Black Mischief

by Carl Hancock

  ‘Suddenly darkness dropped on us like a heavy curtain. Someone started singing down there, a female voice, a single note. To start with it was a sweet sound, but soon it became louder and shrill like a siren. Next it was a scream, even louder and filling the sky, up and up until, with a final burst that would split the earth in two, silence and the darkness clearing and a shape clothed in shimmering white silk, floating out across the lake. Then it was me again, watching myself on the other side, alone until the silky shape appeared coming towards me slowly, gently like a feather on the breeze. As it passed by, hardly moving now, a face turned to look at me, a woman’s face so beautiful that my only reaction was to gasp in wonder. She smiled and breathed a single word: “Forgive”.’

  The silence in the room was as deep as the sleep of death. The concentration of his companions on Bertie’s words had been so intense that every other sound had been shut out. So they had not heard the car pull up outside and the silent return of Maria and Hosea. They moved inside the door only when Bertie added his short epilogue, his resolve: ‘Count me in, whatever it takes.’

  Tom, who knew Bertie better than anyone in the room, was staring at his old friend in amazement. Bertie, who would normally keep his emotions strictly under control, who would be embarrassed to listen to, let alone utter what he described as airy-fairy twaddle, merely smiled and nodded as if he had just made a very practical pronouncement on what prices he expected to receive for his next consignment of roses in the Amsterdam flower market.

  Maria’s reaction was very different, but first she had a message for Tom. She was shaking her head and smiling. ‘Thomas, your father is a man with a sense of humour. We were almost at the hospital, just about to turn off Ngong Road, when Hosea had to brake sharply. Hardly a word had been spoken since we left this house when Alex suddenly sat bolt upright and looked around. He caught sight of David Gusil lying beside him stiff and obviously no longer in this world. “My God, are they so short of graves these days that they’re burying us two at a time? Do I know this man?” I know I should not be smiling and I mean no disrespect to Mister Drongo —’

  ‘But you can take it,’ interrupted Hosea, ‘that Alex McCall is well. He wanted to travel back with us, but your mama stepped in. But it will be no long time before he is back home and giving orders.’

  ‘But how? What happened?’ One strong emotional experience after another sent Tom’s mind reeling with a mixture of wonder and delight.

  ‘Tom, it’s the usual story. We’ve forgotten the simple way where you expect without needing to understand every detail. Best to accept the reality - and rejoice!’

  Hosea sat down and nodded his agreement. Glancing around the room at each person in turn, he wanted to let them know that his wife had been lifted into a dynamic level of perception. She was not finished yet.

  ‘You have a very fine car, Caroline, such a smooth and peaceful engine! Hosea and I were so excited by what had happened to Alex, that, on our way back, we talked like a couple of mother hens sitting out on our patch on a warm afternoon. Lydia Smith, she was at the heart of it.’

  Sonya smiled and let her head rock back in surprise. ‘Coincidence, no, synchronicity. I hope that girl’s ears are not on fire with all these words about her spilling out.’

  ‘Come on, Maria. Out with it.’ Paul chuckled. ‘I haven’t been your brother all these years without being able to recognise when the mood is with you.’

  Brother and sister slapped hands in delight before she went on.

  ‘Bertie, you have blessed us all. I don’t believe that this daydream, or whatever, is an accident. You have struck a seam of pure gold here and we must not waste an ounce of it. We have the privilege of seeing the road ahead. If we look hard enough we will see this girl along the way waiting for us.’

  ‘Maria, I have listened, but do I understand? You just heard it second-hand and understand straightaway. You people are much wiser than me.’

  ‘Rubbish, ‘Becca.’ Tom reached across and squeezed her shoulders. ‘You are the wisest person I know. And I am not being biased.’

  ‘But, Thomas, do I really understand? This is such a new thing for me.’

  ‘I’m not too sure myself. Abel Rubai wants to silence Lydia. We want to stop him. For a quiet life we hand her over. Protect her and we could all be knocked off. He’s afraid. Serious stuff.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  chome, please explain.’

  Outwardly Abel Rubai looked very calm. Casually dressed and at ease in an armchair in the sitting room of his farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. Patrick Uchome had not been invited to join his very generous paymaster but stood watching him stir his drink for what seemed a ridiculously long time. Uchome had seen the boss play little mind games before with others he wanted to unsettle. Now he was the victim.

  ‘Boss, as I explained on the phone …’

  ‘Uchome, let me remind you. Passing on information is not the same as giving satisfactory explanations. As I understand it, your men, your best so you assured me as recently as last evening, ran away from the job. And let me remind you that I emphasised the importance of this one. “No problem, Boss, we’ll have her back in next to no time”. Your words?’

  ‘See, as I explained, the layout of the place was confusing in the darkness. We went to the little house. The lights were on. Not there. We were just about to go to the main place, on the very point of finishing the job and suddenly guns were going off. Drongo went down. Boss, the boys thought it was the police, so they took off. I stayed behind. It turned out that it was a cop, some kind of crazy who was just coming back from a night out in one of the town bars.’

  ‘Bullshit, Uchome.’

  ‘But, Boss …’

  ‘Shut up and just listen. You messed up and you know it.

  But, but, perhaps you can give me the truth on something else you said on the phone. McCall, the older one, tell me again.’

  ‘Things happened pretty fast, but this is kosher. McCall went for one of the boys. Zac, one of my best, moved in. One smash on the jaw and McCall went down. Hit his head on a chair as he fell. Out, maybe worse.’

  ‘Hospital job?’

  Uchome, his expression hopeful, nodded his head. ‘Yeah, but not the local dump. I was there once …’

  Abel had switched off. Uchome had also seen this side of the boss’s behaviour where he sat forward in his chair and gazed sideways at the floor. His only bodily movement was in the eyes. They flickered this way and that or alternately were hidden under eyelids that closed with langorous ease. Uchome stood rigid and made sure that even his breath would not break the stillness of this effort in concentration. He was sure that his boss was working towards some decision about his own immediate future. He was partially correct.

  ‘Leave us. Just go outside somewhere, out of earshot. I’ll call you when I’m ready.’

  ‘Leave us.’ Uchome looked around expecting to see someone whom in his state of nervous tension he had not noticed, perhaps in one of the dark corners. No one.

  As the servant nervously awaited his master’s summons, striding up and down the gravel driveway, he longed for one of the long Havana cigars he bought for himself on his birthday. Inside, Abel was making phone calls. In the first four, he was seeking information. He was encouraged by what he was told and the news persuaded him that the plan could work. He set a target of five am for completion, just three and a half hours away. It would not be cheap and there were big risks involved.

  Another half a dozen calls and it was all set up. Uchome would be the man to guide it home. Abel smiled at his own smartness in choosing the very person who had just failed him, to rescue the situation. Uchome worked more happily on city jobs. He was familiar with the details and, best of all, this time, his man would be keen not to stuff up on a second and probably last chance.

  The person who had failed his generous employer had issues of his own to deal with before he felt fully prepared to ride
into battle and redeem himself. He had turned the gun on Drongo. He had temporarily lost control of a situation and panicked. But Drongo! Of all the men he had taken on jobs, Drongo was the only one he would have called a friend. And Drongo had never let him down. For a person in their business Patrick Uchome had an amazing distaste for violence of any kind. Why had the big man insisted on sending in such a heavy brigade to bring out one slip of a Nairobi tart? The kid must have something mighty serious on him. Yes, Uchome was well aware how much the Knight of the Pink Palace loathed even the minutest possibility of having the tiniest spot of dirt besmirching his shiny armour. And he could not forget the large piles of shillings he had accumulated for finishing off little jobs for big paydays. And when this business was finished, he would have to be the one to tell Drongo’s wife the bad news. Hell, he was tying himself in knots here. Work was the best cure he knew for dealing with this kind of garbage.

  At four am an ambulance stopped at the barrier of the main gate of Nairobi Hospital.

  The gateman was not happy about what he saw. These paramedics were strangers to him. In his many years at the hospital he had become familiar with practically every member of staff. He put a call through to the central office and was surprised that it was transferred to Doctor Peter Umbaka, a very senior consultant in cardiothoracic.

  ‘Yes, fine. No, you wouldn’t know them. They are from a private place up at Nakuru. They have a patient to pick up. They know where to go.’

  At this early hour, Peter Umbaka was normally fast asleep in his Langata home. But the call had come and, as usual, he obeyed the ‘request’ immediately and left for the hospital. This was the fifth occasion when he had been asked to help the people of Kenya in this special way. Five times he had covered his tracks with an elaborately spun web of lies. He had more than repaid the debt in full. Never again would he protect himself with another man’s blood, yet knowing full well that when, in the dead of night, that amiable voice chilled his heart with inquiries about the progress of his children, the wellbeing of his beautiful wife, he would, trembling with panic, be waiting for the casual afterthought, ‘By the way, I was wondering if you could see your way …’ He would surrender meekly and ease the conscience with another bottle of his favourite Scottish medicine.

  Patrick Uchome’s medical team was swift and efficient. The drill was simple. Maura McCall was lured from her husband’s bedside by the request of a bogus but polite clerk to accompany him from the private ward to central office to fill in some forms. ‘Admin stuff. Five minutes and you’ll be back here. Promise.’

  He did not lie about the timing. Next, three impressively kitted out doctors, with stethoscopes swinging from their necks, moved in to check over a drowsy patient. In seconds he was feeling much drowsier after a single injection of strong sedative. A quick transfer to the waiting trolley and within two minutes Alex McCall was speeding from the fifth floor in a lift operated by a one-time hospital clerk.

  Tom and Rebecca decided to walk the few hundred metres back to Londiani. Just before leaving Rusinga, there had been a call to the hospital to check on Alex. Maura’s relief and excitement came down the line in a rush of words. She could not give any explanation for the sudden resurrection of her husband.

  ‘Hosea braked hard and we all pitched forward and … Perhaps he had only been in a very deep sleep. He’s having a scan first thing tomorrow, today. I’m in a kind of dream world. Try to get down by about lunchtime. We’ll know more by then.’

  In the days when they thought that their love was secret, all their meetings were after dark. From time to time, Rebecca still visited the acacia, a flat-top set on the grassy bank between the laundry garden and the lake, her special place. In the conversations which she enjoyed with her tree while she waited for Thomas to join her, it had been agreed that the view up there must have been as good as Mother Eve’s in her special garden. The blend of beauty made her gasp with the wonder of things. Below them, and stretching into the distance, the grey, metallic gleam of the surface of the lake lapped onto the black sands drawn by the pull of the full moon. The dark silhouette of the hills all around was the wall and the arching canopy of the starlit sky the ceiling of their private world.

  Tom and Rebecca did not return home directly but rounded the silent bulk of Big House, passed through the laundry garden and followed the winding path to their old meeting place.

  ‘Thomas, are we the only hope for Lydia?’

  ‘How many times have we stood here together?’

  ‘Many, many.’

  ‘What’s wrong out there tonight, Rebecca? Where has the innocence gone, the feeling of protection in these hills? They have been here forever. I have never felt danger up here before.’

  ‘You sound just like Papa when he listens to the news broadcasts on Mama’s blue radio. It was a present from —’

  ‘Grandfather Don. Do you know it’s nearly three years? How many times did he bring our little white Cessna in off the lake to a safe landing on that bumpy strip he had helped to cut out of the woodland across there on the island? He taught me to fly. In the end it was those two wilderbeest fooling about on the muddy ground that took him. Such a small, almost silly thing.’

  ‘Perhaps we are fooling ourselves. These beautiful hills, these stars are not interested in us. You say that innocence has gone. Perhaps it was never there. Has hope gone, Thomas? We are her only hope?’

  ‘Lydia? She knows a dangerous secret. If only she had not gone back into that house.

  But Rubai, how could a girl like Lydia be a threat to him? Even if she went to the cops with the story …’

  ‘Caroline and Hosea know of it.’

  ‘I bet he’s more scared of Sally finding out that he’s been spending time with Reuben’s friend. God forgive me for saying it, but these are evil people. If only Mary and I had not sung in that concert in the Bomas five years ago, if only Julius had not been there to see me and … Thomas, these “if onlys”, is this how it is meant to be?’

  ‘But they happen, and we can only do our best with them.’

  ‘Thomas, listen. I have not spoken of it before. Please, this is very hard for me. As I was leaving the village when I was frightened for you, I met Rafaella. She said that, after Grandfather Don was killed, she learned that there is not always the happy ending. You cannot go out with your big stick and fight those who want to crush you. You wait and you hope you come through.’

  ‘So, we abandon this girl so that danger does not come to us?’

  ‘I don’t know. I almost lost you once. Tonight your father … Thomas, I don’t know. He will strike down everyone in his way. I am very frightened. I want a happy ending, for us all. Lydia, we must be with her. Tell me that there is a way through.’

  Tom had one arm around Rebecca and the other around the trunk of the flat-top.’ Don’t let anyone tell you that this beauty is not alive, doesn’t feel things. He’s been through a lot with us.’

  A familiar voice called out of the darkness. Luka, the night askari with his twin brother Erik, knew that Tom and Rebecca were up by their tree. It was part of their job. He was in a big panic.

  ‘Bwana Thomas, Bwana Thomas, you must come quickly! Memsahib Rafaella needs you!’

  ‘Thomas, there have been three calls.’ He had never seen his grandmother so agitated. She was struggling to keep her composure and get her news out clearly. ‘First, your mother. She was so excited. Alex was back with us. That is how she said it. An hour later she spoke again. He has gone, Thomas.’

  ‘What do you mean “gone”?’ He knew the answer. The warm wrench that grabbed his stomach as soon as he heard that chilling, simple word told him every thing. The third call drove home the truth of his fears.

  ‘A stranger’s voice. “In twenty minutes I will speak again. Make sure that the little farmer boy will be there next time”.’

  The agony of the wait did not last long.

  ‘Ah, farmer boy.’ Tom did not recognise the voice, but the note of triumph it
carried was unmistakable. ‘I have this person here with me. You know him well. He is in good spirits and will speak in a moment. We will be happy to bring him home or drop him off in some place of your choice. Just one small condition. You have an ungrateful little whore hidden away with you up there. Someone needs to speak to her, check out a few things. You know, the usual stuff.’

  ‘That’s just it. I don’t know.’

  ‘Perhaps this arsehole will help you understand. Speak and don’t try anything.’

  Down the line Tom could hear his father’s laboured breathing. ‘Hello, Tom. Another fine mess I’ve got us into.’

  Another voice in the background shouted, ‘I’m warning you! Get to the business.’

  ‘Dad, stupid question, but are you all right? They haven’t hurt you or anything?’

  ‘No, son. Perfect gentlemen.’ The irony was light, but what was that tremble in the voice? ‘Don’t worry, but you must not bring the girl. I’m not worth a young life. She’s had enough trouble …’ The phone was snatched away and the sound of a hand slapping flesh was clear.

  The original voice returned. ‘Mister McCall, your daddy is … confused just now. Understandable. He’s had an exciting night.’

  ‘You’re right. My father is confused. The girl was here. Was, I said. Two days ago she got on an Eldoret Express. I took her to the coach myself. She said she was going to Gilgil. We tried to tell your other lot when they called.’

  ‘Rubbish. Get her! Bring her in. You are very fond of your daddy. If I mention the word Kakamega?’