Dark Oil (26 page)

Kojo returned with steaming hot tea and the aroma of mint filled the small room. He poured the drinks with ceremony and offered them first to the guests.

Oman took a sip. “Tell me about your country. Will you, please?”

Jack thought at first that Oman was just making conversation, but every time he told him of the way life was in Australia, Oman asked another question. It was clear he was genuinely interested. It wasn't because he was planning a trip but because, Jack guessed, it was his only way of ever finding out about places afar, the only way to add colour to his dreams.

After half an hour of talking about clean cities, green gardens, schooling, rubbish disposal systems, and of course, the obligatory koala and kangaroo, Lara suggested it was time to depart. Had Jack found out anything valuable from Oman? It didn't seem so. It had all been chit-chat. Interesting, but that was all. They had taken a considerable risk, for nothing much. She took a deep breath as she stood, ready to leave.

“When are you departing Zakra?” Oman asked.

Jack shrugged. “We don't know. It could be in a couple of days, in a week, or a few weeks. It depends on what happens while we're here. We're currently having discussions.”

“I see.” Oman frowned. “Then there is something I wish to talk to you about. But first you must promise you will not tell anyone that the information came from me. For the sake of my family.”

Jack put his hand on his heart. “I promise.”

Oman turned to Lara. “Of course,” she said. “I promise.”

Oman lowered his voice. “I know an attack has been planned. They want to overturn the government. This President has given the people a lot of pain. It is dangerous for foreigners to be here at this time.”

This came as no surprise to Jack—it was Africa after all. There was no other way to be rid of a dictator than a coup. It happened all the time. “Thank you, Oman. We will be careful. Do you have any idea of when it might be?”

“Soon. That is all I know. I tell you because I do not want violence for innocent people. They will take foreigners if they need to. I have heard this myself. This time, they will.”

Oman looked away and Jack wondered what it was that had happened to him in the past. What had he seen, to make him risk his family's safety by warning them of the instability? “I have been looking for your people, to warn you. But discreetly. We must be discreet. Thank God you asked about the tent.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, thank God. Do you know who is behind all this? Are you able to say?”

“I think the Muandjid group. And also there are rumours about Hamed's wife.”

Lara gasped. “The Minister's wife?” She brought her hand to her mouth briefly before continuing. “She asked me if I knew anything about the Negalese Constitution and told me women were fighting for their rights.”

Jack frowned and turned to Oman. “The Muandjids are as right-wing as you can get, aren't they? I thought they were supportive of this government.”

“They were until the money ran out. They are not getting any help from the government now. There are big problems in Negala. Even the ministers are not being paid anymore. No zenias for anybody. People are becoming desperate and extreme poverty breeds anger.”

“The Minister's wife?” Lara shook her head. “What exactly is her involvement?”

Oman brought his index finger to his thumb and moved his hand up and down, marking each word. “She wants to vote. Her husband says women cannot. And he is always with his new mistress. Mrs Hamed is not happy. Mr Minister believes in the old way of many wives and Mrs Minister does not. She is dividing the conservatives. The Muandjids will support her if she can get them weapons. But you did not hear this from me.”

Oman checked his watch. “Please, you must go now. Some people will come here soon and it is better if they do not see you. God bless, Mrs Lara, Mr Jack.”

Jack looked through the doorway before letting Lara step outside. “God bless, Oman. Thank you so much. Here. Please.” He took all the money he had on him out of his wallet and gave it to his host.

Oman shook his head, waving his hands. “No, no Mr Jack. It is not necessary.”

Jack smiled. “I know it isn't necessary. It is just a small token of our appreciation. Oman, you may have saved our lives.”

As Jack followed Lara out into the courtyard and down the street to where their driver was waiting, he hoped that he was right. He hoped that Oman's warning would be enough to keep them safe from the Muandjids.

Lara peered through the car window at the groups of men in their bright flowing dwanas and the herds of famished goats, their dirty white coats visible even in the barely lit city centre. In a few minutes she would be back at the house, the bugged house where she had to watch her every word. If she was going to say what she thought, now was the time.

She turned to Jack. She wasn't sure exactly what it was that had made her go to Oman's house, wasn't sure why she couldn't bring herself to leave Jack there as agreed, and she could see Jack was annoyed. The thought crossed her mind that she didn't want to lose Jack, she wanted him in her life, but she pushed it away. That wasn't it—she didn't need the complication. No, she told herself, she would have done the same with any colleague.

In any event, things had turned out just fine. They had come to no harm and the visit had paid off. They had found out about the imminent coup, something that might turn out to save many lives. As a bonus, she had seen how a real Negalese family lived.

Jack wouldn't look at her, though, and she needed to tell him, and justify to herself, why she had taken that risk. “Yes, we could have died in there. But there wasn't much chance of that. I told you, the driver was waiting outside. I had given him strict instructions to come in after half an hour. And to call for help if he heard screams or shots. I left a message at the office, too, telling them where we were.”

Jack ignored her, crossing his arms.

Lara sighed. “All right. I couldn't bear to leave you in there on your own. It was killing me.” She said it lightly, trying to make it sound like nothing but a joke, a bit of tongue-in-cheek fun, but the truth was it was how she felt.

Jack smiled at her, the sparkle of happiness in his eyes. “In a somewhat twisted way I appreciate that and I think Oman and Kojo enjoyed your company. They were very impressed you could speak Negalese. But don't take any more unnecessary risks. Please.”

She felt the tension leave her shoulders. She had made an apology of sorts and he had accepted it. That was all that mattered. “It was a calculated risk, anyway. Not much risk at all really, was there?”

Jack shrugged. “Guess not, at least not this time. I'm usually a pretty good judge of character. Oman's no killer. That aside, I wouldn't want anything bad to ever happen to you. I'd die first.” His hand trembled slightly, for an instant, before he put it in his pocket.

From the tone of his voice and how he lowered his eyes, she knew he was serious. Part of her wanted to ask, why? Why would this intelligent, handsome, strong man with many years ahead of him put her life before his? But she knew the answer wouldn't be easy to deal with, that it was better not to hear it, so she pushed the thought to the back of her mind. After all, she had no interest in being with another man, and certainly not a man with the reputation of being a womaniser. Not after what Tim had done to her.

The car pulled up in front of Global Oil's house and, in silence, they climbed out. The cool night air was a relief from the day's constant heat and the stars shone so bright in the natural, unpolluted darkness Zakra offered, that Lara felt like staying outside.

“It's a beautiful evening, isn't it?” She breathed in deeply.

“It's perfect.” He seemed to hesitate. “Lara, I probably shouldn't say this and I hope you'll forgive me, but there is something I have to tell you.”

She felt the flush in her cheeks, her heightened attention, the pounding of her heart against her chest. Was Jack about to say something he would regret, something he wanted but couldn't have? Would he utter words that could not be taken back, words that would unveil forbidden desires, secret dreams, and create between them the awkwardness of knowledge, the abyss of impossibility? Because if he was going to say he wanted to be with her, she would say no.

She let out her breath, relieved, as the front door suddenly opened, creaking on its hinges. Martin appeared, frowning, his face dark and stormy. He stared at the pair. “Where the hell is Meyer?”

Jack smiled. “Good evening to you, too. Meyer isn't here. You've got me instead. Alan thought I was the better man for the job in this instance.”

Without the slightest restraint, Martin let out an exasperated huff. He turned his back on them to go inside. “I was worried about you, Lara.”

“I'm sorry.” Lara's voice was softer than usual. She was a teenager again, when her father watched the clock with Swiss precision, while her mother, her sweet, loving mother, fought with her strict husband for small concessions of freedom for Lara.

At the door, Martin pivoted around, stepped aside and put his hand on Lara's back, guiding her in first, as if wanting to make sure she couldn't escape his control. Lara looked up at the stars one last time before entering, her lips curling down with regret. It would have been lovely to stay outside in the dark, alone with Jack. Lovely. . .she shook herself. What was she thinking? It would have been a mistake to stay outside with Jack, even if deep down she really wanted to hear what he had to say. Thank Goodness Martin had saved her from Jack's confession.

When she had surrendered to Martin's authority and no longer resisted house arrest, in fact welcoming it, Jack's voice cut through the silence. “Actually Martin, I was thinking of going for a walk. Would you and Lara care to join me?”

Martin shrugged. “Not particularly.”

Good old Martin! He never changed, never bothered to hide his animosity. Lara couldn't help but smile. “It's the perfect night for a stroll. I'm sure you'll enjoy it outside.”

Martin's expression lightened, as the reason for Jack's invitation seemed to click. He must have needed to convey information freely rather than in the bugged house. Martin nodded. “Oh, yes. Why not?”

Within seconds the three of them were back outside, heading down the now familiar sandy road that passed Global Oil's house. They instinctively strolled towards the tree at the next crossroads, where they often stood in the daylight, although in the relatively cool darkness they didn't need its shelter.

“How did you go with making an appointment with the President?” Lara asked, partly out of curiosity and partly to ease the silent tension. A minute earlier the stillness of the night had been wonderful, but adding Martin to it had robbed it of its charm.

Martin shrugged. “I don't think we'll get anywhere in a hurry, although I'm told my message will be passed onto him.”

“Well, we didn't see the President but we met a man who warned us of an impending coup.” Jack was very matter-of-fact.

“A coup? Who said that?” Martin stared at Lara.

“A man we met in the street.” She didn't want to tell him his name, didn't feel the need to go into the details of how they had followed Oman to his home. She knew what Martin's reaction would be. He would explode, blaming it all on Jack.

Martin turned to Jack. “What's the story? Who was it?”

“A guy who stopped in the street to tell us about some sticks we saw. He said they were to hold a tent. We got talking.”

“And you talked where? Right there in the street? He told you out in the open he was expecting a coup? Just like that?” The snarl on Martin's face was directed at Jack alone.

Lara stepped in. She was going to say that one thing had led to another and they had ended up visiting Oman's house, albeit with the driver waiting outside, and only after they had called and left the address with the office. She was going to say that the man was harmless, that both she and Jack had sensed that.

She would add that Jack had told her to stay outside, and that anyway he was army-trained. Besides, she felt safe with him, safer than with any other person in the world.

Then she took one look at Martin and knew she'd better not. Even in the dim light she could see his face turning red, his nostrils flaring like those of a bull ready to attack, the constant twitching of his lip. She decided to dodge the question. “He wanted some help to get into Global Oil in exchange. He desperately needs work. He actually said he'd been looking for people from Global Oil for a while.”

“Why didn't he come to the office then?” Martin was sarcastic.

“Discretion. He can't afford for anyone to find out he's contacted us at this time.” Jack crossed his arms. “So do you want to know what he had to say, or not?”

Martin nodded. Jack and Lara took it in turns, telling of the planned coup, the parties involved, of what they thought the Muandjids might do.

Martin seemed annoyed, puffing out his cheeks. “It's probably all rubbish. Just a guy who wants some attention. Did he ask for money?”

Lara shook her head. “No. But there is something that makes me think he is telling the truth. He said Hamed's wife is involved.”

Martin let out a roar of raucous laughter, one that matched his level of sarcasm. “The Minister's wife? That's ridiculous!”

“Well listen to this.” Lara told the men of her earlier talk with the Minister's wife, recalling her confidences at the dinner at the Minister's country home.

“She told me they were fighting for women's rights, here. She said women wanted to vote. She asked me if I knew the Negalese constitution.”

Martin's jaw dropped, opening so wide Lara saw the shiny metal fillings in his molars. “The Minister's wife! You didn't help her, did you?”