Boss Takes All

by Carl Hancock

  ‘There was a third person. The constable who brought the bodies down said there was a girl. He thought she was gone as well, but his sergeant, a woman, took her off to a hospital.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Not much information on that. The constable is still around here somewhere. I’ll track him down and put him on.’

  ‘Without letting him know this number.’

  Rubai’s inside man at Nairobi pulled the handset from his ear and looked down at it scornfully. He controlled his spasm of anger before ending his conversation.

  ‘You know me better than that, I think.’

  ‘Constable Nemuti …’

  ‘Naluki.’

  ‘Okay. Okay. You brought the body of Uchome and his wife down to the city, yes?’

  ‘Two bodies, no names. No ID, nothing. Nothing. I never seen this before. Oh yeah, a gun and a knife on the floor.’

  ‘Have you been drinking? Listen, start …’

  ‘No, I never drink on duty. One more thing. Sergeant Marang will not be happy to find —’

  The telephone was removed briefly from the constable’s hand. Words were spoken on the Nairobi side that an angry Abel Rubai could not make out. When the constable took the receiver again, his tone was more submissive.

  ‘Yes, there was a girl. The daughter, perhaps.’

  ‘Nalubi, stop assuming, start thinking carefully. This woman sergeant took this … girl to a hospital.’

  ‘In the police car. I accompanied the deceased to the city in an ambulance. I offered to bring the kid. Could have dropped her off.’

  ‘Now then, big question. Which hospital? Take your time.’

  The silence was so long on the CID side that Abel thought …

  ‘Sir, the sergeant looked as if she would be ready to pay, so my guess would be Aga Khan or Nairobi.’

  ‘But she didn’t mention a particular one.’

  ‘No, sir. I think, sir, that perhaps by now this third person is also down in the morgue. Thank you, sir.’

  To Abel’s mounting fury, it took a half an hour for him to clear the two big city hospitals from his list of possibilities. He began to wonder if this extraordinarily caring policewoman had taken the nuisance whore to some private doctor. He took time out just to think. He stood out on the front veranda of the farmhouse and found his concentration being disturbed by the racket that the crickets and cicadas made out there in the darkness. Abel’s interest in the outdoors was limited to the profits he could make from tea plantations, from chopping down old forests and, soon, from a flower farm on the big lake just up the road.

  In the enforced idleness that he was enduring in the middle of that unsuccessful night, he recalled a book he had bought at some airport book stall one time. It was a sort of primer on thinking. He had found the exercises amusing and saw they could be useful in certain circumstances. Lateral thinking, thinking outside the box, expecting the unexpected.

  ‘So, this bright policewoman might know a private place where she could take badly injured person, not too many questions asked.’ He closed his eyes for a few moments to allow his brain machinery to grind its numbers and words. And come up with a brilliant inspiration. Clearly the theory did not always work out in practice.

  All the while that Rubai was trying to work out where he might find his elusive quarry, he had two cars out on the road, ready, like a kind of criminal flying squad to do his instant bidding. He was shocked when the report from the first dash came in.

  ‘No, Boss. That weird clinic just across the road from your place. Dead quiet and no patients, dead or alive.’

  Next came a shock of a different kind, a burst of initiative from an unlikely source. From his car parked and waiting at the very end of the dual carriageway running north out of the city came a very tentative suggestion. Zac Gusil, good friend and colleague of Patrick Uchome and brother of Drongo who had been killed on a previous attempt to get this woman, had a question for the paymaster.

  ‘Boss, you ever heard of a hospital up in these places? Folks around the villages up here call it “The American hospital”. It’s in Kijabe.’

  ‘Goddammit!’

  ‘Sorry, Boss, did I say something wrong? It’s just that me, Buba and Caleb were sitting here waiting …’

  ‘Nothing wrong. You boys been thinking outside the square and for the first time in your lives you’ve hit a target.’

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘Well, get this! You got the picture of the whore with you?’

  ‘Yep. Buba’s looking at it right now. I think he fancies her.’

  ‘Then stop fancying and start moving.’

  At last all the ideas fitted together. The sergeant, a private hospital, close to the where the car crashed. She must be there.

  ‘How far away?’

  ‘Mmn, half an hour. We know where it is, so …’

  ‘Got some casual clothes?’

  ‘Always bring them. Patrick insisted.’

  ‘Put them on. You’re Patrick’s brothers. Give them the story. Be polite but get into where she is. Use a silencer. I’ll be waiting for news, good news. Get going!’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ’ll take you home now, Gloria. You should be a happy woman. You helped save her life.’ ‘Sergeant, not yet.’

  ‘But I have to go back to the station.’

  ‘Ask Ruth. I can get home later. I have money for the bus fare.’

  ‘But why? She’ll be safe here. You say those two were not her parents. Okay, tomorrow I’ll find out where she belongs.

  I’ll come down to the church to tell you.’

  ‘Ask Ruth if I can sit with her, close by.’

  ‘You are one stubborn woman, Gloria. This is an American hospital. They have strict rules.’

  ‘She is in danger. I know this.’

  ‘But we are not in the church now. How can …’

  ‘Sergeant Leah, you are a good lady. Ruth, too. I ask a small thing, but for this girl it could be very big.’

  Ten minutes later, a new nurse, dressed in an ill-fitting uniform, sat on a hard chair at the side of the bed of the new patient. She wore a big smile as she looked across at her companion. She touched the girl’s arm and nodded contentedly to feel the warmth there. Indeed, this was a very pretty girl. Her face, her hair were well cared for. This was no village girl who spent her time out in the fields under a warm sun.

  Nurse Ruth had granted her wish and checked it out with the tall American lady. So why was her heart still troubled? How could she know that down in the city much effort was being put into the task of finding this girl lying at rest in this very bed? The people down there knew exactly who she was. The search was being narrowed down.

  Gloria began to rock back and forth on her chair. She closed her eyes. Her lips began to move soundlessly. Then, as the minutes ticked by, she began a whispered humming. She directed her closed eyes upward as though searching for some invisible guidance. The intensity of her will became stronger, more insistent. She was beginning to make demands. She became aware that she must not yield whatever the cost. The pressure mounted relentlessly in this internal struggle. Perhaps she was asking too much. Perhaps she would fall and be lost.

  And there was a collapse but not of will nor of effort. Gloria felt a clear sensation that she was being watched. She prepared, fearfully, to open her eyes.

  ‘Who are you? Where am I?’

  ‘My name is Gloria. My home is not far away. You were in a car. There was an accident. I have been with you for many hours now.’

  ‘Is this a hospital? Are there people waiting outside?’ Fear compelled her to lower her voice to a whisper. ‘Please, do not call them!’

  ‘There is no one there. No one but the nurses and the doctors.’

  ‘Are you a nurse? You are not young and your uniform …’ Lydia smiled.

  Gloria clapped her hands for joy. She was ready to probe further. ‘Your parents …’

  ‘My parents?’ Lydia’s eyes ope
ned wide and made an attempt to move that she at once regretted for the pain it set off in her head.

  ‘The ones in the car with you.’

  Lydia’s reply was a pained shake of the head.

  ‘I knew it. And they were not friends.’

  Another shake, more vigorous this time.

  ‘Little one, do you need a drink? There is water here.’

  There was a long pause while the patient tried to size up her unusual companion. It did not take much thinking for Lydia to accept that this person meant her no harm. Obviously she was not a regular nurse.

  ‘Why are you sitting with me? Is this your work?’

  It was Gloria’s turn to pause. How could she explain without scaring the child or, worse, causing her to laugh?

  ‘My name is Gloria Patami. My husband is Peter. We look after the church at the bottom of the hill. The Englishmen brought you to us. We took you out of the car. We sat together in the church until the police came. The constable, Naluki, I know his mother. He said that there was no life. He was wrong and I knew it. Praise God, the lady sergeant believed me. And so you are here.’

  The pause on Lydia’s side was longer this time. There were some big things to take in. She listened to the sound of her own heavy breathing and let her thoughts seeds take root and blossom.

  ‘Gloria, that is a beautiful name. What you say makes me think of my friend Maria. She saves lives, too, just as you have saved mine.’

  The tears were flowing on both sides. Gloria stood up and moved closer to the bed. She reached down to exchange a painful embrace.

  They shared the comfort of the island of peace in that cool, bare, whitewashed room. Even then Gloria was troubled, restless without knowing why. There was a threat to their peace, to their very lives.

  ‘Tell me your name. The sister asked me and I could not say. The doctor wants to know where you live for when you are ready to go home.’

  Lydia felt a deep shame for the shaft of suspicion that crossed her mind. Could all this be a part of a trap? She struck the side of her bed hard with her hand, angry with herself for her lack of trust.

  ‘Lydia Smith. I am from Nairobi. I am not a good person.’

  ‘Thank God. Neither am I!’ Gloria paused briefly. ‘So, you were on your way home?’

  ‘Home. That is a big word but,’ she decided that it was time to make, for her, a bold claim, ‘this home is in Naivasha, at Rusinga Farm. I have many friends in those places.’

  ‘Lydia Smith, we must speak with those friends very soon. Do you have the telephone?’

  ‘I have nothing, not even a number. But I have a person who will know. Inspector Caroline will tell us.’

  * * *

  The key fitted and, in no time, the door was opened. Caroline was sitting on the wall of the veranda of Londiani Farm when her mobile rang. It was a familiar voice. American. Angie Summers and Caroline had been friends since their days in Langata when the ambitious young police sergeant and the Peace Corps girl from Montana had lived in adjacent apartments.

  ‘Caroline, we’ve got a patient who says she knows you …’

  One astonishing leap and one triumphant punch into the air transformed the hearts and minds of the previously gloomy and uninspired group slouched around on that open veranda. While the glorious hubbub around her spread upward and outwards into the enveloping night, Rafaella McCall sat incredulous, trying but failing to find suitable words of thanks for a new miracle.

  The mystery of Lydia’s disappearance was solved. Caroline was able to tell her Naivasha people about the car crash, the deaths of the kidnappers and the rescue of Lydia herself. At last they knew where she was.

  ‘But I have a dark thought. Others will be searching for her. Perhaps they know where she is, too. Angie tells me that Lydia is fit to travel if she has to. We need a fast driver who is a little bit crazy, ready to go right now.’

  ‘Or a plane. The mad American spared us that, by accident, of course.’

  ‘Alex, no. Impossible. Bertie, will you let Tom …’

  ‘There’s a strip right next to the hospital, you know. I flew there once. Maura, you were with me. The Kingoni boy, shattered his arm …’

  ‘That was in broad daylight.’

  ‘They’ve got lights. Listen. This is what we do. And now. Tom and Bertie take the Pajero. Okay, Bertie? I’ll race you. Caroline, phone your friend. Explain about the lights. Expect me in twenty minutes. I’m off. On my way back, I’ll snake along the road. If I dip, turn back. Anyone fancy a ride?’

  The skies out of Londiani were as empty as the roads. Rollo, chosen for his better eyesight, was the twin who sat next to his father in the cockpit of the white Cessna. No pilot in the whole Central Rift knew the routes in and out of the valley as well as Alex McCall. No one was more aware of the risks involved in this desperate night flight. There would be no margin for error. It was almost three years since his father, Don, cool and concentrated, lost his life because of a trivial miscalculation on a straightforward landing on their home strip.

  He flew out over the lake and then banked to his left. He climbed until he was parallel with A104. Rollo spotted it first. They were onto the rectangle of light quicker than they had expected. He allowed himself one trial run before coming down, tense and tight-lipped. The landing was rough but safe.

  ‘Alex, two passengers. Okay? I think you’re just in time. We heard that there’s some action at the main gate. Some guys are having trouble with our night guards. Two Marine Corps youngsters. Yes it’s true. We’ve had our military up here since they hit our embassy a few years back. Well done, Gloria! Kwaheri, everyone. Thanks for bringing some excitement into the lives of two young men! Downhill’s best for a quick lift-off!

  The Cessna was barely fifty feet above the Mercedes that was waiting with its engine running outside the stone-built compound wall. Two of its occupants, standing outside, swung hard ‘round as the plane passed directly overhead. Mister Zac and Mister Buba sighted their pistols on the broad white metal of their target, only to be distracted at the last minute by a volley of rifle shots. The front tyres on the Mercedes exploded at the same moment as the powerful engine burst into flames and sent up a thunderclap roar that jolted ten thousand villagers near and far out of their sleep.

  * * *

  Confusion and disturbance broke out below and above. Caleb and his companions were transformed in seconds from unwelcome invaders to vulnerable patients. The unexpected extra passenger in the little machine that was swinging its way south-east across a moonlit sky had created a minor logistical problem.

  After helping to belt a flustered Gloria into the seat next to his father, Rollo had to move backwards to find a place to squeeze his bulk into the cramped rear area. Two attempts by him and Lydia to accommodate each other left them both in acute discomfort. Alex saw danger. One unforeseen jolt or lurch could mean that one of his passengers would be tumbled into his lap, making the plane uncontrollable.

  ‘Rollo, take the seat and hold on tight to Lydia. That should be interesting for the pair of you! Home in fifteen minutes. I hope Tom and Bertie will spot us. I dare not dip with you two on the loose up here. Lydia, we meet again in strange circumstances. See that moon over there? In my head I’ve just been over it, if that makes sense to you. Okay now, you two? I’m about to go into a bit of a dive.’

  Alex barely knew his co-pilot’s name. He was pleasantly surprised by Gloria’s calmness. It was probably her first time up, at least in a tiny, cramped machine like this, but her eyes were constantly on the move taking in the details on this, her new view of her world.

  There were new views for the passengers behind him, too. They were enjoying the enforced closeness. Being pressed up against a man’s body was something she was very familiar with, but never with a man so young, so muscular, so masculine. Doctor Angie had given her painkillers for the journey, but the throb in her injured foot and the ache in her head were as uncomfortable as ever except that the feel and the smell of this comp
anion made them much easier to bear.

  Rollo was familiar enough with Lydia’s story. According to that he was holding a Nairobi street girl in his arms, a high-class tart. Only she was neither of these things for him. He understood that she had more courage than he would ever possess. She had offered to sacrifice her life to save his father. She had been pursued mercilessly by Rubai thugs. She was loved and trusted like a young aunt by Ewan Briggs. And she was beautiful. It embarrassed him to have such a lovely creature in his arms. She was probably hating the experience.

  * * *

  It was too late to cancel the heavy equipment. The hope was to have all the clearing finished in a single day and that would mean an eight o’clock start at the latest. Three hours to go and not a single one of the ten people out under the stars on the veranda at Londiani had been to sleep that night. Lydia had spent part of that time in a bed, but that had been no relaxing experience. Five am and the chatter was noisy and excited. There was plenty to talk about.

  Tom and Bertie had arrived at the American hospital minutes after the Rubai men. Tom kept his distance when he saw that another car had beaten them to the main gate. They had a grandstand view as simultaneously a familiar white shape had appeared out of the darkness climbing steeply while far below the car up ahead exploded and sent flames into the slipstream only seconds too late to do damage. The gaps in that story had been filled in by an animated Angie Summers.

  ‘We don’t have a burns unit up here, but we are giving them first aid. Some rich city guy is sending an air ambulance to collect them. The Lord knows how he found out about all this stuff. I’m only a humble gynaecologist, but I’d guess that they all have over fifty per cent burn damage. Our two marine guards have zero sympathy. Their poor mothers …’

  For the first time Lydia and Gloria understood the danger they had been in. They exchanged solemn looks before embracing. Gloria had her explanation and gave thanks.

  ‘God was in front of us and behind us, like always.’

  A bewildered Lydia shuddered and over Gloria’s shoulder caught the relieved gaze of a sympathetic Rollo. He was pointing the thumb of his right hand upwards.