Lionboy: the Truth

by Zizou Corder

  Magdalen was astonished. Hospitality? What an idea! But actually – what a nice idea.

  She looked at Claudio. Claudio, of course, was very used to doing exactly what King Boris wanted.

  ‘Is it safe?’ asked Magdalen. ‘I mean – the Lions, the Corporacy …’

  ‘Oh, the Corporacy hate him, so that’s all right … and the Lions? Well, fifty years ago he might have wanted to shoot them, but he’s calmed down a lot.’

  They all looked at Aneba.

  ‘As long as it is close, so you can come quickly when I need you,’ he said. ‘And if you are sure it is safe.’

  King Boris took out his telephone. ‘It’s just north of here,’ he said.

  Aneba nodded.

  King Boris was looking up a number.

  ‘Shall I?’ he said. ‘He has plenty of room and is quite high up well, he’s the ruler – so we shouldn’t have any trouble … I can vouch for him … hmm?’

  ‘OK by me,’ said Magdalen. King Boris had done right by Charlie before. The Lions weren’t objecting, so if they understood humans, they trusted him too – and they’d been imprisoned in his palace. They couldn’t all stay on El Baraka forever, and they certainly didn’t want to stick around in Port-au-Prince.

  ‘OK,’ said Aneba.

  ‘Marvellous,’ said King Boris, with a moustache-twirling grin, pressing the number.

  ‘Hello! Hola!’ he cried. ‘Hola! Fidel! … Sí, Boris! Estoy aquí! … Sí! Port-au-Prince! Vengo con mis amigos a tu casa! Dos de mis amigos son leones! OK? … Sí! … Leones! Sí! Gracias! Gracias! Ciao!’

  King Boris closed his phone. ‘He’s expecting us,’ he said happily.

  As they sailed back to Port-au-Prince a despondency settled over the ship. Aneba shaved and washed and oiled his skin. Now he put on the suit he had bought in Paris. Despite the heat he looked cool and elegant and ready to go.

  He caught Magdalen’s eye, and she grinned at him bravely. ‘Bye then,’ she said with a cheerfulness she did not feel.

  A lurch indicated that they had reached the quay.

  ‘I’ll ring you,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in touch all the time. You know where I am!’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, and bit her lip.

  ‘I’ll find him,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’ll call you – you know what to do.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘He’s a tough boy.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘They won’t harm him.’

  ‘No.’

  She turned away so that he wouldn’t see her fear. Then she hurriedly gave him a huge hug, hiding her head in his chest. ‘Off you go,’ she mumbled. ‘I love you.’

  Shouldering his bag (telephone, clean shirts, several large and small bottles of liquid – he’d left some with Magdalen, for later), Aneba strode off down the grimy concrete quay towards the sad and dangerous market. He could see the shabby café where one of his new acquaintances was waiting to point out the lady from San Antonio. All he had to do was wait for her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Charlie got back to his room, Ninu wasn’t there. He looked for him (pretending to be fiddling with his toenails) and called him, but all he got was an answering mraowl from Sergei, still lurking under the shrubbery.

  Sergei looked very upset.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Charlie.

  Sergei blinked. ‘You’re not going to like this,’ he said. For once he wasn’t being sarcastic or sardonic or anything like that.

  ‘What?’ said Charlie. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I couldn’t do anything,’ Sergei said, his voice choking up. ‘He was just there, on the rock, over by the fountain. And this bliddy great bird – oh, Charlie …’

  Charlie’s skin started to crawl.

  ‘I don’t know, a bliddy great big eagle thing, just swooped down, and …’

  No! Not little Ninu!

  ‘It was twice my size. I ran at ’im, but he was gone already, I couldn’t – I’m so sorry, Charlie …’

  Ninu?

  ‘He took him, Charlie. Just took ’im. I watched ’em fly away.’

  No. No. Not little Ninu, who he had brought here; Ninu, who had gone down the Rat Network for him, who had sat so patiently for so long in his pocket; clever, brave, sweet Ninu, with his weird tongue and his googly eyes and his funny little hands …

  Charlie was crying. He ran into the hut. Then out again, because he knew Sergei wouldn’t come in with him.

  He crawled under the beautiful bush and huddled in the dust, against the wooden wall of the hut, out of view of the spies. He clutched his knees and shook with the horror. Sergei, looking at him, felt a surge of love and sympathy. He cuddled up close to him, trying to get into his arms, on to his lap.

  Charlie reached out his arm to hug Sergei, and he wept.

  Rafi was in the vegetable farm, digging trenches. It was hard work and the sun was hot. Sweat and dust mingled, his bad shoulder ached, and blisters were coming up on his hands, but the air was sweet and Rafi wasn’t thinking about anything much.

  He leaned on his shovel and looked up into the bright, bright sky.

  An eagle flew by, heading to the mountains, carrying something in its claws. Not that Rafi noticed.

  The overseer shouted at him to keep digging. Rafi wiped his sweaty forehead with his dusty arm and turned back to the trench.

  Maccomo had fully intended to leave San Antonio as soon as he had his money. But somehow he hadn’t got round to it yet. It was very pleasant, after all, and Capitaine Drutzel and the crew seemed in no hurry, so …

  There was something he was meant to be doing … Well, it could wait.

  Aneba sat at the unsteady tin café table by the quay in Port-au-Prince, sipping bad coffee and the Sweet-Air antidote, and watching. Three women in flip-flops and faded cotton dresses walked past with baskets; a child with a snotty nose; a priest in his robes; a skinny man in mechanic’s overalls. He was amazed by their capacity to carry on normal human activities in this nightmarish place. The human spirit, he mused, is unconquerable.

  Under his breath Aneba hummed the tune he hummed when he was doing nothing, the old Ghanaian tune, Tuwe tuwe, mamuna tuwe tuwe …

  Auntie Auntie, stepping delicately across the muddied square, a clean and prosperous figure against the residue of storm and poverty, caught the tune on the breeze. I know that song, she thought, and looked around – and saw Aneba at about the same moment that he took his companion’s nudge and saw her.

  ‘Eh,’ she said. ‘God is merciful.’ But before she could alert her two securityguys, Aneba stood up and approached her.

  ‘Madame,’ he said, holding out his hand in a relaxed and manly fashion. ‘Please forgive me addressing you like this in the street when we have not been introduced …’

  Auntie Auntie was rather surprised by this formality. She liked it.

  ‘Hello, Professor,’ she said.

  ‘I’m glad of this opportunity to meet you, Madame,’ Aneba continued, ‘because as you know it can be complicated sometimes to make contact with the right people.’

  ‘Indeed,’ she said.

  ‘And I would be interested to make contact with your personnel department …’

  ‘No need for that,’ she said with a smile.

  One of her securityguys interrupted worriedly. ‘But all applicants must go through Personnel, Madame,’ he said. ‘Security requires it! There is danger everywhere.’

  ‘All aliens are suspect!’ said the other one. ‘If they’re not with us, they’re against us –’

  ‘He has already been approved by Personnel,’ said Auntie Auntie. ‘Don’t you recognize him?’

  They stared.

  ‘Well,’ said Aneba, ‘having previously been –’

  She stopped him there. ‘Perhaps you should come with me to San Antonio now,’ she said.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Aneba replied. ‘But perhaps first we should address the matter of my terms.’

  Aunti
e Auntie raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Terms?’ she asked.

  ‘And conditions,’ Aneba said firmly.

  ‘Ah,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘With a view to … cooperation?’

  ‘With a view to embracing my aspirations,’ said Aneba with a smile – the smile. The Aneba Ashanti full-on rising-sun-after-a-dark-winter genuine smile.

  Auntie Auntie was dazzled.

  The HCE, when he heard, couldn’t have been happier. When Auntie Auntie brought Aneba in, the HCE clasped his hand, hugged him, slapped him manfully on the back. He agreed to his terms almost before Aneba could say what they were.

  ‘My own laboratory …’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘Professional independence … No one telling me what to do …’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘My own phone …’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘Long walks unaccompanied, to think clearly …’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘My son must work with me …’

  Not even a pause to acknowledge that they had his son. ‘Of course!’ cried the HCE.

  Aneba betrayed nothing of his feelings.

  ‘You understand that my wife does not share my change of heart,’ he continued.

  ‘I am disappointed,’ said the HCE. ‘But perhaps in time, with your loving support and encouragement …’

  Aneba tried to look loving, supportive, encouraging and disappointed all at once. ‘Let us hope so,’ he said. Should he wipe away a manly tear? No, that would be too much. ‘But in the meantime, working without her, it may take me a little longer …’ he suggested.

  ‘Of course!’

  Aneba was thinking of the story of the sun and the wind, both trying to get a man to take his cloak off. The wind blew and blew, as cold as he could, but the man just pulled his cloak tighter round himself. The sun shone warmly and kindly: the man took the cloak off in moments. The HCE was shining at him, and yes, Aneba seemed to be offering up his cloak.

  The HCE, for his part, was trusting that Corporacy life and the Sweet Air would soon persuade Aneba from any remaining inclinations towards independence. (But then the HCE did not know about the antidote – he had no need. As head of the Corporacy he might have wanted to protect himself from the Sweet Air, but the truth was far from that: he loved the Sweet Air as he loved everything else about the Corporacy, and lived in it with everybody else, because he thought it was right and good.)

  In other words, each man sat there smiling at the other because each man thought he could outdo the other.

  Magdalen knew Aneba would do his best, she knew it was right that she should remain behind … but she was nervous, she was jumpy. She was lonely. Charlie gone, Aneba gone, and her just stuck there in Fidel’s balmy garden with nothing to contribute …

  Some butterflies were flying in circles and settling on the dusty path.

  She made a call.

  ‘Mabel?’

  ‘Yes! Hello, darling!’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Well, we were heading for a summer season in New England, but the tour fell through so now we’re headed to New Orleans – we’re going up the Mississippi instead. All a bit last minute … What’s the news on Charlie?’

  ‘Listen, can you get some time off and come to Cuba – can you persuade Major Tib?’

  ‘No way!’

  ‘Try – please! Tell him it’ll be worth it. Please. Anything you can do. Please! We need you!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I want to see you. I miss you. And – I think we’ve found Charlie. Aneba’s gone to get him – I’m going a bit mad waiting … Anyway, you should be here. We might need help. OK, we need all the help we can get. Just … please.’

  ‘Well,’ said Mabel, surprised by the strength of her sister’s plea. ‘I don’t know – I’ll try.’

  ‘Oh, I know you can’t,’ said Magdalen. ‘I know you’re contracted to Major Tib and you have bookings and everything and you can’t just walk out on the Circus … It’s not anything practical. I just wanted you to know I want you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Mabel. ‘I – thanks.’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I know. See you.’

  Claudio, gazing from Fidel’s veranda, had overheard part of this. He felt much the same helplessness that Magdalen felt.

  English people like tea, he thought. I’ll make her some tea.

  At least it gave him something to do.

  Charlie was still under the bush with Sergei when Sally-Ann came to him. He was no longer weeping, but his face was streaked with dust and tears, and his eyes were red and bruised-looking.

  ‘Hey, Charlie!’ she sang, from the terrace.

  Sergei gave Charlie a strong look. Charlie scruffled Sergei’s ears and stood up. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he whispered.

  ‘I’ll be here,’ said Sergei.

  Charlie hurtled past Sally-Ann, shouting, ‘Sorry – bathroom.’ Once inside he washed his face and hands, splashed his head, shook himself down and stared into the mirror.

  ‘I am Charlie,’ he told his reflection. ‘I am brave and I don’t give up.’

  Then he went to face his companion with a fake, Sweet-Air smile.

  ‘Charlie!’ she said. ‘Got some good news for you! Guess what!’

  Never had Charlie found it so hard to respond to Sally-Ann’s ridiculous optimism. He forced a grin.

  ‘What?’ he said. It sounded completely fake. Because it was.

  ‘Come with me and see!’

  Charlie narrowly prevented himself from rolling his eyes. Instead he gritted his teeth. Grief had no place here – he had to hide it. He had to. Grit your teeth. Smile.

  Tears sprang again behind his eyes.

  Smile!

  Sally-Ann took his hand and led him to the tram. They rode it as far as the lift entrance, entered the tunnel, and took the lift up inside the mountain. Charlie looked around and kept his eyes open. The more familiar he was with this place, the better.

  Concentrating on that would help him to not think about … No, he wasn’t going to think about that.

  Again they went to the top floor; again along window-less stone corridors.

  And then Sally-Ann held up her hand, a door slid back, and they were in a big office, with glass walls looking out over the sea, sunlight streaming in, sky and seabirds and craggy rock outside. Charlie gasped at the view.

  ‘Hey, young fella!’ said the HCE.

  Charlie turned. ‘Hey!’ he said, Sweet-Air style.

  ‘Great to have ya with us! Real glad to hear ya’ve been doin’ well! Settlin’ right in, I been informed!’

  ‘Yessir!’ said Charlie. It seemed like the kind of thing he was expected to say.

  ‘I’m the HCE! That means the Head Chief Executive. Hey – you work hard, you never know: maybe some day you could be HCE too!’

  ‘Golly gee, sir!’ cried Charlie. Was he laying it on too thick? No, they looked pleased.

  ‘Meantime, boy, we got another job for ya. Important job only you can do – and make sure you do it right.’

  It was then that Aneba was brought in from an adjoining room.

  Charlie’s jaw dropped.

  Aneba’s eyes lit up.

  They both knew exactly how important this moment was, and how important it was that they say the right thing.

  ‘Golly gee, Daddy!’ cried Charlie. He held out his hand to shake.

  ‘And how’s my best little boyo, then?’ said Aneba, taking it, and shaking it, and smiling a fake smile.

  Each was thinking the exact same thing. Is his head clear? Has the Sweet Air got him?

  And each could see, beneath the fake chummy greeting, the artificial smile and the stupid words, the love and joy and pure relief of being together at last. At last, something had gone right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They were shown the new lab that was to be theirs. They grinned at each other, but couldn’t talk freely.

  They were shown Aneba’s hut �
� not far from Charlie’s. They grinned, but couldn’t talk.

  They were introduced to Aneba’s Assigned Assistant, a thin young man called Alex. Were they never going to be able to talk?

  Finally, ‘Leave us alone together,’ Aneba demanded grandly.

  Alex and Sally-Ann looked doubtful.

  ‘It’s my terms,’ said Aneba earnestly. ‘You know the HCE agreed. I can’t think and work properly when people are looking over my shoulder. If I can’t think and work, I will never produce the results that the Corporacy wants from me – I will never achieve my aspirations …’

  He looked positively sad. Sally-Ann and Alex looked sad too. They quite understood. They backed off. Not very far, though.

  Charlie and Aneba went to Charlie’s hut and sat outside, by the bush.

  ‘How’s Mum?’ Charlie asked. Then the words started falling out of him. He spoke in Twi to confuse any eaves-droppers. Quickly and quietly he told Aneba about the commchip system: ‘They can hear everything and talk to each other wherever they are – I’m not sure if there are cameras in there too, and if pictures go back to the security centre … Anyway even if there’s no one with us, we’re still overlooked and overheard by the general security cameras. It’s best to talk outside, and even so pretend we’re just laughing and telling stories …’ He gave an inane little giggle, and pointed to the horizon as if he were admiring the view.

  Aneba followed his son’s finger, and shaded his eyes. ‘Is that the chip in the skin under the ear?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Charlie.

  ‘I’m assuming you don’t have one.’

  ‘Nope – I’m still too small.’

  ‘They’re planning to give me one,’ said Aneba, still gazing out to sea. ‘Tomorrow, they said … so we must go before they do, or they’ll be able to track us and really eavesdrop … But how come you’re clear-headed, Charlie? I’ve got the antidote, but why isn’t the Air affecting you?’

  ‘Cat blood, we think …’

  ‘Cat blood! How interesting – but who’s we?’

  ‘Sergei!’ said Charlie. ‘He’s – where is he?’

  He was right there. He coiled his tail at Aneba in greeting. Aneba smiled. He was glad his son hadn’t been all alone.