. I put my hand on the butt of my pistol. The man in the helicopter said something to the man with the submachine gun. Tension got high very quickly.

Page 120

At daylight, I was forcefully awakened by Amahle’s screams. Jack heard them too and both of us sailed out of bed, hastily pulled on our trousers and boots, grabbed our shotguns and rushed outside toward the sound. Sir Burton and Kurt emerged from their tent about the same time. We saw Mandla already sprinting in Amahle’s direction.

        When we arrived we saw Amahle standing and screaming less than thirty feet in front of two twenty-foot black mamba snakes. She was screaming because the dog was attacking the snakes. I realized that the snakes were not after the dog—Amahle was their intended victim and the dog was protecting her. If it had been only one snake, that dog would have sacrificed his life to give Amahle an opportunity to escape. But there were two and he was doing a masterful job of keeping them from their quarry without getting bitten.