Elephant Dropping (9781301895199)

by Trzebinski, Bruce

  Azizza sat on the loo and quietly sobbed to herself. ‘Bloody man,’ she said wiping her eyes, ‘is he so blind?’ She stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. ‘What’s wrong with him, I’m an attractive woman, does he expect me to throw myself at him? He is so cold.’ Tears welled up as she thought of the few days they had left together and it was painful. She suddenly felt so lost and afraid.

  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘Come on,’ she told herself, ‘you don’t need him, you can have any man, to hell with him,’ she flushed the loo noisily as though banishing him from her existence. ‘I’m not interested in him anymore and never was,’ she told the mirror, glossing her lips.

  Patel was engrossed at the computer when she emerged. ‘Listen,’ I need you to do another transfer to my bank in Mombasa.’

  ‘What? But I have already done one and it wasn’t so easy.’

  ‘Offer a better rate. You did buy dollars didn’t you?’

  ‘The manager was already reluctant to move such a large amount, I doubt he will agree now,’ she looked at her watch.

  ‘Try him my sweet, these people are in business. A better rate should help him to agree. I would do it myself, but your password is preventing me.’

  ‘Ok, I will remove the password,’ she said belligerently.

  He smiled at her. ‘That suits me just fine.’

  ‘In your dreams,’ she retorted, ‘how much this time?’

  ‘Same as this morning.’

  ‘Ok I will try,’ she agreed and reached for the phone. ‘Shouldn’t you be checking on your mechanics?’

  Patel sat there. ‘I just did.’

  She put the phone down. ‘Do you want me to do this or not?’

  ‘Yes of course.’

  ‘Then off you go,’ she waved at the door.

  He laughed. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he got up and walked out.

  Azizza felt the tears close. How could he be so casual? ‘To hell with you,’ she muttered angrily.

  Patel came back from the car park and asked. ‘All done?’

  ‘What’s the sudden hurry?’

  ‘No hurry,’ he lied, ‘I just want to tidy things up.’

  He called his bank in Mombasa. Announcing himself as N.J.Shah, and arranged a transfer of dollars to a bank in England. ‘Yes a hundred thousand,’ he confirmed, ‘thank you.’

  ‘I thought you were going to South Africa?’

  ‘I am, but my family has needs, I hope to buy them a house.’

  ‘You can’t live in England,’ she said.

  ‘No not yet, but in a few months that may change. Britain like any country, welcomes investors,’ he said, not elaborating, and then changed the subject. ‘And what are you going to do? Want to invest with me?’ and he smiled.

  She laughed at him. ‘With a crook like you? Never.’

  ‘It’s not such a bad idea, I can make you even richer.’

  She studied his face, emotions in turmoil and shook her head.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m not going to tell you.’

  He teased her. ‘Oh my sweet, why, I’ve told you my plan?’

  ‘What you have told me is a bunch of lies.’

  ‘Ok lie to me then, try me out,’ he challenged.

  ‘I’m going to buy shares in a mobile phone network, and a large farm just outside Tanga,’ she announced flippantly.

  He laughed. ‘You, a farmer?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded, ‘you can come there and hide.’

  Patel grinned in appreciation of her wit.

  There was a knock on the back door interrupting them; it was one of the mechanics. Patel went to check on the work.

  Azizza went to the window to watch him, a realization had set in. He was the only thing she wanted, she had never felt more alive than when they were scheming together. He intrigued her in a way no other man had ever done. She always did his work first, enjoying his admiration and praise. They had got so close during Golden Palm that they were almost able to read each other’s thoughts.

  Now, she sighed, it was all coming to an end. She had only ever been drawn to fiddling the system. Azizza had no great aspirations to own a big house or a more fancy car, her needs were simple, she took lovers when she felt an urge, ate when she was hungry. Patel was something different; he aroused in her an insatiable desire.

  Patel examined the mechanics work carefully. He started both cars, and left them running. The engines idled smoothly without a hitch. ‘Good,’ he said to them and fished in his pocket for the money. Handing over the agreed amount, the mechanic took it and then asked for more. Patel ignored him busying himself rearranging the carpet over the modified fuel tank. The mechanic stood behind him patiently. ‘Just add something bwana it was difficult job. That funny tank, what is it for?’

  ‘Never mind,’ Patel handed over another five hundred shillings.

  The mechanics grinned. ‘Thank you sah,’ and gathering up their tools left on foot down the driveway.

  Back in the house, Patel’s intuition had him badgering Azizza about her share of the money. ‘I’m concerned that you use the money wisely, and get out of Malindi. When they investigate, you could lose it all.’

  ‘Oh don’t worry about me, I know what I’m doing. What happens to this house?’ She changed the subject.

  ‘It was part of the factory sale agreement. They take possession next week.

  ‘What about the equipment, the rest of the title deeds and the other office?’

  Patel thought for a moment. ‘Tomorrow, I want you to submit more deeds to the bank, only leave the money there to cover the interest rates for the week, this will give us time before anyone starts raising questions.’

  ‘And the rest of the deeds, what do we do with them?’

  ‘We should get rid of everything in the house and the other office, after you have arranged my final transfer.’

  Azizza was startled. ‘I thought you said another few days?’

  Patel shook his head. ‘I’m getting nervous I want to pack this thing up now. I have a few more things to do in Mombasa then I’m gone. Come on.’ he stood up, ‘I want to test my car, and I’ll buy you lunch. Let’s get out of here.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Rubia went through his in-tray, impatiently dealing with only the most pressing matters before going in pursuit of Patel. He tried Fimbo’s mobile, there was no reply for the third time. ‘Bastard’s avoiding me,’ he muttered to himself.

  Abruptly his door opened and a very frightened secretary walked in followed by two armed policemen.

  ‘You are under arrest,’ the taller one of the two informed him, pointing a nasty looking machine gun.

  Rubia glowered. ‘What is this? Some sort of joke?’

  ‘Joke, I will show you joke.’ The big cop moved quickly round the desk and upended his chair throwing the director to the floor. He pulled Rubia’s right arm up behind him, handcuffed it and shouted. ‘Get up!’Rubia struggled to his feet in shock, the cop spun him round, cuffed his other hand and pushed him. Rubia fell forward onto his knees and face, painfully crying out.

  The other cop yelped in delight. ‘Good joke.’ He peered over the desk at the commander struggling to get up.

  Rubia got to his feet, eyes bulging in rage, shocked and almost speechless. ‘How dare you!’

  The cops sat down impudently and smiled at one another. ‘Sit, you are to wait for the minister.’

  ‘What minister, what the hell are you talking about?’

  Rubia’s secretary wrung her hands. ‘I’m sorry sir.’

  He snarled. ‘Get out woman!’

  ‘What minister?’ he stepped round the edge of the desk.

  The cop waved the gun at him. ‘Stay there!’ He ordered.

  He moved back. ‘I demand an explanation.’

  ‘You demand nothing. Sit down,’ the cop warned.

  Rubia perched on the edge of his desk, his handcuffs preventing him from righting his swivel chair.


  ‘I said sit down,’ the cop repeated.

  ‘I can’t,’ he kicked the upturned chair in angry defiance.

  ‘I show you.’ The cop moved towards him menacingly.

  At that moment, Rupert Omollo the minister and his bodyguards swept into the office. He quickly weighed up the situation. ‘Take those handcuffs off immediately,’ he ordered. ‘I’m sorry Joe, overzealous idiots,’ he said in greeting.

  Rubia said. ‘What the hell is going on Sir,’ as he righted his chair and slumped into it.

  Omollo turned to the others. ‘Wait for me outside,’ and sat down opposite Rubia. ‘I’m sorry about those two, they misunderstood my instructions.’ He then took out a sheaf of printed papers from his briefcase.

  ‘I want those two buggers heavily reprimanded, how dare they!’ Rubia said as he massaged his wrist.

  ‘Reprimanded? You have made a right mess of things and now I have to clean it up,’ Omollo replied firmly.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The British Embassy called me this morning; they are poised to start a full investigation into the disappearance of a Mr. Nicholls.’

  ‘They can’t prove anything,’ said Rubia defiantly.

  ‘Nevertheless I must be seen to take certain steps. You are to be placed under house arrest until this thing blows over.’

  ‘House arrest, you can’t be serious. I didn’t do this on my own as you know.’

  Omollo rebuked him. ‘You would be wise to keep your mouth shut, it’s the only way I can give you any protection.’

  ‘Protection,’ Rubia snorted, ‘let me get on with the job.’

  ‘No, it’s too late for that, you have been far too reckless.’

  ‘Sir, I know how to fix this,’ Rubia tried to reason.

  Omollo stood up, opened the door and asked the cops to come back in. He then addressed Rubia pedantically from a prepared text. ‘It’s my duty to inform you that you are, with immediate effect, suspended from your role as head of the anti-terrorist unit and are to be placed under house arrest until further notice. All activities from this office are now suspended and during this time you will not communicate in any way with former co-workers over any cases to do with this office. Is that understood?’

  Rubia leaned forward frowning and incredulous. ‘I can’t believe this,’ he mumbled shaking his head.

  ‘Omollo frowned you only have yourself to blame.’ He stood up haughtily the meeting over. ‘Put the handcuffs back on him, empty his pockets and take him to the van.’

  They did as instructed, half-dragging Rubia as he resisted. ‘You can’t do this! He shouted as they took him down the stairs, his secretary weeping silently. The two cops and Rubia climbed into the back of a windowless van and quickly departed.

  Omollo pocketed Rubia’s mobile and going through the drawers in his desk, he found a gun, which he put in his briefcase. He spoke to the secretary. ‘You are to lock this office and inform all personnel in Mr Rubia’s unit that they are suspended on full pay until further notice. I want a list of all employees, their mobile phone numbers and job descriptions forwarded to my office today. Do you understand?’

  The secretary nodded dumbly. ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘Once you have locked the office, you are to give the keys to my bodyguard. An armed policeman will be left here to guard the building.’

  The minister hurried downstairs and got into his Mercedes. ‘The Good View Hotel,’ he told the driver, as one of his bodyguards joined him. Two escort cars, one in front and one behind fell into line. The entourage travelled at high speed, sirens and headlights blazing, as the traffic moved aside for them. A few minutes later, the cars swept into the hotel forecourt and in a practiced move, the escorts were out and shielding the minister as he walked into the hotel. He asked the receptionist. ‘The conference room is ready?’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ she said as the hotel manager appeared.

  ‘What an honour Sir,’ and beckoned him to follow.

  ‘I would like some coffee,’ the minister told him as he fell in step, ‘and please inform Mr Fernandez in Room 25 that I am here,’ he said imperiously as he walked into the conference room and sat down at the head of the large table.

  Firdus soon joined him. Omollo waved him to a chair and spooned three sugars into his coffee spilling grains on the immaculate top. ‘Rubia has been arrested,’ he stirred his cup aggressively.

  ‘Ahh, good news Sir,’ Firdus responded carefully.

  The minister slurped his coffee. ‘I have told him he will be under house arrest, but not before we interrogate him. Do you have any questions you want to ask him?’

  ‘Me? No, I don’t think so,’ Firdus replied.

  ‘Why, surely you want to catch these crooks - Golden hand?’

  ‘My main concern was my nephew’s safety and I thank you for that sir, but I’m retired now,’ he explained.

  ‘I want you to come out of retirement,’ Omollo said flatly. ‘I’ve gone to some trouble for you, and I expect you to reciprocate.’

  ‘Yes Sir, and I’m grateful for your help, but I have been out of the system for some time. I’m sure there are others much better qualified than myself, such as Detective Katana.’

  ‘No,’ Omollo shook his head. ‘I don’t have time to assign a new team. You have instigated Rubia’s removal, so you can follow up this investigation until I find someone suitable, or rather you do.’

  ‘What is it that you want Sir?’ Firdus asked.

  ‘I want to catch that Indian; we can’t let him get away with this, this theft - Golden hand.’

  ‘Yes Sir, Golden Palm I understand. This is a job for the fraud squad; you must have many people who would be better at this than I would.’

  ‘Fernandez I’m a busy man, besides, all the people involved in this case were under Rubia and I can’t trust them, can I?’

  ‘Sir, I’m not the right man for this job.’

  ‘I’m going to make you the right man,’ Omollo said with finality. He reached down and picking up his briefcase slapped it on the polished table. Opening it he fished out two new legal pads. He slid one across the table at Firdus. ‘Write down the questions you want answered by Rubia,’ unclipping a ballpoint from his jacket, he tossed it onto the pad.

  ‘Sir,’ Firdus protested.

  ‘Listen,’ Omollo puffed himself up, ‘as you have so rightly pointed out the powers of my office to me this morning, you can either agree to help me catch these crooks and I can arrange everything you need, or would you rather join Rubia, make a decision - I don’t have time to waste,’ he tapped his nails on the table the noise echoed in the room.

  Firdus looked at the minister. ‘Ok, give me time to think. I will need Katana, the detective from Voi on the case.’

  The minister scribbled on his pad. ‘Done - what else?’ An hour later the meeting over, the minister got up, and shook hands formally with Firdus. ‘This is Rubia’s mobile phone,’ he said handing it to him. ‘Now you have all his contacts, all information you gather must be relayed to me and me alone. This is my direct number.’ He wrote on the back of a card and handed it to Firdus. ‘I will assign you an official driver and fill out the paperwork authorising you to conduct this investigation under my office. Keep a list of all your expenses, funds will be made available to you. If you need an office to work from I can arrange that also. Don’t let me down Fernandez.’ He gathered up his things and quickly left.

  Firdus sat quietly at the table, he had not bargained on this happening. He phoned Katana. ‘Can you come down to the conference room we have a lot to organise.’ He then called the manager to the conference room, and with Katana listening, Firdus explained that he had been appointed to head a special task force and would appreciate it if he could use the conference room as an office and the hotel as his base.

  The manager was very pleased. ‘It would be an honour sir, but how will the hotel be paid?’

  ‘You submit your bill to me and I will forward it to the minis
ter.’

  The manager looked hesitant. ‘Sir with respect, we have not had the best of experiences with government ministries.’

  Firdus smiled. ‘I understand, but I can assure you, you have my word that there will be no problem with the payment.’

  ‘Very good sir,’ he said, relieved.

  Firdus introduced Katana. ‘This is my right hand man and we will be working together. If you have any questions and I’m not available you can deal directly with him.’

  After the he had left, Katana asked. ‘What was that all about?’

  ‘Take a seat,’ said Firdus wearily, ‘I will explain it to you.’ He went through the morning’s events.

  Katana smiled, eyes shining with admiration. ‘Congratulations are in order sir, I can hardly believe it.’

  He grimaced. ‘It’s not like I had any choice. The minister told me I could help or join Rubia.’

  Katana smiled. ‘Still, I’m honoured to be working with you.’

  There was a tap on the door interrupting them, it was the hotel manager, a little breathless. ‘I have just had a call from the minister’s office. He has assigned you a car and a driver - it’s outside - the driver’s name is Phillip.’

  ‘Ok thank you,’ Firdus replied and waved him away.

  ‘Now Katana, this is Rubia’s mobile phone. I’m putting you in charge of deciphering its clues.’

  The detective eagerly took the phone and began to scroll through the phone book. ‘He made three calls this morning to Fimbo,’ he announced excitedly.

  ‘Who is Fimbo?’

  ‘He is the head cop in Malindi, as crooked as they come.’

  ‘Blast,’ muttered Firdus, ‘my nephew is in Malindi.’

  ‘Should I call him,’ asked the detective.

  Firdus frowned. ‘Not yet. We have to interview Rubia as soon as possible. I’m going up to my room to get some things. See if you can find our driver.’

  Firdus was handed a large envelope by the driver when he climbed into the back of the Mercedes. ‘Thanks. Take us to Pathway House please and use the rear entrance.’ He opened the envelope and tipped the contents on the seat beside him.