I went pale. “It must be a mistake. They would never knowingly make an illegal purchase They won’t even cross against a light. Is there anything I can do? Considering their age and ill health? I know the ambassador is concerned.”
Panza looked at Akida, then nodded.
“One thousand U.S. dollars,” Akida said under his breath. Of course my “emergency” money was in my purse, right under my own contraband ivory necklace. I tried to use a cleavage distraction while I rummaged for my wallet. I finally found the secret zipped compartment I used for cash.
“What do I do?” I whispered to Akida.
“Leave it under the bell.”
“You got all this from a nod?” He nodded.
I approached with some trepidation and put the money under the bell.
The lieutenant handed me several papers. “Please sign here. I am releasing these prisoners into your custody. If they violate even the smallest ordinance, especially if they are found with any more contraband, they will not be allowed to leave the country and I will be forced to arrest you as well. Do you understand?”
“I understand. Asante,” I said. “I mean thank you.”
I never saw him take the money, but when I turned around it was gone. Jack and Barb Anderson, owners of Andersons Sparkling Dry Cleaning, appeared, looking like they’d just climbed out of a dumpster. I ran to hug them both. My polka dot blouse would just have to be collateral damage.
“I just want to say, as a representative of Redondo Travel, that we will be giving you a complete refund on your package and anything else that you want. I am mortified and can’t apologize enough.”
Barb leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cyd. What other travel agent would use her own money to bail us out?” Not Peggy fricking Newsome, I thought. “Besides, we’ve had the trip of a lifetime, just like you said. We saw a whole family of lions.”
“Pride,” Jack said.
“Pride. And two giraffes mating. Jack has only had two malaria symptoms.”
“Dizziness and sleeplessness. Of course, there’s still time.”
I asked Akida to help them to the van, while I turned back to Lieutenant Panza and put another two hundred dollars under the bell.
“I’m looking for a Robert Barsky, he’s an American living here. This was his last known address. Could you recommend anyone who might help me find him?”
He looked at the address, hesitated, then said he’d be in touch.
By the time I got back to the Toyota, Roger had returned and we all piled in. On the way to the hotel, the Andersons told us they were just taking a picture of the National Museum and didn’t realize two soldiers were in the frame. They had been scared at first, but Barb said they had met several fascinating people. They’d shared a cell with the local witch doctor who had several stains that, even with fifty years in dry cleaning, they’d never seen before. They couldn’t wait to get the filthy clothes home.
“Barb loves a challenge,” Jack said.
“It was fascinating. I felt like a local.” They couldn’t wait to tell all their friends.
Great. There goes Redondo Travel.
I had booked all four of us into the Movenpick Royal Palm Hotel. Roger and I checked in while the Andersons cleaned up. That night, we went to a restaurant the Andersons’ cellmates had recommended and ate ugali and fresh fish with our left hands. On the way back, I managed to convince Jack and Barb to keep the jail episode to themselves, at least until the rest of my clients had gotten back to Brooklyn safely. I asked them about the ivory, but they didn’t seem to know what I was talking about. Panza must have taken me for just another American sucker. I would make sure that didn’t happen again.
I promised to take them to the airport in the morning and headed upstairs with Roger. He had been quiet since the embassy. For some reason, I suddenly felt shy and hesitated before putting on the emergency teddy from my carry-on. Roger stripped down to checked boxers and a t-shirt.
“Sorry about today. Once I get them on the plane, we’ll really be on vacation. I promise.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cyd, it’s fine. I’m just tired. We haven’t slept in almost two days.”
“Yeah. I know.” That’s not all we hadn’t done. He kissed my hand and seconds later he was asleep. It took me about two more hours. Was Uncle Ray right—was it too early to travel together? I vowed from that moment to make sure Roger had the best vacation of his life and begged God, or whatever entity was in charge, to please just let this relationship last to the end of our seven days. It didn’t seem like too much to ask.
The next morning, I woke up first, did my hair, put on perfume, and went down to get us coffee. Roger was just making his way out of the covers when I got back. He took his cup gratefully and gave me that shy grin I’d fallen for in the first place.
“You look beautiful.” He pulled me down. “When do we have to leave?”
“In about fifteen minutes. I’ll take a rain check, though.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
See? Confusing. We met Jack and Barb downstairs. The airline had called and said their luggage had been found and would be checked back on their departing flight. Maybe ours would show up too. Akida dropped us off at Departures, and I said I would go deal with the luggage.
“It’s already checked in.” Roger said. “The airline said all they have to do is get on the plane.”
“We don’t know if anything’s missing. If they don’t check here, they can’t file a claim.”
“Cyd, just because it’s Africa doesn’t mean anything’s missing.”
“Africa Schmafrica, I would do this in Cleveland. The luggage’s been missing for ten days. If you don’t inventory and something’s missing or damaged, you have no recourse. It’s unprofessional. It won’t take long. Okay? Just keep an eye on them, please.” I headed to the British Airways desk, exuding my most professional travel agent aura.
“Shikamu,” I said. This was the most respectful form of greeting.
“Hello,” the clerk said. He was tall, with a pencil thin mustache and hair slicked back almost flat on his head. After the obligatory pleasantries, I made my request, in English.
He took the claim forms and moved to the door behind him. As it opened, I gasped: there was my purple polka dot hard shell case. I had pasted half of a Mets sticker near the bottom for easier identification. Roger’s WWF duffel bag was right beside it.
“Excuse me,” I said as the man disappeared behind the door. “Excuse me?” A couple of the soldiers turned to look. I asked the woman behind me to hold my place, then snuck behind the desk and pushed on the door.
I heard the crack of a rifle. I put my hands in the air as a soldier gestured me away from the door with the gun. I edged back toward the counter. I wasn’t sure whether the stupid American or sensitive American was a better approach, but as I knew the words for “forgive me” and “sorry” in Swahili, I went for sensitive.
“Nisamale. Pale.” Just then, my clerk came back out. “Nisamale,” I said. “When you opened the door, I saw my luggage. It didn’t arrive with us yesterday and I was just hoping you’d check on it? I didn’t mean to violate any rules.”
“That is a restricted area. Travelers are not allowed.”
“I understand. Again, I apologize.”
He handed me the Andersons’ claim checks. “These bags have already been checked and loaded onto the aircraft. They are not available.”
“There’s been a mistake. You see, they must be checked in the port of arrival before being sent back.”
“I’m afraid that is not possible.”
The two guys with the guns were still standing there and Roger was hovering, gesturing for me to let it go. I saw the Andersons watching too. Every travel agent molecule in me knew letting those bags go unchecked was wrong. I was going to do righ
t by the Andersons if it was the last thing I ever did.
“Perhaps I could speak to your supervisor?” I asked, banking on the fact that no one, in any hemisphere, wanted you to speak to their supervisor. Sweat broke out on his forehead.
“That is not necessary.”
“Then perhaps we can try again. I respect that you are a man who believes in rules, so I am sure you will want to follow this one. I’m happy to wait,” I said. He looked at the long line which was forming behind me, took the forms and went back behind the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” Roger asked, moving beside me.
“Let me do my job, Roger. I wouldn’t try to diagnose sciatica.” Finally, the man came back with two gray Samsonite bags. They looked like they’d been dragged behind a truck.
“These will have to be checked and pass through security again,” the clerk said, significantly. “You are from Redondo Travel?”
“Yes.”
“And you are sure?” He winked. What was it with the winking? Was he flirting, or was something else going on? Either way, I had to check the bags.
“Yes, and of course, we’ll recheck them.” I thanked him and moved out of line. The soldiers kept us in range.
“Okay,” I said to Jack and Barb. “Just do a quick check of the contents, we’ll recheck them and then we’ll get you on that plane.”
Roger came closer and leaned in. “Cyd, do you really want to open those bags here?”
“Of course I want to open the bags. What is wrong with everybody? This is standard procedure. Absolutely standard.”
“What if their favorite possessions are ruined? Why don’t you let me handle this and you keep them occupied?” he said, reaching for the bags.
“Roger, I am the travel professional here. You are my plus one. The plus one is not in charge.” I gripped one suitcase in each hand. He tried to take one of the bags. I held on harder.
“You’re horrible at this, you know,” he said.
“What? At my job? I am not.” I gripped the bags harder.
“At traveling. You are horrible at traveling, you…you orphaned Tupperware tart.”
I was so startled and embarrassed, I loosened my grip. Roger grabbed both the suitcases.
He eased the first one open, looked at it for a minute, then closed it. The he opened the second one. His face went pale. He slammed it shut, picked up both bags, and ran for the exit.
Chapter Seventeen
“What the hell?” Jack said as we watched Roger fly through the door and jump into a taxi. Several soldiers ran after him and got into a Jeep. I turned to the Andersons, horrified.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what just happened. I promise I will get that luggage back.”
“Forget the luggage. Go. Go after him Cyd. He might be a klepto, but he’s cute and once you’re over thirty, you can’t be that picky. We’ll be fine.” BA was calling for their flight.
“Are you sure?”
“If not, we know who to call.”
I hugged them both and ran for Akida’s Toyota van.
“Follow that Jeep,” I said.
“What has occurred?” he asked as he shot the daladala out into the road. I wished I knew. I had never been so humiliated in front of a client. What could be in the bag that had made his face go white? Had Panza’s men planted more ivory to frame the poor Andersons? And what would happen if Roger was caught with it? I didn’t want Akida to see my panic, so I answered him as matter-of-factly as I could.
“Mr. Claymore has stolen the Andersons’ luggage and the police are after him.”
He swerved off the road on the right to gain on the Jeep. There were three or four taxis in front of us and I had no idea which one Roger was in. In true Tanzanian fashion, the traffic came to a complete stop. We were in the slowest chase in modern history. I jumped out of the van.
“Pick me up once you’re moving.” I ran as fast as I could past taxi after taxi, checking each one. Suddenly, I was right behind the soldiers. I stopped, not sure how to get around them but then Akida’s Toyota was there, to give me cover. Once I was past, he stopped and popped the hood. Whatever we were paying him, it wasn’t enough. I thought I spotted a familiar head of hair about two cars ahead just as the traffic started moving again. I ran back to the van and Akida pulled out, the hood slamming itself shut as we pulled forward.
I jumped out again and banged on Roger’s window. He was looking the other way and ignoring my screams. I jumped onto the side of the cab, not a great idea in heels. Roger finally opened the door, and pulled me in.
“You shouldn’t be here.” he said, pushing me toward the floor. I pushed back.
“Tupperware tart? What does that even mean? Do you really think I’m going to let that go?” I edged over to sit on the bag.
Roger intercepted, gripping me on his lap. “Can’t you see I’m trying to get away from you?”
“Not with my clients’ luggage, you’re not.” It was hard to fight with him while I was on his lap.
“Are you telling me you really don’t know why I ran?”
“I am telling you I have no fricking clue.”
“You don’t know what’s in the bags?”
“If I had to guess, Depends? I’m kidding. It’s clearly something bad. Did they have more ivory? What? What?”
He turned my face to his and looked at me for a long time, then kissed me on the forehead. “You’re right. It’s bad. There’s something illegal in the Andersons’ luggage. I don’t think they put it there, but if anyone had seen it, especially after the previous arrest, they’d spend the next twenty years in that jail and so would you. The soldiers were right there, I couldn’t explain it to you. There wasn’t anything else I could do but run.”
I took a second to process this, hoping the Andersons were safely on their way home by now. “So that’s why the soldiers are following you?”
“There are soldiers following me?” The traffic had stopped dead again. I looked around. The soldiers’ Jeep had pulled out, getting ready to pass us on the right.
“Get down,” I said, and stayed in the window, my back to them. The soldiers passed us and pulled back into traffic three cars ahead.
“Okay, we’ve got to lose them.” I said. “Get out.”
“If we’re trying to lose them, why are we getting out?”
“Because they’re in front of us. What price did you negotiate with the driver?”
“What are you talking about?”
I sighed and asked the driver the fare. He gave me an outrageous sum. I turned to Roger for the money, but he and the luggage were already gone. Why did I always attract cheapskates? By the time I had settled up, Roger was between two ramshackle houses. I ran after him.
“This doesn’t mean I’m still not furious with you,” I said when I caught up.
“I know. Look, I’m sorry about the Tupperware thing. I had to make you mad enough to let go. I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean any of it.”
“Well, it sounded pretty thought-through. And, anyway, you said that before you opened the luggage. How could you know there was something inside?”
“I just had a feeling.”
I didn’t buy that for a minute. I was about to start screaming when the soldiers turned around and we both went silent. Finally, they inched ahead and away. Roger put the bag down. I was sweating through my La Perla. What didn’t he want me to see?
“Stop screwing around and let me see it,” I said.
“No. Look, right now, you can actually say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ to the police. I’m trying to give you reasonable deniability.”
“Roger, my brousin is a real cop and he doesn’t even talk like that. These are my clients. If they’ve knowingly or unknowingly broken a law, I need to know. And if the local police have framed them, I need to
report it to Fodor’s at least. Let me see the damn luggage.”
“It’s evidence. We need a chain of custody.”
“Roger, seriously, you’re a chiropractor, not a secret agent. I have every right to see what’s in there. It’s client/travel agent privilege.”
“If you just let me get this luggage where it needs to go, it will be better for you.”
“And how is it that you know where it’s supposed to go?”
We’d attracted an audience of street kids. A chicken pecked the ground about five feet from us and a wave of charcoal wafted into my hair.
“I’m really getting tired of this. What is wrong with you? Show me the damn luggage.” I must have stood there for a whole minute.
“Okay. It’s your choice. But not here. We need a contained space.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You have to promise you won’t overreact.”
“When do I overreact?”
Roger rolled his eyes and laid the suitcase flat. We were both squatting beside the luggage inside the handicapped stall in the women’s room off our hotel lobby, since, according to Roger, our room wasn’t safe. On reflex, I stole a spare roll of toilet paper and put it in my purse.
“We might need it on safari,” I said, when he looked at me. “Unless we blow up first.”
“It’s not a bomb. Calm, okay?” He eased the suitcase open.
Curled on top of a pair of Talbot’s khakis was a bumpy lizard the size of a baguette, with three horns and marble-sized, bulging eyes set wide on either side of his head.
Roger’s hand slammed over my mouth. I bit him just as the lizard’s tongue shot out of the suitcase and right for my eye. I watched in horror as one of my eyelashes disappeared into the little bastard’s mouth. Roger let go and I fell backwards, knocking my head on the toilet seat.
“Ow!”
“Isn’t his tongue cool?” Roger said, rubbing his hand. “Imagine the years of evolution it takes to zap an eyelash. It’s amazing.”
I had my eyes scrunched closed and was feeling the bump on my head.
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