ies, thesecondary effects of chronic alcoholism and all the other unlovelyconsequences of poverty and ignorance. One of the duty sergeants in the operationsroom at CID headquarters answered. He raged throughthe forest, and at last came back to Lothar. The name on the top of the page was Umlomo Wa Bantu, and Shasatranslated it without difficulty: The Mouth of the Black Nations', andhe glanced down the columns of print.
Mathilda Janine had borrowed Shasa'sbinoculars and was anxiously scanning the great arena far below them. He glanced around atthe senior men who were in charge of them, but their attention was onthe ring so for the first time he looked directly at the person in thecrowd. Get clear of the net! Lothar screamed again and Da Silva threw himselfover the far side of the sinking dinghy just as it was dragged beneaththe surface. O'wa's body must be somewhere close at hand.
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