Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (50 page)

‘I was thinking
about going to Madagascar with you.’

‘Ha! On holiday
already. I was thinking what Evans will do when he finds out we
have gone.’

‘I thought you
said we were only taking a break?’

‘Yes, that’s
true, but you know me I like to look at all the angles.’

‘Ok, so tell me
what happened with Fimbo?’ She slanted in, watching him.

‘Oh that? Some
idiot cops in Nairobi wanted to ask questions.’

‘Yes?’ She
waited.

‘It was nothing
to do with Golden Palm, more like the tax people wanting their cut
of my factory sale. I spoke to Farook about it and he smoothed
things over in Nairobi, but you know how Fimbo is, he could smell
an opportunity, so I agreed to give him a present in Mombasa and he
held onto my passport as insurance. Anyhow let’s think forward now
not backwards.’ He turned and gave her a sly look. ‘Tell me, what
you are going to do with your money,’

She chuckled,
and shook her head. ‘Maybe in Madagascar I will reveal all, until
then, don’t ask.’

They reached
Mombasa just before dark. Patel drove through town to the Royal
Hotel and parked round the back.

He turned to
Azizza, as they walked to the reception. ‘I have booked you a room.
I think you are on the fourth floor.’

Her step
momentarily faltered. ‘Yes I would hope so,’ her voice a little
loud. ‘And where is your room?’

‘I think I’m on
the first floor, they told me they are very busy, we were lucky to
get rooms.’

Azizza
muttered. ‘Yes, I noticed the empty car park.’

Patel glanced
at her. ‘It’s better this way, many eyes in Mombasa. Perhaps
tomorrow we can get adjoining rooms my dear.’

‘Whatever for?’
She snorted pushing passed him.

David the
manager came out of his office to meet them; he and Patel hailed
and hearted one another, while Azizza filled out the registration
forms. She interrupted them. ‘Here is your key, I need that bag,’
pointing at the plastic bag with the money from the safe.

‘Oh,’ said
Patel, ‘what for?’

‘I’m going
shopping, I need new clothes, remember?’

Patel, reading
her face relented with a grin, handing over the bag. ‘Don’t spend
it all in one place.’

She took the
bag wordlessly and made for the lift.

‘My dear,’ he
called out, ‘dinner at eight o’clock?’

She waved a
hand without turning.

Patel raised
his eyebrows at David, “women” it said, as they resumed their
conversation. ‘My guests will be here at around three tomorrow, the
room is ready?’

‘Yes Jugdish,
all is arranged, mini fridge as you asked.’

‘Excellent,’
smiled Patel, ‘thank you.’

Azizza opened
the door to her room in despair at the twin beds. Bloody man, she
said putting the bag on the bed. She went into the bathroom and
stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt tears of self pity
welling up inside her, what was wrong with her? How could a man
such as Patel have this effect on her, she asked herself angrily,
he hadn’t suggested they would share a room she reasoned, blowing
her nose noisily, so why was she so upset?

She sat
miserably on the edge of the bed and fingered the bag of money, and
then lay back and looked at the ceiling; hoping tears would release
this feeling of wretchedness. Too angry to cry, she only knew she
didn’t want to be alone. Zainabu, her cousin was in Mombasa. Azizza
called her and they arranged to meet.

The taxi
dropped her on the edge of the Arab old town by the bustling open
air market. Azizza’s eyes took in the fabric shops as she walked
the narrow streets to her cousin’s house.

Over a cup of
tea sweetened with honey, Azizza and Zainabu caught up with family
news and gossip, the laughter between them lightened her mood.

‘So what brings
you to Mombasa, it’s not something medical, you’re not sick are
you?’ asked Zainabu anxiously.

‘No, no I’m
well. There’s is no problem,’ assured Azizza, ‘just came to do some
business.’

‘There’s
something troubling you,’ said Zainabu. ‘If you’re not sick. It’s a
man isn’t it?’ She said perceptively.

Azizza,
astonished at having been read so easily, gestured with her hand
saying ‘No’ too loudly. ‘Men there are plenty,’ and smiled.

‘Yes,’ agreed
Zainabu and delicately sipped her tea, not letting her off the
hook, ‘you can tell me,’ she offered, putting her teacup back on
the tray and leaning forward.

Azizza could
feel tears welling up. ‘No,’ she said, ‘don’t be silly. There is no
one,’ sitting up straight and laughing.

Zainabu laughed
as well. ‘So what’s his name?’

‘Oh cousin you
go too far. Me, hooked on a man, never!’

Zainabu smiled
confidently and said nothing.

‘Ok. There is
this one man,’ agreed Azizza, her upper lip trembling. Zainabu
hugged her as she burst into tears.

Eventually she
stopped. ‘I feel such a fool,’ she said sniffing, ‘do you have a
tissue?’ She blew her nose.

‘Some more
tea?’ Zainabu offered.

Azizza sighed.
Soon, she was telling all.

‘This man is
your boss?’

‘No we are
partners; we have a business venture, to do with real estate.
Look,’ Azizza opened the bag full of money and showed it to her,
‘we are very successful.’

Zainabu’s eyes
opened wide. She gasped and covered the bag with her hand, although
they were completely alone. ‘Azizza it’s dangerous to carry money
like that!’

‘This,’ said
Azizza holding the bag flippantly ‘is nothing. Zainabu, I’m a rich
woman.’

‘Shhh, put that
away,’ Zainabu hissed.

Azizza put the
bag behind her on the chair.

‘And this man
he doesn’t cheat you?’

‘No he has been
good about that. I’m an equal partner.’

‘An Indian and
he is married?’

Azizza nodded,
looking helpless.

‘He is older
than you?’

‘No we are the
same age, it’s stupid of me, he is not even good looking,’ she
dismissed him, with a laugh.

‘He doesn’t
want you?’

Azizza
confronted said quietly, ‘I don’t think so.’

‘You don’t
think so? Has he ever tried to touch you?’

‘No,’ she got
more miserable in the telling.

‘Ahhh,’ Zainabu
soothed, ‘and you love him.’

Azizza could
feel tears coming; she bit her lip and looked at the ceiling. The
silence between them was palpable as Zainabu considered her
dilemma. ‘It’s so stupid, I mean if you were to see him you would
laugh, he’s a nobody. I’m embarrassed to think of it.’

‘The mysterious
ways of love,’ agreed Zainabu, ‘who can tell when one might fall.
You know, there’s a way if you want this man.’

Azizza looked
up daring to hope.

Zainabu nodded
confidently. ‘There is a very powerful Doctor who makes cures here
in the old town.’

‘So these cures
will make the feeling go away?’Azizza hopeful.

‘You leave it
with me, I will set up an appointment for you to see her tomorrow,
I’m sure she can help you.’

Thank you
cousin,’ Azizza said with gratitude.

‘She is not
cheap,’ Zainabu said delicately, ‘I’m told she is the best.’

‘Oh is she?’
Azizza reached for the bag of money. ‘How much?’

‘I think about
ten thousand for the appointment and then a there will be a fee for
the cure.’

Azizza frowned.
‘Just for the appointment?’

Zainabu nodded
assuredly. ‘She is very busy; of course if you think you don’t need
it.’

‘No, no,’
Azizza reached into the bag and gave her the money.

Zainabu took
the wad and pouted a little. ‘I think it’s ten thousand, but give
me a little more, just in case.’

She handed over
another five thousand. They embraced as she left, promising to meet
in the morning. Azizza walked back to the hotel declining to catch
a taxi. She felt lightened of her burden and window shopped as she
walked. She had a few essential clothes with her from Malindi and
so for tonight and tomorrow morning she could cope. Right now, all
she wanted to do was curl up with a pillow. She didn’t want Patel
to see her in this vulnerable state; a good night’s sleep was what
she needed the most.

She stopped at
an Arab sweet shop and bought a selection of richly sweet cakes,
greedily taking two of each on display.

Back in her
hotel room she switched on the TV and ran herself a bath, munching
on the cakes as she disrobed and putting them within easy reach,
she slipped gratefully into the warm bath and slowly began to
relax.

Later she lay
on the bed and got absorbed in a Mexican soap opera. The telephone
startled her as it rang loudly.

It was Patel.
‘Hello my dear, are you coming to dinner?’

Looking at her
watch, it was eight thirty already. ‘No you go ahead, I have a
headache,’ she explained.

‘Oh, you’re not
getting ill are you?’

‘No I’m just
tired, I want an early night.’

‘Will I see you
at breakfast?’

‘Yes ok in the
morning, I’m tired now.’

‘Alright my
dear, good night,’ said Patel.

TWENTY-SEVEN

With Doug gone,
Brian and Lucy spent the afternoon lounging by the pool and later
torrid love making sessions took them deep into the night.

Brian lay on
his back. Lucy, her head on his chest and arm around him, was fast
asleep. He was wide awake as he thought of the password problem and
went over it ceaselessly in his mind. Visualising the process, he
grew increasingly restless as he grappled with the problem. He
moved Lucy’s head off his chest, eased a pillow under it and got
up. He tied a
kikoy
around his waist, went downstairs and
got himself a beer.

Bottle in hand
he went and switched on the computer. First he checked the new
account that Evans had set up in his wife’s name. A wry smile as he
recalled the manager’s comment about his books all being in order.
How figures do lie. He gained access to the Golden Palm account, a
rectangular box asked for a password, eleven letters, or god
forbid, numbers. He counted out Golden Palm on his fingers, only
ten. Golden Palms would fit, but didn’t sound right, anyhow Azizza
could have used her grandmothers name, or pet dog’s for all he
knew, he muttered ‘shit’ under his breath.

Lucy leaned in
through the door startling him. ‘Birin, you no sleeps?’ Her eyes
screwed up against the light. ‘What wrong, you don’t likes to
sleeps with me?’

‘No it’s not
that sweetheart, I’m not tired. I want to do some work, you go back
to bed honey,’ he urged her.

She pouted and
walked into the room. She climbed into his lap as his free hand
cupped one of her pert breasts.

‘Birin you not
tired? Come to bed, I tire you,’ she offered, yawning and groping
at his crotch, ‘oohh you are awake, it’s true,’ and she giggled
deliciously.

Brian moved to
get more comfortable and she leaned back, a warning beep sounded
from the computer and he pushed her roughly away. ‘Hey!’ she called
out.

‘Oh fuck!’Brian
swore as he got sight of the screen. “Incorrect password,” the
computer blinked, “please try again.”‘Shit, your hand, you put it
on the keyboard!’

‘Hey,
whati?’

‘I have only
two more tries, and then it will shut down.’

Lucy heard the
anger and reacted. ‘I did nothings to stupids coputer,’ she spat at
him.

Brian looked at
the ceiling, and then patiently explained how when she had touched
the keypad she had triggered the password.

Lucy said.
‘Bussward, what’s that?’

‘Password, it’s
like a secret code or word. Azizza has put it on the account so no
one can open it.’

Lucy turned and
backed into his lap to see the screen. ‘That Azizza, she crazy for
the Indian man, I see the way she shake her bottom,’ and wiggled
hers suggestively.

Brian smiled
now resigned to failing. ‘Shake bottom, right amount of letters but
I doubt it.’

‘She would like
to be his wife, like me. You like me to be your wife, Lucy Birin?
Hey?’

Brian corrected
her. ‘That would be Lucy Nicholls.’

‘Ohh you want
me to be your wife. Hey, I be good wife, I fuck you every day,’ she
assured him.

Brian chuckled.
‘So you think Azizza is in love with Patel?’

‘Yes us womans,
we can tell, but the Indian man already a wife, but you,’ she
pointed her finger, ‘you no wife.’

‘No wife,’ he
agreed.

‘Good I will be
wife, and gives you many babies.

‘Azizza Patel,’
mused Brian, ‘eleven letters, what the hell,’ and he reached over
and tapped in the name.

‘Leave your
computer now. Come we go sleep,’ she stood up and tugged at his
hand. Brian enjoying the view of her body.

’Ok,’ he agreed
and turned to the screen to shut it down, only to see a row of
figures neatly laid out. ‘Jesus! We are in! That was the password!’
Leaning over the screen staring at it, ‘I don’t believe it!’

Lucy still
tugged at his hand. ‘Come Birin,’ she insisted.

Brian pulled
away. ‘Look, this is the Golden Palm account.’

Lucy put her
hands on her hips and frowned.

‘The money
Patel and Azizza have taken from Evans’s bank.’

‘Oh, the money,
we get it hey,’ she pushed her way back into his lap. ‘Show me the
moneys.’

Brian laughed.
‘Here,’ he moved the cursor on the computer and the figures
scrolled down, ‘it’s here every penny, I can’t believe it.’

‘How muchi,’
asked Lucy, ‘tell me!’

Brian read off
the figure on the bottom. ‘Five hundred and fifty million
shillings.’

Lucy looked at
him her mouth agape, for once at a loss for words. She licked her
lips, a cat like movement.