by P J Skinner
‘You didn’t tell us that. How is it your fault?’ asked Hans.
‘I found the papers that proved he was stealing from the company with Charlie Okito.’
‘So? It’s his fault then. You didn’t kill him. He killed himself,’ said Hans, angry.
‘I have no one to talk to. It’s so hard.’
‘Don’t you have a boyfriend?’
‘He’s afraid of commitment, and has shacked up with a teenager.’ She shrugged.
‘He’s a fucking idiot. You are magnificent, brave and intelligent. He must be a fool.’
Hans had risen and he stood over her. His face softened and he leaned over and stroked her face. His touch made her weak. She still didn’t fancy him but his desire leaked out of his fingers and infected her.
‘Let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman like you,’ he said. ‘Please.’
Sam shrank back into the seat. What? Hans drew back.
‘You think I am ugly,’ he said, sad.
‘No, you are magnificent too. I just didn’t think of you like that. We’re colleagues.’
‘Sex is not a big deal between adults. I think you’d enjoy it. I know I would.’
A smile crept across Sam’s face. She remembered his heart beating against her back in the standoff with the rebels, and despite herself, she felt aroused by his passion. She longed for the escape of a roaring orgasm in the arms of a strong man, which would obliterate all the sorrow and leave her floating in the stars.
‘No one must know,’ she said, flushing. ‘You must never refer to it again.’
‘You kept my secret. I’ll keep yours. I won’t tell anyone. Not even Jacques,’ he said, hand on heart.
‘Especially not Jacques,’ she said, stretching out her arms.
Chapter XXXII
Morné Van Rooyen stepped out of the airport building at Masaibu with the air of someone who had been solicited in the street. He smoothed his moustache and glared at her.
‘What is wrong with these people? Don’t they have any respect?’ he said.
‘Did they ask you for lipstick?’ said Sam.
The stare she received told her all she wanted to know about his mood. He had come on a flying visit, scheduled to spend only two nights in camp. One of the treasured menus would have to be cancelled. He sat in the front seat of the jeep, relegating Sam to the back, and opened the window ‘for air’. The breeze that blew into the back of the car carried his stale odour.
Sam wrinkled her nose in disgust. The big boss had taken advantage of one perk offered by the awful airport hotel in Entebbe. Any normal person would have showered but perhaps there was no water in the hotel. She had to stay rational and open to all ideas about the project even if they were from a man smelling of sex. Yuck.
‘Sir, perhaps you could close the window as we drive through town,’ said Ezekiel.
‘No need. I don’t mind people talking to me.’
‘They’ll see Mama Sam in the car and we’ll have to stop. The people love her.’
Sam smirked. Ezekiel winked at her in the car mirror as Morné forced the window back up, winding the handle with jerky movements.
As luck would have it, Hans was standing at the main gate when the car pulled up. He waved them through, disappointing Sam who was dying to see how Morné would react to the guards examining his underwear. She showed Morné into this accommodation in the guest cabin. He wrinkled his nose at the musty air but didn’t comment.
‘I’ll see you in the office then,’ said Sam. ‘It’s the building at the far end of the square with the verandah.’
‘I’d rather see the project first.’
‘Okay, just let me know when you’re ready. My office is at the front so I can see you coming out.’
Morné grunted.
Sam had not known what to expect from Morné’s visit but his attitude to her was worrying. Was this something to do with Dirk’s death? Having not been aware of Bruno’s plan to raid the Goro office, she had been as shocked as anyone to hear of Dirk’s demise. No doubt Morné would tell her. She wandered back to the office and waited for him to appear.
***
The tour of the project only increased Morné’s obvious annoyance. The praise heaped on Sam by her workforce, most of which she had to translate from French, induced curt nods and changes of subject. Even the now-functioning heavy machinery lined up for the occasion by a proud Frik, did not elicit more than faint praise.
Sam offloaded Morné in the geology department, afraid she might punch him if left unsupervised. Alain took him to the core shed and on a circuit of the drill sites while she went to have a cup of tea with Hans.
‘Where’s the big boss?’ said Hans.
‘Alain is showing him the exploration work.’
‘Has he told you why he’s here yet?’ asked Hans.
‘No, I guess it’s something to do with implosion caused by Charlie Okito.’
‘How did they find out about him?’
‘I don’t know. Probably something to do with the accounts.’
‘What about Dirk? Weren’t they friends? Dirk’s sudden demise can’t have been easy for him.’
‘Yes, troubles do seem to come in threes.’
‘That’s only two.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ said Sam.
Lying to Hans after what they had shared made her feel uncomfortable, but Miriam’s warning had taken full effect. She wanted to protect Bruno at all costs.
By the time Morné turned up, Sam recovered her equilibrium and was organising her collection of beetles by size into a caravan along the dado rail, the biggest first.
‘Haven’t you got anything better to do?’ said Morné.
‘Ah, you’re back,’ said Sam, letting the barbed comment float over her head. ‘I hope you’re pleased with our progress.’
‘We’re years behind on the drilling and the resource calculation is months away.’
‘It’s true we are playing catch up, but now the project is working smoothly again, I’d like to set some more ambitious targets for our next exploration programme.’
‘I think you’ve done enough damage already, don’t you?’ said Morné.
Sam stiffened and her throat constricted.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘What damage? I have…’
‘You’ve caused the death of one man and the disappearance of another, ruining the perfect scheme to get bribes into the hands of the government without the IMF interfering.’
Sam felt her insides turn over and twist into a knot. A cold hand gripped her heart.
‘Bribery? What are you talking about?’
Morné sighed. ‘For God’s sake. You don’t think we expected you to run the exploration project successfully, do you? You’re supposed to be the fall guy, but you just wouldn’t stop digging. Everything is ruined.’
‘The project’s a scam?’ said Sam.
‘From top to bottom. And now you’ve wrecked it.’
Morné let this sink in.
‘But Dirk was taking his cut too. Why did you allow that?’
‘He wasn’t the only one profiting from some tax-free cash. Until you came along, everyone was happy.’
‘You picked me to fail.’
‘What a disappointment that turned out to be,’ Morné laughed and tugged at his moustache as if he expected it to peel off. ‘You’re a right royal pain in the arse.’
‘So, what happens now?’
‘Do you have to ask?’
***
The bitter disappointment of leaving just when the sky turned blue seeped through her being, laced with bitter resentment at her treatment by Morné. Just another corrupt bastard. Why should he get away with his plan after all her work to normalise the project?
Almost worse than losing her job was the knowledge they had selected someone from head office to run the project remotely again. They would destroy all her work and Philippe w
ould soon reign supreme again. Something had to be done, and she had a fool proof idea to precipitate the project’s downfall. Morné suffered from the need to be important, the clever one in the crowd. He wouldn’t be able to resist the chance for one-upmanship, especially if it put Sam in her place.
While he was at breakfast, she placed the rare Cape Beetle on the table in his cabin just before his meeting with Jean Delacroix. Just add beetle and stand back. Dirk would have appreciated the notion of Morné being hoist with his own petard. She raised her mug of tea to Dirk’s memory. He had chosen her because he thought she would be useless, but without him, she would never have had the job in the first place.
As she expected, Morné arrived at the meeting in Sam’s office waving the beetle in the air. Having fired Sam, his mood had changed to one of triumph. He didn’t notice Jean Delacroix standing behind the door hanging up his rain jacket.
‘Look what I found. Better than any of your dull efforts, Sam.’
Jean pushed the door shut and tried to take the beetle from Morné who held it up in the air.
‘Can I see that?’ said Jean.
‘And who are you?’ said Morné.
‘Oh, he’s Jean Delacroix, the WCO representative in Masaibu. He has been helping us protect the elephant herd,’ said Sam.
‘Nice to meet you, Morné. That’s an unusual beetle.’
A tremor of excitement disrupted Jean’s voice and too late, Morné threw it in the rubbish bin beside Sam’s desk.
‘It’s just a filthy beetle. Probably covered in dangerous bacteria. I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.’
Jean was not listening. He crouched on his haunches and reached into the bin, picking the beetle up by the carapace and placing it on the desk. The iridescent blue body of the beetle dazzled Jean, who peered at it muttering ‘wonderful’ and ‘amazing’.
‘Do you have the beetle book I gave you?’ he asked Sam, who was already rooting in the drawer for it. She didn’t look up as she handed it over, terrified she might give herself away. Jean leafed through the book and stopped at the section where Sam had bent over the corner of the page to make it easier to find. He went back and forwards examining the photos of the species. Morné shifted in his seat.
‘Is this necessary?’ he said. ‘We have important matters to discuss.’
Sam bit her lip and stirred her tea with a pencil. Finally, Jean looked up from the book.
‘You have discovered a new species of beetle,’ he said.
‘Oh, I’m sure they’re common as muck,’ said Morné, looking to Sam for confirmation. But Sam was staring out of the window, pretending some workers carrying a plank were distracting her. Her insides were bubbling with glee.
‘Cape beetles are rare. They only live in specific locations in South Africa on the tops of small elevated plateaus. They are a protected species,’ said Jean.
‘Protected? But you said this one is a new species so it can’t be on a list already,’ retorted Morné.
‘I don’t think you understand. All work must cease on the project until Consaf carry an environmental impact study out for the species. We must establish the range and populations before you carry out any more work.’
Morné’s jaw dropped onto his chest. Sam could almost hear the clang.
‘Oh my, how unfortunate,’ she said.
‘Can I take it?’ said Jean. ‘I must show it to the others at WCO. They’ll be so thrilled.’
‘Of course,’ said Sam.
Chapter XXXIII
Morné left the same day, hitching a lift on a Consaf flight taking Ntezi employees out on leave. He didn’t speak to Sam again after the meeting with Jean Delacroix. Did he realise she had played him? Sam was not a vindictive person, but she had had enough of Consaf and Lumbono and the endemic corruption. In fact, she was sick of the whole enterprise and all its shabby protagonists.
If the mayor’s wife had not been at the project, he would not have stopped Kaba and his men from taking her. The people of Masaibu showed no gratitude for her efforts to improve conditions. It was like trying to fill a leaky bucket. The more she did, the more they wanted. It exhausted her.
The stakeholders meeting presented the ideal opportunity for her to inform the local community of her departure. She saw no point in apprising Victor Samba of developments. The last thing she needed was a fake display of unhappiness and insincere farewells. The job had depressed her and she wanted to go home.
There was no sign that the meeting would be any different to those that had gone before. Hans and Jacques both came in the car with her to the hall citing security concerns.
‘I thought Kaba had taken over a cobalt mine,’ she said.
‘You never know,’ said Jacques.
‘It’s our duty to keep you safe,’ said Hans.
Sam rolled her eyes and swallowed the response which rose up her throat.
‘I’m so lucky,’ she said.
For once, no one was waiting outside the building for the meeting to start.
‘Are you sure the meeting is on?’ said Sam. ‘It looks quiet.’
‘I’m sure,’ said Hans. ‘It was raining earlier this evening, maybe they went inside for a change.’
Sam shrugged.
‘Let’s get it over with,’ she said, and pushed open the double doors so find a sea of people waiting. The air smelled like a wet bar of soap and the ladies were all wearing their full regalia of wax print dresses and matching head dresses. The sea parted and Hans pushed Sam though the crowd to a trestle table at the top of the hall. Spontaneous applause broke out.
‘What’s going on?’ said Sam.
‘You’ll see,’ said Jacques.
They installed Sam behind the table with Victor Samba and other important stakeholders. Behind her stood Jacques and Hans, smug looks on their faces. The mayor rose from his chair and the hubbub in the hall died down.
‘Welcome Mama Sam. Tonight the women of Masaibu have a presentation for you,’ said Victor in his best mayor’s voice.
Before Sam could protest or question this statement, about forty women shuffled forwards and formed a phalanx of bright yellow and orange which looked like someone had lit a fire in the centre of the hall. A stout woman placed herself in front of the group and counted out loud in Swahili. As the women burst into song, the hairs on Sam’s arms stood on end. They sang as a unit their rich voices filling the hall and rattling the roof.
The sound was so rich that the audience were brought to tears. Sam could feel her marrow shaking. A young woman appeared on the periphery of her vision carrying a bunch of wilted wild flowers tied with a pink ribbon. She presented it to Sam without ever looking her in the eye while the singing raised the rafters.
The mayor leaned over.
‘Do you understand what they are singing?’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
‘It is a song they usually sing for politicians or important men who visit the town. Would you like to know what they are saying?’
Sam hesitated and nodded.
‘God has chosen Mama Sam to be our leader,’ he said, smiling. ‘They think he sent you to help us.’
Guilt flooded through her, mixed with pride, making her feel wonderful and awful at the same time. Why hadn’t someone said something before? She had never expected an ambush like this, never suspected that she had broken through. Oh God, she had just killed the project when it was about to fly.
The singing had stopped. The eyes of the town were on her, concern replacing glee as renegade tears escaped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She pulled herself together.
‘Thank you so much. That was the proudest moment of my life,’ she said. And she wasn’t lying. Somehow, she got through the meeting, the speeches from different parts of the community, the update on the pygmies surrogate parenting of the elephant, the complaints about the new uniform rules.
When everyone had left, she pulled the mayor aside.
‘Victor, they have fired me.’
‘Consaf? Are they crazy? What happened? You cannot go.’
Sam shook her head.
‘I cannot stay.’
‘When do you leave?’
‘Tomorrow. They want me out of here as soon as possible.’
‘It’s a disaster.’
‘No, it’s just a new beginning. You know what to do now. The elephants are the key to your future. Don’t rely on Consaf.’
‘We will miss you.’
Sam shook his hand and returned to the sanctuary of the space between her two security men. She wanted to weep or shout but instead she scrounged a cigarette and stood outside and smoked it with them. The mayor joined them, but no one spoke.
***
It was more difficult than she had imagined to leave the project. The physical act of folding her clothes and filling her suitcases drained her. Hans came to see her ‘to make sure she left’, but he failed to convince her, especially when he wrapped her in his long arms and held her for a minute sniffing her hair as if he wanted to remember the smell of her.
‘I’m going to miss you, Sam Harris. You made my life more bearable again,’ said Hans.
She was unable to reply only gulping and shoving him out again before he made her cry.
Her precious tea bags were donated to Alain who shook her hand and would not let go. Bruno wept, his cheeks wobbling and had to be comforted by Dr Ntuli. Even Frik couldn’t pretend, offering her a final cigarette before fleeing to the sanctuary of his workshop. Even the girls in the kitchen made her a special breakfast.
The only people who were ecstatic about her departure were Philippe and Sonia who spent hours in his office discussing their tactics without any idea that Beetle-gate had happened. Neither of them came to see Sam off, for which she was grateful.
Victor and Mbala had said their goodbyes the night before to avoid alerting the townsfolk.
‘They won’t let you leave,’ said Victor. ‘You are ours now.’
‘I always will be,’ said Sam. ‘You saved me. I’ll never forget it.’
Mbala couldn’t speak, but lowered her head to Sam who did the same, their foreheads touching in mutual homage.