‘I think I’m on the first floor, they told me they are very busy, we were lucky to get rooms.’
Azizza muttered. ‘Yes, I noticed the empty car park.’
Patel glanced at her. ‘It’s better this way, many eyes in Mombasa. Perhaps tomorrow we can get adjoining rooms my dear.’
‘Whatever for?’ She snorted pushing passed him.
David the manager came out of his office to meet them; he and Patel hailed and hearted one another, while Azizza filled out the registration forms. She interrupted them. ‘Here is your key, I need that bag,’ pointing at the plastic bag with the money from the safe.
‘Oh,’ said Patel, ‘what for?’
‘I’m going shopping, I need new clothes, remember?’
Patel, reading her face relented with a grin, handing over the bag. ‘Don’t spend it all in one place.’
She took the bag wordlessly and made for the lift.
‘My dear,’ he called out, ‘dinner at eight o’clock?’
She waved a hand without turning.
Patel raised his eyebrows at David, “women” it said, as they resumed their conversation. ‘My guests will be here at around three tomorrow, the room is ready?’
‘Yes Jugdish, all is arranged, mini fridge as you asked.’
‘Excellent,’ smiled Patel, ‘thank you.’
Azizza opened the door to her room in despair at the twin beds. Bloody man, she said putting the bag on the bed. She went into the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt tears of self pity welling up inside her, what was wrong with her? How could a man such as Patel have this effect on her, she asked herself angrily, he hadn’t suggested they would share a room she reasoned, blowing her nose noisily, so why was she so upset?
She sat miserably on the edge of the bed and fingered the bag of money, and then lay back and looked at the ceiling; hoping tears would release this feeling of wretchedness. Too angry to cry, she only knew she didn’t want to be alone. Zainabu, her cousin was in Mombasa. Azizza called her and they arranged to meet.
The taxi dropped her on the edge of the Arab old town by the bustling open air market. Azizza’s eyes took in the fabric shops as she walked the narrow streets to her cousin’s house.
Over a cup of tea sweetened with honey, Azizza and Zainabu caught up with family news and gossip, the laughter between them lightened her mood.
‘So what brings you to Mombasa, it’s not something medical, you’re not sick are you?’ asked Zainabu anxiously.
‘No, no I’m well. There’s is no problem,’ assured Azizza, ‘just came to do some business.’
‘There’s something troubling you,’ said Zainabu. ‘If you’re not sick. It’s a man isn’t it?’ She said perceptively.
Azizza, astonished at having been read so easily, gestured with her hand saying ‘No’ too loudly. ‘Men there are plenty,’ and smiled.
‘Yes,’ agreed Zainabu and delicately sipped her tea, not letting her off the hook, ‘you can tell me,’ she offered, putting her teacup back on the tray and leaning forward.
Azizza could feel tears welling up. ‘No,’ she said, ‘don’t be silly. There is no one,’ sitting up straight and laughing.
Zainabu laughed as well. ‘So what’s his name?’
‘Oh cousin you go too far. Me, hooked on a man, never!’
Zainabu smiled confidently and said nothing.
‘Ok. There is this one man,’ agreed Azizza, her upper lip trembling. Zainabu hugged her as she burst into tears.
Eventually she stopped. ‘I feel such a fool,’ she said sniffing, ‘do you have a tissue?’ She blew her nose.
‘Some more tea?’ Zainabu offered.
Azizza sighed. Soon, she was telling all.
‘This man is your boss?’
‘No we are partners; we have a business venture, to do with real estate. Look,’ Azizza opened the bag full of money and showed it to her, ‘we are very successful.’
Zainabu’s eyes opened wide. She gasped and covered the bag with her hand, although they were completely alone. ‘Azizza it’s dangerous to carry money like that!’
‘This,’ said Azizza holding the bag flippantly ‘is nothing. Zainabu, I’m a rich woman.’
‘Shhh, put that away,’ Zainabu hissed.
Azizza put the bag behind her on the chair.
‘And this man he doesn’t cheat you?’
‘No he has been good about that. I’m an equal partner.’
‘An Indian and he is married?’
Azizza nodded, looking helpless.
‘He is older than you?’
‘No we are the same age, it’s stupid of me, he is not even good looking,’ she dismissed him, with a laugh.
‘He doesn’t want you?’
Azizza confronted said quietly, ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think so? Has he ever tried to touch you?’
‘No,’ she got more miserable in the telling.
‘Ahhh,’ Zainabu soothed, ‘and you love him.’
Azizza could feel tears coming; she bit her lip and looked at the ceiling. The silence between them was palpable as Zainabu considered her dilemma. ‘It’s so stupid, I mean if you were to see him you would laugh, he’s a nobody. I’m embarrassed to think of it.’
‘The mysterious ways of love,’ agreed Zainabu, ‘who can tell when one might fall. You know, there’s a way if you want this man.’
Azizza looked up daring to hope.
Zainabu nodded confidently. ‘There is a very powerful Doctor who makes cures here in the old town.’
‘So these cures will make the feeling go away?’Azizza hopeful.
‘You leave it with me, I will set up an appointment for you to see her tomorrow, I’m sure she can help you.’
Thank you cousin,’ Azizza said with gratitude.
‘She is not cheap,’ Zainabu said delicately, ‘I’m told she is the best.’
‘Oh is she?’ Azizza reached for the bag of money. ‘How much?’
‘I think about ten thousand for the appointment and then a there will be a fee for the cure.’
Azizza frowned. ‘Just for the appointment?’
Zainabu nodded assuredly. ‘She is very busy; of course if you think you don’t need it.’
‘No, no,’ Azizza reached into the bag and gave her the money.
Zainabu took the wad and pouted a little. ‘I think it’s ten thousand, but give me a little more, just in case.’
She handed over another five thousand. They embraced as she left, promising to meet in the morning. Azizza walked back to the hotel declining to catch a taxi. She felt lightened of her burden and window shopped as she walked. She had a few essential clothes with her from Malindi and so for tonight and tomorrow morning she could cope. Right now, all she wanted to do was curl up with a pillow. She didn’t want Patel to see her in this vulnerable state; a good night’s sleep was what she needed the most.
She stopped at an Arab sweet shop and bought a selection of richly sweet cakes, greedily taking two of each on display.
Back in her hotel room she switched on the TV and ran herself a bath, munching on the cakes as she disrobed and putting them within easy reach, she slipped gratefully into the warm bath and slowly began to relax.
Later she lay on the bed and got absorbed in a Mexican soap opera. The telephone startled her as it rang loudly.
It was Patel. ‘Hello my dear, are you coming to dinner?’
Looking at her watch, it was eight thirty already. ‘No you go ahead, I have a headache,’ she explained.
‘Oh, you’re not getting ill are you?’
‘No I’m just tired, I want an early night.’
‘Will I see you at breakfast?’
‘Yes ok in the morning, I’m tired now.’
‘Alright my dear, good night,’ said Patel.
TWENTY-SEVEN
With Doug gone, Brian and Lucy spent the afternoon lounging by the pool and later torrid love making sessions took them deep into
the night.
Brian lay on his back. Lucy, her head on his chest and arm around him, was fast asleep. He was wide awake as he thought of the password problem and went over it ceaselessly in his mind. Visualising the process, he grew increasingly restless as he grappled with the problem. He moved Lucy’s head off his chest, eased a pillow under it and got up. He tied a kikoy around his waist, went downstairs and got himself a beer.
Bottle in hand he went and switched on the computer. First he checked the new account that Evans had set up in his wife’s name. A wry smile as he recalled the manager’s comment about his books all being in order. How figures do lie. He gained access to the Golden Palm account, a rectangular box asked for a password, eleven letters, or god forbid, numbers. He counted out Golden Palm on his fingers, only ten. Golden Palms would fit, but didn’t sound right, anyhow Azizza could have used her grandmothers name, or pet dog’s for all he knew, he muttered ‘shit’ under his breath.
Lucy leaned in through the door startling him. ‘Birin, you no sleeps?’ Her eyes screwed up against the light. ‘What wrong, you don’t likes to sleeps with me?’
‘No it’s not that sweetheart, I’m not tired. I want to do some work, you go back to bed honey,’ he urged her.
She pouted and walked into the room. She climbed into his lap as his free hand cupped one of her pert breasts.
‘Birin you not tired? Come to bed, I tire you,’ she offered, yawning and groping at his crotch, ‘oohh you are awake, it’s true,’ and she giggled deliciously.
Brian moved to get more comfortable and she leaned back, a warning beep sounded from the computer and he pushed her roughly away. ‘Hey!’ she called out.
‘Oh fuck!’Brian swore as he got sight of the screen. “Incorrect password,” the computer blinked, “please try again.”‘Shit, your hand, you put it on the keyboard!’
‘Hey, whati?’
‘I have only two more tries, and then it will shut down.’
Lucy heard the anger and reacted. ‘I did nothings to stupids coputer,’ she spat at him.
Brian looked at the ceiling, and then patiently explained how when she had touched the keypad she had triggered the password.
Lucy said. ‘Bussward, what’s that?’
‘Password, it’s like a secret code or word. Azizza has put it on the account so no one can open it.’
Lucy turned and backed into his lap to see the screen. ‘That Azizza, she crazy for the Indian man, I see the way she shake her bottom,’ and wiggled hers suggestively.
Brian smiled now resigned to failing. ‘Shake bottom, right amount of letters but I doubt it.’
‘She would like to be his wife, like me. You like me to be your wife, Lucy Birin? Hey?’
Brian corrected her. ‘That would be Lucy Nicholls.’
‘Ohh you want me to be your wife. Hey, I be good wife, I fuck you every day,’ she assured him.
Brian chuckled. ‘So you think Azizza is in love with Patel?’
‘Yes us womans, we can tell, but the Indian man already a wife, but you,’ she pointed her finger, ‘you no wife.’
‘No wife,’ he agreed.
‘Good I will be wife, and gives you many babies.
‘Azizza Patel,’ mused Brian, ‘eleven letters, what the hell,’ and he reached over and tapped in the name.
‘Leave your computer now. Come we go sleep,’ she stood up and tugged at his hand. Brian enjoying the view of her body.
’Ok,’ he agreed and turned to the screen to shut it down, only to see a row of figures neatly laid out. ‘Jesus! We are in! That was the password!’ Leaning over the screen staring at it, ‘I don’t believe it!’
Lucy still tugged at his hand. ‘Come Birin,’ she insisted.
Brian pulled away. ‘Look, this is the Golden Palm account.’
Lucy put her hands on her hips and frowned.
‘The money Patel and Azizza have taken from Evans’s bank.’
‘Oh, the money, we get it hey,’ she pushed her way back into his lap. ‘Show me the moneys.’
Brian laughed. ‘Here,’ he moved the cursor on the computer and the figures scrolled down, ‘it’s here every penny, I can’t believe it.’
‘How muchi,’ asked Lucy, ‘tell me!’
Brian read off the figure on the bottom. ‘Five hundred and fifty million shillings.’
Lucy looked at him her mouth agape, for once at a loss for words. She licked her lips, a cat like movement.
‘Birin, we get this money?’ She said in a hoarse whisper, a wild look in her eye.
‘It’s not our money, it belongs to the bank.’
‘No! It the Azizza womans, she stoles it from the bank.’
‘Yes that’s true, but now the bank can get it back.’
‘Ha, you fool,’ she stabbed the screen with a painted fingernail, ‘thisis already thieved. Birin, it already stolens,’ she spoke to him as though he was a child.
‘Yes, but if we take it, then we are also stealing darling.’
She looked at him aghast, and put her whole hand on the screen possessively. ‘Not like them, they will be poor and we will be rich.’
Brian smiled indulgently. ‘Lucy I’m tired let’s get some sleep,’ and he reached out to shut down the computer.
‘No,’ she shouted hysterically, ‘no, you geti this moneys now.’ She turned round and pushed him aggressively away from the table.
Brian had never seen her looking so wild. ‘Listen Lucy we can talk about this later.’
‘No you do it now,’ she yelled. ‘Birin get moneys now!’
‘Lucy, I can’t get it now the bank is shut until nine.’
She frowned scanning his face for trickery. ‘Shut?’
‘Yes, until the morning. I can do nothing now.’
‘Oh, but when bank open, we take the money yesi?’
Brian relieved to see sanity return, nodded. ‘Yes later sweetheart, now can I shut it down.’
She fended off his hand her nails digging in. ‘You promises me?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘I promise.’
‘Ok,’ she said releasing his hand, watching as he shut down the computer. She hugged him. ‘Lucy clever hey, Lucy Nakkles rich woman,’ and she squealed in delight. ‘We buy big house,’ she led him to the bedroom, ‘no, we buy two big houses, yes.’
TWENTY-EIGHT
Azizza joined Patel at breakfast as he was tucking into a large bowl of cereal. He crunched noisily, raising his eyebrows, watching her closely to gauge her mood.
She put the bag of money on the seat and went to serve herself from the buffet. When she returned, he had finished and was fussily wiping his mouth with a napkin. He suppressed a burp. ‘Morning my dear sleep well?’
‘Yes, I did.’
He reached for the bag and peered into it. ‘Ah, good, I see you didn’t spend it all.’
‘No I will do that today,’ through a mouthful of croissant.
‘Ah at last, I’m having breakfast with a rich woman, when can you send that transfer? I have things to do you know.’
‘After I finish my breakfast, and what about Madagascar?’
‘We haven’t discussed it, have we?’ He parried.
‘We’re discussing it now.’
‘I think it wiser we fly to Dar-es-Salaam, don’t you?’
‘Ah, I see,’ buttering a piece of toast. ‘So this idea of a break, was what you were planning anyway - so you can run away to Durban?
‘No, I have business in Dar and can still have a holiday.’
‘So it’s just business?’ She gave him a penetrating look.
Patel said brightly. ‘I need my half of the money, you know me, business always before pleasure.’
‘The only reason you brought me to Mombasa is because you were scared I was going to run away with your half.’
Patel dismissed this with one of his dangerous little giggles. ‘My dear, I know you would never be silly enough to do that. I am very pleased you are here with me in Mombasa. Look upon it like hal
f time in a football match, we are sorting out the money so far, and taking a well earned break.’
‘Okay, so if I go along with this holiday of yours, when do you want to cross the border?’
‘I’ve got to conclude my business today and all being well, we can drive down or fly tomorrow. Don’t worry I’ll book the tickets.’ He helped himself to a wad of money from the bag and tucked it into his jacket. ‘Try to relax my dear, you are far too tense.’
Azizza took the bag from him and put it in her lap; despite her doubts she was excited at the prospect of spending time away with him. ‘How long do you think we’ll be gone for?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, a week or so.’
‘I see, and will you call Evans, or do you want me to?’
‘No, I’ll call Evans. As soon as you do the transfer, I can get on with what I need to do. By the way, my driver will be arriving with Fimbo and his wife tonight.’
‘So you have two cars in Mombasa. How does that work?’
‘Very well my dear. Fimbo has my passport. I need to keep him sweet and have arranged for him to see some other vehicles.’
‘Wow, you’re spending money on him.’
‘Yes, I think of it as a future investment and I am so confident, I am paying for it from my share,’ he said smugly.
She stood up and walked away out of earshot. Finishing with her instructions to the bank she came back to the table. ‘It should be there in half an hour,’ and picked up the bag of money. ‘I’m going shopping, let’s meet at lunch,’ she said over her shoulder.
Patel took a deep breath his eyes glistening excitedly. He waited and watched her hail a taxi. He had a great deal to do that day and the timing needed to be spot on. Up in his room he emptied the suitcases on the bed. Here he rang the bank manager using his alias N.J. Shah. He explained he was expecting an additional transfer, and would like to withdraw the entire amount in cash.
Carrying the two empty suitcases he went down to his car and with the help of the askari removed the spare wheel from the boot. ‘I will be back to collect my spare, keep an eye on it.’
At the bank he parked in the secure car park. He realised the final transfer would not be through yet, so leaving the car he walked back to the gate. A uniformed askari waved a truncheon at him. ‘You can’t leave the car here it’s only for bank customers.’
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