Boss Takes All (6 page)

‘I could murder a mug of chai. Plenty of sugar, Angela. How many times has Bwana Alex come into the kitchen and said this?'

‘Murder.' Rafaella was surprised that Angela could use this word so casually. But this was the old, familiar Angela. She had followed the instructions of the message. The job was done. Time to move on.

bel arrived home late. Even as the porters were transferring him from the trolley to his bed, his doctors were making a last attempt to get their patient to change his mind.

‘Situations can change quickly at this stage of recovery. We may need —'

‘That's why you're leaving me two of your top nurses, at great expense, I should add …'

‘Abel, your life could be in danger. Money is not important.'

‘Mmn, not important, Sally?'

‘You know what I mean. I am so pleased to have you back with us.'

Sally was not being entirely truthful. The reverberations from her confrontation with the housemaid of Londiani were still troubling her. Perhaps it would have been better if she could have had another twenty-four hours to absorb them, to deal with their implications. She had spent the hours since the departure of her unexpected visitors on her own. Uncomfortable thoughts had been swirling around her mind. That woman had been so sure of herself. So sure, and so unlike the shy maid she remembered from times when their paths had previously crossed, so driven. Why did she bring the child? She had caressed her own belly, felt the movement of her own boy. In three weeks her new Julius would be with her. This white toto would be back home by now, in a place where he had never known the love of a mother and deserted by his father.

Her own home had been her fortress, but however hard she tried in the loneliness of that dark afternoon, she felt a great certainty that the walls were crumbling around her.

‘Abel! Abel!' She lay her head down on the open pages of her Bible and wept herself into a fitful doze.

And now he was with her again. Her love for him was as strong as ever. She found it easy to keep desperate thoughts hidden.

Just before the doctors left to return to their other patients in the hospital, a last visitor arrived. He took pictures of her smiling husband sitting up in bed, flanked by his two new carers, and was gone.

‘Sally, tomorrow morning when you send the boy over to Karen Dukas for the paper, tell him to bring half a dozen copies of
The Nation
and
The Standard
.

He chuckled to see the big-eyed puzzlement on her face. ‘I can tell you the headlines right now. “Assassination attempt. Big Man survives attack on his life” or some such words. They could not hold the story back any longer. Too many rumours.' He chuckled again. ‘I was a dead man in most of them!'

They were alone by now. The time for light-heartedness was over. He knew that.

‘Sal, you know how much you mean to me.'

‘I know it.' She was not ready to meet his gaze. This and the deadpan expression in her voice troubled him.

‘The new boy will be with us soon. Right? So you will have two babies to look after.'

His hearty good humour began to shift her mood, but her tone remained down-beat.

‘Husband, you have never needed anyone to look after you. Even as a young man in Western District. Your mama told me this.'

He changed the subject. ‘They've caught the one who did this.'

‘Bertie Briggs. I know it. His boy was here this morning.'

‘His boy!'

At last she had said something to startle him.

‘He was with Rebecca's mother and the Italian one.'

‘But why?'

‘To sympathise.' She lied. She did not care that he knew this. She needed to be alone again. She rang the call bell. ‘They have told me that you will need much rest. I will see you in the morning. I will bring the newspapers. Sleep well, Abel.'

‘One last thing, Sally. The house phones will be off for two days. Use your mobile. And there will be policemen around the place. Reporters, too. They will not trouble you.'

‘Thank you, Abel.' He watched her make her way wearily towards the door. She hesitated before going through as though about to say something more. Nothing. Sally cried herself to sleep that night.

hey are holding him in Nakuru police station.' Inspector Caroline had brought the news herself. ‘John Wambui is still the inspector in charge up there.'

Tom was the first to remember. ‘The one who brought me home in the squad car after my enforced camping night out in Kakamega Forest? Funny chap. Said the plumbing was out of order in the police block. He wanted me to hang on to my filth ‘til I got home. Make him look better as my rescuer.'

‘Yep. Damned sight different from the gang of thugs who took Bertie off from here. Seemed eager to help.'

‘Yes, Alex, but I hate to remind you how he sucked up to Rubai when he arrived unannounced with Sally to cover up his own part in Tom's … ordeal.'

‘I'd forgotten, Maura. So he's just another of Rubai's boys. Bugger! Thought we were getting a bit of good news. Tell you, I'm scared stiff.'

‘But surely Bertie's got some rights. You know, seeing a lawyer and stuff.'

Paul Miller had a suggestion. ‘No, Tom. They've got him. There aren't many Carolines around in the system. But, what about this? I know Wambui quite well and he will listen. I suggest that we set off for Nakuru straight away and take our chances. Those reports in the papers this morning will raise the stakes for us and especially Bertie, of course. The hotheads will be out looking for the person who tried to take out their beloved - no kidding - beloved leader. When they find out that it is a white man, well, just think about the kind of savagery a little old election can spark off in this country.'

‘So who goes, Paul?'

‘Me for a start. I'm good at waving official looking bits of paper around in policemen's faces. They rarely read them. Rafaella, could you take another one of these, well, mercy missions?'

Rafaella arched her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Delighted! Thought I was a bit past this James Bond stuff.'

‘It's my experience that Kenyan policemen always have a respect for, shall we say, European ladies of mature years. Something to do with their country upbringing. And when they are also beautiful … And Tom to drive.'

‘Perhaps he'll remember me.'

‘Come on. Let's get going.'

The road between Naivasha and Nakuru had been recently resurfaced. This improvement to travelling conditions had its drawbacks. The large intercity coaches hurtled along the A104 faster than ever. The number one rule for the sensible car driver was to look constantly in the rear-view mirror watching for a
Kisii Executive
or an
Eldoret Express
bearing down on you. Rule number two was never to try to outrun these field marshals of the highway. They took no prisoners.

Tom and his passengers used the forty-five minute journey to prepare themselves for whatever they might meet when they climbed those steps to the police building on Odinga Odinga Avenue. On that morning the extraordinary beauty of the Great Rift of Central Kenya was simply a backdrop to help them form a perspective to their thoughts. The familiar sights of the Sleeping Masai, the thick pink border of flamingos feeding on the edges of the soda lake at Elementeita, the lines of jacaranda in full blossom on the long, gentle incline down to the old railway bridge that marked the boundary of Nakuru town were a comfort.

They left the car in the safe haven of the Rift Valley Club and walked through a quiet part of town to their destination. They were almost there when they were hailed from the other side of the road by two women wearing nuns' headdress. Rafaella knew them well.

‘May and Phillipa. They're from Ireland, been here thirty years. We must talk to them.'

The chance meeting turned out to be a blessing though it delayed their arrival at the police station. May surprised them, not only with the attractive Limerick brogue that was as strong as on the day she had arrived all those years before.

‘You've come to visit. Now, there's an answer to a prayer. He's not happy in there. Missing the boy something terrible. Come inside for a minute. It will be safer to talk.'

The Catholic Cathedral in Nakuru is almost exactly across the road from the police station. Rafaella and the sisters had been friends for years.

‘We meet every month when I come for confession.'

‘Bertie and Anna were married here and the boy baptised.'

‘The saddest day of my life. We haven't seen him or his father since. Too painful for him.'

‘Until three days ago. Phillipa and I were returning from visiting ‘round the town, just like today. There was a big fuss over there, again! Some poor soul was being dragged from a car. Big, ugly brutes, not our local boys. We know most of them. This one was struggling, shouting. European voice. English.'

‘We got the one look. Anna's Bertie.'

‘After supper we went over. They usually let us in.'

‘They've learnt. We've got a great line in shouting and screaming ourselves if we can't have our way.'

‘Poor man. They'd given him a beating. Worse than usual. But it was his boy that was giving him the real pain.'

‘We hope you can get him out. Bail or something.'

‘Paul, we know a lot about Serena. The father and we often talk about it. There's a lot of support here. You're giving us hope.'

Paul was smiling. ‘Ladies, you, too, are an answer to prayer. Bless us before we go over there. As for bail, I'm surprised they don't give it more often. Think of the money they're missing. But … I have, well, there are other ways of fighting back.'

John Wambui was tidying his desk when the duty sergeant came in to report.

‘Boss, some folks in the office want to speak with you.'

‘Like who, exactly?'

‘Smart fella, ‘bout your age. Name of Miller. Says he's a lawyer. Two white folks. The woman don't look too young, but, well, nice ass, a heavy pair up top.'

‘Matthew, do you have to talk like this? Seems to me you got some kind of problem with your dick. Just let's be a bit more careful with our words here. And the other one?'

‘McCall. Name ring a bell? A few months back …'

The Wambui face lit up. The inspector was recalling the happiest day of his police career.

‘Thomas, the kid from the Kakamega Forest? Bring him in! Bring them all in! Wait a minute. What do they want?'

‘A visit. The farmer the Nairobi boys brought in. Attempted murder. Hey, by the way, did you see the papers yet? Assassination.'

‘Attempted … attempted. Get your facts right. You're a cop, don't forget.'

Wambui was in a quandary. He liked the people waiting out in the office and he wanted to oblige them. But this Briggs, he was a high priority prisoner. Mmn, what to do?

‘Okay, bring them in. Executive decision. Matthew, watch me and learn.'

As the inspector feared, this Miller was a tricky operator. So many questions: diet, exercise, visitors, did he think this place was some kind of hotel? In the end Wambui gave in.

‘Right, twenty minutes with Prisoner 22146.'

‘No supervision.'

‘No supervision, okay. Twenty minutes and then you all disappear.'

Bertie had been hit about. That was obvious from the difficulty he had crossing his tiny cell to greet them and the bruises and cuts clearly visible on his face. None of this was a concern for him.

‘Ewan, how's he going, Raf?

‘Missing his daddy.' She was smiling through her tears. ‘He's smart, that's for sure. When he gets one of us on our own, he's full of questions, usually the same ones to each of us. If the answers don't add up …'

‘I've asked them if they'll let him visit. They just laugh. “Bwana, you would not be allowing your son to come into a dump like this! That's bad, man, so bad”.' After a long silence he began again. ‘I don't think I'm going to get out of here. Seen the papers? Assassination. I'm a fool. Could have finished him off. No trouble. Left him for the birds and the ants to clear up. Probably turn their guts over. Do you think ants have guts, Tom? Instead, I'll be the one having the little accident. Probably take me down to the park. You know, late at night job.'