The Malthus Pandemic
Page 22
CHAPTER 22
Kevin Parker and Tunje Fayinka were still sitting in the One Tun public house in Tottenham Court Road in London. It was nearly 4pm and they had been analysing the motives of Mohamed El Badry for nearly three hours and had still got nowhere.
Kevin looked at his watch but could barely see it. He was on his sixth or seventh pint already although he had lost count. But he already knew that Tunje had apparently left most of his loose change in his Barnet flat and his, Kevin's, bar tab was mounting up.
Kevin had also not wanted to pay for another hotel for the night. He either wanted to go back to Bristol on the train or get Tunje to at least offer to put him on the floor of his flat for the night.
"I need a piss, Tunj. Then I must make a move. Liverpool are playing tonight."
"Liverpool? Liverpool? That is some genuine crap team, Kev. Come up and watch Arsenal some time."
"Why, Tunj? Are you offering me a seat in the main stand, paid for out of the salary Barnet College pay you?"
"Nah, mate, I meant watch them on my wide screen, like you do Liverpool."
"For your information, I do not possess a wide screen, Tunj - it wouldn't fit in my bloody flat. Anyway, I need a piss. I won't be a minute." Kevin wobbled his way towards where he thought the toilet was.
He was gone for perhaps slightly more than a minute but when he returned, Tunje was reading a crumpled newspaper someone had left on the next table.
"Seen this, Kev?" Tunje's arms were outstretched reading something on one of the inside pages.
"What is it, Tunj?" Kevin asked, impatiently.
"Shh," said Tunje, "I'm reading."
While Kevin sat with his arms folded, Tunje's black eyes raced left to right, left to right. Then they moved up as if he was now reading the next column. Kevin had had enough.
"Right, I'm off," said Kevin and stood up, knocking the table as he did so. Tunje's empty beer mug rattled. Kevin's was still half full and stayed upright and rock steady.
"Here," Tunje said. "Before you go, check it out, man. This proves what I've been saying. I reckon Big Shot El Badry has already started his clinical trials."
"What?" Kevin said. "Give it here."
"Just a minute, man. Nearly finished."
Kevin sat down again and then snatched the paper.
"Don't you know it's rude to read at table? Didn't mummy Fayinke teach you any table manners?"
Tunje shrugged. Kevin read.
"What do you think, Kev?"
"I haven't finished yet. Quiet. "
"Now what do you think, Kev?"
"Bloody hell," said Kevin. "But who's to say El Badry has got anything to do with it?"
"Nigeria, Kev. A hundred cases in Nigeria says the WHO. Aren't you able to read or do you want me to read it to you? Didn't mummy Parker ever read to you in bed?"
"Shut up about my mother, Tunje. She had ten others to deal with."
"Sorry, Kev, but a hundred cases of an unknown respiratory disease in northern Nigeria? Doesn't that sound like too much of a co-incidence?"
"Mmm," said Kevin, "I know what you mean."
Both of them were quiet for a few moments. Tunje looked into his empty beer glass. Kevin stared at the ceiling thinking about what he'd read but also hoping Tunje would not want another drink.
"I think we need to keep this to ourselves a while, Tunj," Kevin finally said. "We haven't got any proof of a link. It might be just you and your vivid imagination. I'll dig around a bit - see if any of my networks have had similar approaches. But I still don't understand what the bloody hell a rich Arab like El Badry would want with the Malthus Society. It still bothers me, Tunj."
"To put the blame onto us?" said Tunje thoughtfully.
"Christ," said Kevin, "I hope not. If so both you are I already implicated, Tunj. Perhaps he videoed us at his apartment. You always said we needed to go careful."
"Yeh, that's still my gut feeling. Anyway, I got to go. I'm meeting some mates in Watford."
"Watford branch of the Malthus Society is it Tunj?" said Kevin already resigning himself to getting the train back to Bristol as well as settling the bar bill. "Perhaps El Badry will turn up."