Cashback

by Duncan James

  ***

  They travelled to Nairobi by the same route they took the first time - to Zurich by train, and then, after an overnight stop, a direct flight early the next morning. They arrived on time, early in the evening, and went straight to the New Stanley Hotel, where they had first met Will Bartlett and Bwonqa Mbele, and where they had arranged to meet them again, for dinner. It was a happy reunion, although Will was obviously worried by the turn of events in Harare.

  "I've been in touch with your chum at the Embassy quite a lot," said Will, "although I wouldn't want too many people to know about it."

  "What's going on, then?" asked Marian. "We've seen nothing in the papers."

  "Neither have the people who live in Harare," replied Will. "The State controls the media, so The Herald only prints what the Government wants it to print. But there's a lot of anxiety about the place, and some of the rumours that are flying around are beginning to cause rumblings of unrest."

  "It really could turn nasty at any time," added Bonkers. "I've been working, part time and just for something to do, at the Cafe Afrique in the Cresta Oasis Hotel, so I pick up plenty of gossip, and most people are worried about the immediate future."

  "Everyone seems to have heard about the top brass losing their money in some mysterious way," said Will, "in spite of there being nothing official."

  "And everyone's worried about what they are going to do about it," added Bonkers, "and whether their own money is safe."

  Robin knew that it was, so far as his activities were concerned, but said nothing.

  "According to what I can gather," said Will, "the President is thrashing around all over the place, trying to blame everyone in sight, ?."

  "And some who aren't," interrupted Bonkers, "like the UK Government."

  "? quite," said Will. "And he's particularly keen to get his cash back, since he's having his own new palatial residence built ready for his retirement, and can't pay the bills. I don't think even he would openly take the cash from the Treasury to build it."

  "But he's obviously a bit jumpy, and has doubled the guard on Chancellor Avenue, where his official residence is. You can't get near the place now, and the guards have orders to shoot first and ask questions afterwards," said Bonkers.

  "I think everyone's a bit jumpy, to be honest," said Will. "But let's talk about something more pleasant, like how long you're going to be staying here, and what we're going to do."

  "Well, I'm afraid we can't stay more than a couple of days," replied Robin, "but I particularly wanted to see you both, as I've got some good news. And I also need to do a bit of business with Justice for Farmers."

  "I've arranged for Wilf de Burgh to meet you here at about 10.30 tomorrow morning, if that's OK," said Will. "But what's the good news? We could certainly do with some."

  "Well, let me tell you in the lounge, over a brandy or something," said Robin, as they finished their meal. "But meeting de Burgh as you've arranged will be perfect - thanks for fixing that for me."

  When they were settled in comfortable chairs round the coffee table, Robin said, "My meeting with de Burgh tomorrow will affect both of you, and all the other members of his organisation. I've managed to set up a fund in Switzerland that will soon start paying a lump sum - a sort of compensation payment - to every member, and then a regular pension-type payment from an annuity that has been opened. The object of my meeting tomorrow will be to hand over future responsibility for the fund to Justice for Farmers, although the whole thing will continue to be run by the Swiss bank. But I've made special arrangements for you two, and for your father, Will, and wanted to tell you about them personally, since they are rather more generous than anyone else's."

  Bonkers slumped back in his armchair, a look of disbelief on his face.

  "But why treat us any differently from the others?" asked Will, sitting forward.

  "Because if it wasn't for you two," replied Marian, "Robin would never have started out on this venture. And anyway, you're special friends, so why not?"

  Robin briefly outlined the settlement he had arranged, and then Will, too, slumped back into his chair.

  "I don't believe it," he breathed.

  "It's a fortune," whispered Bonkers.

  "And an income for life," said Will. He frowned.

  "I must break the news to my father," he said. "This will all be a bit of a shock to Mum and Dad, and I'd rather break it to them gently and personally, than they hear about it from anyone else first."

  "I thought you might want to," said Robin. "That's exactly why we wanted to see you two again in a hurry."

  "You'll be hearing officially soon," said Marian.

  "How," asked Will Bartlett.

  "Wilf de Burgh will be telling everyone else."

  "When?"

  "As soon as he can get word to them, I imagine," replied Robin. "The bank will start making payments at the beginning of next week, although de Burgh doesn't know that yet. I have papers for him to sign tomorrow."

  "I think I'll fly down then, rather than ring Stellenbosch," said Will. "There's time. Why don't you come, Bonkers? You've never been."

  "I suppose I could, now," replied the young Mbele, stunned.

  "I just wish you two could come down as well," pleaded Will. "Is there absolutely no chance?"

  "None, I'm afraid," said Robin. "We have important work to do back in Oxford. I have a business to run, you know, and a living to earn!"

  "Don't tell me you haven't set yourselves up for a comfortable future as well," said Will.

  "We honestly haven't touched a penny for ourselves," replied Marian. "That wasn't the object of the exercise."

  "I believe you," said Bonkers. "You're far too honest for that."

  "I agree, and I apologise," said a shamefaced Will Bartlett. "I just can't quite come to terms with all that's happened at the moment. But I do wish you could visit my parents with us."

  "We will one day, if you want," added Marian. "We have promised ourselves another holiday here sometime."

  "I can't think how you've managed to do what you have done," said Will Bartlett. "But this will help so many people and do so much good, it is hard to begin to explain."

  "I'm glad," replied Robin. "That's why I did it, although I wasn't at all sure I could achieve all that I wanted."

  "I always said you were a genius with computers," said Bonkers.

  "I feel guilty that nobody will be able to thank you for what you've done," said Will.

  "Except us," said Bonkers. "And I don't know what to say."

  "Neither do I," admitted Will. "But thanks anyway, from the depths of our heart. I can't tell you what this will mean to my old man and my mother. They've suffered so much in recent years, but now they really will be able to build a good new life for themselves."

  "So will a lot of others, I suppose," said Bonkers, thoughtfully. "I wonder if there's any chance of getting the old farm back?"

  "I wouldn't even bother trying," said Will. "From what we saw of it when we all went, it's beyond repair now."

  "There's suddenly so much to think about," said Bonkers. "We can actually start making sensible plans at last."

  "Don't rush into anything," advised Marian. "Take your time to work out what you want to do with your lives, that's what I should do."

  Will stretched. "Very wise, young lady! All this is going to take time to sink in. Meanwhile, let me buy you another drink."

  They were still sitting chatting animatedly about the future, when Will's mobile phone went.

  "Damn!" he said, "I thought I'd switched that off. Excuse me a minute."

  He bellowed, "hang on" into the phone, and dashed for the street.

  When he came back, he was frowning.

  "It's really going to be one of those days," he announced. "You'll never guess what that damn-fool head of state of ours has done now."

  "Tell us," said Bonkers.

  Will sat down and leant forward.

  "According to one of my contacts, who's just
phoned," said Will, "the man's only taken millions of dollars from the Treasury and transferred them into his personal bank account, that's all. Not just what he's lost either, apparently, but much more besides."

  "We never thought he'd have the gall to do that, did we?" stated Bonkers.

  "Well, he's done it," confirmed Will. "And we can prove it."

  "How?" asked Marian, thinking of their own situation.

  "Because my contact has managed to get hold of copies of the paperwork, including the man's personal bank statement," announced Will. "The big problem is that, now he's got it, he doesn't know what the hell to do with it. He's shit-scared of getting caught with it."

  "So would I be," agreed Bonkers.

  He and Will looked at Robin.

  "Don't look at me!" said Robin. "I haven't a clue what to suggest, except perhaps flushing the papers down the loo."

  "But we should be able to use evidence like that in some way," protested Will Bartlett.

  "To achieve what?" asked Marian.

  "Pass," sighed Will.

  "If we had a free press," said Bonkers, "we could sell it to the media, and let them sort it."

  "Most of the foreign correspondents have been chucked out, too, including the BBC," said Will Bartlett.

  "We could always give it to the BBC when we get to South Africa - we're going in a day or so," Bonkers reminded him.

  "I'm not touching those documents, thanks," said Will. "Can you imagine what would happen if we were caught with them at the airport on the way out?"

  They sat in silence for a minute.

  "What about Charles Bowman?" suggested Robin. "He might know what to do."

  "Brilliant!" said Will. "Your Defence Attache chum is just the bloke to handle this. Why didn't I think of that?"

  "I should ring him from the call box over there," joked Marian. "Then everyone will know."

  "There's no need for that," said Will, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I have a special secure satellite phone link direct to him." He waved his mobile towards them. "He set it up for me the first time we met, and said I was to use it any time I liked. Now's the time."

  Will took his phone, and headed for the street again.?

  17. A GOVERNMENT IN CRISIS

  Group Captain Charles Bowman was in bed and asleep when his mobile phone rang. He groped for it on the bedside table, knowing that it had to be something more than a routine call. He looked at the illuminated display panel on the phone and saw it was Will Bartlett. Now he knew it was important.

  "Hello, Will," he said. "What's the problem?"

  "Sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but I thought I should, rather than wait until the morning," explained Will.

  "Sounds important," said Bowman.

  "Are you quite sure this phone is totally secure?" asked Will.

  "Guaranteed," confirmed Bowman. "Where are you calling from?"

  "I'm in Nairobi, - Kimathi Street, outside the New Stanley. I don't think I can be overheard."

  "Should be OK then. What's the problem?" Charles Bowman asked again.

  "My contacts have got hold of some documents, and they don't know what to do with them now they've got them," explained Will. "The documents are red hot, and if my chum who's got them gets caught with them, he's had it. We thought you might know what to do."

  "Who's 'we'?" asked the attache.

  "Your friend Robin Hood suggested it," replied Will. "He's staying here for a couple of days with Marian."

  "What sort of documents have you got hold of, then?" asked Bowman.

  "The President's been raiding the till again, to recoup what he's 'lost'. We have copies of the transfer documents from the Reserve Bank showing the payment, and a copy of the man's account showing the deposit."

  Charles Bowman sat up in bed. Christ Almighty, he thought.

  "No question about them being genuine, is there?"

  "None at all. They're both rubber-stamped as authentic copies."

  "How much money are we talking about?" he asked.

  "He's apparently taken more than he lost," replied Will. "Much more."

  "And the documents you have show that, do they?"

  "Everything," replied Will. "Dates, amounts, account details, everything."

  "Where are these papers you have?"

  "They're in Harare," replied Will. "We could hand them over to the opposition, or we could get them to the media, perhaps in SA, but we don't know what to do for the best. We simply want to get rid of them, that's all, but thought they might be useful to someone, rather than just flush them down the loo."

  "You're quite right," said Bowman. "I need time to think about this, but I can understand you wanting to get rid of them. They're hot property, all right."

  "If my bloke gets caught with them, he a goner for sure, and it won't be a quick end, either," said Will. "Do you want them?"

  "Not bloody likely, Will!" replied Charles Bowman. "They would be political dynamite, and the UK's being blamed for all sorts of things already."

  "I need some advice," pleaded Will Bartlett.

  "So do I," said the attache. "I shall have to consult colleagues, and come back to you, but I promise to be as quick as possible. Whatever you do, don't switch off your phone."

  Bowman rang off, and jumped out of bed.

  "Is there a flap on?" asked Sally, sleepily.

  "Not yet," replied Charles, "but it looks as if there soon will be. And I've been asked for advice. Black coffee is what I need. Do you want one?"

  She didn't. While Bowman waited for the kettle to boil, he got the Ambassador on the secure phone, and briefed him about what Will had told him.

  He never minded bothering the Ambassador, who was a true diplomat of the old school, and professional to the core. He immediately agreed that this was not something for a local decision, and that it was probably also something the UK Government should avoid being seen to be involved in, but he also acknowledged that the papers were too good to waste. The Ambassador rang the duty officer on the Africa desk in Whitehall, who rang one of the junior Ministers, who rang the Foreign Secretary, who rang the Ambassador. They were on Christian name terms, which always helped at a time like this, especially as they had both been disturbed from a good night's sleep.

  "My view, quite positively, is that HM Government should not get involved in any way," pronounced the Foreign Secretary. "At least, no more than we are already," he added. "And I would not be inclined to suggest that the papers are given to the news media, either, who would undoubtedly do nothing more than make mischief with them, which would then get out of control. That is not to say that the media should not eventually be briefed, but not by us. Other parties need to decide how to handle this Presidential pillaging, of which there is documentary evidence, and which will undoubtedly be of the greatest possible embarrassment to the ruling party when made public. With millions nearing starvation and hospitals unable to afford drugs, the opposition will be outraged when they get to hear of it. My advice therefore is, if you agree, that the main opposition party should be handed the documentary evidence of this appalling act, and be left to make of it what they will, when they judge the timing to be right. Can the documents be passed to the opposition leadership without the UK becoming involved?"

  "Yes, I believe they can," replied the Ambassador. "My understanding is that our informant is a Zimbabwean, and that it is one of his fellow countrymen who is at present holding the papers. Having got them, he is naturally keen to be shot of them as soon as possible."

  "I can certainly understand that," replied the Foreign Secretary. "I take it we have secure communications with our informant?"

  "Very secure," replied the Ambassador.

  "Good. Since we are not involved, therefore, except in an advisory capacity, I suggest we advise that the papers should be passed as a matter of urgency to the opposition leadership, by which I mean the man at top, whatever his name is - it escapes me at present - and not to some underling," instructed the Forei
gn Secretary.

  "I agree," said our man in Harare. "I'll see to it straight away."

  "Let me know, if you will, when the opposition has been briefed, and I will inform the Prime Minister tomorrow. I ought to brief him about the banking scandal unfolding out there, anyway, so this will give me a chance to do so, since both events are obviously linked. I would also welcome your assessment at some time of what might happen next."

  The Ambassador rang his Defence Attache, who thought about ringing Paul Bridges at the Cabinet Office, at least to warn him that the PM was soon going to be briefed, but decided to ring Will Bartlett first. Will immediately rang his contact, who had the documents, who in turn decided not to ring his pal who worked for the leader of the opposition until the morning - which it nearly was, anyway.

  The leader of the main opposition party decided that he would like to see the documents. In fact, he would definitely like to see them, and soon. Indeed, the sooner the better. One of his trusted aides was sent to collect them, and he, since he was early for his planned rendezvous, decided to stop for a coffee in a crowded cafe near the busy Rezende Street bus terminal. The man opposite him at the table looked at his watch, finished his now-cold tea, folded his copy of The Herald, and walked towards the street.

  "Your paper!" the aide called after him, holding it up.

  "Keep it," replied the man. "As usual, there's nothing in it worth reading."

  The aide nodded his thanks, and scanned the front page. He was right, he thought, taking a swig of his coffee. Nothing in it worth reading. Except that this edition was different. He left the cafe with the newspaper tucked under his arm, and the two documents safely stapled to an inside page.

  The man rang Will, who rang Charles Bowman, who walked along the corridor of the embassy to see the Ambassador, who rang the Foreign Secretary, to report that the documents were now safely in the hands of the main opposition party's leader.

  "What happens now, do you think?" asked the Foreign Secretary.

  "I would guess that the shadow cabinet will get together urgently, and then the President will be challenged about the cash transfer, probably privately rather than in public at this stage," replied the Ambassador.

  "And no doubt the President will allege they are forgeries, and blame us, claiming it to be another attempt on the part of the British Government to de-stabilise his regime," forecast the Foreign Secretary.

  "I'm sure you're right," agreed his representative in Zimbabwe. "But what he will actually do is anybody's guess - probably hang on to the money and hope for the best. The documents certainly appear not to be forgeries, though. I am told they have a Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe rubber stamp on them, certifying that they are authentic copies of original documents, or some such phrase, and the rubber stamps have been initialled."

  "Whoever initialled the copies will be for the high-jump if ever he is found out, but I suppose I'd better brief the PM later, in case we get another public blasting from the head of state," sighed the Foreign Secretary. "Keep me informed, there's a good chap."

  Group Captain Charles Bowman decided it was high time he had another word with Paul Bridges at the Cabinet Office.