Elephant Dropping (9781301895199)

by Trzebinski, Bruce

  ‘Yes - that’s what I have been trying to tell you.’

  Lucy got up, and climbed into Brian’s lap.

  ‘Listen I don’t think this is a good idea.’ his voice thickened with desire as her towel fell down revealing a pair of perfect breasts.

  ‘Birin, your ideas no good, you listen to Lucy ideas now.’

  SIXTEEN

  Patel woke up late after his long drive. Although annoyed at Azizza’s subterfuge over the password, he had given it plenty of thought on the trip from Dar-es-Salaam. Adapting his plans accordingly, he made phone calls and set up appointments as he ate breakfast.

  For the next phase of his plan, he had chosen Adelphi Finance, a little known corporate bank in Mombasa. He opened a joint foreign exchange account in N.J. Shah’s name and Karl Shoit using the Danish NGO certificate. Patel explained that Karl was away in the field and would be in shortly to introduce himself. In the meantime, N.J. Shah would be the only signatory on the account. The manager saw no problem with this arrangement after Patel told him the transfer would be made that afternoon.

  Back on the street, he rang Azizza. ‘My dear did you miss me?’

  ‘In your dreams,’ she snorted. ‘Where are you and what wicked plans are you up to now?’

  ‘Oh this and that,’ he replied with a giggle. ‘I’m in Mombasa. Listen do you have a pen on you?’

  ‘Yes, what is it?’

  ‘Write this down,’ he gave her details of the new bank account. ‘Now I want you to transfer five hundred thousand dollars from our account to this account in the name of N.J. Shah. Have you got that? And I want it done this afternoon.’

  ‘What? And who is N.J. Shah,’ she asked alarmed.

  ‘He is my new partner,’ Patel answered smoothly, ‘and he won’t be making up passwords without telling me.’

  ‘Don’t you want to discuss this; it’s a large amount of money?’

  ‘No discussion needed my dear seeing as you took it upon yourself to deny me access to our account, you can do what you want with your money, but starting today I want mine in this new account,’ he said with finality.

  ‘Ok Boss,’ she replied sarcastically, ‘but you will have to accept the bank’s exchange rate.’

  ‘No problem. I will be in Malindi later. Goodbye my sweet.’ Next he called Kamau, the phone rang unanswered. He bought a newspaper from a passing vendor to check the foreign exchange rates, when a small headline on the back page stopped him in his tracks. “Chief Immigration officer mysteriously missing.”Patel held his breath as he read the sparse details. Uncharacteristically, Kamau had not come home last night, any news of the missing official to be reported to the nearest police station.

  ‘Fuck fuck,’ he swore and immediately rang Azizza.

  ‘What, can’t stay away?’ she drawled.

  ‘Have you read today’s paper?’

  ‘No not yet, what’s up?’

  ‘Kamau is reported missing - you did transfer him that money?’ There was unusual panic in Patel’s voice.

  ‘Yes, yes of course.’

  ‘Oh man!’ He swore and without explanation hung up. He felt very vulnerable and exposed on the street. He went into a nearby restaurant, distractedly ordering tea and reading the article as though the words would reveal more than they did. His phone rang startling him; he did not recognise the number. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Is that Patel?’A familiar voice asked.

  ‘Yes who is that?’

  ‘This is Detective Mugo from the Malindi police station.’

  ‘Ahhh yes, what can I do for you Mugo?’

  ‘Yes Patel sir, I thought I should tell you something.’

  ‘Go ahead detective.’

  ‘There are some policemen from Nairobi here looking for you.’

  ‘Looking for me, do you know why?’

  ‘I think it has to do with that mzungu Nicholls, because they came to get a picture of him that was e-mailed from Nairobi.’

  ‘I see,’ Patel said, thinking furiously. ‘Did you tell them anything, do they know what I look like?’

  ‘No. They did not speak to me, only to Inspector Fimbo.’

  ‘Do you know what unit, C.I.D., Special Branch?’

  ‘They are from a new unit, Counter Terrorism.’

  ‘What?’ Patel squeaked. ‘Any names? How many are they?’

  ‘Yes they are two. One is called Cyrus sir.’

  ‘Ok Mugo, thanks for informing me and let me know if you find out any more please, ok?’

  ‘Yes sir, are you in Malindi?’

  Patel ignored him and hung up badly shaken; he sat in stunned silence. Counter terrorism? Surely Nicholls was dead - what would they need his picture for - and now Kamau was missing, had he told someone about the contract? What if they picked up Azizza? Her bloody password will prevent me from getting my money. He must react immediately.

  He took a chance and rang the mercurial Fimbo. ‘Hello, it’s me Patel,’ he announced.

  ‘Oh, oh muhindi, what have you been doing?’ Fimbo asked.

  ‘Sir, I need to talk to you urgently about a private matter. Is now a good time?’ Patel asked.

  ‘You call me in ten minutes, and have your checki book ready,’ Fimbo warned, laughing as he hung up.

  Patel sat nervously, fiddling with his pen. The e-mail photo of Nicholl’s could simply be a follow up because he was missing, a police APB. Blast Kamau, not only did it appear he botched the hit, but somehow the police now had Patel’s name. An idea came to him as he sat there. He reached for his phone and called Azizza.

  ‘What’s the story now?’ She demanded.

  ‘Can you find out what that new manager’s name and number is at my old factory, the one from India? He has only been here three days and I have not met him yet.’

  ‘Yes why, what has this got to do with anything?’

  ‘Just get me his number, please, it’s really urgent.’

  ‘Ok,’ said Azizza, puzzled by Patel’s anxiety. He seldom uses the word please for anything, what could he be up to?

  Patel rang Fimbo again.

  ‘muhindi! What can I do for you or what can you do for me?’

  ‘I was just thinking an important man like you, should be driving a landcruiser like mine.’ Patel offered.

  ‘This is very true my friend, but you know the Kenya government is not so generous. They spend all the money looking for terrorists these days.’

  ‘Yes this is what I have heard,’ Patel replied smoothly.

  ‘Even in Malindi right now, they are hunting a terrorist who owns a plastics factory. You know where to find him?’

  ‘I see, well I would have to make enquiries. Do these searchers know what the terrorist looks like?’

  ‘Hmmm no, but, I think I can help them,’ Fimbo cackled.

  ‘Perhaps your memory could be refreshed?’

  ‘Yes perhaps it could, maybe you could call me in half an hour to refresh me, heh?’

  ‘Yes ok. Thank you,’ Patel said and hung up, at least he had a temporary reprieve - time to work fast. Azizza called him with the number he had asked for. Composing himself, he rang the manager. ‘Hello is that Jayant Dogra?’

  ‘Yes it is.’

  ‘Ahhh good. My name is Patel, I used to own the factory. We have not met yet, but welcome to Kenya.’

  ‘Thank you sir, I’m very happy to talk to you, there were some questions I had on the manufacturing side. I hope we can meet soon to discuss them,’ Dogra said enthusiastically.

  ‘Yes, yes of course, all in good time. Now Dogra, things are done a little differently in Kenya, as you have probably realised by now.’

  ‘Yes things are a little different here,’ Dogra admitted.

  ‘Don’t be alarmed but right now I’m in Nairobi in the chief of immigration’s office - he is a good friend of mine. There has been a slight mix up with your work permit - nothing to worry about -but you might have some policemen looking for you.’

  ‘Me, policemen,’ exclaimed Dogra,‘
but why?’

  ‘Like I said, things are a little different here in Kenya. My business rival is trying to make trouble for me, you understand? There has been a mix up. I can sort it out, but it’s best not to resist the authorities in this country. Now this is what I want you to do.’

  Dogra listened intently as Patel explained. He finished the conversation, on an equitable note. ‘There is nothing to worry about. I will be here in Nairobi to meet you. Ok?’

  ‘Yes ok, sir, I hope this matter will be cleared up quickly.’

  ‘It will Dogra my friend, it will. Just do as I say ok. You have my number if there are any problems.’

  ‘Yes thank you, sir,’ Dogra said as he hung up.

  Patel giggled nervously as he made the next call.

  ‘Hello Fimbo, I have good news,’ he announced.

  ‘Yes, I hope it is good. Tell me?’

  ‘The man those cops are looking for is at the factory now, his name is Patel. He is a very tricky fellow and might claim his name is Dogra. I’m sure he is the one they are looking for. They should just ask for the new manager.’

  ‘I see, the new manager. Ok, and I understand that you are about to sell your Landcruiser, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes that’s true, as soon as I get back to Malindi can take you on a test drive if you wish to buy it?’

  ‘Very good,’ growled Fimbo, ‘very good news indeed muhindi. See you soon,’ he hung up.

  Patel, calmer now having bought himself time, went to his next appointment with a shipping agent in the Mombasa port.

  *

  Inspector Fimbo slapped his swagger stick on the desk in elation, at the same time shouting out for Mugo.

  ‘Yes Sir,’ came the distant reply.

  ‘Get the car ready we are going to capture a terrorist, and tell those Nairobi boys to meet us at the Pollycans factory.’

  Mugo put his head around the door. ‘A terrorist?’

  ‘Yes here in Malindi, can you imagine!’ Fimbo laughing picked up his pistol. ‘Hurry up!’

  The police land rover arrived at the factory car park in a cloud of dust. Five armed policemen, dressed in a variety of combat fatigues, eagerly scrambled out of the back.

  ‘Spread out!’ shouted Fimbo theatrically. ‘Cover all the exits. Let’s catch this panya!’The inspector pulled out his gun and holding it aloft shot once into the air and then ducked down in a crouch, moving dramatically towards the factory entrance. He shouted at Mugo to give him back-up.

  The noise of the shot had the factory employees staring as Fimbo slammed in the door yelling at the startled receptionist to lie down. ‘Like an envelope!’ he ordered. The terrified woman dropped to her knees behind the counter and lay down full length.

  ‘Where is the new manager?’ Fimbo barked leaning over the counter to look at her.

  Her hand shaking, she pointed at the office. The door opened and Dogra came out to see what all the commotion was about.

  ‘Aha!’ Fimbo shouted glaring at him and waving the gun menacingly. ‘Are you the new manager?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said looking frightened, ‘is there a problem, sir?’

  ‘You are the problem!’ Fimbo shouted, holding his gun on Dogra and yelling in glee at Mugo. ‘Cuff him!’

  Mugo reached for Dogra and roughly put him in handcuffs.

  ‘Why are you doing this? What have I done?’

  ‘Shadap,’ Fimbo said and struck him across the face with his swagger stick. ‘We got him, get the prisoner in the car.’ He announced to his men as he strode out to the car park.

  A disappointed cheer went up from the assembled group, they had expected more action. Cyrus arrived just as the manager was being dragged awkwardly to the police car by at least four cops.

  ‘We caught him,’ Fimbo told Cyrus triumphantly. ‘Here is your terrorist,’ pointing at a now very frightened Dogra sitting in the dust, a red welt across his face and torn shirt adding to his disheveled appearance.

  ‘Ahh good, your name is Patel?’ He addressed Dogra.

  ‘Yes, no,’ stammered Dogra, ‘please what is the problem?’

  ‘Of course he is Patel,’ Fimbo lent down and shouted at Dogra, ‘do you deny it?’ He shook his head miserably.

  ‘See - Patel,’ Fimbo said looking at Cyrus.

  ‘You are wanted in Nairobi for questioning,’ Cyrus said.

  ‘About my work permit, listen, Patel told me.’

  Fimbo cut him short. ‘Be quiet,’ he shouted, and turning to Cyrus, ‘these Indians,’ he spat on the ground, ‘they always lie. If he tell you he is going south, this means he is going north, liars all of them,’ waving his swagger stick at Dogra menacingly. ‘Take him, get out of my sight!’

  Cyrus looked at his companion and with an inclination of his head nodded toward the car. The man helped Dogra to his feet, and walked him to the car under the menacing gaze of the armed policemen. ‘In you go,’ he said, not unkindly, ‘our boss wants to talk to you.’

  Cyrus turned to the inspector. ‘Thanks for your help that was quick work. Now we only need you to find the mzungu Nicholls - and the other Indian.’

  ‘If they are here in Malindi, we shall not miss them,’ said Fimbo confidently and turning to a crowd of employees who had come out of the factory, he shouted. ‘Kwenda! Fucki offs. Go back to work unless you want to join the muhindi,’ and cackled loudly as they scrambled back into the building.

  Cyrus smiled at the show. ‘I’m still looking for one of my colleagues - Titus. He was supposed to be here in Malindi.’

  ‘What does he look like?’ asked Fimbo.

  Cyrus described him.

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Fimbo his eyes narrowing, an amused glint in his eye, ‘and this man, he worked with you?’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Cyrus.

  ‘Maybe he went to the beach to chase mzungu ladies, even went swimming somewhere. This is a holiday town.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ smiled Cyrus, ‘Titus can’t swim.’

  Fimbo chuckled. ‘That’s too funny, if we find him, we will let you know. Now I have to get back to the station. Don’t lose your prisoner,’ he pointed with his stick at Dogra.

  Cyrus leaned in the window of his car and looked at Dogra cowering on the back seat. ‘Your name is Patel?’ He asked

  ‘Yes, my name is Patel,’ Dogra nodded unconvincingly.

  He turned to his companion. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘He says he’s Patel, this is the Pollycans factory, let’s go home.’

  Cyrus grunted. ‘You’re right, but this guy does not look like a terrorist and we still haven’t found the other two.’

  His companion shrugged. ‘Not my problem.’

  ‘Ok, let me tell the boss.’ Cyrus rang Rubia.

  ‘Good news, Sir,’ he announced, ‘we have got Patel.’

  ‘You have?’ Excellent work, what about the other Indian and Nicholls, any news?’

  ‘The police in Malindi have been very helpful sir, but there is no news. The motorbike has not been spotted anywhere.’

  ‘I see. How long will it take you to get back to Nairobi?’

  ‘If we leave now, we will be there around nine tonight.’

  ‘Good, see you then. Don’t lose him,’ instructed Rubia.

  Cyrus opened the back door, and said to Dogra. ‘Hold your hands up; I want to loosen your cuffs.’ Shaking with fright he did as he was told. Cyrus clipped one cuff through the armrest on the passenger door and the other one on Dogra’s right wrist. ‘We have got a long drive in front of us. I’m tired and I don’t want any trouble from you, ok?’

  Dogra nodded miserably. ‘No problem sir.’

  *

  Inspector Fimbo rang Patel. ‘Listen muhindi, that other terrorist fellow has been captured and is being taken to Nairobi by the other cops. When do I get my Landcruiser?’

  ‘I will be in Malindi later today, and we can meet. All the cops have gone?’

  ‘Yes they have all left. Don’t delay.’ Fimbo warned.

 
‘No problem sir,’ Patel said. He would have to move fast, as soon as whoever was looking for him realised who Dogra was, they would be back. He cursed Azizza for installing the password; he couldn’t leave the country without her help.

  He rang her. ‘Hello my dear,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘So what’s going on now, where are you?’ She demanded.

  ‘I’m still in Mombasa, I had to finalise a few things. Now I want you to get my Landcruiser back from Evans. Give him his Mercedes. Have you done the money transfer?’

  ‘The transfer will be done this afternoon. When are you going to be in Malindi?’

  ‘I’m driving up today. It’s very important that I get my car back and I want it parked at the house. Is that clear?’

  ‘Why should I run around for you,’ Azizza balked, ‘you have a lot of explaining to do mister?’

  ‘So have you,’ he retorted crossly, ‘that password thing has really screwed things up.’

  ‘Screwed up your plans to take all the money no doubt,’

  His tone softened. ‘Come on, we are nearly there we just have to be careful now. I want you to do the transfer, get the car back from Evans, and wait for me at the house.’

  ‘Why what’s happened?’ She said in alarm.

  ‘Trust me, it’s going to be ok, just do it for me dear, please.’

  ‘Ok.’ It must be serious, there was that please word again.

  ‘Thank you sweetie,’ Patel said gratefully. ‘See you later.’

  Azizza rang Evans. ‘I have good news for you,’ she announced. ‘Can you bring the Landcruiser around to the house? You can then take the Mercedes. Right now,’ she replied to his eager question.

  SEVENTEEN

  Brian had a hangover he sleepily pulled a pillow over his head and tried to go back to sleep, but niggling half memories of last night flooded his consciousness and he sat up with a start. Looking wildly around him he saw Lucy rummaging around in his backpack. ‘Hey!’ He called out.

  Lucy looked up guiltily, and then stood up stark naked facing him with Loda’s gun in her hand. Brian gasped - the sight of her beautiful naked body and the gun was heaven and hell all at the same time. ‘Lucy put that down,’ he commanded.