UMTATA

“Yes, that’s right – is it a possibility?” asked Martin.

  “Yes, we can normally set that up on the outside broadcast facility, but unfortunately we only have one vehicle and President Kaunda requires it for some party political broadcast on Saturday afternoon, and that will be for the rest of the day. However, what we can do is record some footage, then show it during the sports slot the day after.”

  There was a pause as Martin tried to hide his annoyance. “OK, it is what it is, Sol. It will be great to replay on Sunday, especially if it is favourable for our boys.”

  “OK, leave it with me. See you later.”

  Martin paused by the telephone, and before he had time to think about it further the phone rang again.

  “Hello, Valeron here.”

  “Good afternoon, Martin; George Webster.”

  “George, nice to hear from you.” It wasn’t, and he grimaced.

  “I read in the Boxing News all about your show on Saturday; don’t normally read that paper, but read it at the barber’s shop, would you believe?”

  “Unusual,” replied Martin.

  “Just a quick call with reference to our man Coughlin – any news about him down there?”

  “No… er, no!” replied Martin.

  “I reckon that he is in Southern Africa somewhere; this comes from our international surveillance team who monitor calls around the world. It seems that our man has been busy contacting his bank in Jersey; we know he is in the southern hemisphere on the African continent.”

  “Well, that could be absolutely anywhere within three thousand miles.”

  “Yes, I am aware of that, but we are closing the gap. Although he is slowly becoming a second priority, he is still part of my portfolio and I want to clear the matter up.”

  “I understand that, George, and will as usual let you know if he surfaces.”

  “Thanks, Martin; speak with you soon.” George put the phone down.

  The pre-show cocktail party was scheduled to start at six in the evening. It was a cool time of day and allowed the invitees to mingle without the sun burning them. Cocktail mixers were difficult to come by in Zambia, so Martin purchased a moderate amount and had them flown in by Zambian Airways especially for the evening.

  The party was an outside promotion; the idea was to capture the romanticism of a starlit African evening, so the covers and stalls were set up on open ground.

  The show was initially set up to provide businesses with the chance to promote their products and merchandise, and local retailers to sell produce from stalls. The retailers set up in a pattern of three avenues, each connected to allow the party attendees to stroll around without going back on themselves. There was an area between the avenues that acted as a muster area, a place where people could assemble and just talk amongst themselves. The vendors sold everything from African carvings to electronics, and the bars were set up appropriately to ensure the attendees had drinks.

  Martin agreed to meet Brendan at one of the gathering spaces, where they could drink a beer and greet the visitors as they mingled. Each of them had a network of friends and acquaintances, and made full use of these as they talked and joked with them. They continued socialising with the people filtering through the avenues, but soon gravitated towards each other to have a natter and reflect on the local gossip.

  A sports commentator called Dennis Loewe soon interrupted them; he was his usual self and talked incessantly. His voice was so loud Martin wondered why he used a microphone during broadcasts. The introductions were carried out quickly; Martin recognised Loewe but not the lady so as they made eye contact he stuck out his hand to Dennis and made his own introduction, then he introduced Brendan.

  Dennis then did his part. “Please can I introduce Aileen? She is a visitor to Kitwe and asked me if I could show her around and introduce her to a few people,” explained Dennis.

  “Are you here for the agricultural show, or is it just a coincidence that you are here tonight?” Brendan asked, as he was obviously attracted to her.

  “I am in Lusaka on official business, but whilst I am in Zambia I decided to travel here to do a favour for a friend,” she explained.

  “That is very kind of you to think of your friend, especially when it requires such a detour, but we are happy that you did and we enjoy your company.” Brendan was being extremely courteous.

  Martin interjected, “So your friend is female and from Zimbabwe?” He was trying to be social and show an interest in Aileen’s travels.

  “No, no, she is actually Zambian but lives with her boyfriend in the Transkei.”

  “The Transkei?” Brendan was inquisitive.

  “Yes, it is called ‘the homelands’; a country within a country set up by the Afrikaners to house the indigenous people of South Africa – I mean the black people of South Africa.”

  “What is the capital?” asked Martin.

  “Umtata.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  Aileen went on. “Actually, her boyfriend is Ghanaian; he is an English teacher and wants to move back to Ghana, but she does not possess a passport at present, so I am here to help her get one.”

  “Do you work for a consulate or something?” Brendan asked.

  She laughed. “No, I work for Amnesty International, but can pull a few strings, I hope.”

  “That is very considerate of you, Aileen. I am impressed.”

  Aileen smiled proudly.

  “This woman’s boyfriend, Aileen – what is his name?” Martin asked.

  “His name? Oh, it is Dr Kwasi Nzema – you may have met him as he did live and work here in Kitwe.”

  Brendan was never normally lost for words, but in this instance both he and Martin were struck dumb.

  “Is there something wrong? Did you know him?” asked Aileen.

  “No – er, no,” said Brendan. “I have heard of him, but did not know him. Nevertheless, he is in good hands, and I hope that you can get what you are here for.”

  42

  A Time to Rejoice!

  Dennis Loewe was fidgety, and was soon bored with the discussion. “Anyway, my friends, we must move on; there are some people I need to see before they leave so I must get busy. It has been a pleasure.”

  “By the way, Dennis, before you go, can I extend an invitation to you and Aileen for the boxing show tomorrow night?”

  “Well, I am travelling back to Lusaka tomorrow morning, but perhaps Aileen would like to go?”

  “Would you? We would look after you,” laughed Martin.

  “I would be delighted – although I am here alone, does that matter?” She went on, “It would be great to go to an international boxing event; it is something new, and I will look forward to it.”

  “Where are you staying?” Martin asked.

  “With friends at the German Embassy; they have guest suites.”

  “Then I will have a car pick you up tomorrow, and don’t worry about company – you will sit at the ringside with someone very interesting. You will like her.”

  “Thank you, Martin, and I bid you all goodnight.”

  The two friends waited until they were out of earshot, and watched Aileen disappear from view.

  “What was that all about?” Brendan was beside himself.

  “What the hell do we do, Brendan? We need a home contact for her, wherever she lives.”

  “Do you think it best to tell Naomi now, or perhaps it will be another disappointment if things do not work out?”

  “Look, I will take the tickets down to the embassy early tomorrow with a bunch of flowers and advise Aileen that someone will pick her up at, say, ten o’clock in the morning, entertain her for most of the day and then drop and pick her up for the evening show. Unfortunately I will be busy all day Saturday so it will be impossible for me to do that, but I would certainly appreciate any help.”


  Brendan shook his head. “I need to go to the foundry in the morning.”

  “It seems that Charles is the only one of us who may be available; I hope he can do it.”

  “But he should be primed beforehand,” urged Brendan.

  Martin picked up his phone; it rang six times, and he became agitated, but a few seconds later the phone was answered.

  “Hi, Charles; Martin here. Is Naomi with you?”

  “No, she is visiting the Ghanaian community – why?”

  Martin explained the situation and told his friend that it was pure coincidence, discovering Aileen. “It looks like we have located Kwasi at last, and perhaps the children are with him?”

  “Yes, of course I will help; I am so bloody excited, I want to go and see this woman right now.” Charles seemed to be climbing down the telephone.

  “Keep calm now, and especially in the morning when you pick her up. Be at your best, and try if you can to have an intelligent conversation without getting her excited. If you do she may depart without giving us the information we need.”

  “Thanks for the lecture, but I am Irish so I know all about turning on the charm; something you English know nothing about.”

  “Thank you for that, but just remember that you are a fugitive so please do not get in the spotlight, or you may regret it.”

  “Oh, and by the way, do not say anything to Naomi; not yet anyway. We do not want further disappointment.”

  A Cautious Time

  Charles was excited, and it was difficult to suppress this when he met Naomi at his home later in the evening.

  “I will be busy helping Martin tomorrow, my dear, and will not see you until late evening.”

  “That’s fine, Charles; I intend to spend the day with Pet. She is leaving Zambia for a new life in England soon, so it will be nice to spend time with her before she goes.”

  “Why don’t you let me pick you up at, say, six and you and Pet can come to the show? If she doesn’t want to come there is a lady from the homelands who is here by herself; she wants company.”

  “I will look forward to that.”

  “OK, that’s fine. Let’s have our meal outside; the sky is clear, the stars are shining and at the moment, all is well.”

  He thought that she would certainly think the stars were shining brightly if she knew what was arranged for the next day.

  43

  The Show,

  May 1982

  It was seven o’clock in the morning and the sun was hot, with not a cloud in the sky to temper the heat. It was going to be a long day.

  Charles was up early. He shaved and showered and selected a short-sleeved striped shirt with a button-down collar. He matched this with a pair of light grey slacks and black loafers. His hair was a mess after the shower so he carefully used the hairdryer and then applied gel.

  Looking in the mirror, he looked presentable and ready for the day ahead, even if he was three hours ahead of schedule.

  Martin checked that all the participating boxers were primed and ready before he reviewed the timeline for the day; Wolfgang had prepared their breakfasts; and all were currently going through their exercise routines.

  They would then take a long brisk walk and Wolfgang would check their weights at regular intervals.

  He then went to the showground and checked that the ring was installed correctly, the ropes bound neatly, and all safety measures adhered to. After his experience of his first promotion in Zambia it was important to check that all the sponsors’ advertising boards were in the correct position and words spelt correctly.

  He anticipated that some fans would want to get to their seats up to two hours before the start of the event, it would save them queuing for drinks and snacks later when the stadium was full. The ticket collectors and stewards would need to be ready also two hours before the show was scheduled to start.

  Early in the afternoon he dropped in at the lodge where the boxers were staying to ensure that they were taking a nap. He then went back home to change into something suitable for the heat. He chose a lightweight blue jacket with long dark blue trousers, and to finish he added a colourful bow tie to complement his shirt.

  Charles's Dilemma

  At exactly ten o’clock, Charles – looking especially dapper; his left hand clutching a beautiful array of roses, his right holding car keys, tickets and a name tag – entered the German Embassy. It was a house with about fourteen rooms on the first floor and half that amount on the ground floor. The building was an annex to the main embassy in Lusaka, and used to assist expatriate mineworkers.

  “Ms Aileen, please.” He addressed the African clerk at the desk.

  “Does she expect you, sir? She is a guest staying in the annex; I will find out. Please wait here.”

  The clerk disappeared through some very high doors behind him.

  Charles suddenly had doubts. Would she be in? Had she felt intimidated by Martin and Brendan’s questions last night? He only hoped that she was still here and coming to the show.

  He waited for fifteen minutes and stopped pacing to sit on one of the luxury chairs positioned around the room. After some time he checked his watch again; it was now thirty minutes.

  Just then the clerk returned. He wore a very sober expression as he approached Charles.

  “Yes?” Charles asked.”

  “She is coming, sir, and apologises for her delay.” The clerk nodded and returned to his desk.

  After another fifteen minutes Aileen glided through the door, looking quite radiant in a flowing multi-coloured dress. Charles found her very attractive – her light brown skin suggested she had a mixed-race background, but this, he felt, enhanced her beauty. Her hair was straight and held high, with a suggestion of a small ponytail; wisps of hair were expertly clipped to hang graciously on her forehead. He wondered what exactly she did for Amnesty International.

  “It’s Charles, isn’t it?” She smiled as she held out her hand.

  “It is, my dear, and these are for you.” He handed her the flowers.

  “They are beautiful, let me put them in water.” She handed them to the clerk. “Where are we going so early?” She smiled.

  “Have you taken breakfast?”

  “Yes, but I eat little.”

  He gestured with his hand to the car. She walked beside him and looked over to him.

  “Have we met before?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am, I don’t think so.”

  “It’s just, I feel I know your face from somewhere.”

  Charles changed the subject; he was alarmed at her question. “If you have no objection we will drive around Kitwe and I will show you the places of interest. Then we’ll stop for morning tea at the lodge and, if we have time, take a short drive to a small hotel just outside of town and have lunch.”

  “That sounds most entertaining.” Aileen seemed matter-of-fact.

  “It will give you a couple of hours to freshen up afterwards before I pick you up for the show.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They started their drive and Charles, trying to be tactful, started his enquiry. “What do you do for Amnesty International?” he asked.

  “I am personal secretary to the assistant to the director general.”

  “Does that require travel as part of your remit?” he asked.

  “Occasionally I travel with my boss, and sometimes I volunteer for tasks that may require travelling, but I can only do so when he is not around.”

  “And is that what you are doing now: travelling and helping out?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  He did not want to pressure her with too many questions; nor did he know how to approach the question of children.

  Before he could think of another tack, she began her own enquiry. “What do you do here, Charles? Do you work for the mine
s?”

  “No, I am here to assist Martin and his partner Wolfgang with the promotions.”

  “Is that full-time?”

  “No, but I am a mechanic so I do some casual work around the town too, but mainly I help Martin and Wolfgang.”

  “Do you like it here? Have you travelled?” she asked inquisitively.

  “Well, I am Irish and have hiked around Europe and England, so I thought Africa would be interesting. It is.” He lied, but wanted to get back to his queries without recourse.

  They finally stopped for tea and exchanged general queries, but it soon began to feel like an inquest. At two o’clock he dropped her back at the embassy and said he would call for her at four o’clock. He was disappointed with his efforts and, unable to speak with Martin, instead phoned Brendan.

  “OK, Charles, you pick her up and I suggest Naomi sit with her at the ringside; she will have a more feminine approach. I will drive down to inform Martin, and you ask Naomi to cancel her date with Petula as we do not have a ringside seat for her.”

  Brendan was lucky to catch Martin at home; he was just leaving the house when the phone rang.

  “Hi, Martin; Brendan here. This is the plan…”

  44

  The Plan

  Naomi was not amused when Brendan and Jim informed her of the change in plan. She had expected a day’s shopping with her friend and now Pet was ill and Brendan had redirected her to the ringside to sit with a woman she had never met! She was not happy.

  Charles accompanied Aileen to her seat at about 5.30; she was shortly joined by Naomi, and both ladies were dressed nicely but suitably for the event, in trousers and loose cotton tops. It did not take long before they were chatting happily and sharing their experiences.

  It was after the first fight that Naomi mentioned that she was separated from her children, and that, although she called herself Naomi Zimba, her married name was Nzema.

  Aileen seemed confused, and turned to speak with Naomi. “This is either a total coincidence or a bizarre situation, but I am currently pursuing a passport for a lady who approached me for help, as she plans to marry a man by the name of Nzema.”