Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) (56 page)

THIRTY-FOUR

Katana’s task
force arrived at the Malindi police station. The sight of the guns
caused confusion and tension until it was established that his team
was bona-fide police and not some armed gangsters intent on a
raid.

Mugo invited
Katana into his office. ‘Fimbo is not here, I’m in charge, how can
I help?’

‘I see, so
where is he, I need to talk to him?’

‘He left for
Mombasa. He is on a stakeout, pursuing some dangerous
criminals.’

‘And when do
you expect him back?’

The detective
shrugged. ‘He didn’t tell us.’

‘Do you know
where he is in Mombasa?’

Mugo shook his
head and smiled. Katana slid his official ID across the desk.’
Perhaps this will help you remember.’

Mugo studied
his face for humour and saw none. Frowning, he picked up the ID and
stared at it. A trapped fly buzzed along a dirty windowpane behind
his head, smoke from his cigarette spiraled upwards. ‘Fimbo is at
the Royal Hotel in Mombasa with two other constables, he will be
back tomorrow.’ He lifted the cigarette and tapped the ash
carefully in the ashtray, not meeting Katana’s eye.

‘Good, I need
to use your phone. Now do you know an Evans Njugu, the bank manager
at the Malindi NNB branch?’

‘Yes, I know
who he is, why?’

‘I need him
picked up as soon as possible; he is wanted in Nairobi for
questioning. I have a helicopter waiting at the airport, can you
and your men organise that?’

Mugo stared. ‘A
helicopter?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I think I know where he can
be found at this time.’

‘Is that phone
working? ‘Katana stood up and pointed.

‘Yes it
is.’

He walked
around the desk, the narrow space forcing Mugo to his feet. ‘How
long will it take you to pick up Evans?’

‘Not long,’
said Mugo awkwardly, as they swapped sides.

‘Do you need
any of my men?’

‘No,’ Mugo
picked up his handcuffs and made to leave.

‘Sit down,’
ordered Katana, ‘I haven’t finished with you yet.’

Mugo
aggressively stubbed out his cigarette and slouched in the chair,
looking sullen.

‘There are two
other suspects I’m after. An Indian man called Patel and an Arab
woman Azizza, do you know them?’

Mugo’s eyes
flickered at the mention of Patel’s name. ‘I might know them,’ he
agreed. ‘Do you have any photographs?’

‘I have two
murdered policemen on my books, don’t mess me about, otherwise
you’re on that helicopter to Nairobi. If you have never been to
Pathway House, let me assure you they have plenty of room for
guests like you with poor memories.’

Mugo went grey
with shock and took a deep breath. ‘This is what I know,’ he leaned
forward and spoke, keeping his voice low.

Katana listened
and took notes on a pad in front of him. ‘Now Azizza, do you know
where she is?’

‘No, but Evans
may know, they are often seen together,’ Mugo said eager to get out
from under Katana’s sceptical gaze. ‘I can pick him up quickly for
you.’

‘Take my men
with you, and don’t even think about alerting Fimbo,’ he warned as
he picked up the phone and called Firdus for more instructions.

Mugo stepped
out into the courtyard. The cops were all sitting about eating
hunks of bread and sipping tea, a jovial group exchanging news and
views. He noted with displeasure that the two taxi drivers had
joined in. ‘What are they doing in here?’ He asked, pointing at the
drivers. Before anyone could answer he said. ‘Out, go! This is a
secure area, police and prisoners only.’

One taxi
driver, mouth still full of bread answered cheekily. ‘We are with
them pointing at the Nairobi cops; they hired us.’

‘I don’t care,
take your tea outside now!’

The two drivers
exchanged looks. Cyrus took charge backing Mugo up. ‘Go on,
outside,’ he echoed.

Mugo turned to
Cyrus. ‘Your boss has asked us to pick up a suspect, can we take
the taxi?’

‘Yes,’ Cyrus
nodded, ‘no problem, but I’m not armed.’

‘Just take one
of theirs,’ Mugo pointed at the team.

‘Ok, who is the
suspect?’

‘I will brief
you in the car,’ Mugo, clicked his fingers at one of his men.
‘Let’s go.’ The three cops got in the Corolla, Mugo in front, Cyrus
and the other cop behind.

The tuk-tuk
driver asked eagerly. ‘Shall I follow?’

‘No wait here,’
Cyrus told him.

They found
Evans at his usual spot, unopened beers lined up on the table and
two women enjoying his company, the bar almost empty. Evans could
hardly contain his excitement at having discovered ten million
shillings in his wife’s’ bank account. He had left the bank as soon
as possible to enjoy his new found wealth and was well into his
cups when he recognised Mugo. ‘Detective, come,’ he beckoned
expansively, ‘these ladies here have good stories to tell. Bring
your friends,’ he added with brotherly love.

Mugo sauntered
over, eyeing up the women. He dropped a pair of handcuffs on the
table and sat down heavily in a chair opposite Evans, a smirk on
his face.

Evans beamed at
Mugo in good-natured fellowship. ‘Have a beer,’ he pushed a bottle
in his direction.

Mugo frowned.
‘I have come to take you to the station.’

‘Me? What for?’
Evans asked laughing.

Mugo laughed
back and nodded at the cop standing behind Evans. The man grabbed
him by the shoulders.

‘Hey!’ Evans
twisted in his seat. Mugo swiftly reached across and handcuffed his
wrists together.

‘What the hell
do you want from me?’ Evans asked, incredulous. The cop yanked him
up by his jacket forcing the manager to his feet. The women
clutching their handbags, moved swiftly away from the table.
Several bottles tumbled to the floor exploding and soaking Evans’s
shoes in frothy beer.

At the station
Evans was led, stumbling, along a corridor round an open courtyard.
Mugo pushed him into an office and sat him in a chair. He looked at
a man seated opposite him at the desk.

‘Mr. Evans.
Things have not been quite as they seem at your bank. You are
wanted in Nairobi for questioning.’ Katana said.

Evans frowned
trying to concentrate. ‘Can I have a glass of water,’ he said
leaning forward on his elbows.

‘You have been
working with an Arab woman called Azizza and an Indian man called
Patel,’ Katana stated.

‘Yes, they are
clients at my bank.’ He sat up trying to look his role. Mugo put a
tin cup of water on the desk. Evans greedily took a gulp, water
seeping down his chin.

‘Do you know
where these people are?’

‘No, but I have
their phone numbers, we could call them.’ he offered.

Katana told
Mugo to remove the handcuffs. Evans rubbed his wrists and fingered
his mobile, relieved. ‘Who do you want me to call first?’ This is
obviously nothing to do with me, it is all to do with those two
crooks.

‘Call Azizza.’
Evans pressed the dial button. Katana reached across and lifted the
phone out of his hands to listen.

Azizza was
trying on combinations of her lingerie, standing in front of the
mirror in her bathroom watching her reflection and adopting sexy
stances. She heard the phone ring and started in surprise - oh my
god, it’s him - feeling exposed. She looked, saw it was only Evans
and rejected the call.

Katana handed
the phone back. ‘Try Patel’s number.’

This time the
phone didn’t even ring instead he heard an electronic message
announcing the phone was switched off.

‘Ok,’ Katana
made a decision. ‘Evans you are to accompany me to Nairobi.’

‘Nairobi, what
for? What am I being charged with? I have done nothing wrong - you
can’t do this to me.’

Katana stood
up. ‘Some people in Nairobi don’t think so. Let’s go,’ he walked
out of the office, calling his team to order. He briefed Mugo as he
waited for the team to assemble. ‘You will remain in charge until
this matter is resolved with Fimbo. If Patel or the Arab women
appear back in Malindi, you are to arrest them, understood?’

‘Yes sir.’

Back in the
taxis with Evans still protesting, Cyrus warned him. ‘Shut up!
Before I shut you up.’

Katana rang the
helicopter pilot. ‘We will be there in five minutes and we are to
fly directly to Mombasa Airport.’

‘Very good
sir,’ replied Kinanjui.

*

Patel drove to
the port of Mombasa, to the offices of his shipping agent. He
walked in and introduced himself to the secretary and presented his
forms. She motioned him to a chair, finished the letter she was
typing and then taking his documents, went through a door to her
boss’s office. A few moments later she was back waving him
through.

‘Hello Mr.
Patel,’ the agent greeted him. ‘You’re a day early?’

‘Yes, something
has come up, can I leave the car here?’

He frowned. ‘No
not really, we have nowhere to store it, cars go missing all the
time. I don’t want the responsibility.’

‘But the ship
is already here.’ Patel pointed out.

‘True, but your
car is scheduled to be loaded tomorrow.’

‘Are you
loading other cars now?’

The agent stood
up and raised a window blind behind his desk. ‘Yes, there’s the
ship,’ he pointed, ‘there the black one, the Union Express.’ A long
line of cars and trucks snaked towards the dock.

Patel asked.
‘Listen it’s no good for me to bring the car tomorrow, is there any
way you can get my car on today?’

The agent
looked at his watch. ‘Impossible, the cars have to be checked by
customs before we can load them and the customs shed closes in
about ten minutes. All the cars are accounted for.’

‘Please, I need
your help.’

The agent
smiled. ‘Those customs guys are real bastards and I am about to
leave, even if I wanted too, there’s no time left.’

Patel smiled
back. ‘Bastards can be made sweeter and time after all is money,
isn’t it?’

The agent
looked surprised. ‘You’re willing to pay?’

‘Yes,’ Patel
nodded.

‘It’s going to
cost you,’ he warned.

‘No problem.
How much?’

‘I’m not making
any promises.’ He made a call.

Patel listened
as the agent argued his case. A stand-off ensued. Patel
interrupted. ‘I will give double.’ The agent relayed this
information; an agreement was quickly made.

‘Forty
thousand,’ the agent raised his eyebrows.

Patel reached
for his wallet and counted out the money on the desk. The agent
smiled and put the phone down. ‘You have the car keys?’

Patel handed
them over. The agent walked to the door. ‘Get me a driver up here
quick,’ he instructed his secretary. He turned back to his desk and
efficiently filling out forms, handed Patel the modified documents.
‘You or your agent must present these at our office in Barcelona to
claim the car in two weeks time.’

There was a
knock on the door. The agent spoke hurriedly to the driver, handing
over the keys and papers. ‘Quickly,’ he said.

Patel watched
nervously over his shoulder. ‘How does he know which is my car?
’

The agent
smiled and closed the door. He crossed his office and pulled open
another window blind. ‘Here look,’ Patel walked over to see a view
of the car park. He watched the driver get in his car and drive
off. Transfixed, a silent prayer on his lips he saw his four
million dollars go round a corner, out of sight. ‘You’re very
lucky, your car won’t even queue they are going to load it straight
away.’

Patel watched
with baited breath as his car was driven to the head of the queue,
he turned to the agent. ‘Now there will be no problem in
Barcelona?’

‘No, just don’t
lose those papers.’

Patel shook
hands and thanked him as he left. Now on foot he walked away from
the offices towards the port gates. He patted his pockets looking
for his phone, remembering where he had left it. At least the car
has gone, and it went better than he had expected, he consoled
himself. It was time he got out of Mombasa, he would have to take
more risks and time was of the essence. He reached the top of the
hill and saw a line of waiting taxis. He was ushered into a
battered London taxi.

At the airport
check-in counter, he spoke to the girl. ‘I have a ticket booked for
Dar-es-Salaam would it be possible to change it to the next
available flight to Nairobi?’

The girl
checked her computer. ‘Yes, there is a seat on that flight in an
hour Mr. Shah. However, there is a surcharge.’

Patel
protested. ‘The ticket to Dar-es-Salaam costs more.’

The girl looked
at him over her glasses. ‘Do you want to fly to Nairobi from here
sir?’

‘Yes,’ he
relented, ‘ok I will pay.’

‘Do you have
any identification on you Mr Shah?’

Patel pulled
out his ID from the bank in Mombasa. ‘I am sorry this is all I
have,’ he handed over a laminated card.

The girl looked
doubtful. ‘Don’t you have anything with a photo?’

Patel smiled
and took a large bill out of his wallet. ‘I forgot here is my
photo.’ She quickly took the money, her printer whirred and she
handed him a boarding pass.

‘Do you have
any luggage?’ Patel shook his head. She handed back the ID, and the
ticket. ‘Have a nice day Mr Shah,’ she said cheerfully as Patel
walked towards the departure gate.

*

The policeman
outside the hotel looked nervously at his watch. He fingered the
expensive mobile; surely the
muhindi
would not leave this
behind. He decided to wait some more. An hour later, he went to
confer with his colleague at the front of the hotel. He found him
dozing in a broken chair under a huge mango tree in the central
road reservation.