Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (55 page)

‘Yes. OCS from
Malindi, don’t worry I will cover expenses,’ he waved a cheery
greeting at Fimbo. The other men stood deferentially beside the
inspector. Patel could see a woman still sitting in the car as he
walked across to shake the inspector’s hand.

Fimbo shook and
held on. ‘
Jambo muhindi,
’ he said.

‘Welcome to the
Royal Hotel Inspector. Will you need more rooms?’ Patel eyed the
two men.

‘No, I was just
giving them a lifti.’ Fimbo barked out orders, the men turned and
made their way to the gate.

Patel noticed
their police issue boots; the inspector it seemed had brought some
insurance with him.

‘Meeti my wifi
muhindi
,’ Fimbo said, still holding on and tugging Patel
over towards the car. A short buxom woman gracelessly exited,
sliding out, her skirt rucking up untidily, a large black plastic
handbag impeding her progress.

She stood
beside Fimbo, a full head shorter despite her heels and looked
unsmilingly at Patel, tugging her rumpled skirt back into shape.
‘My wife Susan,’ said Fimbo.

‘Mary,’ she
corrected him.

‘Yes Mary,
Susan, that’s what I say,’ Fimbo stated.

‘Very good Mary
Susan,’ Patel smiled. Fimbo released his hand and he presented it
to her. She barely touched it.

Patel then
turned and introduced David. ‘He has given you the best rooms,’ he
said breezily.

Fimbo scanned
David’s face for criminal intent, slapping his leg with the rolled
up newspaper. Satisfied, he turned and looked round the car park.
‘I see no cars,’ he announced.

‘You have come
a little early,’ Patel agreed, ‘the cars will be here soon, why
don’t you go with the manager and relax in your rooms. There is a
fridge there with beers and a T.V.’

‘Ah good.’
Fimbo’s attention turned to the manager. ‘Let’s go,’ he instructed
pointing his newspaper at him.

David asked.
‘Do you have any luggage sir?’

‘No.’ Fimbo
stared at him.

David led the
way followed by the inspector and his wife clacking along behind
them in high heels.

Fimbo, turned
and looked at Patel. ‘You come
muhindi
?’

‘Yes, Sir, I
will join you in a few moments.’ Patel then turned to his driver.
‘Everything ok?’

‘Yes sir,’ said
the driver.

‘Now you know
what to do. It’s very important that you get down to Dar-es-Salaam
today.’ Patel reached into his pocket and handed the driver some
money, ‘a little something extra for you.’ The driver gratefully
took it and thanked him. ‘No problem,’ said Patel, ‘have a safe
trip and I will see you back in Malindi.’

As Patel
watched the car go out of the gate he spotted one of Fimbo’s men
leaning on the wall of a building opposite. The other man must be
round the front of the hotel Patel reasoned as he crossed the car
park. ‘Shit’, he muttered to himself, this was an added
complication he didn’t need.

He met David at
the reception. ‘That one,’ pointing an index finger at the ceiling
‘is trouble.’

‘It’s only for
one night,’ Patel reassured him, ‘and I am paying your premium
rate.’

‘Yes,’ nodded
David, ‘and I will add any breakage’s to your bill,’ he announced
with feeling.

‘Don’t worry,
he has enough booze and you can expect that he will hole up in
there with room service and the TV.’

‘I hope you’re
right, what was his talk of cars all about?’

‘I have
arranged for him to see some cars.’

David frowned.
‘You know, I don’t condone corruption.’

‘This is
business and it’s my business.’ Patel stated.

‘I just don’t
want any trouble in my hotel.’

‘You won’t have
any, what room number is he in?’

‘The suite
501.’

‘Thank you,’
Patel said and walked towards the lift.

He knocked on
the door and waited, he knocked again.

Mary opened the
door a crack and peered out at him. ‘Who is it?’ Fimbo’s voice
boomed behind her.

‘The
muhindi
,’ she shrieked back over the noise of the TV.

The door opened
wider. Fimbo stood in the doorway in a vest, holding a beer in his
hand, Mary beside him, now more dwarf like without her heels.

‘Are the cars
here?’ He asked, burping loudly.

‘No not yet,
can I come in?’

‘You want a
beer
muhindi
?’ Fimbo stepped back into the room and turned
the TV down.

‘No thank you,
I wondered if you have my passport?’

‘Yes I
have.’

‘I see. May I
have it?’ he asked timidly.

Fimbo chuckled,
waving his beer bottle around. ‘The cars,
muhindi
. Where are
the cars?’ Mary laughed with him, enjoying Patel’s discomfort.

‘They will be
here soon, I will call you,’ Patel said and backed away. Fimbo
turned up the TV and Mary shut the door. Patel clenched his fists
in anger as he went back down the hall to the lift, without that
passport, he couldn’t put his escape plan into action.

He rang the
dealer to hurry him along and waited in his room, half an hour
later the phone rang. ‘Ok I will come right out,’ he told him. In
the car park a silver coloured land cruiser and a black Mercedes
were parked alongside Patel’s car. Two men, one of them the dealer,
leant against the back of the Mercedes.

Patel walked up
and looked over the cars. He called Fimbo.

While he waited
for him to appear, he had a good look at the silver Landcruiser. It
was a newer model, with a more rounded shape. He decided he
preferred his own.

Fimbo appeared
in shirtsleeves, still carrying his rolled up newspaper, a faint
flicker of a smile on his face as he looked at the cars. Mary
trotted along behind him.

Patel
introduced him to the dealer. Fimbo held onto his hand and leaned
forward pushing his face up close. ‘
muhindi
these cars, they
are good?’

He said
fearfully. ‘Yes sir my best, I assure you.’

Fimbo grunted.
‘Hmm we shall see.’

‘Patel,’ he
barked, ‘which one shall we test first?’

‘Your choice,’
pointing at the dealer, ‘he will take you.’

Fimbo said.
‘No, you come with me. We take the big one first.’ He got in the
passenger side of the Landcruiser and slammed the door. ‘You
drive,’ he announced.

Patel cursed
under his breath and opened the rear passenger door for Mary who
was struggling with the handle. ‘We won’t be long,’ Patel called
out to the dealer as he drove out of the gate and Fimbo waved an ok
to his watcher. Patel took the seafront road where he had driven
earlier that morning.

‘Air
conditioning,’ muttered Fimbo as his large fingers stabbing at the
cooling system on the dashboard.

Patel reached
over and switched it on, a gust of air filled the car; he used the
button for the electric windows doing his up as Fimbo watched.
Fimbo looked at the one on his armrest and pushed at it. The window
dropped down, pushed again and it went up, he turned to his wife
and pointed at her arm rest, she fingered it and her window went
down, Fimbo grinned at her.

His attention
back on the dashboard, he turned on the radio, music playing he did
a little jig in his seat.

He turned it
off. ‘Ok
muhindi
faster,’ he instructed.

Patel speeded
up.

‘Come on,’
urged Fimbo, ‘nexti gear.’

Patel dropped a
gear and accelerated hard. The 4x4 surged forward with a powerful
roar from the engine, as they raced along the seafront. Fimbo sat
straighter in his seat enjoying the ride. They reached the end of
the seafront road and Patel slowed down to turn round.

‘Stop.’ His
rolled newspaper tapped the steering wheel.

Patel pulled
over. ‘My turn,’ he said getting out of the car.

For one insane
instant Patel wanted to drive off and leave him there; reason
prevailed and the urge went. They switched sides, Patel left the
motor running.

Fimbo turned
the key the starter motor protested with a loud metallic crash. ‘Oh
it is on,’ he said in surprise.

He grimaced as
the cop put the car in the wrong gear and stalled it. He gripped
the steering wheel angrily. ‘Whati is wrong?’

Patel patiently
showed him how to start the car and select the right gear. They set
off in a series of jerks until Fimbo got the hang of the clutch.
Back along road he wound down his window and holding the wheel with
one hand he trailed his other arm over the side. He glanced back to
see if Mary was watching. ‘It’s good eh?’

They had a
harrowing ride back to the hotel as Fimbo imperiously cut through
the traffic, swearing at any drivers who got in his way and
scattering pedestrians who dared to cross his path. His
recklessness gaining as he grew more confident. At the hotel, he
narrowly missed hitting the gate, swinging in wildly; he parked
abruptly almost colliding with Patel’s parked car.

Fimbo walked
round the car, a pleased look on his face. ‘It’s better than
yours?’ He asked as Patel joined him.

‘Oh yes much
better, the latest model.’

‘You have
another spare tyre,’ Fimbo peered in the back of Patel’s
Landcruiser, ‘I like that.’

‘Yes,’ Patel
said hurriedly, ‘I’m sure we can arrange one for you too.’ The
dealer intuitively hung back as Fimbo took a look at the Mercedes.
Talking to his wife in a dialect Patel could not understand, he
opened the passenger door for her and then instructed Patel to
drive. Ten minutes later they were back after another harrowing
drive.

Fimbo stood in
the car park and surveyed his new wares with satisfaction. ‘Ok,’ he
announced arrogantly. ‘I will take them, they are good.’ He waved
his rolled newspaper blessing the cars.

The dealer took
this as his cue to step forward.

Patel shook his
head. ‘Wait here,’ he instructed and he walked with Fimbo towards
the hotel. ‘They are nice cars,’ he ventured.

‘Yes
muhindi
you have done a good thing.’

‘So you are
happy. Can I have my passport now?’

Fimbo stopped
and tapped Patel on the shoulder with his newspaper. ‘Of course,
when we get back to Malindi, no problem.’

‘But I need it
now, sir, I have some business to do.’

‘Good you do
your business,’ said Fimbo helpfully.

‘I need my
passport to do my business.’ Patel explained.

‘You want to
fly?
muhindi
, to see
Al kahida?
Eh?’

‘No, sir, this
was the deal,’ he pointed at the cars. ‘You were to give me my
passport.’

Fimbo stared.
‘I’m not a passport transporter and you can come and collect it
from my office on Monday.’

‘Your
office?’

‘Yes, I’m on
holiday now,’ Fimbo announced smiling. ‘The cars are nice, I will
drive the big one back to Malindi tomorrow and one of my men will
take the Mercedes,’ he poked Patel in the chest with his index
finger. ‘You organise it.’

‘Ok sir no
problem,’ Patel said, ‘see you in Malindi.’

‘Very good,’
Fimbo walked off chatting to his wife.

Patel addressed
the dealer, his mind working furiously. ‘Good news,’ he announced,
‘he likes the cars.’

The dealer
looked wary, but relieved.

‘Can you leave
them here? He wants to show his friends.’

The dealer
shook his head. ‘No, that’s not our agreement.’

‘Listen,’ Patel
put his hand on his shoulder, ‘take the keys with you no one is
going to drive them. Just leave the cars here so he can gloat over
them. I promise you they will not move from here.’

The dealer
looked at his feet wavering.

‘Hey, I just
made a great sale for you, don’t blow it now, do you know who that
guy is?’

‘No.’

‘He’s the OCS
from Malindi, a good guy to have on your side if you know what I
mean.’

The dealer
relented a little. ‘OCS?’

‘Yes, in fact
he has two cops stationed at this hotel, trust me no one will touch
those cars. I can give you a lift back to your office, I’m sure you
would rather get home now, than mess about moving these cars.’

The dealer
looked at Patel and saw only earnestness on his face. ‘Ok, what
time tomorrow?’

Patel smiled.
‘I think he will have a night of it, so let’s say around noon
tomorrow.’

‘What if he
changes his mind?’

‘He won’t,’
Patel assured him as they walked over to his landcruiser. When he
drove out of the gate, the cop stationed on the other side of the
road crossed it and barred their way.

‘You no go,’ he
commanded Patel aggressively.

‘It’s ok
officer, I’m just giving this man a lift, he owns the cars the
inspector is buying. I will be back just now.’

‘The inspector
he said you no go,’ the cop repeated.

‘Listen, the
inspector has given me permission, why don’t you ask him,’ Patel
handed over his mobile.

He took the
expensive mobile, wavering. ‘He said you could go?’

‘Yes,’ Patel
smiled, ‘I will be back just now, but call him if you want, he has
had a few beers though. Look, I don’t want you to get into trouble.
I will leave my phone with you, if I’m not back in ten minutes you
can call him.’

The cop
fingered the mobile. ‘Ok,’ he agreed, ‘but you buy me lunch when
you get back.’

‘Of course,’
Patel giggled. ‘Thank you.’

Outside the
showroom the dealer said. ‘Can you come in and sign some
papers?’

‘Bring them
with you tomorrow; I must get back I don’t want that bugger all
riled up.’

‘Ok,’ agreed
the dealer sympathetically, ‘see you at noon.’

Patel drove
away and took the next side turning; he pulled over and switched
off the engine. He needed time to think out a new plan. It was
clear that Fimbo was going to hold onto his passport and try and
extract as much as he could from him before possibly arresting him.
Patel was running out of time and without the passport his planned
escape via Dar-es Salaam was now impossible. He got out of the car
locked it, walked a little way down the street and bought an orange
from a fruit vendor. Arguing the relevant points in his mind, he
chewed on the fruit and making a decision walked back to the car.
By the time he reached it he had made up his mind what to do.