Boss Takes All

by Carl Hancock

  ‘Actually carried out with his own bare hands? Possibly none.’

  ‘But what about the word “accessory”? Our law teacher in Oundle said that was almost as bad …’

  ‘Right, Tom. And this is where we are strong.’

  Bertie was relieved. ‘Surely, Paul, not almost as bad but just as bad. Dickens was being too polite. The law is not an ass but an arsehole. All right, Rafaella?’

  ‘Bertie, still too polite! And, Alex, don’t look so surprised. I know lots of juicy Italian words!’

  ‘So why was he pointing a rifle at me from twenty metres the night that Londiani was blown up?’

  ‘Yes, Tom. And what was he doing out on the farm at two o’clock in the morning with that nutcase of a son? Waiting for a bus?’

  ‘Alfredo Rossi, alias Alfred Ross, we all remember him. Why do we have a photograph of him paying a visit to Rubai’s secret farm outside Nairobi?’

  ‘Barnie, this is where you come in.’

  ‘Sure. Most of you know that I am Paul’s brother, another lawyer. My practice is in Boston. I think the ruthless Mister Rossi could be a very expensive weakness in Rubai’s defence. I have associates in several New York law firms and friends in the NYPD. Mister Rossi has a thick file with the FBI. Normal families run stores or go on the subway early in the morning to work for accountants or construction companies. The Rossi family of Brooklyn have an unusual line of business. They kill people to order. I’ll spare you the details on his work in Kenya, but we are close, very close to making a deal on evidence from Rossi that will be acceptable in a court here. We have him on toast or over a barrel, take you pick!’

  Paul had warning.

  ‘There are fifteen of us in this room. Doesn’t sound a lot. But, Maria, remember Papa’s favourite Bible story?’

  Maria smiled. ‘Well, wouldn’t that be the one where little David gives that philistine Goliath a nasty headache with a couple of pebbles?’

  Barnie took up the story.

  ‘And the moral, children, is, shall I put it this way, if a little guy wants to whip a big guy, he must have surprise up his sleeve and move quicker than an angry cheetah!’

  While everyone pondered the implications of Mzee Miller’s teaching to his children, Sonya shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

  ‘You know, perhaps I shouldn’t have stayed on for the meeting. I think I’m inhibiting you.’

  ‘You mean by not talking about Simon?’

  ‘Maria, you are the most sensitive person I’ve ever met. You understand that my thoughts on Simon never stop, like some endless painful background music.’

  Paul took over in his compassionate way.

  ‘Sonya, you are half right when you talk about some of us holding back. Simon is never far from my heart. We all see the bloodstained hand of Rubai in this. But … Hosea will explain better.’

  ‘Madam Sonya.’

  ‘Just Sonya, please.’

  ‘I’m sorry. This word, “accessory”. We try very hard to find a link to tie in Rubai. Patrick Uchome, he was Rubai’s Kenya number one man.’

  ‘The one killed with his wife on the road by the Italian chapel?’

  ‘He was in charge of the kidnap. His boys drove Simon up to Kericho, expecting to … I’m so sorry to be so cruel, harsh, to … so sorry for the tears. They expected to finish their work and return to Nairobi that evening. They were angry when Uchome said that the boss wasn’t ready.’

  ‘But, Hosea, how do you know all this?’

  Hosea forced himself on. ‘Two of them did return to the city, without Simon. They drew lots. Simon was kept in a hut outside the town. Two local idiots saw a big payday for helping out. Two days later at noon, Uchome sent word …’

  Maura moved to Sonya, knelt down and burst into tears.

  ‘Sonya, it was just before twelve when we left the Rubai house. If I hadn’t forced you to go to that place, perhaps Simon …’

  There were no tears from Sonya. When she spoke her tone was calm and businesslike.

  ‘No, Maura. There would be no mercy there. But where are these men now? They were not at the inquest. Why?’

  Paul took over again. ‘Sonya, often criminals refuse to speak. It can be like signing their own death warrants. Some very angry Kericho cops, shall we say, persuaded them to tell their story. Almost killed them. On advice from some anonymous CID man on Nairobi Hill, they were kept in custody. They were nursed over the worst of their injuries by two Sisters of Mercy. That took weeks. Now they are holed up in an old tea store on one of the estates and under constant watch. Daniel was up to see them last week.’

  ‘Sonya, they won’t be the best of witnesses if we manage to get them to court. Rubai’s money might get someone to let him know who they are and where they are.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  ell me, Albert, Walter, what do you really think of me?’

  Albert Latani and Walter Wambui were bewildered and frightened. They exchanged frowns, each hoping that the other would take the first bite at an answer. Just because they were part of the group of twelve that Boss Man Abel had gathered around him as sounding boards and yes men, it did not mean that they were bosom pals and permanent members of the inner sanctum. Why had he invited them to lunch at Muthaiga for the very first time and afterwards closeted them in a private room for a ‘chat about how things are going in your neck of the woods’?

  ‘What kind of a question is that, Abel?’

  ‘Well, Albert, with the three of us here on neutral ground, I thought we could be more open than when the whole thirteen of us get together at my place. If friends can’t be frank … Look, I’m a Kalenjin boy and you are a Luo, both successful in our own ways, but you know how this tribal thing is in our blood. And, Walter, from good Kikuyu stock, how long you been the MP for Nakuru North?’

  ‘Twenty years and hoping for more, Abel.’ Walter chuckled. His fears were easing, but he was well aware of how unpredictable Abel was. And it would not be a wise move to upset the man who would soon be the president.

  ‘And you see how it is. With me in the big job, I have to feel sure of my people. And I want to be frank with you. One or two little things have cropped up. I hate to admit it, but there are times when I can be just somewhat remote from the … the pulse of the nation.’

  Abel was trying to prompt a reply, but his solemn companions remained tight-lipped. Neither of them was comfortable. The Rubai spotlight was probing, testing. The real agenda of the Big Man was never easy to work out. After a suitably unnerving lapse of time, Abel shifted slightly in his chair until his focus was firmly fixed on Albert, the very rich Luo businessman.

  ‘Albert, a few weeks ago now, there was a most unfortunate incident involving a Luo medical man.’

  The polite terminology briefly deceived Albert: ‘unfortunate incident’ and ‘medical man’?

  ‘Oh, you mean the cowardly murder of one of the finest, most caring doctors this country has ever had.’

  Abel, stung by the unexpected aggression in Albert’s tone continued, unruffled.

  ‘It’s true then that Luo people are deeply upset?’

  ‘Abel, why all this soft language? Outrage, anger, fury. Take your pick. After all this time the cops keep churning out those limp statements: “We think we are getting close to a probable suspect”, and “No, no, the trail has definitely gone cold”. Not Luo cops. But they are as powerless as the rest of us. God help the man behind this when we find him.’

  ‘I’m with you on this, of course, but it disturbs me to think that this could become a tribal matter. But thank you for helping me feel the pulse on this one. Now, Walter …’

  ‘Now, Walter’! Abel wanted to pass on to ‘item two’ on the agenda. Albert wanted to scream out his disgust at having this crime against the nation passed over so glibly. He held himself in check and even managed an ironic smile when he recited in his head the Kenyan motto of self-preservation: ‘Discretion is the better part of cowardice’.

  ‘Walter, I have
a more specific problem that you could help me with. How well do you know your fellow Nakuru MP?’

  ‘You mean Simon?’ It was Walter’s turn to have his mind start to spin and flutter in confusion.

  ‘Who else? Tell me, do you think we can trust him as a loyal member of the party?’

  Sharp-eyed Abel noted with interest Walter’s slight hesitation.

  ‘Abel, Simon Nyache is our oldest, longest serving MP and an honourable man.’

  ‘Yes, I studied Julius Caesar at school, too. Brutus, wasn’t he the honourable man? Just assassinated the boss man! What if I told you that our Simon has been having meetings with members of the new joke party.’

  ‘You mean Serena, Miller, Komar, that mob?’

  ‘Very sharp, Walter. A couple of days ago, I had him here. I wanted him to show my boy, Reuben, ‘round Nakuru South before the election, just in case they vote him in. I swear the old fellow wet his pants! Scared out of his wits. I pressed a little. Quite reasonable, I think. I said I’d make the arrangements and let him know. Got a phone call yesterday. “Can the boy, notice not Reuben, can the boy meet me at Gilgil police station. I want to show him …”’

  ‘Around the mental hospital next door. Abel, he’s always asking people that. The place is his passion. Every budget time he asks the government for money to improve the place.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s thinking of joining up himself. And, while I’m on the topic of hospitals, what do you know of the idea to build a new hospital in Naivasha?’

  ‘Never heard him say a word about that.’

  ‘You’ve heard of the Kamau girl? Come into money and she’s got the mad idea that she can walk in and do what she likes.’

  ‘She’s a McCall now. Married on the weekend. Big affair, so I’m told.’

  ‘Tried to smuggle in a couple of aliens - whites, of course. What’s going on up there, Walter?

  Mention of the wedding brought instant and unexpected relief for Abel’s guests. The inquisitor suddenly lost his edge and his interest.

  ‘Well, thanks for coming. Hope you enjoyed the lunch. When you’re in the car park ask my driver, Obi, to come in. Got some things for him to carry.’

  * * *

  ‘What did you think of all that, Walter?’

  Albert was giving his lunch companion a lift into the city.

  ‘Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I was glad I wasn’t the only one invited. When I get the call from Abel, I think about checking my will.’

  ‘He is so unpredictable. He works on it, to keep us guessing.’ Caught in a queue of traffic, Albert cleared his throat. Walter had noticed several times before that this trick of the nerves usually meant that Albert was weighing up an idea in his mind, wondering whether or not to bring it out. Albert began again. ‘Confidentially, I got the feeling that the great man is uneasy about something. I mean why did he need to talk with us at all? Is he looking for reassurance?’

  ‘Same here. I think it’s that Kamau girl. Does that sound crazy to you?’

  ‘Not a bit. Stunning looks, great voice. My girls are always singing her songs. Everyone seems to love her.’

  ‘They say Abel blames her for the death of Julius. Lucky escape for her, I’d say. And Simon tells me that with her as his wife, Farmer McCall could take his place as the man for Nakuru South.’

  ‘Walter, a lot of Luo think that our Doctor Simon … Did you hear him, just now? “Unfortunate accident”. I don’t want to spell it out. You know the rumours.’

  ‘And Rebecca McCall is a great friend of Sonya Mboya. You were at the funeral.’

  ‘Big, big mistake, Abel.’

  ‘Albert, you used the word “uneasy”. I’m beginning to see that it’s more than that. The great Abel is becoming desperate.’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  im Sawyer left the three Welsh craftsmen in charge for an hour. His own boys would enjoy that - plenty of work and plenty of fun. The four ‘aliens’ were glad to stay on site until the work on Londiani was complete. He and the ‘almost’ Doctor Iolo were excited as they skipped down the stairs on their way to the kitchen.

  The other four were already standing around the large breakfast table, waiting for them before they began the meeting-cum-consultation. A big moment had arrived in the drive to build the new Naivasha hospital. Peter Bellengeri helped Debbie Miller to lift her large leather document holder onto the table.

  ‘Open it up, Rebecca. You’re the boss here, you know.’

  ‘I’m going to need some help. My fingers are trembling.’ But the clasp was easy and the task soon done. Rebecca stooped to take a sidelong look into a holder that was still flat on the table. ‘Debbie, so many sheets of paper, or should I say …?’

  ‘Sheets will do fine. Don’t forget these are plans for a hospital. I’ve done two sets so you can have a choice.’

  Peter and Iolo slid the documents out and Debbie began to spread them on the table in order. Rebecca had only ever seen one set of architect’s plans and those were for Long House, and she barely understood the lines and figures on those. She shook her head in disbelief at the sight of these beautiful, complicated works of art.

  ‘But how could one person …?’

  ‘Ah, but it was not just me. I’ll explain. When I got back to school, I couldn’t wait to start on the drawings. When my friends found out what I was doing, they were as excited as I am about this, er, work. Bad word but, you know. In the end there were enough plans for ten hospitals. “My God, this for an actual place in Africa!” By the way, I stored away all the other plans.’

  Debbie focused on her first and largest sheet, a general impression on what the hospital would look like when it was built.

  ‘This is number one plan, my favourite. What do you think, Rebecca?’

  ‘Unbelievable!’ The emotion showed through in the tremble of her voice and the moistness of her eyes. ‘I think it will be the most beautiful building in the whole country!’

  ‘You can add Wales to that list.’ Iolo was wide-eyed and already wondering if he could persuade this brilliant young woman to come to Llanelli where plans were being made for a new hospital.

  Jim Sawyer had been a builder all his life. When they started to look at details in the plans, he was very impressed.

  ‘You’re right, Rebecca. And I can tell straight away that whatever contractor is lucky enough to work from these plans will have the best experience of his life. Everything is so sharp and clear.’

  The discussion around the table became animated and technical. Sonya pored over the drawings of the large maternity wing. She wept for the joy of seeing them and for the sadness that Simon was not with her to share what would have been a fulfillment of his dream.

  ‘Almost’ Doctor Iolo was looking at measurements and the facilities planned for staff as well as patients. His heart sank a little when be began to think about the cost of materials, construction and the expense of running the place. Would there be, could there be enough money for all this?

  Rebecca moved away from the table to sit alone with her own tumble of thoughts. She wished Papa could have been with her to calm her, give her a sense of proportion. But she knew where he would begin. She closed her eyes in silent prayer and meditation.

  As usual, when she longed for her prayer to be totally focused, she could not shut out the interruptions.

  ‘Rebecca, don’t forget that the Father knows our needs better than we do, so I reckon that listening is better than talking. And always stay relaxed.’

  Relaxed? For her trying to pray soon saw her mind turned into a battleground. Scenes and ideas flashed in and out of her mind like lightning strikes.

  A married woman has new responsibilities. Three days a wife and she saw the possibilities of divided loyalties up ahead.

  Such a wonderful building would cost so much money. Sooner rather than later she would have to confess that her dream was too big. The thrill of a dream fulfilled would turn into the drudgery of failure. She would let so many
people down.

  Cold thoughts chilled her imagination. Into her fevered brain stepped Julius Rubai, Reuben Rubai and, towering above them like a wicked, leering genie, their ruthless, arrogant father. She had heard the plans to bring him down. Their hopes were high, but even Paul and Daniel warned that risks were higher.

  There, just across the room, the enthusiastic chatter continued. The plans were as real as ever. So why were the tears of despair wetting her cheeks?

  A single low sob drew Sonya’s attention. She, quickly followed by Debbie, hurried to her side. Within seconds the three women were stepping down from the veranda and striding, arms linked, slowly, so slowly across the spring grass of the plain. For Rebecca the gold of the morning had turned to dross. The cool breeze and the presence close by of a hundred familiar and much loved sights failed to revive her spirits. Sonya and Debbie were shocked by the sudden turn-around but knew that the way out for Rebecca and themselves would involve patient waiting. At last, Rebecca, calmer now, was able to share her fears.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I have built up so many hopes, but now, coming close to the real mountain, I see that I cannot climb. Mama was right to call me the dreamer of the family.’

  ‘But, Rebecca, you are not just close to your mountain, but you are not far from the summit.’

  ‘Sonya, I am overreaching. Such a building will cost —’

  Debbie broke in. ‘Ah, I think I can help with that one. I wasn’t intending to speak about it until after checking out the plans. Jim has already mentioned the next stage. The word is “costing”.’

  ‘I understand that.’

  ‘Yes, and this building is not going to fail for want of dollars and shillings. I can promise you that, hand on my heart!’

  ‘So you know how much it will cost.’

  ‘No one does yet, Rebecca. Listen. Boston is a rich city. In the university we have a campus radio, run by students. My friend, Mimi Adams, broadcasts a program twice a week, called “Science in action”. She knows all about you and the work you want to do here. Three weeks ago, she invited me on the show. We played part of a concert recorded in the Flamingo - you, Mary and Toni’s boys. I gave background information. One of the Boston stations picked it up and rebroadcast the whole bit.’