Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (53 page)

‘Lucy calm
down, it’s not as easy as you think.’

‘You lie,’ she
spat at him, ‘you try to sheet me.’

‘Listen Lucy
I’m not going to try and cheat you out of anything, let me finish
this thing,’ he waved at the computer.

‘But we still
go Nairobi?’

‘Yes, of
course, come on love.’ He pulled her gently from the chair and
embraced her. With Lucy gone Brian got down to work. He located the
account in NNB that he had asked Evans to set up for his wife.
Linking the two banks together electronically and taking a deep
breath he hacked his way into the system. Stealing the identity of
one of the tellers, he filled out the transfer details, keeping
above the minimum balance. They would find out by the end of the
day, but by that time the money would be long gone.

He took another
deep breath and pressed the send button, noting with nervous
excitement the account beginning to empty. Doing a quick
calculation, he then linked Evan’s bank with the branch in Nairobi,
where he created an account in a fictitious name and linked this
with an offshore savings account in the Isle of White.

He converted
the Kenyan shillings to US dollars using the inter-bank rate; heart
pounding he hoped the foreign bank reserves would cover the amount.
He held his breath and watched anxiously as the screen went blank
for a moment and then exhaled with a whoosh as the figure
registered over four million dollars.

The transfer
finished, he closed the account and erased any sign of it. He stood
up and did a silent victory dance round the office in glee.

Lucy unseen had
returned. ‘Birin what you do, why the machine deadi, what you
do?’

He grinned at
her. ‘It’s all done!’

‘Done? The
monies?’

‘I have the
money.’ He smiled at her like a fool.

‘Oh you such a
clever mans, Lucy lucky this time.’

He laughed
contentedly. ‘Yes we are lucky. Now let’s get ready to go, Doug
should be here soon.’

‘We get money
in Nairobi? You buy me clothes in Nairobi,’ she reminded him of his
promise.

‘Yes lots of
money and clothes,’ he reassured her.

THIRTY

Azizza got back
to the hotel just before noon, weighed down with shopping bags
containing parts of her new wardrobe. She had bought lingerie and
off the peg skirts and blouses. In the room she emptied the bags on
the bed, quickly mixing and matching the clothes.

She rang Patel.
‘Where are you?’

‘Here in the
hotel, is everything alright?’

‘Yes, yes,
everything’s fine.’ She fingered a new blouse.

‘Good, shall we
have lunch?’ He asked.

‘Yes I’m
hungry.’

‘Ok see you in
the dining room in a few minutes.’

Azizza’s heart
was fluttering, so far so good, now for the potion. She took out
the twists of silver paper and sniffed them, identifying the first
potion. She sat on the bed and stared at the little twist as though
it might hold an answer.

She wandered
into the bathroom and looked through her wash bag for a receptacle,
she couldn’t just dump it in the food, he might notice. It had to
be sprinkled somehow, there was nothing suitable. An idea came to
her. She had seen a trolley by the lift piled up with used items
from room service; a salt cellar would be perfect. She hurried out
down the hallway, the trolley was still there. Back in her room,
she prized off the bottom and emptied the salt into the sink. She
washed and dried it with a tissue and then emptied the fine powder
into it. Azizza tucked the cellar into the waistband of her skirt
tugging her blouse out a little to conceal any telltale bulge.
Perfect. She checked her reflection in the mirror.

In the dining
room Patel was already seated and tucking into a salad. He waved at
her as she walked over. ‘It’s a buffet,’ he announced, pointing
with his fork. Azizza looked over to see a trestle table with
samovars of food in the corner of the room, other dinners were
helping themselves. ‘What do you want to drink?’

She stood
beside him, looking at a cruet set in the middle of the table.
‘Drink, he repeated looking up at her, quizzically.

‘Ahhh just
water. How is the salad?’

‘Good,’ he said
through a mouthful.

Azizza walked
over to the buffet. Calm down, he notices everything. She made a
concerted effort to relax and walked back to the table. They
exchanged small talk, as Patel unusually waited for her to finish
her salad before suggesting they get more food.

‘I’m not that
hungry,’ she said.

He looked at
her curiously. ‘You said you were hungry.’

‘Umm yes, I
suppose I could eat some more,’ she agreed.

‘Yes must keep
your strength up; you’re not sick are you?’

‘No I’m fine,’
she replied a little sharply.

Patel raised
his eyebrows as he got up to fill his plate.

Azizza bit her
lip, fingering the cellar in her waistband for reassurance. She
followed him to the buffet hardly looking at the food as she
watched him select rice and what looked to be a prawn curry, she
imitated his selection with smaller portions.

He glanced at
her plate as they sat down. ‘The food looks good,’ he said
conversationally.

‘Yes oh, I
forgot my c
hapati
,’ she looked at his plate. Patel fingered
his, smiling and tore off a strip and dipped it into his curry.

‘Would you get
one for me?’ she asked. He looked at her in surprise, the strip
poised to go in his mouth.

‘Huh?’ He put
the piece down, swallowing his saliva. ‘You sure you’re feeling
ok?’ He frowned at her.

‘Yes, it’s just
that man,’ and she inclined her head at a burly looking African
helping himself from the buffet.

Patel followed
her gaze. ‘Yes what about him?’

‘He got heavy
with me in the lift just now, I don’t want to go near him.’

‘Oh rich lady
now ehh, don’t want the natives too close.’

Azizza just
smiled at him appealingly. Patel got up with a sigh and walked to
the buffet. As soon as his back was turned, she whipped out the
cellar and quickly shook the contents over his plate.

He handed her
the
chapati
and returned to his food; she watched him trying
not to hold her breath.

‘Come on eat,’
he urged pointing at her food with a fork. He stopped eating and a
distasteful look crossed his face, his tongue flicked out a few
times like a lizard, ‘funny flavour.’ He peered down at his plate
suspiciously.

She quickly
picked up a fork and tasted hers. ‘It’s fine.’

He frowned.
‘Hmmm, there’s something there I’m not sure about, you have to be
careful with prawns.’

She took
another forkful, head to one side. ‘No the prawns are fine, I think
the cumin seeds are not that fresh,’ she ventured.

Patel tried
again, frowning as he tasted it. ‘Yes you may be right but I didn’t
think cumin seeds could go off?’

‘Now you’re
rich, fancy yourself as a gourmet?’

He waved the
fork haughtily. ‘Of course my dear.’

She felt her
excitement mounting as he finished his food, distractedly pushing
hers around her plate. He leaned back and concealed a small burp.
‘You really aren’t hungry,’ he commentated.

‘So do we go to
Dar-es-Salaam tomorrow? What’s the plan, did you call Evans?’

‘Yes I did, he
is fine,’ lied Patel.

‘He doesn’t
like it?’ Azizza guessed.

‘No, but tough
shit,’ Patel giggled. ‘I have already booked the tickets to
Madagascar,’ he took out receipts from his pocket and waved them at
her as confirmation, ‘and apart from Fimbo this afternoon, my work
here is done.’

Azizza was
excited. ‘Where will we stay?

‘Oh I’m sure we
can find a hotel, let’s take it as an adventure.’

She glanced at
her watch, six hours the doctor had said. About seven tonight Mr
Patel you will be mine.

Patel ran his
tongue over the roof of his mouth. ‘Cumin seeds.’

Azizza said
nothing pretending not to notice.

‘I’m going to
have an ice cream,’ he announced, ‘want one?’ He rose from his
chair.

‘Yes
strawberry, a cup not a cone.’

Patel walked
across the terrace to an ice-cream outlet in the corner. In a few
moments he was back, handing her the cupped ice cream, he had
selected a chocolate cone; his tongue busy as it melted rapidly in
the heat. He sat down enjoying his ice cream and beaming at her.
‘My dear,’ he said between licks, ‘do you realise that you’re a
wealthy woman?’

She took a
spoonful. ‘You don’t give up, hey?’

Patel’s eyes
glistened; there was an air of excitement about him she had not
seen before, his posture relaxed and happy. Could the potion be
working already?

‘What does your
cousin do in Madagascar?’ he asked without interest, busy with his
melting cone.

‘She has five
kids; her husband is in the garment industry.’

‘Hmmm, that
business can turn a nice profit, especially if you get a contract
with a clothing line,’ lick, ‘very nice indeed,’ lick, ‘there’s a
good investment for you,’ he advised.

‘Why are you so
interested in my half of the money?’

‘I’m always
interested in money,’ he replied, crunching delicately around the
cone, his tongue fishing for the remaining knob of ice cream. With
his hooked nose he looked for a moment like a crow, she looked away
not liking the image.

Their casual
conversation was interrupted by Patel’s mobile ringing. Today it
had a western galloping rider theme, the tune echoing tinily across
the terrace.

He held it to
his ear and glanced at his watch. ‘My driver,’ he told her, ‘he’s
early. I had better go and make sure Fimbo’s room is ready,’ he
stood up. ‘What are you going to do this afternoon? I wouldn’t let
the inspector see you,’ he advised.

‘I might rest,
shall we meet at dinner?’

‘Hmmm yes, but
let’s go out, I don’t want to spend the evening here with Fimbo
around. I will call you at around seven, ok? He put his hand on her
shoulder and looked down kindly at her. ‘See you later,’ and walked
off to the reception.

Azizza watched
his jaunty stride, there was definitely something different about
him. It must be the potion. She went up to her room and flopped
onto the bed, pushing her wares into her face gleefully smelling
their newness, rolling on her back and holding up a pair of raunchy
lace panties and giggling delightedly. She was so excited she could
hardly wait and still had almost five hours to go.

She took the
cellar and prized off the cap, peering inside, all the powder had
gone. She inserted her little finger it in the receptacle gathering
some residue and gingerly put it on the tip of her tongue. It was
bitter, no wonder he queried the taste, no matter it was done now.
She rang Zainabu.

‘I did it!’ She
announced triumphantly.

‘Ohhh you gave
him the potion?’

‘Yes!’ Azizza
nodded vigorously.

‘Did he notice
anything?’

Azizza gave her
the details elaborating a little in the telling.

Zainabu
listened avidly, catching Azizza’s excitement.

‘I don’t know
what to with myself? Time is passing so slowly,’ she complained to
her cousin.

‘Now my dear,’
advised Zainabu, ‘calm down, it won’t be long before you’re in his
arms, so make sure you’re tidy.’

‘Tidy?’

‘You know, down
there.’

‘Ohhh,’ Azizza
giggled as she got it. ‘Of course my dear very tidy, hot and
puffy,’ she added lewdly.

They laughed
together, setting each other off. Tears of mirth flowed down Azizza
cheeks and she gasped for air. ‘Ok my dear thank you for
everything,’ and she rang off.

THIRTY-ONE

In the
afternoon, Lucy and Brian sat downstairs waiting for Doug to show
up. Brian looked round the apartment, he had erased as much
evidence as he could of his use of Antonio’s computer, enough for
any layman, but the apartment was a mess. ‘If we give Alphonse
money, will he clean up properly?’

‘Yesi give me
three thousands,’ she agreed, ‘I tell him.’

Lucy found
Alphonse dozing in his sentry box and spoke to him in Kiswahili.
‘We are leaving now, you’d better clean the house before your boss
gets back.’

‘Is anything
broken?’ He asked.

‘No, but you
owe me my commission.’

‘Ahh, you stay
for free I only charged the
mzungu
.’

She pouted.
‘Without me you would have no money.’

‘And without me
you would have nowhere to fuck your
mzungu
.’

‘I want the
money, you owe me.’

‘Piss of
whore,’ he said matter-of-factly ignoring her and fiddling with his
radio, topic closed.

‘You shitty,’
she spat at him in English and walked back to the apartment, a
smile of triumph on her face.

Doug arrived
just after noon. ‘All ready to go?’ he asked as he walked in the
apartment, pointing at Lucy’s giant suitcase.

‘Hello, has my
car arrived? Brian asked.

‘No, not yet
but I thought we would go and wait at the airport for it, then we
can get going as soon as it does.’

As they walked
out to Doug’s Landrover, Alphonse emerged from his sentry box. He
was not smiling. ‘You go?’ He pointed his truncheon at the red
suitcase.

‘Yes,’ said
Brian, ‘thank you so much for letting us stay.’

Alphonse
frowned. ‘What you have in there?’

Brian waved at
Lucy. ‘Her clothes.’

‘Let’s see,
open it.’

Doug grinned.
‘Yes Lucy let’s see what you have got?’

She folded her
arms, defiantly. ‘Birin put it in the car.’

‘I think you
should do as Alphonse asks.’ Brian said.