Boss Takes All

by Carl Hancock

  ‘Yes, Tom, but poor boys …’

  Caroline returned to the room with Hosea, each of them carrying thick sheaves of paper.

  ‘We’ve got copies of everything. We can take these two down to David now. Hosea is going to take my Volvo, again! Maria?’

  ‘I’ve pressed his uniform.’

  ‘And I’ll follow, just in case.’

  ‘Thanks, Angelo. Daniel and I will stay so that the rest of us can examine these papers together. One more thing. We need a volunteer to take this wallet back to the hospital. Sooner or later Rubai is going to catch up with that body.’

  Chapter Thirty-two

  he Rubai machine had been in overdrive for several hours. Around the table in his conference room in the Pink Palace had gathered six security men and the chief of police for a night of hard work.

  ‘Gentlemen, I propose we begin at the scene of the accident and move on from there.’

  Abel, as usual, was selective in the information he passed on to supposedly trusted men who were trying to solve what was, essentially, his own personal problem. So there was no mention of failed phone calls to his men out on the road, nor a whisper of what they were doing out there.

  Chief Shadrack Karui made his contribution.

  ‘A report from Inspector Caroline Miggot of Nakuru Division: “An anonymous report from a member of the public alerted us to the news of the accident. Within minutes …”’

  ‘How many minutes?’

  ‘That is not stated here, sir. “Unfortunately there was no ambulance available to bring any dead and injured to the hospital. However, when our sergeant and constable arrived on the scene, there was no sign of any of the, we believe, three passengers who had been travelling in the Mercedes that we discovered, on inquiry, was owned by Mister Abel Rubai of Karen.”’

  ‘Blah, blah, blah. The next thing you are going to say is that inquiries are continuing and in about three weeks … Listen, we know that my three boys were lying on the side of the road. There were witnesses. Next minute, there is just one. Two disappear. How? Where? No witnesses. Did those two get up and walk away?’

  ‘Sir, everyone who saw the crash said that the turn in front of the truck was suicidal.’

  ‘Karui, are you telling me that fifty, a hundred Kenyans walked away from the free show of a terrible car crash? Unbelievable!’

  Abel, intense with anger, glared at each of the security men in turn.

  ‘The best in the business!’

  The nominal leader of the security men, Colin Sitawi, had had enough. They had been called in to deal with a problem that, at this stage, was purely a police matter. They were being made to look like a bunch of incompetent fools.

  ‘With respect, this problem is not in our line of business. We could …’

  ‘Not? So what do we pay you people to do?’

  Sitawi closed his lips tight and stared down at the empty first page of his notebook. His pose was self-assured.

  Abel would not admit it, but he saw that he had been too hasty in calling the meeting. When the six men had been dismissed and had left the house, he sat quietly stroking his chin. That the meeting had been a failure was down to him. He had his ideas on what could have happened. In some ways the McCall family could have been involved. He shook his head. Paranoia, surely. He could chance his arm and order Karui to send a squad of his toughest cops down there. He shook his head again. It was far too big a risk. The scenario was easy to imagine. Karui’s men arrive, rough up a few locals and find nothing. But Karui was no fool. He just might see some connections. Why was the Big Man linking the McCalls with these missing men? And why had Rubai been down at Naivasha on the night that the farmhouse had blown up? Two o’clock in the morning and he just happened to be down there with a top class rifle in his hands? But Karui would not dare to share any suspicions that had dropped into his mind.

  Abel saw that, for the moment at least, he was on his own. He could not share his problem. He would have to put everything else on hold and work on this single dangerous mess. Two of his men were out there, dead or alive. Worse still, Nyache was probably hidden away in some godforsaken hole in the bush. The old man was on the loose and out of his control. This was new territory for him.

  But there was a consolation. He picked up a couple of cold beers from the fridge and shut himself up in his most private room. He switched on a bank of screens, not to work on the money markets but simply for company. And so the wrestling match began. He turned his thoughts loose and let them fight it out, with the single stipulation that at the end of the struggle he would have a solution that would be workable and offer him the chance to regain control.

  Just before ten pm an exhilarated Abel entered the western sitting room. He was delighted to find Sally and Reuben together.

  ‘Abel, I wasn’t sure that you were still at home. You have so many meetings these days.’

  ‘Wait until we move into State House. The first lady will be a very busy woman with lots of meetings of your own.’

  She frowned at the prospect but was more concerned with an immediate problem.

  ‘Reuben and I have been talking about the accident today. He is upset, but you tell your father, Reuben.’

  ‘Those three, they were my age. They were full of fun. We were joking just before they set off for home. It’s weird. One hour later and they were all dead.’

  ‘Only one for sure, son. There’s mystery about the others. I still have hopes. But I don’t have any hopes for that silly old man, Nyache. I think a lot of this is down to him. If he had kept his promise to show you around to the people up there, which was the plan … But I’ve got an idea. I am also very hungry. Do you think it’s too late for some supper, Sally? We could talk about it then.’

  * * *

  ‘Well, what do you think? We’ll make our own tour of the region, all of us. You know how the little ones are always asking me to buy one of those stretch limos. And it would be Julius’s first time out of Karen.’

  ‘No tricks about buying flower farms, Abel!’

  ‘A fun day out, David’s preferred way of life.’

  ‘But when?’

  ‘What about tomorrow, Reuben? You’re the key man here. I’m going to be busy later in the week. And, Sally, you could make a quick call on Maura McCall. Show off Julius and your war wound.’

  ‘War wound? Oh, yes. Hey, Abel, you are in a good mood tonight!’

  ‘Well, it’s a long time since we all went out as a family.’

  ‘As long as we don’t have to visit that loony bin again!’

  As the Rubai family was enjoying a congenial supper and making plans for the next day, less than half a mile away an old Volvo Estate, with Hosea Kabari at the wheel, was passing through the gates of Cartref. Stretched out on blankets in the back were two young men.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  ut what else could I say, Alex?’

  ‘Maura, Sally and the kids are fine and you women will be drooling over the baby, but I don’t fancy another meeting with that shameless thug and his demented son. Perhaps they’re coming to ask for forgiveness again!’

  ‘Spare us! And what was it, two hours notice? And, naturally, he gets his wife to do the phoning.’

  ‘We’ll be all right, Tom. I’ll be over the fields and you and Rebecca will be at the site. Debbie coming with you?’

  ‘Yep. Two truckloads of materials are due at eleven. Jim Sawyer has taken all his boys over. They’re pouring concrete. That’s why Debbie left early.’

  ‘Tom, I wonder what his real motive for coming is.’

  ‘I think that’s an easy one. He’ll be sniffing around, looking for Simon.’

  ‘And his two “missing” boys. Could be doing it in his trousers on that one. Have we got the old bugger on the run at last?’

  ‘I doubt it. One slip up, one loose word on our side and the fox will be in with the chickens again.’

  * * *

  No sign of the father and his sons. Abel Rubai saw t
his as good news. They were keeping away from him. Probably had something to hide.

  ‘Sally, Obi’s taking me and Reuben over to the Shell garage. They’ve taken the damaged Mercedes there.’

  The men were away for two hours. Abel was surprised with the state of the car. It was not a write-off.

  ‘Tow it into the agent in Nairobi. Send the bill to my office, unless you want the cash now.’

  Next stop was meant to be the site of the accident, but Obi pulled off onto the verge half a mile short of the junction.

  ‘Boss, take a look to the right. A lot of folks over there are busy, busy, busy.’

  ‘You two, stay inside.’

  Abel stepped out and leaned his elbows on the car roof. He took in the activity with a narrowed gaze. The hard hats made it difficult to identify people moving in and out of the trucks and the machinery.

  ‘Yeah, of course, the Florence Nightingale of Naivasha, but the other bitch, flashing the site plan around? Never seen her before. Old Sawyer. Mmn. I’ll remember this Mister Building Man! And one, two, three white boys. Must be the illegals. I’m impressed. No idling there. Shame they’ll soon be tearing it all up. Ah, well, can’t say you weren’t warned, you bunch of losers!’

  At the turn-off there was plenty of evidence to show where the milk truck had hit his car less than twenty-four hours earlier - skid marks, bits of metal and plastic, the rearranged branches of a couple of trees. But he discovered nothing to help him with the mystery of the disappearance of his boys. In a lull in the traffic he clapped his hands and called out.

  ‘Any of you people here yesterday when the accident happened?! I’ll pay for information! Come on! Come on! We’re not the cops! Come on, you faceless country boys!’ He waited, he glared, all in vain. ‘Obi, get me out of this jinxed town.’

  There was one more call to make before he returned to Londiani. He stormed up the steps of the town council offices and threw his weight around the central office.

  ‘So sorry, sir, we are just office staff. We cannot …’

  ‘The name’s Rubai, Abel Rubai.’

  ‘We know, sir.’

  ‘A very angry Abel Rubai. One of you write this down and pass it on to the first of your bosses who shows his face in this place: “Take a good look at what is going on in a field on the edge of your town here. This is an illegal build, as you should know. Let me know when the land has been restored to its proper state. That had better be sooner rather than later!”’

  * * *

  Sally saw that the children were unhappy to be going home early.

  ‘But, Papa, we haven’t been to the lake to see the hippos. Can we stay the night? We could camp out on that big field.’

  ‘Hasn’t Mama told you that the hippos come out of the water in the night? They sniff around all over the place. They would come and check out something new, like a tent they had never seen before.’

  Sally was relieved. It was her first long outing since Julius had been born. She had been up early and the journey had been tiring. She made a mental note not to try another family outing until Julius was walking and talking.

  Obi was a fine driver and gave them a smooth ride. The children were more subdued than on the journey up and Sally was happy to come to the last crossroads before home. She glanced to her left.

  ‘Abel, they say that the Daniels family have a beautiful garden and it is so close. Do you think they might invite us over? You know how Europeans love to have company when they, how do they say, “take tea”.’

  ‘Perhaps, but could we leave it for a time, until Julius is going to secondary school? I don’t think I could find much to interest me in that place.’

  Chapter Thirty-four

  ounting Sonya, there were five doctors in the Daniels family. All of them went out to meet the old Volvo Estate that arrived late into the evening of the day of the accident at the junction of the A104 and the lower turn-off into Naivaisha town. The two unconscious men were unloaded and transferred to the Daniels’ private surgery. Work began at once. The large table that dominated that cool, airy room was wide enough to take two patients so that both men were stripped and examined simultaneously.

  At Londiani Angelo Conti had been able to do no more than general first aid to prepare them for the potentially hazardous sixty-mile journey on less than perfect roads.

  Sergeant Hosea had gone with Dorothy Daniels to the sitting room of Cartref, prepared for a long wait for news.

  Maria had gone in with a team of doctors. She had no formal medical qualifications, but all the trained and experienced people in that room welcomed her presence. They knew all about her healing gifts and her spiritual insight. If nothing else she would be a calming influence at a critical time.

  It was soon agreed that one problem for both men was severe concussion. And David had a technical question for Maria.

  ‘Do you know whether they were wearing their belts at the moment of impact?’

  ‘Bertie, who was first on the scene, is definite on that. They were all strapped in.’

  David was constantly on the move between patients. There was a great deal of very close observation and gentle manipulation of flesh and bone, particularly of the joints. Talk was in whispers and the preliminary work was painstakingly thorough. David, who was one of the best surgeons in Africa, with a reputation for very still hands and his unobtrusive work with the scalpel, was never eager to get to work with the knife.

  ‘I’ve seen too many patients go down because the surgeon was too ready to get inside their patient to look around.’

  But with those two strong young men everyone agreed that an entry must be made, and soon.

  ‘There’s blood sloshing around somewhere in this one. If we can’t stop it soon, he’ll be gone.’

  Gareth was the Daniels who found it most difficult to preserve proper medical neutrality when treating patients. This usually meant that he was tender and sometimes passionate in the face of sickness and disease. But, on the other hand …

  ‘Leave the bastard go. I wonder how many decent Kenyans he has knocked over for that boss of his.’

  ‘Gareth, moral decisions aren’t part of our job spec, thank God!’

  ‘Sonya, these two hulks and their late, unlamented partner were minutes away from killing an old man struggling to do right in his last days. Sorry, Dad!’

  ‘Come over here. I need your steady hand.’

  Both wounded men survived the trauma of the next three hours. They would live. Everyone was pleased, even Gareth Daniels.

  The men would wake up in a world alien to their way of life. In two days they would begin to regain their strength. That would create a new situation. How to deal with it was now on everyone’s agenda. There were several possibilities to consider, but it was too early to plan details.

  A new day was not far off when the team joined Dot and Hosea in the sitting room for refreshment and relaxation. Maria did not stay long.

  ‘Hosea, you are on duty tomorrow, so you will need to set off early.’

  ‘And, don’t tell me! You will not be travelling with me. What did I say, Dorothy?’

  ‘If that is not a trouble to you, Dorothy.’

  ‘We love having you here. But won’t you stay in the house?’

  ‘I will return later. Someone needs to be with those boys. Kwaheri for now.’

  The lights had been left on low in the surgery and the naked bodies draped in white sheets up to the neck. Maria set up a chair on the platform surrounding the table, intending to watch and listen. Perhaps there would be some movement, perhaps some words would be spoken out of the deep subconscious. At each corner of table she lit a fat candle that she had made. As well as light, they gave off a faint perfume of orange blossom.

  Maria had sat up with sick or wounded people many times. Her practice was to be busily proactive. Normally she began by focusing on the light of one of the candles to help her with a meditation. From there she moved on to a period of silent prayer, directed at each
young man in turn.

  Anyone standing outside would have been aware of her presence in the surgery only when she began to sing. Sonya had been sitting on the wooden bench set close to the door all the time that Maria had been inside. She had come to comfort herself with memories. Simon’s body had passed its last night on earth in that place. Maria had convinced Sonya with her teaching that the essence of her husband, what others called the soul, was waiting to cross over. Then, as now, the evocation was at its strongest when the ancient words and the beautiful melody filled the air.

  Sonya was not surprised when she heard her name called out.

  ‘Sonya, please come inside. These boys need the help of your courage and strength.’

  The two women embraced and sat side by side on the comfortable blue sofa, placed against the wall to the side of the table, raised enough for them to see across the bodies stretched out there. For a time there was no sound apart from the night breeze passing through the trees in the garden outside. At last Sonya whispered.

  ‘Do you think that they could be aware of this … this power surrounding them here?’

  ‘More than us. They don’t have the obstruction of the conscious body to block their lines.’

  The last time she had been in this room, Sonya had been looking down on the dead body of her husband, killed by Rubai men. In front of her now were two more of his people, alive because of the skill and care of her family.

  ‘Maria, why can’t I hate these men? They came close to killing Simon Nyache. Perhaps at other times …’

  ‘Because you have travelled a long way down the road. When pastors pray for their flocks, why do they focus so much on sin and failure? This week their words ask for forgiveness and protection from the same sins as they spoke of last week, last year. Where is the progress? Is there anyone out there listening to these words? Or anyone listening when answers come?’

  ‘So there is no point in praying?’

  ‘You know better than that. The mystery is deep. Our task is to enter that mystery and wait. So many clever people see no road and think that when we pray we are simply deluding ourselves in some harmless way.’