Francis froze. Next to him, he could hear Laura utter a little scream.

"Shut up!" barked Chang. "Now turn around and let me have a look at you. Slowly, and keep your hands up."

They turned around. Chang glared at them, pointing a heavy pistol.

"Ha!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "I recognize you from the photo in your dear uncle's study. I can't wait to hear what he has to say about this. On you go. Move!"

He motioned with the pistol towards the ship. They had no choice but to do as he demanded. He rudely poked Francis in the back with the pistol.

"Do I look like I have all night? A little faster, if you please!"

Francis glanced to his left, and almost laughed. Well, he thought. Now at least I know the ship's name. He could finally make out the dirty inscription on the ship's side. Prisoner of Fate. How appropriate, he thought bitterly.

They reached the gangway. Chang motioned with his pistol.
"This way, and don't try anything. You are going for a little sea voyage, my nosy young friends."

Alice hesitated a moment. Once they were on this ship, there might be no way back. She was rewarded for her hesitation by being shoved in the back. She stumbled forward. Francis felt cold fury rise in him. Just you wait, Chang, he thought. Make only the slightest little mistake.

They were pushed towards a little door.

"In here," Chang growled.

They were in a steel corridor, with doors to cabins on both sides. At the end of the corridor was a narrow stairway, leading deeper into the ship, and Chang motioned them down.

At the bottom of the stairway, another corridor, similar to the one above. It was dimly lit by electric light bulbs on the ceiling, but even in this low light, they could see that this ship was not very familiar with such things as water, mops or soap. A thick layer of grime covered the floor and walls, and the small space, already difficult to walk in, was strewn with an assortment of junk: more crates randomly stacked against the wall, empty bottles and soft drink cans, pieces of mouldy rope. A fat rat emerged from a hole in a dilapidated, old-fashioned suitcase, and scurried down the corridor.

In front of a cabin door, Chang ordered them to stop. He suspiciously watched them as he fished around in his pocket, took out a key and opened the door.

"In you go," he said. He rudely pushed them in, then leaned back out into the corridor and shouted to one of his men. "Khumalo! Go fetch your two lazy friends and get them in here! Tell them to bring their weapons and some strong ropes."

The cabin was a small and cramped little room, even dirtier than the corridor. There were a wooden table and a few chairs, and not much else in it.

"Sit down!" Chang barked, indicating the chairs. He took one for himself, and sat down. "Now my young friends, before I go call your uncle, we are going to have a little talk. I suggest you tell the truth, or you might find me, er, shall we say, less than hospitable."

His voice was cold, sneering, devoid of any sense of humanity. They knew they could expect no mercy.

He leveled the pistol at Francis. "You! Who put you up to this? Who are you working for? Who else is involved?"

Francis bit on his teeth. He had no intention of telling Chang anything at all, if he could help it. What good would it do anyway?

"Talk!" shouted Chang. "You cheeky little brat, do you think you can..."

At that moment, the door opened and the men Chang had called walked in. They were carrying heavy automatic rifles, and one had a bundle of thick ropes slung over his shoulder. Their eyes widened when they saw the prisoners. They were recognized in turn.

"You are the ones who shot at us," Francis said.

"And this time round, I won't miss," said one of the men, pointing his rifle in their direction.

"Enough talk, Khumalo," said Chang. "Tie them up. And stay here. Don't take your eyes off them. They are slippery little eels, but this time they are not going anywhere. I'll be back in a second."

Chang left the cabin, and in an instant the three men were at work. Within two minutes, Francis, Alice and Laura were each helplessly sitting on a chair, their arms and legs tied to the chair's legs and arm rests. They could hardly breathe, let alone move.

"There," said Khumalo. "Now let's see if you can escape this time." He laughed unpleasantly, then stretched himself out on one of the remaining chairs, and lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, then blew a cloud of smoke into Laura's face.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Somewhere above them, they could hear angry voices. Then footsteps came down the corridor, and the door banged open. In walked Uncle Vernon. His jaw dropped when he saw them.

"Wha, who, wa-wa..." He stumbled over incoherent attempts at saying something, then just stood in silence, staring at them.

"Now you explain this to me, Kruger!" Chang barked behind him. "Go ahead and tell me just how exactly these meddling little pests somehow keep on getting involved in business that does not concern them."

Uncle Vernon swung around and stared at Chang. "I was hoping you could tell me!" he shouted. "Where on earth did you get them? I assure you I had nothing to do..."

"Oh, spare me your fairy tales!" Chang was livid with rage. "First they just happen, quite by chance, to stumble upon my men's camp. And now they are here. And you tell me you have nothing to do with any of this?"

"Look, this is as much a surprise to me as..."

Once again, Chang interrupted him.

"Well," he hissed. "Then explain one thing to me." He dug around in his pocket.

"Tell me just what exactly is THIS!" He plucked something from his pocket, and furiously threw it on the cabin floor.

Francis looked, uncomprehending. He could make out a few wires, and what looked like a small watch battery.

He saw Uncle Vernon's shoulders sag a little. "Where did you find that?" he asked.

"Where you no doubt put it. Don't try to fool me, Kruger. I am not quite that stupid. You know as well as I do what this is. It's a radio transmitter. And unless the rhinos in this part of the world have secretly developed a technological civilization of their own, then I want to know from you how this ends up in one of my horns!"

"Well, how should I know?" asked Uncle Vernon. He was just about to speak more, but Chang has quietly motioned to Khumalo, who now got up from the chair, moved to behind Uncle Vernon, and lifted his rifle in his hands.

Francis' eyes widened. Uncle Vernon saw it, and started to turn around. Too late. With brutal force, Khumalo hit him in the small of the back with the rifle butt. Uncle Vernon gasped and staggered to the floor. Before he could get up, Khumalo was upon him again. He swung his rifle, hitting Uncle Vernon through the face.

"Get up!" screamed Chang, beside himself with rage. Uncle Vernon stumbled to his knees.

"You know what I think? I think it is time to solve this little problem for once and for all! First you, then your little brats!"

He leveled the gun at Uncle Vernon's head. His finger began to curl around the trigger.