Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (6 page)

*

Back in
Malindi, Evans reluctantly got on with his morning. Seething at
Patel, he buried his anger in work until Florence interrupted him.
‘Sir I have a call for you from Nairobi.’

‘Who is it?’ he
asked, distracted.

‘A Mr. Brian
Nicholls from head office, shall I put him through?’

His head
snapped up at the name, a grip of fear. Could anything possibly get
worse. He wanted to run. What an earth should I do? ‘Ok put him
through,’ Evans said accepting his fate. ‘Hello,’ he answered the
phone stiffly, ‘Evans Njugu here, NNB Bank. How may I help
you?’

‘Good morning
Mr. Njugu, my name is Brian Nicholls.’

They went
through the formalities, Evans straining for every nuance and
inflection in the unfamiliar voice for clues to his impending
downfall. ‘I’m impressed with your performance over the last few
months,’ Brian was saying. ‘I don’t mind telling you, that your
bank has outperformed all the other branches.’

‘Yes,’ said
Evans woodenly waiting for disaster.

Brian droned
on. ‘In fact you have been so successful; I’m considering adopting
your methods to improve the performance of our banks
countrywide.’

Evans,
embarrassed at this rare and unfamiliar praise responded. ‘Yes,
Sir, I had no idea.’

‘Yes indeed,
I’m looking forward to meeting you when I drive down next week.’
Brian said.

‘Drive?’ Evans
blurted out remembering Patel’s instructions.

‘Yes, I thought
I might safari
njema
down to you, anything wrong with
that?’

‘Our roads are
very dangerous; it’s much safer to fly. Driving on your own is not
safe.’ Evans warned. ‘Highway robbers lurk everywhere, a simple
puncture can turn out badly, and it’s a long way.

‘Hmmm,’ Brian
responded, ‘maybe I should re-think my trip.’

‘Yes,’
interrupted Evans hopefully.

‘I have been
looking at a map and was planning to drive across the game park.
That would be safer wouldn’t it?’

‘Game parks
lots of wild animals and
Shifta
,’ Evans ventured.

‘
Shift
a?’

‘Yes
Shifta
, you know, Somali bandits, cutlasses,’ he made a
cutting motion across his throat, ‘poachers.’

‘Really?’ Brian
asked, surprised.

‘Yes, you’d
better fly sir, it’s much safer.’

‘Thank you for
your concern Evans, you have certainly given me food for thought, I
have not heard of these shiftis?’

‘
Shifta
,’ corrected Evans.

‘Yes
Shifta
.’ Brian agreed. ‘Maybe I will fly this time until I
learn the ropes a bit. Thank you for the advice.’

‘You’re
welcome,’ Evans breathed a sigh of relief.

They exchanged
more information on bank business with Brian once again praising
Evans for his abilities. ‘Evans, I had better let you get back to
work.’ He brought the amiable conversation to a close. ‘See you
next week.’

‘Thank you sir,
I will look forward to it. Goodbye sir,’ and put the phone
down.

Evans called
out to Florence. ‘That was a V.I.P. Mr. Nicholls from head office,’
he said buoyed up by the compliments. He went on. ‘I need you to
find out which NNB house in Nairobi he is staying in.’

‘In Nairobi?’ a
puzzled Florence asked.

‘Yes in case of
emergencies. He arrives on Monday and while you’re doing that, I
also need his flight number.’

‘Yes sir.’
Florence said with a frown. Her boss had been behaving strangely
since his funny turn the other day. He had failed to get to his
Dr.'s appointment and seemed to be in a bad mood all the time, and
this morning; his dishevelled appearance was most unlike him.

Evans looked at
his watch, time for lunch. He wanted to rush home and look for his
missing package. ‘I will be back this afternoon, have that
information ready by then,’ he instructed, grabbing his jacket and
heading out of the office.

The maid was
nowhere in sight when Evans got home, the house was as he had left
it, fuelling his suspicions that she had found the money and stolen
it. He searched his bedroom for the missing package, opening
drawers, cupboards, looking under the mattress, tossing pillows and
blankets on the floor. He moved onto other rooms in the house, his
search getting more frenetic. Tears of frustration and fear welled
up inside him, as he sat at the kitchen table pounding it with his
fist roaring aloud in anguish. Suddenly he stopped, an insight, the
car! Trembling in anticipation, he opened the boot slowly and
spotted the package lying in the trunk. He snatched it up
confirming the money was there. The missing maid sauntered into the
compound as Evans walked back to the house. He started in surprise.
‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.

‘I was ill.
Been to see the Doctor,’ she replied sulkily.

‘My shirts were
not ironed this morning,’ he complained standing erect. ‘The house
is in a terrible mess; you’d better iron a new shirt for me right
away and tidy the house.’

She just looked
at him, making no move towards the house. ‘I will wait for mamma,’
she replied, stoically.

Evans glared at
her, swore and went into the house. Shit! What can I do? This cow
is going to get me in a load of trouble with my Rose. He looked
around him; the mess in the house now worsened by the efforts of
his desperate search. If I give her money, she might not say
anything, he brightened.

Taking a few
notes out of the package, he went back outside and knocked on the
door to her quarters. ‘Listen I'm sorry about yesterday, I was
drunk. You know me I’m not that sort of man. Listen to me. Be
reasonable, if you tell mama you will lose your job anyway, surely
you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I have a small present
for you,’ holding the money out, ‘please accept it as an apology
from a foolish lonely man.’ The door opened a crack and then
widened as the maid saw the money. Evans leaned on the door and
pushed his hand forward. ‘Please,’ he pleaded.

Without looking
at him she took the money. ‘I forgive you,’ and shut the door in
his face.

Evans breathed
a sigh of relief, and then said to the closed door. ‘And you will
clean up the house now?’

‘When you have
left,’ came the muted reply.

*

Azizza was
relieved when Patel left the Golden Palm house. She had collected
another hundred title deeds from the land office and needed to go
through each one, searching for anomalies or duplications before
submitting them to the bank. The stop start crisis over the last
forty-eight hours had upset her, especially now that Patel was
making plans to leave.

After leaving
school, Azizza had earned her deceitful skills working in the civil
service as a cashier in the Mombasa Law Courts. Her natural gift as
a mathematician and puzzle solver made the job easy, pocketing the
cash as she learned how to omit and juggle entries. Her friendly
outgoing personality also paid other dividends; she became an agent
for the illiterate. For a small fee she would fill out forms,
anything from a council license to a backdated birth certificate or
a passport application. Every month she earned at least three times
her salary in under the counter fees.

She avoided
getting promoted, paying her way into positions that allowed her to
continue to interact with the public and handle cash. Azizza had
first impressed Patel when she was working in the motor licensing
department; he needed a transfer of ownership on one of his
vehicles in a hurry. Over the years he used her more and more to
secure the many official government documents he for his business.
He had tried to recruit her to come and work exclusively for him,
but she’d declined, preferring to remain employed in the civil
service. He was persistent and as a compromise, she had herself
transferred to the land office in Malindi, where she became a
useful extension to his business.

Azizza had
alerted Patel to the unclaimed title deeds that led to the
subsequent hatching of the Golden Palm project. She gave up her job
at the land office in order to work full time as a Patel’s partner
on the land deal, with her many contacts in the civil service
keeping her updated on any new developments.

At
twenty-seven, she remained unmarried. Although a good-looking woman
with no lack of suitors, marriage within the confines of the
Swahili culture was not to her liking. It clashed with her strong
independent spirit. In a nutshell she was smarter than most of the
men she had met, and soon got bored with them. Patel was the
exception. She was intrigued by his lack of interest in her
sexually and excited by his mercurial mind. She studied him
constantly, probing for weaknesses she could exploit. Puzzles were
what interested Azizza and Patel was a complex puzzle.

After today’s
events, it had become clear that once the Golden Palm swindle was
inevitably exposed. All the fingers would point to her as the
principle cog in the fraud. With Patel now moving quickly to cover
his tracks, she needed to find a way to slow him down. This
morning, as she typed up the new title deeds, her mind actively
worked on this dilemma. The kernel of an idea to outwit him started
to form, and soon she was smiling to herself as the plan developed
in her mind’s eye. Chuckling, and then spontaneously laughing
aloud, as the solution became clearer. Like most good ideas it was
simple and would ensure that Patel would be leaping through hoops
if he dared to try and double cross her.

With no family
of her own, Azizza was living in Malindi with her aunt. When the
time came, she could simply walk out of the door without a backward
glance.

*

That evening,
Evans was glad to have his wife and children back from Nairobi and
relieved to see that the maid had cleaned up the house in the
afternoon. The family was disappointed not to see the Mercedes
until he reassured them it was only a temporary thing.

As they
unpacked and settled in, Evans surreptitiously pocketed three pairs
of his wife’s newest panties she had bought in Nairobi. On the way
to work the next day he tossed them in a dustbin. In the evening he
was pleased to hear his wife shouting at the maid to find them or
else! Still angry with Patel, he avoided any communication, using
Azizza as an intermediary for anything to do with Golden Palm.

*

Patel had
intensive meetings all week concerning the sale of his business,
settling on a figure that suited both parties. He put his wife and
children on a plane to London at the end of the week, and promised
to join them as soon as he could. The directorship of his company
was transferred to the new owner, and for the sake of continuity,
he stayed on as a consultant.

The family home
was included in the sale so the local auctioneer removed all but
essential furniture from the house. Patel moved a bed and an old
cupboard to the Golden Palm office, where he intended to stay for
the duration of the project.

Keeping his
eyes on the bigger picture, he had no time to indulge in any
sentiment over the dismantling of his life, approaching the whole
thing like a simple business operation. Now, essentially freed up,
he could focus his entire attention on completing the Golden Palm
project.He called for a meeting on Sunday evening between the three
of them at the Day and Night club to discuss how they were to
proceed in the coming week with an English auditor in their
midst.

*

Patel arrived
with Azizza and chose their usual table. Drinks ordered, they
settled down to wait for Evans. ‘He is late,’ Patel said.

‘He is still
angry with you.’ She said.

‘Why, because I
took away the car?’

Azizza just
looked at him like it was obvious and then waved at someone she
recognised on the dance floor.

Patel got down
to business. ‘Does he know how much money we have banked?

She replied
caustically. ‘He is a bank manager.’

‘Oh, are you
angry as well?’ Patel grinned, going on the attack.

Azizza said.
‘Just be patient, he’ll be here.’

‘Sorry my dear.
This deal is running so smoothly I’m anxious that that buffoon will
mess things up.’

Azizza spotted
Evans across the room and waved him over. ‘There he is,’ she said
to Patel.

Evans
approached the table and chose a seat opposite Patel without
meeting his eye and ignoring his outstretched hand, he greeted
Azizza. Patel studied him unfazed. ‘Good to see you my friend, what
are you drinking, the usual?’

Evans said
stiffly. ‘Yes, Ok.’

The three of
them sat in silence, avoiding eye contact as the waiter fetched the
drinks. Patel broke the ice. ‘I have called this meeting to discuss
how to deal with this Nicholls fellow during the coming week.’

Evans
responded. ‘That’s the bank’s business not yours.’

‘Exactly,’
agreed Patel. ‘I’m glad to hear you say that, have you spoken to
this Nicholls?’

Evans
nodded.

‘And?’ Patel
asked. ‘Tell me more?’

‘He seems a
nice fellow,’ Evans said.

‘Does he
suspect anything?’

‘No,’ replied
Evans, hiding his face in his beer glass.

Patel looked at
Azizza and tried to enlist her help in this monosyllabic
conversation. She smiled, enjoying his frustration. He tried a new
tack. ‘Do you think it would be wise for me to meet him?’

Evans asked
warily. ‘Why would you want to meet him?’

‘I am one of
the bank’s clients and this Nicholls fellow, is a PR man isn’t
he?’

‘You leave me
to handle Nicholls,’ Evans said.

‘What, no
cocktail parties planed this week for clients, Evans?’ Patel
taunted. ‘Azizza’s just bought a new dress in anticipation, you
can’t let her down.’

Evans ignored
the needle. ‘Is this what you called this meeting for - to discuss
a cocktail party?’