The Temple Covenant

by D C Macey

  ‘That’s shocking; surely they can’t just write somebody off?’

  ‘Shocking? Yes, why do you think I finished with the services? You don’t get to be a big country by being nice. There’s a lot of dirt washed under the bridge along the way.’

  Helen drained her wine glass and Sam, anticipating her need, refilled it at once. Then he looked at his beer bottle. ‘That’s done,’ he said, tossing it into the wastepaper basket. ‘Water for me now.’

  ‘Where does that leave you … us?’ said Helen as Sam returned with iced water from the fridge. He let himself slump into the sofa.

  ‘Sacrificial lambs as far as some are concerned, but I owe Bob Prentice a lot. He got me out of a tricky spot once or twice in the early part of my military career. In fact, I probably owe him my life, so regardless of what the generals are setting up, I’m going to save Bob.’

  ‘No. You mean, we’re going to save Bob.’

  ‘Well, seems like nobody else is going to.’

  6.

  Thursday, 24th October - AM

  First thing in the morning, Helen had made a phone call back to St Bernard’s, her church centre in Edinburgh, where Elaine oversaw all the day-to-day activity. Her request of the older woman was met without comment. Elaine’s stoic, unflappable nature and her loyalty to Helen meant explanations were not necessary. She was asked to get Scottie Brown, their friendly IT security expert, to dig around discreetly to find anything he could about the ACE system, as quickly as possible.

  Exactly on time, Sam and Helen arrived at the Hilton’s reception and looked about for their contact. A smart young man stepped briskly across to join them.

  ‘Hello, Sam Cameron?’ he said, stretching out his hand in greeting when it became clear he had made the correct assumption. ‘Pleased to meet you, really pleased. I’m John Guthrie, and you must be Miss Johnson, or is that “reverend”? How should I address you?’

  ‘Just call me Helen, everyone does.’

  ‘Okay, will do. But look, let’s get away from here; I’ve got a car waiting outside. Why don’t we get in and the driver will run us across to the end of Kimathi Street right away? That’s where Bob Prentice was last heard from.’ He leant in a little closer. ‘Plus, it’ll be better to talk in the car.’

  Sam agreed, and they headed out of the hotel. ‘There’s the car, come on. By the way, I can’t tell you what a relief it is that you’re here. Truth is I’m a bit out of my depth on this one and the Kenyans have put restrictions on my movements. In fact, none of the High Commission’s staff are allowed to leave Nairobi for the duration. It’s a real mess.’

  Sam glanced at Helen, catching her eye for the briefest of moments. ‘Well, I’m pleased to help but don’t build me up. I’m only here because no UK Government staff are allowed in right now. Believe me, under any other circumstances I would not have even been a candidate.’

  John pulled open the car doors for Sam and Helen and gave a smile, ‘Well you’re the main man today and I really am pleased to see you.’ He banged the doors shut, climbed into the front passenger seat and gave his driver an instruction. The car pulled away into the traffic.

  ‘What exactly is a High Commission?’ said Helen.

  ‘Oh, just think of it like an embassy. High Commission is the name given to a diplomatic mission posted between Commonwealth countries,’ said John.

  An old car trailed along behind them. It was indistinguishable from the many other vehicles that served well beyond their intended lifespan on Nairobi’s streets. The man behind the wheel was Asian. All morning he had followed John Guthrie in the High Commission’s car, remaining inconspicuous while keeping tabs on the British military attaché’s movements.

  • • •

  Sam stepped out of the car and Helen slid across the seat to get out after him. John instructed his driver to wait exactly where he was parked and then got out of the front passenger seat. Diplomatic plates had their uses.

  ‘We’d have been quicker walking,’ said Sam, looking back down the road to the Hilton. ‘Five minutes max’.

  ‘Yes,’ said John, a little sheepishly. ‘Since the abduction, High Commission staff have been given a strict instruction not to walk anywhere.’

  ‘You’re certain this is the last location we have for him?’

  ‘Well, almost. He spoke to Brigadier Starling by telephone from here and said he would walk directly to the Hilton, where we’ve just come from.’

  Sam stepped away from the others and stood at the kerb, first staring back along the street, then focusing on the foreground. ‘So, he must have passed some of these buildings,’ he said, more to himself than anyone in particular.

  Helen gave John an understanding smile. ‘Bob Prentice and Sam were close.’

  John smiled back at her. The pair stepped over to rejoin Sam.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ said Helen.

  ‘I’m thinking this is a busy street and Bob must have interacted with somebody. There might even be some CCTV cameras we could check. Have you considered that, John?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry, it’s all been about containment so far. I don’t think the High Commission wanted to involve any third parties.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll look. That’s the Stanley Hotel right there. It’s the first place on his route back to the Hilton, so he must have passed it. Let’s go in and see if their cameras caught any action.’

  Across the street, the old car had drawn to a stop, almost invisible beyond the flow of traffic. Inside, the passenger held a camera; it clicked away. The photographer needed to report on the military attaché’s movements, which had been unremarkable so far. Now though, he was standing in a delicate location accompanied by unknown people. It took only moments to forward the pictures, and then the driver pulled away into the traffic, retiring to a discreet distance to await instructions.

  Standing outside the Stanley Hotel, John looked a little reluctant to proceed. ‘I’ve been told not to cause a stir. Don’t you think this might be a little excessive?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Sam. ‘But I’ve got a friend to save, and if this all goes belly-up, don’t think your superiors won’t drop on you from a height for not pulling out all the stops. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Come on.’ He walked off towards reception. Helen and John followed him.

  Sam stopped for a moment on the threshold. ‘By the way, John, I don’t suppose you have a photograph of Bob? His mobile phone number too?’

  ‘They’re in the file.’

  Sam stuck his hand out. ‘Great, may I have the picture, please?’

  John flicked open his slim file and handed over an official photo of Bob.

  ‘Thank you.’ Sam looked at the picture of his friend, wondered if their investigation was starting a day too late, then slipped it into his pocket. ‘Helen, would you take his mobile phone number and pass it on to Elaine, see if Scottie can get any information on its whereabouts? It’s a long shot but you never know.’

  Sam left the others to transfer the number and walked into the broad reception. Tall flowering plants, glistening black and white marble flooring, and high-quality, dark leather, upholstered seats screamed wealth. Beyond broad structural pillars were entrance and exit routes to a variety of the hotel’s facilities. He passed the pillars and a little souvenir shop, making directly for the reception counter.

  A man standing at one end of the counter had the carriage and demeanour that marked him out as the person in charge. Sam approached him, read the name badge - Joseph, Duty Reception Manager. Sam introduced himself and asked if he could speak with whoever was on duty during the evening of the 22nd. His request was met with polite obfuscation.

  ‘Look, this is important to me. Nobody’s in trouble, I just need to speak with whoever was on duty. You must have a rota. All I want is a name.’ As he spoke, he realised what was happening. In this most traditional and expensive of hotels, guests and visitors were expected to tip for any service. Knowledge, it seemed, was no exception.
/>   He pulled out his wallet and looked inside; pausing for just a moment, he calculated, then pulled out one of his emergency twenty-dollar bills and passed it to the reception manager. The man smiled politely, took the money and folded it away. ‘Thank you, sir.’ He made a play of searching through a sheaf of papers on a clipboard retrieved from beneath the counter.

  After a little while, he looked up. ‘That’s lucky, sir. One of the receptionists from that evening is on duty this morning. Lucy’s due back from her break any moment. Would you like to speak with her?’

  Just then, a young lady in receptionist’s uniform appeared from behind one of the pillars. She didn’t give the duty manager’s exchange with Sam a second glance until he beckoned her over and whispered frantically in her ear. Then she looked anxious. Glancing nervously at Sam, she gave her boss an unconvincing smile. Using her hands to smooth out imaginary creases in her immaculately pressed skirt, she turned to face Sam.

  ‘Hello, Lucy. I’m called Sam and I’m looking for a friend who’s gone missing, I wonder if you could help?’

  ‘Of course, sir, but I don’t know anything about any missing people.’

  Sam smiled an acknowledgement. He had not expected any other response to his initial question. ‘That’s fine. I’m thinking about the evening of the 22nd, Tuesday, you were on duty here, I think.’

  Lucy nodded. ‘I was, sir.’

  ‘Great. You see Lucy, the last known whereabouts of my friend was right here in Kimathi Street. I just wonder if you might have seen him by any chance.’ He held the photograph of his friend out towards her.

  Lucy took the photograph and looked at the smartly turned out army officer, clean-shaven and well groomed, the gold embroidered epaulettes on the shoulders of his dress uniform standing out brightly against the material. She shook her head. ‘No sir, I didn’t see this man. I can’t help you.’

  ‘I see. Is there anyone else from your reception staff here that was on duty that evening?’

  ‘No, sir. We run a set shift system in teams; my team is on evenings this week. I’m just doing some overtime to cover for someone this morning. I hope you find your friend.’

  Sam nodded and looked across the reception to beyond the pillars where he could see the Thorn Tree Café. In a different time, he and Bob had been occasional visitors to the café. He turned back to Lucy. ‘Thanks for your time. I might see you again this evening when I come back to speak with your colleagues.’

  ‘You’re welcome, sir.’

  Now he needed to negotiate access to the CCTV recordings. Sam looked about for Joseph, spotted him and worked his way back along the counter to where the man was busy studying a computer screen.

  Another twenty-dollar bill got Sam access to the security room where Joseph introduced the security manager who was pleased to collect a twenty too.

  As Sam waited for the manager to access the recordings there was an almost timid knock on the open door. All three men turned to see Lucy.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she addressed her manager.

  ‘Yes, Lucy, what is it? Can’t you see we’re busy?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but I’ve just had a thought about the gentleman’s question.’

  ‘Well?’

  Lucy turned towards Sam. ‘Sir, I wonder if I might look at your picture again please. There was a disturbance at reception a little after eight on Tuesday night. Security had to deal with it. It was quite frightening.’

  ‘Oh, that business, something and nothing, Lucy. We run a tight ship at the Stanley, sir. Nothing to be concerned about,’ said Joseph, scowling at Lucy. ‘Off you go now, you’re needed out front.’

  ‘Hold on a moment,’ said Sam, handing over the photograph for Lucy to look again. ‘Take another look and tell me about the disturbance. Can we find it on the recording?’ The security manager nodded and set to work. Meanwhile, Sam could tell Joseph was unhappy. He guessed another twenty would be the best way to ensure Lucy didn’t get into trouble.

  ‘A middle-aged white man ran into reception, sir. He was covered in blood, scruffy, not like your friend. But there was something …’ Lucy paused for a moment, searching for the right word. Then her face suddenly brightened, and she pointed towards the TV monitor that was now displaying images from that evening. ‘That’s him, sir. That’s the man in reception.’

  Everyone looked at the screen and Sam saw his old friend hurrying across the black and white marbled floor. Scruffy, dishevelled, with a five o’clock shadow heavy on his chin - more worrying was the torn shirt, dark with blood, and the series of gouges across his face. Blood was running down his face to leave an intermittent drip trail behind him, visible on the white tiles, unseen on the black.

  Sam noted Lucy’s frightened response in the video, understood it. He saw Bob’s attempt to use the phone, saw him turn away, frustrated, and then hurry off, exiting reception before security could arrive. Lucy stood alone in the frame, nervously glancing to and fro. After perhaps half a minute, Lucy started frantically pointing in the direction Bob had gone and security hurried through the frame, exiting in turn, after Bob.

  For another half-minute or so, Lucy was alone in frame. She kept glancing anxiously in the direction that the men had gone while slowly composing herself. Suddenly, her demeanour changed again. She started screaming and guests rushed away out of the frame as Bob reappeared, running straight through the shot, heading for the hotel front doors. Shortly afterwards, the security detail chased through the frame, hot on Bob’s trail.

  Helen and John arrived at the security-room door and Sam beckoned them in.

  ‘We’ve found him,’ he said. ‘He’s not looking so good. Come and see this recording.’

  They all stood in silence and watched the scene play through once more.

  ‘Well at least we know he’s alive,’ said Helen.

  ‘Or he was at half past eight. It looks as though he’s taken a bit of a beating there,’ said John.

  Sam felt Helen move closer beside him, rest a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at the security manager. ‘Are there any other cameras? Where did he go to when he first rushed off? And why not head straight for the exit? There’s something illogical in what he’s doing and that’s not Bob Prentice, believe me.’

  ‘He ran into the Thorn Tree Café,’ said Lucy. ‘Then he came back out. I thought he was going to hurt me. I was very scared.’

  ‘I’ll bet you were,’ said Helen. ‘It all looks really scary.’

  Lucy directed a nervous smile of thanks towards her.

  ‘Why did he run into the café?’ said Sam.

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’ Watching the recording had rekindled Lucy’s anxiety over the incident and she had started to cry - Joseph shooed her from the room.

  ‘Here’s the camera that covers our front doors,’ said the security manager, tweaking the play settings so it would synchronize with the reception’s camera. ‘Coming up now,’ he hit play and they all focused on the screen again.

  In the background, cars were passing, and people hurried past unaware of their image being recorded. Mid-screen, the back of the concierge could be seen as he stood facing out onto the street, equally alert for arriving taxis and passing trouble. Then Bob hurried into the frame. He paused and deliberately turned to the camera. He mouthed some words and made a little sign with his hand. Then, as the concierge closed in on him, he ran off across the pavement and continued his run directly into the flow of traffic, and he was gone.

  ‘Can we have copies of these recordings?’ said Sam. He was alert now to the polite delaying process and circumvented it abruptly by pulling two fifty-dollar bills from his wallet. He waved them. ‘I need two sets of copies, right now.’ Sight of another generous cash gratuity, spurred the security manager into instant action.

  ‘He made it out alive then,’ said John.

  ‘Yes, but where did he go to? And we still have no idea who was chasing him.’

  Sam took receipt of two USB sticks proudly bearing the hotel�
�s branding. Giveaways, he guessed, but was happy to hand each man their fifty-dollar tips in return. The payment was followed by a brief and polite exchange of formalities and then Sam found himself leading Helen and John across the reception area, heading for the exit.

  He detoured to the far end of the counter where Lucy, having composed herself again, was standing. Sam thanked her and took her hand to shake it in gratitude. Then he left, and she had a twenty-dollar note held tight in her hand, hidden from Joseph’s acquisitive gaze.

  All three stood just outside the hotel exit and looked out across the traffic in the direction that Bob had run. Sam handed John one of the USB sticks. ‘Here, you’ll need this for your file. I’ll keep the photograph for now, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s going to be useful and do keep the picture, there’s another copy in the folder. Where do you think Colonel Prentice went?’

  ‘Well, he crossed the street, we know that, and he wasn’t knocked down by a car so he must have made it to the other side. His destination was the Hilton - he could have got there by just walking along this side of the road. So, he’d changed his plan, he’d obviously been fighting before reaching the Stanley … was he still being pursued? I’m guessing, yes. As he crossed the road, his only option would have been through there.’ Sam pointed to an opening between two buildings.

  ‘What’s over there?’ said John, summoning his car and driver with a wave of his hand.

  ‘Forget the car, we’ll walk,’ said Sam.

  ‘But you know we’ve been told not to walk anywhere.’

  ‘And how will we find anything out from the back of a High Commission car? You stay in the car if you want, I’m walking.’ Sam started out into the traffic, Helen by his side. For a moment, John was undecided, and then with an exasperated grumble he signalled the car to follow and hurried after his companions.