He said fearfully. ‘Yes sir my best, I assure you.’
Fimbo grunted. ‘Hmm we shall see.’
‘Patel,’ he barked, ‘which one shall we test first?’
‘Your choice,’ pointing at the dealer, ‘he will take you.’
Fimbo said. ‘No, you come with me. We take the big one first.’ He got in the passenger side of the Landcruiser and slammed the door. ‘You drive,’ he announced.
Patel cursed under his breath and opened the rear passenger door for Mary who was struggling with the handle. ‘We won’t be long,’ Patel called out to the dealer as he drove out of the gate and Fimbo waved an ok to his watcher. Patel took the seafront road where he had driven earlier that morning.
‘Air conditioning,’ muttered Fimbo as his large fingers stabbing at the cooling system on the dashboard.
Patel reached over and switched it on, a gust of air filled the car; he used the button for the electric windows doing his up as Fimbo watched. Fimbo looked at the one on his armrest and pushed at it. The window dropped down, pushed again and it went up, he turned to his wife and pointed at her arm rest, she fingered it and her window went down, Fimbo grinned at her.
His attention back on the dashboard, he turned on the radio, music playing he did a little jig in his seat.
He turned it off. ‘Ok muhindi faster,’ he instructed.
Patel speeded up.
‘Come on,’ urged Fimbo, ‘nexti gear.’
Patel dropped a gear and accelerated hard. The 4x4 surged forward with a powerful roar from the engine, as they raced along the seafront. Fimbo sat straighter in his seat enjoying the ride. They reached the end of the seafront road and Patel slowed down to turn round.
‘Stop.’ His rolled newspaper tapped the steering wheel.
Patel pulled over. ‘My turn,’ he said getting out of the car.
For one insane instant Patel wanted to drive off and leave him there; reason prevailed and the urge went. They switched sides, Patel left the motor running.
Fimbo turned the key the starter motor protested with a loud metallic crash. ‘Oh it is on,’ he said in surprise.
He grimaced as the cop put the car in the wrong gear and stalled it. He gripped the steering wheel angrily. ‘Whati is wrong?’
Patel patiently showed him how to start the car and select the right gear. They set off in a series of jerks until Fimbo got the hang of the clutch. Back along road he wound down his window and holding the wheel with one hand he trailed his other arm over the side. He glanced back to see if Mary was watching. ‘It’s good eh?’
They had a harrowing ride back to the hotel as Fimbo imperiously cut through the traffic, swearing at any drivers who got in his way and scattering pedestrians who dared to cross his path. His recklessness gaining as he grew more confident. At the hotel, he narrowly missed hitting the gate, swinging in wildly; he parked abruptly almost colliding with Patel’s parked car.
Fimbo walked round the car, a pleased look on his face. ‘It’s better than yours?’ He asked as Patel joined him.
‘Oh yes much better, the latest model.’
‘You have another spare tyre,’ Fimbo peered in the back of Patel’s Landcruiser, ‘I like that.’
‘Yes,’ Patel said hurriedly, ‘I’m sure we can arrange one for you too.’ The dealer intuitively hung back as Fimbo took a look at the Mercedes. Talking to his wife in a dialect Patel could not understand, he opened the passenger door for her and then instructed Patel to drive. Ten minutes later they were back after another harrowing drive.
Fimbo stood in the car park and surveyed his new wares with satisfaction. ‘Ok,’ he announced arrogantly. ‘I will take them, they are good.’ He waved his rolled newspaper blessing the cars.
The dealer took this as his cue to step forward.
Patel shook his head. ‘Wait here,’ he instructed and he walked with Fimbo towards the hotel. ‘They are nice cars,’ he ventured.
‘Yes muhindi you have done a good thing.’
‘So you are happy. Can I have my passport now?’
Fimbo stopped and tapped Patel on the shoulder with his newspaper. ‘Of course, when we get back to Malindi, no problem.’
‘But I need it now, sir, I have some business to do.’
‘Good you do your business,’ said Fimbo helpfully.
‘I need my passport to do my business.’ Patel explained.
‘You want to fly? muhindi, to see Al kahida? Eh?’
‘No, sir, this was the deal,’ he pointed at the cars. ‘You were to give me my passport.’
Fimbo stared. ‘I’m not a passport transporter and you can come and collect it from my office on Monday.’
‘Your office?’
‘Yes, I’m on holiday now,’ Fimbo announced smiling. ‘The cars are nice, I will drive the big one back to Malindi tomorrow and one of my men will take the Mercedes,’ he poked Patel in the chest with his index finger. ‘You organise it.’
‘Ok sir no problem,’ Patel said, ‘see you in Malindi.’
‘Very good,’ Fimbo walked off chatting to his wife.
Patel addressed the dealer, his mind working furiously. ‘Good news,’ he announced, ‘he likes the cars.’
The dealer looked wary, but relieved.
‘Can you leave them here? He wants to show his friends.’
The dealer shook his head. ‘No, that’s not our agreement.’
‘Listen,’ Patel put his hand on his shoulder, ‘take the keys with you no one is going to drive them. Just leave the cars here so he can gloat over them. I promise you they will not move from here.’
The dealer looked at his feet wavering.
‘Hey, I just made a great sale for you, don’t blow it now, do you know who that guy is?’
‘No.’
‘He’s the OCS from Malindi, a good guy to have on your side if you know what I mean.’
The dealer relented a little. ‘OCS?’
‘Yes, in fact he has two cops stationed at this hotel, trust me no one will touch those cars. I can give you a lift back to your office, I’m sure you would rather get home now, than mess about moving these cars.’
The dealer looked at Patel and saw only earnestness on his face. ‘Ok, what time tomorrow?’
Patel smiled. ‘I think he will have a night of it, so let’s say around noon tomorrow.’
‘What if he changes his mind?’
‘He won’t,’ Patel assured him as they walked over to his landcruiser. When he drove out of the gate, the cop stationed on the other side of the road crossed it and barred their way.
‘You no go,’ he commanded Patel aggressively.
‘It’s ok officer, I’m just giving this man a lift, he owns the cars the inspector is buying. I will be back just now.’
‘The inspector he said you no go,’ the cop repeated.
‘Listen, the inspector has given me permission, why don’t you ask him,’ Patel handed over his mobile.
He took the expensive mobile, wavering. ‘He said you could go?’
‘Yes,’ Patel smiled, ‘I will be back just now, but call him if you want, he has had a few beers though. Look, I don’t want you to get into trouble. I will leave my phone with you, if I’m not back in ten minutes you can call him.’
The cop fingered the mobile. ‘Ok,’ he agreed, ‘but you buy me lunch when you get back.’
‘Of course,’ Patel giggled. ‘Thank you.’
Outside the showroom the dealer said. ‘Can you come in and sign some papers?’
‘Bring them with you tomorrow; I must get back I don’t want that bugger all riled up.’
‘Ok,’ agreed the dealer sympathetically, ‘see you at noon.’
Patel drove away and took the next side turning; he pulled over and switched off the engine. He needed time to think out a new plan. It was clear that Fimbo was going to hold onto his passport and try and extract as much as he could from him before possibly arresting him. Patel was running out of time and without the passport his planned
escape via Dar-es Salaam was now impossible. He got out of the car locked it, walked a little way down the street and bought an orange from a fruit vendor. Arguing the relevant points in his mind, he chewed on the fruit and making a decision walked back to the car. By the time he reached it he had made up his mind what to do.
THIRTY-FOUR
Katana’s task force arrived at the Malindi police station. The sight of the guns caused confusion and tension until it was established that his team was bona-fide police and not some armed gangsters intent on a raid.
Mugo invited Katana into his office. ‘Fimbo is not here, I’m in charge, how can I help?’
‘I see, so where is he, I need to talk to him?’
‘He left for Mombasa. He is on a stakeout, pursuing some dangerous criminals.’
‘And when do you expect him back?’
The detective shrugged. ‘He didn’t tell us.’
‘Do you know where he is in Mombasa?’
Mugo shook his head and smiled. Katana slid his official ID across the desk.’ Perhaps this will help you remember.’
Mugo studied his face for humour and saw none. Frowning, he picked up the ID and stared at it. A trapped fly buzzed along a dirty windowpane behind his head, smoke from his cigarette spiraled upwards. ‘Fimbo is at the Royal Hotel in Mombasa with two other constables, he will be back tomorrow.’ He lifted the cigarette and tapped the ash carefully in the ashtray, not meeting Katana’s eye.
‘Good, I need to use your phone. Now do you know an Evans Njugu, the bank manager at the Malindi NNB branch?’
‘Yes, I know who he is, why?’
‘I need him picked up as soon as possible; he is wanted in Nairobi for questioning. I have a helicopter waiting at the airport, can you and your men organise that?’
Mugo stared. ‘A helicopter?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I think I know where he can be found at this time.’
‘Is that phone working? ‘Katana stood up and pointed.
‘Yes it is.’
He walked around the desk, the narrow space forcing Mugo to his feet. ‘How long will it take you to pick up Evans?’
‘Not long,’ said Mugo awkwardly, as they swapped sides.
‘Do you need any of my men?’
‘No,’ Mugo picked up his handcuffs and made to leave.
‘Sit down,’ ordered Katana, ‘I haven’t finished with you yet.’
Mugo aggressively stubbed out his cigarette and slouched in the chair, looking sullen.
‘There are two other suspects I’m after. An Indian man called Patel and an Arab woman Azizza, do you know them?’
Mugo’s eyes flickered at the mention of Patel’s name. ‘I might know them,’ he agreed. ‘Do you have any photographs?’
‘I have two murdered policemen on my books, don’t mess me about, otherwise you’re on that helicopter to Nairobi. If you have never been to Pathway House, let me assure you they have plenty of room for guests like you with poor memories.’
Mugo went grey with shock and took a deep breath. ‘This is what I know,’ he leaned forward and spoke, keeping his voice low.
Katana listened and took notes on a pad in front of him. ‘Now Azizza, do you know where she is?’
‘No, but Evans may know, they are often seen together,’ Mugo said eager to get out from under Katana’s sceptical gaze. ‘I can pick him up quickly for you.’
‘Take my men with you, and don’t even think about alerting Fimbo,’ he warned as he picked up the phone and called Firdus for more instructions.
Mugo stepped out into the courtyard. The cops were all sitting about eating hunks of bread and sipping tea, a jovial group exchanging news and views. He noted with displeasure that the two taxi drivers had joined in. ‘What are they doing in here?’ He asked, pointing at the drivers. Before anyone could answer he said. ‘Out, go! This is a secure area, police and prisoners only.’
One taxi driver, mouth still full of bread answered cheekily. ‘We are with them pointing at the Nairobi cops; they hired us.’
‘I don’t care, take your tea outside now!’
The two drivers exchanged looks. Cyrus took charge backing Mugo up. ‘Go on, outside,’ he echoed.
Mugo turned to Cyrus. ‘Your boss has asked us to pick up a suspect, can we take the taxi?’
‘Yes,’ Cyrus nodded, ‘no problem, but I’m not armed.’
‘Just take one of theirs,’ Mugo pointed at the team.
‘Ok, who is the suspect?’
‘I will brief you in the car,’ Mugo, clicked his fingers at one of his men. ‘Let’s go.’ The three cops got in the Corolla, Mugo in front, Cyrus and the other cop behind.
The tuk-tuk driver asked eagerly. ‘Shall I follow?’
‘No wait here,’ Cyrus told him.
They found Evans at his usual spot, unopened beers lined up on the table and two women enjoying his company, the bar almost empty. Evans could hardly contain his excitement at having discovered ten million shillings in his wife’s’ bank account. He had left the bank as soon as possible to enjoy his new found wealth and was well into his cups when he recognised Mugo. ‘Detective, come,’ he beckoned expansively, ‘these ladies here have good stories to tell. Bring your friends,’ he added with brotherly love.
Mugo sauntered over, eyeing up the women. He dropped a pair of handcuffs on the table and sat down heavily in a chair opposite Evans, a smirk on his face.
Evans beamed at Mugo in good-natured fellowship. ‘Have a beer,’ he pushed a bottle in his direction.
Mugo frowned. ‘I have come to take you to the station.’
‘Me? What for?’ Evans asked laughing.
Mugo laughed back and nodded at the cop standing behind Evans. The man grabbed him by the shoulders.
‘Hey!’ Evans twisted in his seat. Mugo swiftly reached across and handcuffed his wrists together.
‘What the hell do you want from me?’ Evans asked, incredulous. The cop yanked him up by his jacket forcing the manager to his feet. The women clutching their handbags, moved swiftly away from the table. Several bottles tumbled to the floor exploding and soaking Evans’s shoes in frothy beer.
At the station Evans was led, stumbling, along a corridor round an open courtyard. Mugo pushed him into an office and sat him in a chair. He looked at a man seated opposite him at the desk.
‘Mr. Evans. Things have not been quite as they seem at your bank. You are wanted in Nairobi for questioning.’ Katana said.
Evans frowned trying to concentrate. ‘Can I have a glass of water,’ he said leaning forward on his elbows.
‘You have been working with an Arab woman called Azizza and an Indian man called Patel,’ Katana stated.
‘Yes, they are clients at my bank.’ He sat up trying to look his role. Mugo put a tin cup of water on the desk. Evans greedily took a gulp, water seeping down his chin.
‘Do you know where these people are?’
‘No, but I have their phone numbers, we could call them.’ he offered.
Katana told Mugo to remove the handcuffs. Evans rubbed his wrists and fingered his mobile, relieved. ‘Who do you want me to call first?’ This is obviously nothing to do with me, it is all to do with those two crooks.
‘Call Azizza.’ Evans pressed the dial button. Katana reached across and lifted the phone out of his hands to listen.
Azizza was trying on combinations of her lingerie, standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom watching her reflection and adopting sexy stances. She heard the phone ring and started in surprise - oh my god, it’s him - feeling exposed. She looked, saw it was only Evans and rejected the call.
Katana handed the phone back. ‘Try Patel’s number.’
This time the phone didn’t even ring instead he heard an electronic message announcing the phone was switched off.
‘Ok,’ Katana made a decision. ‘Evans you are to accompany me to Nairobi.’
‘Nairobi, what for? What am I being charged with? I have done nothing wrong - you can’t do this to me.’
/>
Katana stood up. ‘Some people in Nairobi don’t think so. Let’s go,’ he walked out of the office, calling his team to order. He briefed Mugo as he waited for the team to assemble. ‘You will remain in charge until this matter is resolved with Fimbo. If Patel or the Arab women appear back in Malindi, you are to arrest them, understood?’
‘Yes sir.’
Back in the taxis with Evans still protesting, Cyrus warned him. ‘Shut up! Before I shut you up.’
Katana rang the helicopter pilot. ‘We will be there in five minutes and we are to fly directly to Mombasa Airport.’
‘Very good sir,’ replied Kinanjui.
*
Patel drove to the port of Mombasa, to the offices of his shipping agent. He walked in and introduced himself to the secretary and presented his forms. She motioned him to a chair, finished the letter she was typing and then taking his documents, went through a door to her boss’s office. A few moments later she was back waving him through.
‘Hello Mr. Patel,’ the agent greeted him. ‘You’re a day early?’
‘Yes, something has come up, can I leave the car here?’
He frowned. ‘No not really, we have nowhere to store it, cars go missing all the time. I don’t want the responsibility.’
‘But the ship is already here.’ Patel pointed out.
‘True, but your car is scheduled to be loaded tomorrow.’
‘Are you loading other cars now?’
The agent stood up and raised a window blind behind his desk. ‘Yes, there’s the ship,’ he pointed, ‘there the black one, the Union Express.’ A long line of cars and trucks snaked towards the dock.
Patel asked. ‘Listen it’s no good for me to bring the car tomorrow, is there any way you can get my car on today?’
The agent looked at his watch. ‘Impossible, the cars have to be checked by customs before we can load them and the customs shed closes in about ten minutes. All the cars are accounted for.’
‘Please, I need your help.’
The agent smiled. ‘Those customs guys are real bastards and I am about to leave, even if I wanted too, there’s no time left.’
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