Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (27 page)

He started with
a call to the provincial police boss for the Voi area; they were on
first name basis. ‘Hello Joe, it’s me Joe. Sorry to call you on a
Sunday, but I have a bit of a situation on my hands. I’m in the
middle of a complicated operation and unfortunately, it's come to
the unwanted attention of a Detective Katana of yours at Voi police
station. The last thing I need is a nosy detective in my operation.
You understand? Thanks so much.’

Next he flicked
through his phone book, and dialled a number. ‘Hello it’s me. That
chap we had on the surveillance job with the scooter this morning -
the
mzungu
with the range rover - yes him. What’s his name?
Daniel? Have him call me at my office as soon as possible.’ Rubia
felt better now and back in control.

TWELVE

The fireblades
headlight pierced the darkness as Doug and Brian joined the main
road and made fast progress towards Malindi. Just outside the town,
they turned off onto a good dirt road for another thirty minutes.
Brian took time to marvel at the brilliant stars in the sky.

They stopped
for a pee. ‘Does your uncle know we are coming, should you call
him?’

‘There is no
way of communicating directly. He is way out in the sticks with no
mobile coverage, but I left a message at the grocers he uses in
Malindi before we left Nairobi.’

An hour later
Doug pulled up outside a slatted wooden gate and tooted his horn,
several dogs rushed towards the gate and barked savagely at the
headlight shining through the fence.

‘What the hell
type of dogs are those?’ Brian asked.

‘Rhodesian
ridgebacks, lion baiters - just don’t show any fear and they will
leave you alone.’ Doug said with a grin.

Brian stared at
the dog’s massive jaws and canines. ‘Yeah right.’

An askari with
a torch approached the gate, he had a bow and an arrow notched in
the string. ‘Ni
nani
?’ he shouted.

Doug switched
off the headlight. ‘Julius
ni mimi
Douglas.’

‘Eh Douglas!
Karibu bwana
,’ the torch lit up Doug’s face. Julius called
the unruly dogs over, clipped chains to their collars and then
fastened them to a fence post. He then opened the gate, setting his
bow and arrow to one side and grasped Doug’s hand in a double
handshake grinning widely. ‘Douglas
siku mingi
, many days I
have not seen you.’

‘It’s true,’
Doug responded. ‘This is my friend.’

Julius peered
at Brian, greeting him. ‘Sah!’

‘Hello,’ he
said staring at the dogs straining on their chains.

Doug rode into
the compound towards a low rectangular building and parked beside
an old Landrover. ‘My uncle’s place,’ he announced, nodding to what
appeared to be a farmhouse perched on a small hill. ‘You had better
get behind that fence before Alfonse releases the dogs.’ He pointed
at a white picket gate set in a chain-link fence surrounding the
farmhouse. ‘Those dogs are not pets, they are locked up all day and
are just itching to bite something.’

Brain needed no
second bidding. He lifted the latch on the gate and went through
closely followed by Doug - none too soon as the three dogs rounded
the corner at full pelt barking to wake the dead. Leaping at the
fence savagely and bouncing at head height, it shook along its
length. Brian stepped back, the noise and ferocity truly
frightening; reassured as he saw the fence hold.

‘Why did you
refer to them as lion baiters?’ He shouted out.

Before Doug
could answer, a commanding voice emanated from the farmhouse
veranda. ‘Who is there? Julius what’s all that bloody racket about?
Hey you two fools, move away from the fence, I can’t hear myself
think.’

Brian looked up
to see the silhouette of a man standing on the veranda, a shotgun
held lightly in both hands. ‘Who are you?’ he yelled, shifting the
gun to cover the intruders.

‘Uncle it’s me,
Doug, don’t shoot.’ Doug yelled back.

‘Who? Douglas?
The hell are you doing sneaking around like a thief in the night?
Come over here boy, let me take a look at you.’ Doug walked up to
the steps leading to the veranda, followed by Brian. The man
lowered the shotgun. ‘Douglas, what a surprise! Who is with
you?’

‘A friend
uncle, his name is Brian,’ the two of them walked up the steps.

‘Welcome! Come
in,’ he greeted, and stepping to one side he shouted. ‘Julius take
those bloody dogs away.’ He then broke the shotgun and putting it
on the veranda table turned and hugged Doug. ‘Welcome boy,’ at the
same time holding out a large strong hand to shake Brian’s hand.
‘My name’s Firdus, welcome to my home. You guys hungry? Supper just
about ready, plenty for three, Margaret!’ His deep voice boomed out
as he stepped inside the house. ‘We have guests and they are
hungry.’

A maid, dressed
in an apron appeared and quickly weighed up the situation. ‘Yes
sir.’

‘Loo’s out the
back if you need it,’ he pointed through the house to an open door
at the rear, ‘take the tilly lamp off the hook on your way through.
What can I get you to drink? I have beer or whiskey, no ice.’

Doug said.
‘I’ll have a beer,’ and Brian smiled agreeably.

‘Ok, two beers
it is, sit yourselves down,’ he pointed at overstuffed armchairs by
an empty fireplace. ‘What happened to Gem, thought you were coming
with a girl? I’m looking forward to hearing your bullshit Douglas,’
giving his nephew a knowing look.

‘I have lots to
tell,’ Doug replied with a laugh.

‘Good, Good,’
said his uncle as he went to get the drinks.

The two sat
down, Firdus returned and handed out the beers. He unceremoniously
tossed a sleeping cat off his chair. ‘Go and catch some rats you
lazy bugger. Cheers,’ he held his whiskey glass up and took a gulp
as he sat down, eyeing his guests with pleasure.

‘So tell me,
how did you get here?’

‘Came on a
bike,’ Doug replied.

‘On a bike,
from Nairobi, you crazy, where’s that girl of yours?’

‘It’s a long
story, hard to know where to begin.’

‘I see, well
let that beer slip down, then I’m all ears when you’re ready.’ He
turned to Brian. ‘So how did you meet this reprobate nephew of
mine, and how on earth did he persuade you to sit on the back of a
bike for five hundred odd miles?’

Brian smiled.
‘He is very persuasive.’

‘Yes that he
can be,’ agreed Firdus with a chuckle.

The three
lapsed into silence, as they sipped their drinks. Firdus settled
into his chair and looked at Doug expectantly.

Doug fished out
a cigarette and lit it. ‘We are in a load of shit,’ he announced,
and blew a puff of smoke in the air.

‘Ok, start at
the beginning,’ encouraged his uncle.

Doug took
another puff and looked at Brian. ‘It all started with him,’ waving
his glass at Brian. He then gave a blow by blow account of the lead
up to today’s events, interrupted occasionally by his uncle as he
asked him to clarify a point. Doug’s voice thickening as he
described shooting Loda. He removed his woollen hat to show the
blood stained dressing. Brian sat silent only shaking his head in
disbelief, as he relived today’s nightmare in Doug’s telling.

Firdus exhaled
loudly. ‘You’re not kidding when you say you’re in the shit. Jesus!
Let’s have supper,’ he called out, ‘Margaret you can bring the
food. You chaps want more beers?’ They both nodded.

Sombrely the
three of them tucked into their food, small talk replaced the
previous discourse around the fireplace. Brian was particularly
quiet, he knew intuitively that when supper was over, it was going
to be his turn to answer questions. After supper he took a few
moments to go to the outhouse, looking up at the stars as he
crossed the yard to the bathroom. When he returned, Doug and his
uncle were seated around the fireplace, with a pot of hot coffee,
cups, sugar and milk on the dining table.

‘Help
yourself.’ Firdus pointed at the coffee. He waited for Brian to
settle before he spoke. ‘Now Brian, what’s your take on this,
clearly these nasty people are after you for some reason? Doug and
his girl, from what he described, were just in the way.’

‘Yes, I can
only think that it must have something to do with my work at the
bank,’ Brian held out his hands in explanation.

‘Yes go on
then, tell us what you think it could be?’

Brian went on
to describe his job and aspirations, his run-in with the police in
Malindi, the mysterious disappearance of his passport, and its more
sinister reappearance in his flat.

‘So you have
not been able to examine the bank’s books in Malindi?’ Firdus
asked.

‘No, but I have
access to the bank’s accounts, from my computer in the office in
Nairobi.’

‘What is in the
bank in Malindi that you can’t examine?’

‘Individual
files, original certificates, title deeds etc., but the system is
pretty fool proof. Any missing money or falsification would soon
show up in the banks records, and I’m especially trained to spot
these things, it’s part of my job. Evans, the bank manager in
Malindi has been with the bank a number of years, his work is
conscientious and clean.

‘And what’s
bothering you about this clean system,’ Firdus waded in, ‘something
is not right is it?’

‘It’s only a
hunch,’ admitted Brian, ‘but the system of loans to the farmers
seems too good to be true.’

‘Really,
describe this to us,’ Firdus raised his eyebrows.

Brian was in
conflict, he had been trained not to discuss what would be deemed
“insider information” he hesitated.

Firdus
insisted. ‘Come on man, lives are at stake, out with it.’

Brian described
the successes of Evans’s bank with the small loans scheme, and when
he mentioned the word Sabaki settlement scheme. Firdus and Doug
exchanged looks of astonishment, and once Brian had finished.
Firdus asked. ‘So you have not yet met the directors of Golden
Palm, or the Danish NGO organisation?’

‘No, that’s one
of the reasons I was returning to Malindi.’

‘So Golden Palm
is being run by this Indian fellow Patel and an Arab woman. How
much money on loans are we talking about?’

Brian told him
the figure.

‘Wow! No wonder
they want you out of the way.’

‘I’m sorry?’
Brian asked, confused.

Firdus took a
sip of coffee. ‘Brian, the Sabaki River runs through part of my
ranch, in fact it’s no more than two hundred yards as the crow
flies from where you sit. The road into Malindi, some sixty miles
from here follows the course of the river, and in the other
direction thirty miles from here, is Tsavo East Park.

There isn’t a
single area that has been developed along it’s whole length, these
plots that have been “ allocated” so far as I know, do not exist.
The whole thing is a complete scam, and I’m willing to bet your
Evans manager is up to his eyeballs in all this.’

‘But, but there
are title deeds!’ Brian protested.

‘Have you seen
them?’

‘No but, there
is no way any manager could pull this off, he would have to involve
most of the members of staff in his bank. It’s, it’s impossible!’
Brian shook his head.

‘So if the
title deeds exist? How would you know if they are real?’

‘I don’t know,
it was something I was going to check on.’

‘The penny
drops!’ Firdus exclaimed clapping his hands together loudly, the
sound startling Brian and Doug.

‘It’s clear to
me that the people involved in this fabricated Sabaki farmers
scheme, are the ones that have been trying to prevent you from
getting access to the files in the bank. You had been given a clear
warning,’ Firdus concluded.

‘Warning?’
Brian asked

‘Yes, the
trouble with the cops - no access to bank files - your passport in
Nairobi. The message is stay away from Malindi.’

‘It certainly
explains a few things, but how do they think they can get away with
it by just removing me?’

‘You don’t know
who else is involved, apart from the obvious manager and the
directors of Golden Palm. I’m willing to bet the NGO organisation
is a fabrication also.’

‘Yes, but the
scam will be exposed at some point, even if I’m prevented from
seeing the files.’

Firdus
ventured. ‘You may only be a temporary nuisance. Do you think the
man in your head office is involved?’

‘Njenga? No it
was he who proposed I go down to Malindi. Why would he do that if
he was part of the cover up?’

‘Yes that does
seem strange,’ agreed Firdus.

Doug had
remained silent up to this point. ‘I think we have found a motive.
My head is beginning to throb and I’m going to turn in,’ he stood
up.

Firdus
responded. ‘Quite right my boy, we all could get some sleep, the
beds are made up in the guestroom. I’m mighty glad to see you, and
don’t worry, no one will find you here. Breakfast at seven, but if
you need to lie in do so.’

‘Do you know
the nearest point where I will get a signal on my mobile? I need to
find out if Gem is ok.’

Firdus said
kindly. ‘It can wait till tomorrow. I would suggest you head
towards Malindi until you get within range.’

*

After his
intense meeting with Kamau, Patel spent the night in Nairobi and
then caught an early flight to Dar-es-Salaam in Tanzania, with his
new passport as Noordin Shah. He booked into a hotel in downtown
Dar.

He then hired a
taxi and toured all the second hand car outlets, specifically the
ones that stocked four wheel drives. He was looking for an
identical model to his Landcruiser and found one. It was more of an
off-white colour, but the interior was identical. He left a hefty
cash deposit and arranged to collect it on Monday morning.