‘Wow, you’ve thought of everything. So, what about Evans?’
‘For the moment we continue the transfers as normal.’
She pulled a face. ‘Don’t you think that is pretty useless?’
‘We can’t stop now. In a few days time I’ll have my share and I’ll be able to leave.’
Azizza was silent then asked. ‘So what is your escape plan?’
‘I’m going to ship out the Tanzanian Landcruiser with the money secreted in it to Durban, South Africa.’
‘South Africa!’
‘Yes, I will fly down, collect the car, convert the money to gold and diamonds and move the lot to Europe - clever, eh?’
‘I don’t believe you. Why buy another car, just use yours?’
‘Mine is going to a policeman, as a thank you.’ He lied.
‘So how would you be able to help me?’ She asked.
‘We could ship out your share with mine,’ he replied evenly, his eyes glinting in amusement.
She laughed aloud, her nervous tension finding an outlet. ‘I don’t think so, but thanks for the offer.’
‘So what will you do with your share?’ He challenged her.
‘You never know, I might buy a shipping agency, in Tanzania.’
Patel chuckled at the insinuation. ‘This has been fun hasn’t it my dear. You have been quite a star.’
Azizza searched his face for sarcasm, but only saw respect in his eyes, it made her feel shy and embarrassed.
‘This star is hungry and as I have all the money, it’s time you took me out to dinner.’ she suggested, flustered.
Patel looked at his watch. ‘Not tonight, I have to go and meet Fimbo, but certainly tomorrow.’ He threw her a bone.
Azizza replied, acidly. ‘I might not be free tomorrow; you can drop me in town now on your way to your meeting.’
After dropping her, Patel rang Fimbo. ‘Where shall we meet?’
‘Heh, Pateli, it is you, I’m hungry let us meet at the Mambo Club, do you know it, near the airport?’
Patel drove out to the ramshackle bar - it looked like a civil servant hang-out. He sat in his car and waited by several government registered vehicles. Loud ethnic music boomed out from the depths of the bar, a single story dive adorned with coloured lights. Spits of cut meat roasted on charcoal braziers in front of the entrance. Patrons wafted in and out, most holding onto bottles of beer, drinking and chatting loudly.
A police land rover pulled up and Fimbo, swagger stick in hand, got out from the passenger side - people moved away as he walked into the entrance.
Patel gave him a few minutes and then followed him in. An unusual sight in these parts, he drew ribald comments and curious looks as he walked in. ‘Hey muhindi you want woman?’ A man called out. Patel ignored the taunts and looked around for Fimbo. He was sitting in a large chair at a table on a raised level - obviously a regular - the king upon his throne.
Patel slipped into a smaller chair beside him. ‘Hello Inspector,’ he greeted Fimbo.
‘Ahh Pateli, new place for you eh.’ He leaned forward as though in confidence and breathed. ‘No crooks in here,’ and laughed loudly at his own joke.
A waitress came to take Patel’s order.
Fimbo interrupted rudely. ‘Did you bring my car?’
Patel placed his order, unflustered. ‘I brought you many cars my friend,’ and handed over the list he had collected in Mombasa.
Fimbo tapped the list with his baton. ‘What’s this?’ he swigged his beer bottle, staring at Patel.
‘It’s a list of cars that are available in Mombasa. You can choose what you want from there,’ Patel said helpfully.
Fimbo leaned closer. ‘No, muhindi.It is your car I want.’
Patel smiled. ‘My car is not good inspector, very unreliable. Every week it is at the garage, but these cars are perfect, just choose one.’ Patel opened the list helpfully.
Fimbo picked up the list. ‘I want a Landcruiser,’ he announced as he peered at the paper suspiciously. He tossed the list at Patel. ‘Read it to me, I have no glasses.’
Patel began to read. ‘Is there a white one?’ Fimbo interrupted.
‘There is a grey one and a silver one,’ Patel announced.
‘Hmmm,’ muttered Fimbo, ‘me, I want white one.’
‘No problem sir. I can arrange to have it sprayed.’
‘This will take too long. Ok, I take the silver one. When do I get it, tomorrow?’
Patel looked at the glass the waitress had brought with his beer and wiping the neck of the bottle took a sip. ‘It’s better if you see the car in Mombasa, my driver can take you there.’
Fimbo was enthusiastically tucking into a plate of meat, and alternately swigging his beer. ‘I don’t like Mombasa,’ he frowned, ‘you bring the car here.’ An intermittent strobe light lit up his large features, an ancient cruel mask.
Patel waited for him to stop eating. The inspector pushed his plate away, took a gulp of air and burped loudly. He leant back in his chair and eyed Patel. ‘You don’t look like a terrorist to me.’
‘I’m not, it’s a big mix up. Who was looking for me?’
Fimbo picked at his teeth. ‘Big shot from Nairobi, called Rubia. What have you been up too? How do I know that you are not working for Al-Kahida! You,’ waving his finger at Patel, ‘are a tricky bastard.’
Patel smiled. ‘I’m a legitimate businessman that is all. This Rubia, did he say why he wanted to talk to me?’
‘No he no need to explain, he want you - you go. He has good job eh? It’s lucky for you I’m such a good friend.’
‘Yes and I’m grateful to you inspector. There is a nice hotel in Mombasa, you and your good wife can stay there - at my expense of course - while you choose your car,’ putting his hand on the list.
Fimbo watched Patel. ‘A hotel and my wife eh?’ He mouthed the toothpick. ‘That list - is there a Mercedes?’
Patel looked. ‘Yes three or four, if you would rather have a Mercedes that will be even better.’
‘No I want a Landcruiser, but my wife she like Mercedes.’
Patel not missing a beat responded. ‘That’s excellent. When can you be free - this weekend? My driver can take you to Mombasa.’
‘I will talk to my wife muhindi. In the meantime, I need your passport and I will have some expenses,’ said Fimbo.
‘My passport,’ Patel smiled ingratiatingly. ‘Why? I’m not going anywhere.’
‘That is true,’ agreed Fimbo. ‘So I will have your passport and twenty thousand to make sure it does not go missing eh?’
‘And when do I get my passport back?’
‘That’s for me to decide. Have you got it with you?’
‘I can give you ten thousand.’
‘I said twenty, muhindi,’ retorted Fimbo.
‘You will get the rest tomorrow.’ Patel pushed an envelope of across the table.
Fimbo glanced down and quickly slid it into his pocket. He dismissed him. ‘Go now, and don’t make me come looking for you,’ he warned, waving a waitress over to the table. He barely glanced at Patel leaving as he ordered another round of drinks.
NINETEEN
Brian completed the e-mail draft to his sister and read it out. ‘Come on Brian,’ Doug said getting exasperated, ‘someone has tried to have you murdered for goodness sake, just because they failed doesn’t mean they won’t try again. You’re a marked man, you can count on it.’
‘I didn’t want to alarm her, she’s my sister.’
‘Just write it out as it happened, at least if we don’t make it, someone will have all the facts.’
‘What - including your hi-jacking and shooting?’
‘Yes of course.’
‘It’s too wild a story. I would find it hard to believe myself, things like this just don’t happen over there.’
‘They happen, just not in the same way,’ countered Doug.
‘Bullshit,’ said Brian.
‘Look, let’s not argue about it, just wri
te the story, time’s-a-wasting.’ Once the e-mail was written, they went over it. ‘Ok, you might as well send it now.’
‘I thought the plan was to call her this evening?’
‘She’s going to get a shock anyway. If the cops pick you up while you’re on the phone, you won’t be able to send it then, will you?’
‘Cops pick me up? They think I’m dead.’
‘Not the ones hired to kill you,’ muttered Doug.
‘You say it’s the police who are trying to have me killed?’
‘Brian, stop this crap, that tart has gone to your head. The guy I shot was a cop. The man in the river - supposed to be you - was a cop. Get your head in gear!’
‘You’re right, I’m sorry,’ he got on line. ‘Here goes,’ and clicked the send button. ‘I wonder where Lucy got to?’
They went downstairs; there was no sign of her. ‘Bugger it,’ Brian looked at his watch, ‘she went two hours ago.’ He rummaged around in the kitchen. ‘I’m not sure there’s any food here.’ He found some crackers and a tinned ham. ‘This will have to do.’
‘The downloaded bank data, what’s your idea?’
Brian spoke about the loan scheme while he opened the tin and laid out the crackers.
‘So you knew things were not right the first time you came down to Malindi?’Doug asked.
‘Yes and no,’ Brian admitted. ‘I had to get at Evan’s files to be sure. The profits his bank is making are unprecedented. But I have not worked in a third world country, there is less red tape and legislation. Most investors are out to maximise their profits in as short a time as possible, so large amounts of money flowing in and out are not unusual.’
‘You mean money laundering?’
‘I’m sure that goes on but not in this case, these were - are - legitimate bank loans.’
‘I don’t get it, I try to get a loan from my bank to improve my garage, they make me fill out forms forever. I wait months for a reply and then get turned down. How does Golden Palm do it?’
‘Banks make no money on small amounts and Golden Palm have the land title deeds.’ Brian warming to his topic, explained how it worked. Doug feigned interest, his mind elsewhere as he tucked into the ham.
‘How much money are we talking about?’ He asked.
‘Last count was over seven million dollars.’
Doug opened his mouth. ‘What? Are you trying to tell me, that that shitty little bank,’ pointing out of the window, ‘has shelled out over seven million dollars?’
‘Well not entirely, the NNB bank group has,’ Brian replied a little defensively.
‘No wonder they wanted you out of the way, it’s amazing it didn’t happen the minute you arrived in Malindi.’
Brian frowned. ‘Evans must be involved also, that’s why we saw him driving that expensive Mercedes.’
‘You saw Evans - where?’
‘I told you,’ said Brian distractedly, ‘Lucy and I followed him to a house in the suburbs - she said it wasn’t his house.’
‘So how does Lucy know Evans?’Doug queried.
‘Evans was with me when I bailed Lucy out of jail.’
‘Hmmm, she’s probably screwing him too.’
‘What?’
‘Let’s hope Lucy isn’t revealing all to Evans.’
Brian looked thoughtful. ‘No I don’t think so, besides she doesn’t know about Golden Palm.’
‘You don’t know anything about her, certainly not what’s in her head. You’re her latest meal ticket - she won’t care where the money comes from. I’m buggered if I’m going to be sold down river because of your little tart.’
‘It’s not like that - stop addressing her as my little tart.’
‘Yeah, helped you empty your wallet, how long has she gone for?’ Doug pointedly looked at his watch.
Lucy called out. ‘Me I’m here,’ and walked dramatically into the room her hair piled up in a coiffure set at an impossible backwards angle. She wore a long golden evening gown and stiletto heels that gave her six inches in height. She smiled at Brian, dark red lipstick on the tips of her teeth and exaggerated arched eyebrows over blue eye shadow. Looking down her nose at him. ‘You like?’
‘Lucy you were supposed to go shopping,’ started Brian.
She held her hand up haughtily, turned and waved Alphonse into the apartment. He carried a cardboard box, the clink of beer bottles as he moved. ‘Your shoppings,’ she announced still holding her pose - an actress in a Greek soap. Directing Alphonse to the kitchen, she clacked after him across the tiles.
Doug held his hand in front of his mouth trying to hide his grin, but his eyes gave him away.
Brian frowned a warning at him. ‘You look lovely my dear.’
‘Yes it’s true,’ she agreed, ‘my hairdress, he from Zaire.’ With red fingernails she waved Alphonse imperiously out of the kitchen.
Doug got up. ‘Going to check out the pool,’ he announced hoarsely, back turned to Brian.
Brian joined Lucy in the kitchen, peering into the cardboard box. ‘What food did you get?’
‘The shop she was shut, so I buy beers.’
‘I see and you went to the hairdresser?’
‘Yes, it’s nice eh. I’m a ladys for you now?’ she said expectantly.
‘Yes you are. Listen, I still have things to discuss with my friend, can you find some sheets and make up the other bedroom.’
‘I not your houses girl,’ she retorted, stung.
‘Ok, just find the sheets;’ he said lamely, ‘later I will take you for an ice cream. Ok dear?’ trying to mollify her.
She scowled. ‘I’m not a child, why is that Dug man here? He not good to stays, for the polices.’
‘Yes we know that, we are trying to make a plan.’
Brian joined Doug lying on a sun lounger in the shade.
‘What happened, Miss Malindi chase you away?’
Brian ignored the taunt, resuming their earlier conversation. ‘If I could access the bank’s computer I could trace that money.’
‘So, how do you think you could do that? Float through the bank wall dressed in a white sheet?’
‘Actually all I need is the right software, I can upload everything from this computer,’ Brian said evenly, nodding at the apartment.
Doug looked at him. ‘You can do that, hack in, as it were?’
‘Yes I know my way around.’
‘So how do you propose to get this ‘soft’ whatever.’
‘Evans is the key, we could pressurise him to give it to us.’
Doug looked thoughtful. ‘Nah, he is in league with Golden Palm. How much of a cut do you think he is getting from this deal, and how do you know your boss isn’t involved?’
‘A substantial cut judging by that Mercedes - as to my boss I don’t think so. I would never have been hired if that was so.’
‘What exactly is your job?’ asked Doug with interest. ‘I mean what does it involve?’
‘Essentially I’m an auditor. I check the bank is running its accounts according to the law. I’m trained as a forensics accountant.’
‘You’re trained to catch criminals? You’re a cop?’
‘No, I’m an analyst, I just gather the evidence.’
Doug was impressed. ‘So given the chance, you could unravel this whole mess?’
‘I think so, but I need that software.’
‘What if you were to call up your boss in Nairobi and explain what has happened. You could catch Evans and his crooked friends and we would be free of all this crap.’
‘Ideally yes, but I could walk into the lion’s den.’
‘I thought your boss was straight, or at least you think he is?’
‘I do, but there may be others in the bank in league with Evans, it’s a great deal of money. This scheme started before I got here and I don’t know who I can trust.’
‘This software stuff, is it in the bank, here in Malindi?’
Brian nodded.
‘If we were to break into the bank,
you could find it?’
Brian laughed. ‘Me a bank robber, this is the wild west!’
Doug didn’t laugh. ‘Answer the question.’
‘Yes, but I would still need Evan’s encrypted codes to access the files, and I have no idea where he keeps those.’
Doug nodded. ‘So it all comes back to Evans. I’m willing to bet he is not getting that much out of this deal, not with an Indian at the helm. That Mercedes will only have been a sweetener.’
‘What are you thinking?’
Doug said. ‘Hear me out, I have not thought this through. We could try and strong-arm Evans into agreeing to give you the software; after all, he thinks you’re dead. So we can frighten him. On the other hand, if we know anything, it’s that he is greedy. If you were to tell him he would make more money helping us, it might better persuade him.’
Brian said. ‘You mean trust him? After all he has done?’
‘Look at his position. You are not dead and already have clear evidence of his involvement. If you expose his partners it’s the end of his gravy train and he could end up in jail, and get no money.’
‘You’re right, but shouldn’t we wait for your uncle in Nairobi to clear things up. Wouldn’t it be better to lie low for now?’
Doug shook his head. ‘The more evidence you have, the stronger your position is. There is no guarantee that my uncle can do anything, and we can’t just sit around here and wait.’
‘So we just walk up to Evans and say, “listen you thief, the game is up - hand over the software or else.”’
‘In essence yes, but maybe your lady friend can be put to use,’ as Lucy clacked over towards them now dressed in a bikini and stilettos. ‘She’s quite a looker,’ Doug’s eyes wandered up and down.
She sat down beside Brian and gave Doug a cold, never ever look. ‘Hello honey, we were just discussing that banker Evans. I was telling Doug you know where he lives.’
‘Yes he has place nears old town. Why yous want him?’
‘He has something we need for our work; do you know where this man drinks?’ Doug asked.
She nodded without looking at him.
‘Do you talk to him; I mean does he like you?’ Doug tried again.
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