Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (15 page)

‘The problem is
him not having his own wheels, right? He can’t stand the idea of
his wife having a car when he doesn’t.’

‘Yes, but he
also wants that car,’ Azizza pointed at the car park.

Patel frowned.
‘That man is such a fool; this is what we will do. Get the Mercedes
transferred to Evan’s name, so he knows that the car is his. We
will give him all the papers, on the understanding that he can’t
have the car until we can be sure Nicholls is not a threat to the
project. In the meantime, I can give him my land cruiser to
drive.’

‘And what does
he tell his wife?’

Patel waved his
hands in the air. ‘The factory has recalled the Mercedes to fix a
fault, and that can take months. Do I have to think of
everything?’

‘Yes, because
you are so clever.’ She smirked. ‘You’re not worried about the
association of Evans driving a car that belongs to the director of
one of the bank’s biggest clients?’

‘Oh for
goodness sake, no, it’s well known we are good friends. I have
plenty of money from the sale of my factory, it’s quite reasonable
for me to be generous.’

Azizza raised
her eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘And what will this generous friend
drive?’

Patel watched
her closely. ‘I took note of what you said about Golden Palm acting
like a successful company and I like the idea of diplomatic
plates.’

‘Patel, this is
getting to be too crazy for me,’ Azizza looked serious. ‘You really
think you can drive around Malindi in a car with diplomatic plates,
and not raise a few eyebrows?’

‘Driver and
tinted windows,’ he answered, ‘anonymous, prosperous, and could
make a good getaway car too, don’t you think?’

Azizza was
struggling, she wanted to get involved in the game her partner was
now playing, but her instincts told her they were overreaching
themselves. The certificate must have gone to his head.

She tried to
reason with him. ‘One phone call to the Danish embassy would expose
us in no time, it’s a stupid risk!’

‘One phone
call, try it,’ he invited.

‘Oh come on,
don’t be silly,’ she protested.

‘My dear, the
Danes do not divulge information like that over the phone; thank
you terrorism,’ he smiled.

‘You only
thought of the red plates, just now,’ she challenged.

‘True, but I
did call the embassy in Nairobi to ask about the NGO
organisation.’

‘Our one? The
false one?’ She asked, incredulous.

He smiled.
‘They were very polite, I was advised to fill out a form and wait
for an appointment,’ he laughed. Azizza had to smile despite her
fears.

‘I’m hungry, so
I’m going to get some pizzas. Which one would you like?’ Patel
asked her.

‘Oh, I will eat
whatever you have.’ She replied, knowing his choice would be loaded
with chillies, which she also enjoyed once in a while. ‘You’re not
serious about these number plates are you?’

‘I can’t think
on an empty stomach,’ he said heading for the door.

*

Azizza busied
herself filling out the necessary forms, and put a quick call
through to Evans, asking him for his name and address.

‘Why do you
want that?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘We are
transferring the Mercedes into your name.’

‘Oh really?’ he
responded excitedly.

‘Yes, you lucky
man, come on, give me those details.’

*

They ate in the
kitchen, standing by the sink, silently tucking in. Azizza picked
off a few of the chilies, Patel nodded for her to pass them to his
plate. They ate intently, thinking of the next move. Patel finished
first, washing his hands in the sink. ‘Nairobi is a shitty place,
full of crooks,’ he said conversationally.

‘Crooks like
you?’ Azizza asked.

‘Ha, ha very
funny, no - muggers and pickpockets,’ Patel dried his hands. ‘If
you walk down the street, every man is checking out your
wristwatch, shoes, briefcase and then your face, to see if you’ve
noticed, and then following you, it’s not a nice feeling.’

Azizza finished
her pizza. ‘So now you know what us women have to put up with?’

Patel chuckled.
‘Always a smart answer, eh?’

‘I have
completed the transfer documents, and made the copies you asked
for,’ Azizza said, returning to work.

Patel stowed
his plate in the sink and walked through to the office. He picked
up the landline phone and spoke to the operator. Waiting a few
moments, he started talking away in an Indian dialect. Azizza
realised that he had just called his wife in England and was
surprised by a sharp stab of jealousy. She couldn’t understand what
was being said, but Patel was happy judging by his laughter and
smiling face. Azizza found herself seething as she waited for him
to finish, impatiently fiddling with her photocopies, this unwanted
intrusion breaking an unwritten rule in their relationship.

He finished his
call, a faraway look on his face. Azizza couldn’t stand to see him
this way and left the room before he noticed how angry she was
feeling.

When she
returned, he was leafing through the photocopies of the documents.
‘How is your wife, everything ok?’

‘Yes, yes, she
misses Malindi though and can’t get used to the lousy English
weather.’

‘Oh, poor
thing,’ Azizza said.

Patel looked at
her sideways. ‘Do we have any idea when Nicholls is coming back to
Malindi?’

‘Evans is
finding out, and will call me as soon as he knows.’

‘Good. You
know, I’m wondering if we need to set up another office. It’s a big
operation just for this damn Nicholls fellow, what do you think? By
the way, I agree with you on the diplomatic plates, silly idea. Now
this office issue?’

Azizza sat down
at the computer and waved her arms dramatically. ‘It was your idea,
and this is the Head office of Golden Palm?’

Patel looked
around the dilapidated room tut-tut ting. ‘We can’t even pull this
off as a field office can we?’ He asked, already knowing the
answer. ‘Bloody Nicholls, now we need new offices, he is costing us
a packet.’

She countered.
‘But if we get Nicholls on “our side”, we can increase the loan
submissions endorsed by his confidence in our abilities, because of
the NGO association.’

Patel switched
tack. ‘Does the land officer know of any other title deeds due for
distribution anywhere else in the country, that we can get our
hands on?’

‘I can ask
him,’ she replied, ‘but I doubt that we can replicate this project
anywhere else, and anyhow, we don’t have the time to mess about, as
you know.’

Patel scratched
his head. ‘Yes, I agree, but I’m looking for a distraction;
something to keep Nicholls busy elsewhere, out of our backyard.
Could we print title deeds, say, for Wasin Gishu district?’

‘And borrow
money from Malindi? How would that work?’

‘No, there’s a
NNB branch in Nakuru.’

‘Yes, but now
we would have to deal with another bank manager. Evans is enough
trouble as it is.’

‘No, I wasn’t
thinking along those lines. If we got Nicholls to endorse the
loans, the manager would tow the line.’

Azizza shook
her head. ‘You know how nosey bank managers are, especially when it
comes to land allocations. You’re dreaming, it could jeopardise
everything.’

He knew she was
right. ‘Ok, let’s deal with the more immediate problem. Where can
we get some decent office space in Malindi?’

Azizza
responded. ‘There’s a new shopping complex, out by Vasco da Gama
point. It’s been put up by an Italian investor.’

‘Oh, nothing
too flash, we only need two rooms at the most, reception and main
office, not really a shop front operation are we? Don’t you have
any contacts in the old town?’

‘Yes, I could
ask Hassan-Ali, but there’s nowhere to park.

‘That doesn’t
matter we can keep the cars at the house anyway and only use the
NGO office when Nicholls is in town.’

‘Ok, I will go
out there now and find out. How long will we need the office for?’
she asked, holding the door open.

‘At least six
months,’ he replied not looking up and fiddling with his
mobile.

*

In Nairobi
Brian entered the bank nodding at familiar faces. He walked round
the teller booths to see Gladys, Njenga’s secretary. From there he
went into his own office. His prediction charts on the wall were
familiar and at the same time out of date, he noted ironically. He
put through a call to Evans in Malindi, telling him about his
passport, and work permit. ‘Silly me, I must have dropped it.’ He
listened for any hint of surprise in Evans’s voice.

‘Ahh, good Sir,
those damn police will leave you alone now.’

‘Yes, I should
think so. Have you managed to get hold of the directors of Golden
Palm?’

There was a
pause. ‘Aahh, yes. No, I left a message. They were supposed to call
me back. I will try again Sir.’

‘Ok, good,’
Brian responded, ‘talk to you soon.’

Brian was sure
Evans was lying. But was it inefficiency or something else? He
turned to his office computer and read the inter-office memos that
had been sent in his absence, getting up to speed on events in the
bank. There was nothing for his attention. He then pulled up the
accounts of the Malindi branch, and began looking at the figures,
as he did so Gladys came through, interrupting him.

‘Mr Njenga is
here sir, and would like to see you.’

As Brian
entered Njenga’s office, he was on the phone; smiling a greeting he
waved Brian to a chair. Njenga finished his phone call, made notes
in his desk diary and tidied up a sheaf of papers in front of him.
‘Mr. Nicholls, good to see you. We thought you would never come
back from Malindi,’ he joked and then leaning forward on his desk.
‘Now tell me exactly what happened?’

Brian outlined
the events. The accident, the missing briefcase, the police,
watching Njenga’s face for any reaction - not an easy thing, Njenga
always had a jovial demeanor. One could imagine it confusing when
informing a client of foreclosure. Brian finished the story with
the finding of his passport in the desk in his flat. There was no
reaction to this deliberate lie - Njenga only expressed relief.

‘Ahh, good, and
the work permit, did you find that?’

‘Yes, it was
with the passport.’

The banker sat
back. ‘That’s very good news, the immigration people can be very
difficult on such matters. You would think that a Kenyan company
our size, would hold some sway, but it seems to have the opposite
effect. The police in Malindi were a little heavy handed. Those
provincial posts are not popular, everyone wants to work in the big
city. It’s hard to get dismissed in the civil service; they just
shuffle their people further away from the capital if they’re
troublemakers, or won’t tow the party line.’

‘The police
claimed to have contacted the Immigration Department, and there was
no record of my permit application,’ Brian countered.

Njenga smiled.
‘I doubt that. I spoke to the head of immigration yesterday. Your
file is there; in fact I had better call him. I had ordered a copy
of your permit to be endorsed by him, but now you have the
original, there will be no need.’ He made a note in his diary.
Njenga looked pleased. ‘Ok, Mr Nicholls, how did you find Malindi,
apart from your unfortunate beginning?’And how was Evans Njugu?’
Not waiting for an answer. ‘I guess you had better get back down
there, with your passport this time eh,’ a mild rebuke, ‘or do you
think you could start your program in another branch, say up
country, in Kitali for instance? We, the directors, are very
excited about getting your program under way you know, it will give
us the edge on the competition. We are hoping to open a branch in
southern Sudan, a new frontier for NNB.’

Brian studied
his boss’s face for any deception and saw only shiny-eyed
enthusiasm. Malindi was nothing more than a mild setback. ‘Sir, I
thought I would drive back down to Malindi this weekend, and go by
the Mombasa Branch.’

‘Good idea, you
can introduce yourself to Mrs. Faiza the manager there. She has
been with our bank for years, and don’t forget to keep your
receipts, so you can get your travel allowance refunded.

Ok, Mr.
Nicholls, sorry about your enforced education by the authorities -
our reality, third world hazards I’m afraid. Don’t go mistakenly
thinking it’s because of your skin colour. Those police are just
armed, certified and licensed bullies to all people.’ Adeptly
drawing their meeting to a close, he rose from his desk, a
proffered hand to Brian. ‘Good luck Mr. Nicholls,’ as they
shook.

Back at his
desk Brian was none the wiser after his meeting. If there were any
hidden agendas they were well concealed, the passport saga was seen
to be clearly Brian’s mistake.

He fished out
Doug’s card. Rapid Motors, Doug Fernandez, master mechanic. A
mobile number, barely legible, was scrawled along the bottom. He
rang the number. ‘Hello Doug, it’s Brian.’

‘Yes mate, just
got your wheel stud off.’

‘I need you to
do a full service on the car. I’m planning a safari this weekend.
Can you give me an idea of what that would cost, and how long will
it take you? That’s assuming you can fit me in.’

‘Sure, sure,
give me a few minutes and I will call you back.’

Brian rang off.
His use of the word safari had him excited - about time he got out
of the city in a real 4x4.He was tempted to get the road map out,
but instead returned to the computer. He pulled up the trading
figures of the Malindi branch, noting with some surprise that the
Golden Palm loan submission had almost doubled on the day he left
Malindi. Computing the entire loan scheme for Golden Palm, he
whistled softly to himself at the figure.

His mobile rang
it was Doug. ‘Hi Brian, I have been looking your donkey over, apart
from one weak front shock absorber, all is ok on the chassis side.
The battery could do with replacing if you’re going off into the
bush; otherwise, it’s good for a few more weeks. So, if I replace
the shock, change the oils, filters and tune up, the bill will come
to 8,000 plus material and labour.’