Black Mischief (28 page)

‘Yes, fine. No, you wouldn't know them. They are from a private place up at Nakuru. They have a patient to pick up. They know where to go.'

At this early hour, Peter Umbaka was normally fast asleep in his Langata home. But the call had come and, as usual, he obeyed the ‘request' immediately and left for the hospital. This was the fifth occasion when he had been asked to help the people of Kenya in this special way. Five times he had covered his tracks with an elaborately spun web of lies. He had more than repaid the debt in full. Never again would he protect himself with another man's blood, yet knowing full well that when, in the dead of night, that amiable voice chilled his heart with inquiries about the progress of his children, the wellbeing of his beautiful wife, he would, trembling with panic, be waiting for the casual afterthought, ‘By the way, I was wondering if you could see your way …' He would surrender meekly and ease the conscience with another bottle of his favourite Scottish medicine.

Patrick Uchome's medical team was swift and efficient. The drill was simple. Maura McCall was lured from her husband's bedside by the request of a bogus but polite clerk to accompany him from the private ward to central office to fill in some forms. ‘Admin stuff. Five minutes and you'll be back here. Promise.'

He did not lie about the timing. Next, three impressively kitted out doctors, with stethoscopes swinging from their necks, moved in to check over a drowsy patient. In seconds he was feeling much drowsier after a single injection of strong sedative. A quick transfer to the waiting trolley and within two minutes Alex McCall was speeding from the fifth floor in a lift operated by a one-time hospital clerk.

Tom and Rebecca decided to walk the few hundred metres back to Londiani. Just before leaving Rusinga, there had been a call to the hospital to check on Alex. Maura's relief and excitement came down the line in a rush of words. She could not give any explanation for the sudden resurrection of her husband.

‘Hosea braked hard and we all pitched forward and … Perhaps he had only been in a very deep sleep. He's having a scan first thing tomorrow, today. I'm in a kind of dream world. Try to get down by about lunchtime. We'll know more by then.'

In the days when they thought that their love was secret, all their meetings were after dark. From time to time, Rebecca still visited the acacia, a flat-top set on the grassy bank between the laundry garden and the lake, her special place. In the conversations which she enjoyed with her tree while she waited for Thomas to join her, it had been agreed that the view up there must have been as good as Mother Eve's in her special garden. The blend of beauty made her gasp with the wonder of things. Below them, and stretching into the distance, the grey, metallic gleam of the surface of the lake lapped onto the black sands drawn by the pull of the full moon. The dark silhouette of the hills all around was the wall and the arching canopy of the starlit sky the ceiling of their private world.

Tom and Rebecca did not return home directly but rounded the silent bulk of Big House, passed through the laundry garden and followed the winding path to their old meeting place.

‘Thomas, are we the only hope for Lydia?'

‘How many times have we stood here together?'

‘Many, many.'

‘What's wrong out there tonight, Rebecca? Where has the innocence gone, the feeling of protection in these hills? They have been here forever. I have never felt danger up here before.'

‘You sound just like Papa when he listens to the news broadcasts on Mama's blue radio. It was a present from —'

‘Grandfather Don. Do you know it's nearly three years? How many times did he bring our little white Cessna in off the lake to a safe landing on that bumpy strip he had helped to cut out of the woodland across there on the island? He taught me to fly. In the end it was those two wilderbeest fooling about on the muddy ground that took him. Such a small, almost silly thing.'

‘Perhaps we are fooling ourselves. These beautiful hills, these stars are not interested in us. You say that innocence has gone. Perhaps it was never there. Has hope gone, Thomas? We are her only hope?'

‘Lydia? She knows a dangerous secret. If only she had not gone back into that house.

But Rubai, how could a girl like Lydia be a threat to him? Even if she went to the cops with the story …'

‘Caroline and Hosea know of it.'

‘I bet he's more scared of Sally finding out that he's been spending time with Reuben's friend. God forgive me for saying it, but these are evil people. If only Mary and I had not sung in that concert in the Bomas five years ago, if only Julius had not been there to see me and … Thomas, these “if onlys”, is this how it is meant to be?'

‘But they happen, and we can only do our best with them.'

‘Thomas, listen. I have not spoken of it before. Please, this is very hard for me. As I was leaving the village when I was frightened for you, I met Rafaella. She said that, after Grandfather Don was killed, she learned that there is not always the happy ending. You cannot go out with your big stick and fight those who want to crush you. You wait and you hope you come through.'

‘So, we abandon this girl so that danger does not come to us?'

‘I don't know. I almost lost you once. Tonight your father … Thomas, I don't know. He will strike down everyone in his way. I am very frightened. I want a happy ending, for us all. Lydia, we must be with her. Tell me that there is a way through.'

Tom had one arm around Rebecca and the other around the trunk of the flat-top.' Don't let anyone tell you that this beauty is not alive, doesn't feel things. He's been through a lot with us.'

A familiar voice called out of the darkness. Luka, the night askari with his twin brother Erik, knew that Tom and Rebecca were up by their tree. It was part of their job. He was in a big panic.

‘Bwana Thomas, Bwana Thomas, you must come quickly! Memsahib Rafaella needs you!'

‘Thomas, there have been three calls.' He had never seen his grandmother so agitated. She was struggling to keep her composure and get her news out clearly. ‘First, your mother. She was so excited. Alex was back with us. That is how she said it. An hour later she spoke again. He has gone, Thomas.'

‘What do you mean “gone”?' He knew the answer. The warm wrench that grabbed his stomach as soon as he heard that chilling, simple word told him every thing. The third call drove home the truth of his fears.

‘A stranger's voice. “In twenty minutes I will speak again. Make sure that the little farmer boy will be there next time”.'

The agony of the wait did not last long.

‘Ah, farmer boy.' Tom did not recognise the voice, but the note of triumph it carried was unmistakable. ‘I have this person here with me. You know him well. He is in good spirits and will speak in a moment. We will be happy to bring him home or drop him off in some place of your choice. Just one small condition. You have an ungrateful little whore hidden away with you up there. Someone needs to speak to her, check out a few things. You know, the usual stuff.'

‘That's just it. I don't know.'

‘Perhaps this arsehole will help you understand. Speak and don't try anything.'

Down the line Tom could hear his father's laboured breathing. ‘Hello, Tom. Another fine mess I've got us into.'

Another voice in the background shouted, ‘I'm warning you! Get to the business.'

‘Dad, stupid question, but are you all right? They haven't hurt you or anything?'

‘No, son. Perfect gentlemen.' The irony was light, but what was that tremble in the voice? ‘Don't worry, but you must not bring the girl. I'm not worth a young life. She's had enough trouble …' The phone was snatched away and the sound of a hand slapping flesh was clear.

The original voice returned. ‘Mister McCall, your daddy is … confused just now. Understandable. He's had an exciting night.'

‘You're right. My father is confused. The girl was here. Was, I said. Two days ago she got on an Eldoret Express. I took her to the coach myself. She said she was going to Gilgil. We tried to tell your other lot when they called.'

‘Rubbish. Get her! Bring her in. You are very fond of your daddy. If I mention the word Kakamega?'

Half an hour before, Tom had been looking forward to getting horizontal on his bed. Now the thoughts were coursing ‘round in his brain at lightning speed. How could he buy themselves time? How could he persuade such a suspicious, impatient set of crooks to accept a lie? He must stall.

‘You have to give me time.'

‘No! I've got deadlines.'

‘Okay, forget it. I want my father back here, but I have to find the girl first. Can't you get that through your skull? I've had enough of this. When I put this phone down, I have other calls to make.'

‘Like to the cops?' There was a gloating roll of throaty laughter, followed by a long pause. There was the sound of voices, but they seemed far away. Someone had a hand over the mouthpiece. At last the voice returned clear but threatening.

‘Noon. You wait for a call from this side. We'll tell you where to bring her. I don't need to tell you what will happen if you break your word.'

‘Our word. That's rich!' Tom was ready to launch into a burst of angry moralising but managed to put the phone down without saying anything else.

* * *

‘Bertie, I'm coming over. Bad news. I'll explain when I see you.'

”Becca, I need your help. Urgent. Phone my mother and explain about Dad.'

‘Thomas, she will want to hear this from you. But …'

‘Maybe, but Dad needs my help even more. Tell her to stay where she is. Tell her I'm on my way down if that will hold her.'

‘I will, Thomas.'

‘When I've got my head ‘round this, I'm going to call the Daniels' house in Karen. They'll pick her up from the hospital. When you've finished here, come over to Rusinga. God, what's going on?'

Tom found them drinking yet another mug of coffee. Sonya had gone to be with her boys and Ewan. Tom was surprised and apprehensive to see Lydia on an armchair and wrapped in two warm sweaters. She looked up briefly and greeted him with a weak smile before turning back to the task of disentangling the knots in a silver chain. Maria, Bertie and Hosea were grim faced and concentrated. The words ‘bad news' were crowding their minds with possibilities, none of them hopeful.

Tom was anxious to share his news, but the presence of Lydia troubled him. He had been ready to speak openly and full on, but now he had to make sure that he would say nothing to make Lydia's fears much worse.

But he had underestimated the strength and courage Miss Lydia Smith, daughter of a captain in the Royal Engineers, the father she had never set eyes on. Tom uttered three words: ‘They've got Dad'

And she shocked them with her comment, ‘And they want me to take his place.'

She might have been asking for another sugar for her coffee. ‘I am ready. I cannot win. Better this way. I can save the life of a good man.'

In the theatrical silence that followed, Bertie, Maria and Hosea were the audience waiting for the plot to move forward. Tom, struggling to find his next words, was conscious of his weakness. He had no heroic solution to offer, did not possess the wisdom to give hope and was frightened that he might cop out and lapse into the drivel of totally useless cliche. He was not at the heart of the drama. He had a kind of choice. The villains did not have him directly in their sights. For Lydia and his own much-loved father, it was the raw business of life and death.

‘Dad says that you must not go down there.' His voice was croaking out of a dry throat. ‘He insists, says you've got a life ahead of you.'

Lydia set down her silver chain, looked him directly in the face and smiled warmly. ‘Bwana Thomas, you know the word naive?'

‘Of course, but …'

‘Suppose I stay here or hide in some cave in the mountains, perhaps they will take life away from your father. I think these devils would do it. Do you think that they would then wash their hands and go home? No, Thomas. No, they come in search. They will pay money for news of me. I am a nobody. Yes, for the first time in my life I will be a famous person.'

Maria calmly interrupted. ‘Lydia, you are speaking a truth. But there are other truths even in this hard place. You know that I have a husband.'

For the first time since Tom's arrival, some of the resigned poise went out of Lydia's expression.
What is going on with this woman? Perhaps she smokes the bhang. Perhaps …

‘Hosea is a very special man. He understands me. He does not laugh when I tell him about a gift I have. Gifts like this are not … fashionable in these days. If I tell you, Lydia, that you are going to be an important person, perhaps you will laugh at me.'

‘No, I will not laugh. I will thank you for your kindness to me …'

‘But you will not believe me.'

Lydia's reply was a shy shake of the head. ‘Because you think I am trying to be “nice” to you. How can it be nice to tell you lies? You test the truth of electricity by turning on a switch. I want you to test my gift in the same way. Experience it.'

Bertie was in new territory. ‘Maria, I've never met anyone like you. I respect you such a lot. But, how shall I put it? We have a kind of triangle here - Lydia, Alex, my dearest friend and a first class bastard - pardon my French called, shall we say, Rubai. Who's got - some big wig Nazi said this, I think - yes, who's got the big battalions? How can we work this without taking on casualties? Do you follow my drift?'

‘Perhaps you are right. But there are other ways. All bullies fall in the end, even rich ones. And we have nothing to lose.'

‘Except your own lives.' Lydia the realist was back in command of her thoughts.

Rebecca returned with news about the calls she had made.