The Dung Beetles of Liberia
Page 22
“Well, dear boy. I hope you get her back. The president’s got a thing for pretty young women.”
“Oh, I think she’ll do just fine. She likes politics, presidents, and so on. I think she’ll see it as a learning experience.”
“I expect she will learn a thing or two but, still, you’d better keep an eye on her just the same. Beautiful things have a way of getting lost around here.”
A slight sense of foreboding enveloped me. I looked over at Jenny again. She was literally the center of attention—a sea of black suits encircled her. I took a deep breath and turned back toward the woman next to me. She was somewhere in her early forties and about five foot four. I detected a slight Virginia tidewater accent.
“Let me guess, you grew up in the Norfolk area, went to the University of Virginia, and married a diplomat?”
“Close, my lovely boy. I did graduate from UVA but I grew up on a farm near Richmond—well, back in the old days we called it a plantation, but it’s not considered polite to call it that now so we just refer to it as the farm. My husband is far from being a diplomat. In fact, I’m not sure he knows what the word means. He’s an executive with the Liberian International Ship and Corporate Registry.”
“What kind of organization is that?” I asked.
“It’s one of those organizations that make it easy for ship owners and corporations to register their businesses in Liberia. That way they can avoid the taxes and fees of their native countries and still do business there. It’s like a discount store for the big guys—Liberia gets a lot of revenue and the big boys get to keep the change. Clever, don’t you think?”
“Very clever. Makes me wonder why I didn’t think of it.”
“So what are your plans? I mean, after Liberia? You’re too young to settle for this kind of life, and I don’t suspect you’re running from anything.”
“Don’t really know. I’m too busy trying not to get killed. But I may return to the States and finish things I started.”
“How about your girlfriend, my dear, the one that Tubman is drooling all over. Any serious plans there?”
“Maybe, but it hasn’t come up at the moment.”
A man in a dark blue suit walked up beside her. He was about fifty, a few inches taller than me and looked at me as though he was stripping the flesh from my bones.
“Who is your young friend?” he asked the woman.
“He’s a pilot for Monrovia Airlines.”
“A pilot, huh! Does your pilot have a name?”
“I suppose he does. We hadn’t got around to that.” She looked at me and with a slight smile said, “Dearie, I’m sure you have a name, so would you tell it to little old Jimmy here so that he doesn’t start frothing at the mouth.”
“Kenneth,” I said, extending my hand. He ignored it and glared, first at me, then at the woman.
“Kenneth. Isn’t that a nice name, Jim—very American. Oh dearie, you don’t have to worry. He’s far too young for me and probably far too intelligent for you. Besides, he’s got a girlfriend here—see, the pretty one over there, being devoured by the political elite.”
The man’s jaw clinched like a spring tightening then he slowly backed away. He turned to greet a smiling, good-looking man dressed like the other “presidential advisors.” They immediately started talking business between themselves. It was time for me to leave. I excused myself, saying to the woman that it was a pleasure to have met her or words to that affect. As I moved past the two men I overheard the Big Man say to “Jimmy,” “Hah! You’re right! There is so much money coming in, we just can’t steal it fast enough.”
I quickly made my way closer to Jenny. She was now chatting animatedly with another group of diplomatic types, all armored in tuxedos and sashes. I elbowed my way to her, making my apologies to the gentlemen in tuxedos.
“I think it’s time to go,” I said, trying to keep the stress from my voice. She looked at me with some astonishment. “I’m uncomfortable here, Jenny. I feel like I’m in the palace of the czar. Nothing here reflects reality.”
Jenny looked irritated. She hesitated for a moment, then made her apologies to the men surrounding her and walked with me out of the president’s mansion to Junebug. She flung the door open, making a metallic cracking sound, and flopped into the seat then folded her arms in front of her.
She stared out of the window and was silent during the ride back to the Ambassador. I pulled up in front of the hotel. She glared at me. The dim street lighting outside clearly showed the tension in her face.
“I was having a great time. I was meeting people. I was talking to important people. And you, because of your obvious social inadequacies, forced me to leave. I’ve missed a great opportunity because of you.”
“Jenny, I’m sorry you feel that way. I’m sorry you’re angry, but you have no idea what it’s like here.”
“You didn’t give me much of a chance to find out, did you?”
With that she got out of the car and slammed the door so that it rattled like an empty tin can. I watched her as she walked through the open doors of the Ambassador. She didn’t look back. I drove away thinking that I would stop by for breakfast and try to iron this difficult wrinkle out.
The beach house was quiet even though it wasn’t really that late. Nevertheless, I was thankful since I felt like turning in early and sober. I stripped off my “evening” clothes, checked my bed for bugs and snakes, then crawled in, enjoying the feel of the sheets and pillow. I untied the cord holding the mosquito netting and let it fall. Then, feeling fully protected, I pondered over the events of the evening. I deeply regretted that Jenny was angry and upset, but I still felt that I had acted correctly. I could only hope that eventually she would understand.
The next morning I was awakened by the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and Ku shaking me by the shoulder. “Mornin, boss, something to start de day?” he said, placing the coffee on the night table next to my bed.
I sat up in bed. Several mosquitoes were lodged in the netting. I wondered if they were the malaria-bearing kind. The coffee was life restoring. Then I started remembering the events of the night before. I glanced at my watch on the night table. It was after nine. I hurried out of bed and dressed in my cleanest shirt and trousers. Grabbing the coffee, I rushed out to Junebug, got in, started her up and pointed her toward the Ambassador.
“Sorry suh, Meess Morgan na in her room. She lef bout half hour ago wit two men from de government.”
I ran back to the car and drove as fast as it could go to the president’s mansion. The guards at the gate stopped me, then ordered me to get out of the car. They had their carbines with fixed bayonets and held them at the ready. I explained that I needed to see Honorable Harriss right away. They wanted to know if I had an appointment.
“Of course I don’t have an appointment. This is an emergency!” I shouted. “My lady friend may have been kidnapped.”
“Da na fo us! Da be fo de police.”
I said that she had been taken by two government men from the hotel this morning and that Honorable Harriss could straighten it out. One of the guards looked thoughtful for a moment then told the other guard to watch me. The guard walked into his guardhouse and used his phone. In a few minutes he returned.
“Ya way hee,” he said, motioning to a clear area next to the guard house. “Honorable Harriss, he be down jus now.”
I thanked the guard and drove over to the clear area. “Jus now” can mean anything. I expected to sit there for hours. I would wait days if I had to. About two hours passed while I alternately dozed or tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. I noticed a green golf cart with two men in it rambling down the driveway of the mansion. I saw Honorable Harriss get out and talk to the guard who pointed at me. Honorable Harriss walked toward me. I got out of Junebug and offered my hand. He ignored it.
“Two government men showed up at Jenny’s hotel and left with her. I think they brought her here,” I said.
“Do you have proof of this accu
sation?” Honorable Harriss asked.
“Where else would they bring her?” I said. “Her father is a big man in Washington and it would not go well with your government if something were to happen to her.”
“Who are you to make threats here?” Honorable Harriss’s voice had gone up several notes. It was something between fear, anger, and panic. “If she is here,” he continued barely able to suppress his rage, “no harm will come to her. I can assure you of that.”
“That is well,” I said, “for her father has made me her guardian and I am responsible for her while she is here.”
This was a necessary exaggeration. I was not her guardian even in the African sense of the term, but as she was here visiting me, I felt I did have a responsibility for her safety in the American sense of the word. I thought it best that Honorable Harriss believed that I had some power to act, if necessary.
“I will be back for her in two hours. If she is not here, I will inform her father who has friends in the American Embassy. I don’t have to tell you what that could mean.”
He glared at me—it was a staring contest that the Big Men do to underlings until the underlings lower their eyes and back away. I wasn’t going to let that happen so we glared at one another for maybe five minutes. Then Honorable Harriss stepped back into his golf cart, his eyes still fixed on me, and motioned for his driver to go. It was the same game I had played with the commissioner in Guinea.
I glanced at my watch. It was hard to read in the shadow of the guard house. I made out 2:00 p.m. The Ambassador’s beach bar would be open, so I drove there and parked next to the hotel. It was a good place to while away an hour. I ordered a rum and tonic from Joe, and for a few minutes enjoyed the sound of the surf. It seemed perfect as though nothing could ever destroy the peace and beauty of this place.
I had probably stepped over the line. I may even have gotten Honorable Williams in some trouble. If so, then I probably wouldn’t have a job tomorrow, but the only objective that mattered, at the moment, was Jenny’s safety. I ordered another rum and tonic. This wasn’t necessarily a smart thing to do since Joe tended to fortify them with an extra dollop or two of rum. Joe brought the drink. It was well fortified. I slid a dollar bill over to him. He smiled broadly and held the bill up as though it was a trophy.
My concern for Jenny was more that she might be unknowingly manipulated rather than any fear for her physical safety. I had heard Tubman called a lot of unflattering things but never a rapist. Nevertheless, he was a man with a God complex and he always got what he wanted. I didn’t think a minor international incident would be in anybody’s self-interest.
I lost myself in the soothing sounds of the waves rolling up onto the beach. I looked at my watch again and was surprised to see that an hour had actually gone by. I thanked Joe and left the bar. I walked through the lobby and out of the front doors just in time to see a government limo drive up and Jenny emerge from the back seat.
“Jenny!” I shouted.” Jenny!”
She closed the door of the limo and looked up at me. It was obvious that she was very angry.
“Are you okay, Jenny?”
“I’m fine,” she said marching past me, like a storm trooper, toward the hotel.
“I was only worried about you,” I shouted after her.
She turned around and faced me like a charging bull. “You ruined a perfectly good opportunity for me. President Tubman is a true gentleman, probably one of the few gentlemen that I’ve known. They said you made threats. You brought my father into it. How could you have done such a thing?”
“Jenny, they know your father is well connected in Washington. I really think they wanted to get information out of you or use you in some way. But I was also concerned for your safety. This is Liberia. It’s run by goons and thugs, and despite how Tubman dresses up, he is no gentleman.”
“You’re wrong, Kenneth. Just as you’ve been wrong about a lot of things.”
“Tell me this: did they ask you to do anything or say anything to your father or any of his friends?”
“Well, maybe. But it’s no big deal.”
“What did they ask you do?”
“Well, um, it turns out that Uncle Eddie, Daddy’s best friend, is president of a company that Honorable Harriss and President Tubman are anxious to do business with. But I wasn’t going to actually do anything or ask any favors.”
“So what did they ask you to do?”
“They had a gift for Uncle Eddie, and a letter. That’s all. And I was going to take it with me on the plane and give it to him when I got home.”
“Do you know what the letter said, or what the gift was?”
“No, but it was small enough to fit in my pocketbook.” Her anger subsided as it started to occur to her that I just might have some legitimate concerns. We walked together over to an ornate wrought iron bench that was just outside the front door of the hotel.
“So you think that they were using me as a messenger?”
“I can’t be sure,” I said, “but that is certainly my guess.”
“So it looks like you’re not wrong about everything! Just some things.”
“What do you mean? Like what?”
“Arthur.”
“What about Arthur?”
“I know what you’re doing here, Kenneth; why you came here in the first place. You’re punishing yourself. You’re trying to run away from the guilt you feel about Arthur’s death. But there are some things you don’t know, too. You know Arthur was in love with me. And yes, he wanted to marry me. We never did have sex, despite what you believe. But what you don’t know is that Arthur knew about our feelings, yours and mine, for each other. We had a long talk about it, and I told him I was in love with you. I know it was hard for him, but in the end, he said he understood, and that he was okay with it.”
“He knew about us? But there was no us. We hadn’t dated, or even kissed for that matter.”
“I know,” she said. “He just knew. And he knew I hadn’t been unfaithful and that you had tried to keep your feelings to yourself. He was really quite an exceptional person, when you come to think about it.”
“He was, I know. It just makes it all that much worse. Why did he have to die instead of me? I was the one who was drunk. I was the one who called him to come get me.”
“The accident wasn’t your fault. The man that hit Arthur was drunk. He shouldn’t have been driving. You did the right thing.”
“I could have stayed,” I said. “They asked me several times to stay, but I wanted to get home. I am so selfish. If I hadn’t been so selfish, I wouldn’t have insisted Arthur come get me and he would be alive today.”
Jenny moved closer to me. “I was with him that night. He wanted to go get you. He wanted to tell you that it was over between us and that you were free to go out with me. He figured you weren’t too drunk to talk, but that you were being your usual cautious self and didn’t want to risk driving home. Kenneth, when you called, you did not insist; in fact, you talked about staying over, but he insisted on going to get you. It was his idea, Kenneth.”
I thought about all she had said. Somehow, I still didn’t feel better.
“Well, all this might be true,” I said, “but my parents still blame me. I know they don’t want to, but it’s there. Arthur was their favorite, and I killed him. That’s what they think.”
“Kenneth, that is just your imagination. They have known everything all along. You just misinterpreted their immense grief and thought they held you responsible. Believe me, you are far from being blamed. You are their cherished only son. If you came home now, you’d be welcomed back as the prodigal son.
“Anyway, it’s all in the past now. We can’t change one moment of it. We have to move forward with time no matter how much we may dread it. You have to move on, Kenneth.” She stood up slowly and started to walk toward the Ambassador, then she turned back to face me.
“I was going to make President Tubman the subject of my master’s thesis,”
she chuckled, “but I don’t think that would be a good idea now.” She turned around again and headed for the hotel. At the door, she stopped again. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she said, “at the government’s request. They’re sending a car with an escort. Not exactly how I had hoped to leave.”
With that she disappeared through the doors. No kiss goodbye; no wave goodbye; no goodbye.
They would put her on the daily flight out of Robertsfield to Dakar with connections to Europe, then home. I didn’t sleep much that night, and the next morning I waited outside the hotel in Junebug at a safe distance until the government car, a black Mercedes, arrived. Two men in dark suits got out of the car and walked into the hotel. In a few minutes they emerged. Jenny was walking beside one of them and the other carried her bags. They waited until she was in the car, then they got in and drove off. I followed them to the airport and remained until I saw Jenny board the DC-4. I realized that this could be the last time I would see her beautiful blond hair flowing in the wind. I continued waiting until I saw the airplane takeoff and turn north.
CHAPTER 29
SAM
I drove over to the flight office.
Andre looked up from his desk. “Ready to work again?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll take anything you have.”
For the next several weeks I flew every job available. One of the good things about flying is that it requires total and absolute concentration. That was what I needed to push Jenny and the events of the past week into the far corners of my consciousness.
I continued at this pace until the wet season arrived and work started to slack off. I had time on my hands. The sun had been swallowed up by milky gray sheets of cloud, and the rain came in curtains of gray liquid. The beach along with everything else was continually wet. I had run out of books, and there are just so many times you can paint a gray-green seascape.
I drove into Monrovia with the intention of rummaging through the local book shop. Most of the books there were used and badly soiled. However, I did find an old but good copy of The End of Eternity by Isaac Asimov. I was leaving the book shop when I saw her. She was walking with another woman, and they were both carrying large shopping bags. I ran across the street, dodging several bicycles and a rattling pickup truck.