Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (54 page)

Lucy looked at
the three men clearly out-gunned, and with ill grace pushed the
case over on its side with her foot. The askari bent and flicked
the locks open, lifting the lid wide; he stirred clothing around
with his truncheon, picking out a shirt he recognised as
Antonio’s.‘This is not your shirt. You steal my boss’s clothes?’ He
accused her.

Lucy scowled
and leaning over the open suitcase quickly flicked through it. She
picked out panties, a bra, her long gold dress and walked to Doug’s
car and climbed in.

Brian bemused
called out to her. ‘Lucy?’

‘Let’s go,’ she
said.

Brian looked at
Alphonse apologetically. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t realise,’ he lied
unconvincingly.

Alphonse waved
his truncheon menacingly. ‘She a thief.’

Doug intervened
speaking in Kiswahili, they exchanged words not unpleasantly and
reached an agreement. He turned to Brian. ‘Do you have a thousand
shillings?’ Lucy snorted loudly at what she could see was
happening. Alphonse took the money and folding the suitcase shut,
walked back to his sentry box.

Lucy shrilled
from the car. ‘Birin! My sweetcase.’

Brian
hesitated, looking at Doug.

Doug said.
‘Come on let’s get out of here.’

He said weakly.
‘The case, it’s hers.’

‘Not anymore,’
he gave Brian a told-you-so-look.

Doug started
the Landrover. Alphonse pointed at Evans’s Mercedes. ‘The benz?’ He
asked a little hopefully.

‘Someone will
collect it,’ Doug replied and putting the car in gear, drove off.
There was a strained silence between the three of them as he drove
through Malindi and out to the airport. Brian held Lucy’s hand.

Doug broke the
silence. ‘That was a close one, that guard could have made serious
trouble for us.’

‘Like what? He
was the one renting his boss’s house illegally.’

‘You don’t know
that, and there would be no way to prove it in a hurry. If he had
called the police, which he was threatening to do, we would have
been in deep shit.’

‘He took my
sweetcase,’ Lucy complained.

Brian chuckled.
‘Suitcase, not sweetcase love.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I will get
you another suitcase.’

‘When it comes
to her you’re a basket case,’ Doug offered.

Brian laughed
at the pun, the tension between them easing as they turned in for
the airport and he spotted his range rover parked under a tree.
‘There she is,’ he exclaimed.

‘Phew,’ Doug
breathed. Time to get out of Dodge. He parked beside it and slipped
the car keys under the floor mat of the Landover for his uncle.
Brian walked around the range rover checking the tyres; apart from
needing a wash, the car looked fine.

‘Thises your
car?’ asked Lucy, impressed.

‘Yes, my
company car,’ Brian pointed at the logo.

‘Muchi better,’
she sneered at Doug’s Landrover.

A man dressed
in blue overalls walked over. ‘Mr. Douglas?’

‘Yes that’s me.
You are from Voi police station?’

‘Yes, I’m
Edward.’ They shook hands, as he gave him the keys.

‘You want to
drive?’ Doug asked Brian.

He shook his
head. ‘Maybe later, you know the way.’

Doug turned to
Edward. ‘Do you have means to get back to Voi?’

‘I thought I
could get a lift with you.’

‘Sorry, I can’t
do that, but I can give you money and you can catch a bus from
Malindi.’

‘It’s late I
will have to spend the night here, and I have not eaten.’ Doug gave
him some cash. ‘There’s no petrol,’ he added helpfully as Doug
opened the door and got in. They drove to the nearest petrol
station. He checked the oil and water, as Brian got out and took a
closer look at the tyres, walking round the car.

Doug paid the
hefty bill. ‘I hope you have more money,’ he said as he got back
in, ‘I’m almost out.’

Lucy leaned
forward and put her arms around Brian. ‘He richi man, not
maskini
gowan like you,’ she told Doug.

‘Yes I have
enough cash,’ said Brian hurriedly.

Doug raised his
eyebrows and grunted. ‘Good, this motor is a thirsty bitch,’ he
glanced at Lucy, she gave him a fuck off look.

Doug drove
fast, but confidently, the big V eight motor emitting a deep
throaty growl as it ate up the miles. An hour later they were on
the outskirts of Mombasa. ‘Ok decision time,’ he said as they
crossed a bridge and pulled into a service station. ‘I have to call
my uncle. Question is, do we stay the night in Mombasa or keep
driving? We could get about half way to Nairobi before dark.’

‘I’m happy to
keep going,’ Brian said, ‘we could pick up water and snacks. What
do you think?’

‘Alrighty,
let’s hit the road. I will call and find out if there have been any
changes. You get the food,’ he told Brian. Doug used the coin box
to call his uncle, he left a message and stood by the phone and
waited. Brian and Lucy went into the shop.

‘I want thisi,’
Lucy said fingering a fashion magazine. Brian smiled his consent,
pleased to keep her distracted, aware of the tension between her
and Doug. They sat and waited for him in the car.

Lucy asked.
‘What he do? He no phone.’

‘He has to wait
for his uncle to call him.’

‘No mobile?
Whati usless man,’ and crunched on crisps leafing through her
magazine.

The phone rang
and Brian could see Doug talking.

Doug finished
his call, paid the attendant and got in the car.

‘So what did
your uncle say?’ Brian asked.

‘He’s glad we
are out of Malindi and is expecting us this evening.’

They passed
through several police checks without incident. Brian visibly
relaxed as they drew away from Mombasa. Doug noticed a quiet
smugness in him not there before as he concentrated on driving into
the waning afternoon.

THIRTY-TWO

Firdus put down
the phone after speaking to his nephew and went back to the
conference centre. ‘Get ready,’ he told Katana, ‘you will be
leaving soon.’

He then rang
Omollo the minister on his secure line. ‘Good news sir, we are
moving Brian Nicholls.’

‘Very good
Fernandez, where is he?’

‘He’s on his
way and will be here in the next few hours.’

‘Excellent,
shall I let the British ambassador know?’

‘Sir, I think
it would be best to do that after I have interviewed him, we don’t
want the press to get the wrong end of the story.’

‘Hmmm, you
could be right,’ the minister agreed.

‘Now Sir,’
Firdus went on, ‘I have my team ready to fly to Malindi to arrest
Fimbo and Evans.’

‘Fimbo is the
policeman?’

‘Yes sir, OCS
in Malindi.’

‘And Evans?
Remind me.’

‘He is the
manager of the local NNB bank. We believe that he has been involved
in the fraud with the Indian.’

‘I see and
where is that Indian, Patel?’

‘We don’t know
exactly sir, but are confident these two suspects will be able to
shed light on his whereabouts.’

‘Very good, you
have enough people with you?’

‘Yes sir. I
would like to request a helicopter to fly the team to Malindi. We
will also need armaments Sir.’

‘Very good,
what time do you want to go?’

‘We should be
ready in about half an hour.’

Omollo gave
instructions. ‘I will need you at the airport, to identify your
team to the pilot.’ Firdus could hear rustling papers. ‘His name is
Lieutenant Peter Kinanjui. Let me know how it goes; let’s clear up
this mess as soon as possible. There will be an official funeral
for Rubia tomorrow at 4 p.m. The government has asked the British
ambassador to attend as well as other envoys. It would be good to
get this all over by then.’

‘Yes sir, we
will do our best.’ Firdus was tired and rubbed his eyes but managed
a smile for the anxious looking Katana. ‘Your flight leaves in half
an hour. Who’s on the team?’

The detective
slid a list across the table.

‘You’re taking
Cyrus? Can you trust him?’

‘I think so,
and he knows what Fimbo looks like.’

‘Ok don’t arm
him unless you think it’s absolutely necessary.’

‘Yes sir, but
what about guns?’

‘The guns will
be on the helicopter, let’s go.’ The police Mercedes cut a swathe
through the downtown Nairobi traffic, siren wailing. A taxi with
the rest of the team followed in hot pursuit.

As the
entourage cleared the security barrier at the airport, a helicopter
flew noisily overhead and landed on the tarmac in front of them. It
sat rotors spinning, decked out in military camouflage - a helmeted
pilot in dark glasses peered out at them from a small high
window.

Firdus crossed
to the aircraft. Ducking under the rotor wash he pulled himself up
to the window using the grab handles in a single step and shouted.
‘Kinanjui?’ Holding up his ministerial ID.

The pilot
shouted back. ‘Yes sir.’

‘This is my
team.’ Firdus pointed at the assembled group. The pilot nodded and
turned, shouting something to his co-pilot. A large side door slid
open, and a set of steps swung down.

Firdus waved
the team forward; they jogged across and scrambled up the steps in
an untidy and nervous rush. He gave the thumbs up to Katana who was
sat wild eyed in the helicopter, as the co-pilot flicked the steps
up and shut the door.

Firdus walked
back to the waiting Mercedes where the driver stood and watched.
The rotors spun faster and the aircraft lifted off with a deafening
roar. It turned and steadily gained height, tilted forward, the
noise receding as it progressed across the sky.

‘Ok.’ said
Firdus to his driver, ‘back to the hotel please and no need to use
the siren.’

Katana had
planned to brief his team on the flight as they still had no idea
what the objective of the mission was, but the noise made that
impossible. After he got used to the motion of the aircraft he
relaxed a little, he had only seen the ground once through a small
porthole as the craft banked, and was not encouraged to look again.
Instead, eyes shut he visualised how he was going to make the
arrests.

The flight took
just over an hour, he opened his eyes as he felt a bump, surprised
and relieved to see they had landed; a red painted sign over a low
grey building read Malindi Airport.

The co-pilot
slid the door open, humid air wafted into the cabin with a faint
smell of the ocean. He swung the steps down and stepped onto the
tarmac, beckoning his passengers to follow. The team trouped out
one by one and stood about curiously examining the helicopter and
their new surroundings, grinning at one another. Katana moved
forward to talk to the pilot, his official ID in his hand. ‘I’m
Detective Katana,’ he announced.

‘Yes sir,’ said
the pilot, taking off his helmet and glasses.

Katana was
astonished to see how young he was.

‘The minister
said you would brief me on what to do next.’

‘Yes alright, I
want you to wait here and I will call you.’

‘Very good Sir,
do you want me to refuel?’

‘Yes, yes, that
would be a good idea. Now I was told you would have guns for me and
my team?’

The pilot
reached over, undid a latch on a concealed compartment and slid the
door open. ‘Help yourself,’ he said. Katana looked in at a well
stocked armoury, helmets, flak jackets, assault rifles, grenades,
teargas, machine pistols and even a rocket launcher. He fingered
the jackets and with regret chose only two pistols and three
machine guns. The pilot watched him, an amused look on his
face.

‘Are they
loaded?’ The detective asked.

‘Of course sir,
spare bullets in the corner,’ he helped him select the right
ones.

Katana sat on
the steps and distributed the guns to his team, when it came to
Cyrus he said. ‘You stick with me.’

Cyrus frowned
and said sulkily. ‘Ok sir.’

The detective
turned to his team and addressed them. ‘We are here to arrest two
people or possibly three. One of them is the senior police
inspector of the Malindi Station. I’m not expecting any trouble,
but we must be alert at all times. The objective of this mission is
to take these prisoners back with us to Nairobi, not to shoot them.
Is that clear?’

They nodded
eagerly. He then gave out individual instructions. Cyrus was told
to find two taxis to transport the team to the police station.

The rest of
Katana’s team followed him across the tarmac into the airport
building, the guns and serious looks causing an already curious
public to stop and stare. Cyrus returned with an ageing Toyota
corolla, with tinted windows, and a yellow painted tuk-tuk with
“chao amigo,” emblazoned on the cabin roof in multi colours.

Katana eyed the
choice. ‘Is there nothing else?

Cyrus shrugged.
‘The others refused. It’s not far to the cop shop, but these two
want to be paid up front,’ he waved at the watching drivers. Katana
handed him the money.

‘Let’s go,’ he
called out to his team, he pointed at Cyrus, ‘with me,’ and got
into the front seat of the Toyota.

Armed policemen
in the tuk-tuk, guns poking out of its plastic flaps, followed the
corolla. The driver sped through town, headlights blazing and all
hazard lights winking. Katana sat in the back and made no comment;
he either didn’t notice or didn’t care still feeling nauseous after
the helicopter flight.

THIRTY-THREE

Patel and the
manager met Fimbo as he arrived in the hotel car park with two
other men in the car. Fimbo looked awkward dressed in a tight fawn
coloured suit. He had swapped his swagger stick for a rolled up
newspaper.

David’s eyes
narrowed. ‘Your VIP?’