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Hassan bin Zayid wiped his sweaty palm on his Tommy Hilfiger T-shirt then returned it to the grip on the throttle of the outboard motor.
The inflatable Zodiac tender bore the name Faith in white on its sleek, grey rubber flank, the lettering the same as that on his forty-foot motor cruiser. Underneath the name was the port of registration, Zanzibar. While Hassan spent most of his time these days at his private game reserve in Zambia, he would always consider the aromatic island off the coast of mainland Tanzania his real home.
It was to Zanzibar that he had retreated to deal with the shock of the news that had come by telephone a few days earlier. As he had sat in the cool, dark interior of the lodge’s bar, nursing three fingers of Scotch on ice, he had realised that the one person l
