I sat down next to her in the main auditorium at the start of the first morning’s session, and by the end of the day, we were firm friends—and I hoped we would become more than that. We spent every mealtime together and sat in the same seats for each of the presentations. In the evenings, we tended to get separated; she had a number of formal dinners to attend, whereas I was eating in my student accommodation. There weren’t many dinner invitations for a relatively obscure delegate from the Copper Belt, especially one that didn’t really exist anyway.
On the last day, Kabwe Mazoka was leaving for the airport to fly home—and I had to pretend I was leaving with him. So we said goodbye and I thought I would never see her again. I put back on my T-shirt and baseball cap and helped everyone get ready to leave. I got a couple of curious looks, but without my suit and tie, I managed to look very different, especially wearing my sunglasses. And it was right at the end, as the last people were leaving, when I saw my friend from the first day once more.
‘How did you get on?’ he asked?
‘It was wonderful. I learnt so much; thank you so much for suggesting it.’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said impatiently, ‘but did you have a good time with Francine?’
I nodded my head. ‘Yes, of course; I was just sorry it all had to end when it did. I really enjoyed the last few days.’
‘Only days? What about the nights?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I felt myself go hot with embarrassment.
‘I didn’t…; I wouldn’t…; that would be disrespectful…’ I faltered to a halt; my companion was laughing at me and shaking his head.
‘You idiot; she’s a modern European woman. She would have jumped at the chance to spend the night with you.’
I didn’t really believe him, but he took me for a beer in his hotel; that beer turned into supper—and a few more beers. And at the end of the evening, he steered me into the elevator and deposited me outside Francine’s room. I knocked; there was a long pause during which time I nearly decided to run away, and then I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. When it opened, it was as though she was expecting me. She just held out her hand and pulled me into the room.
Later, we both agreed it would be better if we left it at that. I was going back to college and to my real name. I didn’t dare tell her I wasn’t really a production manager, but merely an undergraduate. She was returning to the United Kingdom and soon afterwards, she was promoted and that was that. Until this evening, I never expected our paths to cross again.
When Chibesa had finished his story of impersonation and infatuation, the Jones sisters sat in stunned silence. It sounded so plausible, and his demeanour was so open that Suzanne found it difficult to do other than believe him. But that didn’t alter the fact that this strange episode and encounter between Chibesa and Francine had resulted in their politician friend being blackmailed, not to mention being implicated in the organisation of a counterfeiting gang in Africa.
She wondered if there was any chance of tracking down the mysterious benefactor who had been so conveniently on hand to present Chibesa with the opportunity to participate in the conference. It was seven years ago, but most public service employees she knew saw the civil service as a job for life. It was highly likely he was still around. She made a mental note to check if Francine still had a record of the other members of the delegation.
‘Chibesa,’ she asked, clearing her throat, ‘have you ever met Nico Mladov?’ Chibesa shook his head.
‘No, I’d never heard of him until Kabwe Mazoka mentioned his involvement in the fire at Mazokapharm. Why would you think I knew him? He’s European, isn’t he, not African?’
‘Yes, he’s a Ukrainian. According to Charlie’s investigations, he’s the son of a big time gangster in Kharkov. But we met him here in London a few months back, just after I returned from the IHF conference in Swaziland.
‘No, sorry, can’t help you. Why is he so important?’
‘We know he’s connected to Banda.’ Charlie took up the story. ‘Even before the fire in Ndola, we were concerned about him. He returned Suzanne’s suitcase after it went missing in Heathrow Airport, pretending to be an airport official. But we think he was just casing the joint—the following day I disturbed an intruder in here, ransacking the place.’
‘We think he was looking for Sara Matsebula’s evidence,’ Suzanne chipped in. ‘But more significant than that, it was Mladov who threatened Francine with blackmail.’
‘Yes, you mentioned blackmail before. Why was he blackmailing her—and with what?’ His question was asked in such a straightforward manner, that Suzanne once again had the strong feeling he was telling the truth; he really didn’t seem to have any idea of what was going on. But she needed to see his reaction to the next piece of news. She gestured to Charlie, inviting her to take up the story once more so she could concentrate on observing Chibesa.
‘Last summer, a Ukrainian delegation visited London on a trade mission. One of their meetings was with a group of MPs in Westminster. Mladov was one of the delegates.’
‘So he’s a businessman?’
‘Maybe, we are not really sure; as I said, I’ve been doing some digging and he has definite connections to organised crime in Ukraine. But it doesn’t matter—he was on the delegation.’ Charlie was sounding impatient now. ‘And he asked to speak to Francine privately about the photographs she’d acquired in Africa.’
‘What photographs?’
‘You really don’t know, do you?’ Suzanne broke in, unable to keep quiet. ‘On the morning she was leaving Lusaka for London, an envelope was delivered to her at the hotel. It contained several photographs of you and her, taken in her bedroom.’
‘What? You mean…?’
‘Yes, Chibesa—or should I say “Ernest”.’ Charlie was back on the war path again. ‘Let’s just say they were rather compromising—and leave it at that.’
‘Francine didn’t take her camera on that trip in 1997,’ Suzanne continued, ‘so when Mladov mentioned photographs from Africa, she knew what he was referring to—and she agreed to meet with him in the bar of the Palace of Westminster after the rest of the delegation had gone.’
‘And what did he want?’
‘Well, that’s one of the stranger parts of the whole thing. He didn’t want anything.’
‘Nothing? Not even any money?’
‘That’s right. But he did say they would be back in touch when they needed a favour. ‘
‘And have they been back in touch?’
‘No. That was the last she saw or heard of him—until we brought her into the discussions about Banda and we realised she recognised his name.’
Chibesa rubbed his hands over his face and exhaled sharply.
‘Poor Francine. No wonder she’s so mad at me. But I really didn’t know anything about this. I had no idea any photographs were being taken. And I certainly would never get involved in any blackmail schemes.’
There was something about this story that was worrying Suzanne; something she thought they were missing, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She shook her head, and decided to come back to that. She would go through Chibesa’s story again later on and see if anything jogged her mind. In the meantime, she stood and picked up the phone.
‘Right, I think it’s about time we had something to eat. I’ll just go and get the number.’ She walked out into the hall then after a few seconds called out:
‘Charlie, have you moved the menu for Sanjay’s place? I can’t find the phone number.’
Charlie poked her head out of the lounge, looking puzzled.
‘But it’s number five on speed—’
She didn’t get any further, as Suzanne grabbed her sleeve and dragged her out into the hall and through to the kitchen.
‘Hush,’ she hissed, ‘I just wanted a quick word with you alone. What do you think? Is he telling the truth?’ Charlie pulled a face and shrugged her shoulders.
‘I really don’t know, sis. I want to believe
him; and he certainly seemed shocked to hear about the blackmail. And he didn’t seem to know about the photographs; but it’s all a bit unlikely isn’t it?’
‘And there’s something niggling at the back of my mind—but I can’t work out what it is.’ Suzanne gave a sigh. ‘Look, Charlie, he’s supposed to be a friend of ours. He was a great help with the project when we were in Africa. How about we give him the benefit of the doubt?’
Charlie pursed her lips and Suzanne held her breath until her sister nodded—and then, pointing to the telephone, said with a grin:
‘So are we really going to eat? I am starving—and I should imagine our guest will be too.’
The two women returned to the lounge where Chibesa was still sitting on the sofa, looking as though he’d not stirred while they were out of the room.
‘Right, Chibesa,’ Suzanne said, ‘let’s get some food ordered and then we can think about how we’re going to get Francine back here.’
‘You may have convinced us you’re an innocent bystander in all of this,’ said Charlie, ‘but I suspect she’s going to be a much harder nut to crack.’
32: ENGLAND; APR 2005
In the end, they didn’t have to think of a way to bring Francine back. While Charlie and Chibesa were across the street collecting the takeaway food, the doorbell rang. Suzanne was pleased to see their friend standing in the hall.
‘I was sitting in the car trying to calm down,’ she explained, ‘and saw the other two head over to Sanjay’s. So I thought I’d come and talk to you before they came back. What did he have to say for himself?’
‘Well, it’s a convoluted story, but I think I believe his reason for taking on a different persona. He certainly seemed shocked when we told him about the photographs and the suggestion of blackmail. Unless he’s an even better actor than either you or Charlie, I think he’s telling the truth. Although there is still something I can’t work out. Something that’s worrying me. But it will come to me, I’m sure of it.’
Francine walked up and down in front of the fireplace, hands behind her back, and a fierce look of concentration on her face. Then she stopped and turned to Suzanne.
‘I want to believe him; I really do. But I was so hurt when I saw the pictures…’
Suzanne put her arm around Francine’s shoulders and steered her to a chair.
‘Look, the others will be back in a few minutes. We’ve over-ordered as usual, so why not have some supper with us and decide for yourself whether Chibesa is telling the truth or not?’
When the front door banged shut and Charlie called out from the hall, Suzanne went out to meet them.
‘Chibesa,’ she said, ‘Francine has come back.’ He looked with a start at the door of the lounge. Suzanne went on. ‘It’s okay; she’s calmed down and I’ve brought her up to date on everything you told us. I think you’re safe from further assault.’
‘Unless she finds out you’re lying, that is,’ said Charlie. Suzanne frowned at her.
‘That’s enough, Charlie; don’t tease him. He’s had quite an evening of it so far.’ Then she turned back to the young African man who looked like he was deciding whether to run away or not. ‘We’ll set the food out. You make your peace with Francine.’ He hung back, but she gave him a gentle push towards the lounge. ‘Go on, she’s not going to hit you—again!’
The sisters took their time setting out the plates and opening the boxes before Suzanne poked her head around the door of the lounge.
Francine was sitting on the sofa with her arms folded. Chibesa was standing by the window, staring out across the Thames to the lights of Pimlico. There was silence in the room. But it was a comfortable silence, and Suzanne breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Food’s ready,’ she said. ‘We’ve set it out in the kitchen. Come and get it.’
It was later that evening, just as Francine was getting ready to leave, having offered Chibesa a lift back to his hotel, that the niggle at the back of Suzanne’s mind finally fell into place.
‘Kabwe! Kabwe Mazoka!’ The others all looked at her in surprise. She rounded on Chibesa and threw her hands wide in question. ‘You said it was Kabwe who sneaked you in to the conference. Kabwe who gave you the papers for his delegate, Ernest Wishaw.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘So why did you never mention this before, Chibesa?’ Charlie and Francine swung round and stared at him as well as the meaning of Suzanne’s words started to sink in. ‘All the time we were planning my itinerary; afterwards when you heard about my being kidnapped. For goodness sake, when the man killed himself! All that time, Chibesa, you never once mentioned you knew him. What the hell is going on?’
For a minute it looked as though Chibesa would refuse to reply. A range of emotions passed across his face and Suzanne suspected he was contemplating just keeping on walking—out of the lounge, down the corridor and through the front door. And a part of her wondered if maybe that would be the best possible thing. She had been through so many emotions in relation to this man: she thought he was her friend; he tried to discourage her from getting involved with Sara Matsebula; then, after George’s death, he became a wholehearted supporter of everything she was trying to do. Then she saw Francine’s picture and thought he was one of the enemy. But this evening he had managed to make them trust him again and believe he was an innocent dupe in all this. And now, there seemed to be yet another twist in the tale. She was not sure she could handle it. But Charlie also seemed to sense the thoughts going through Chibesa’s mind; she jumped to the door, slammed it shut and stood with her back against it.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ she growled. ‘I want to hear your answer to Suzanne’s question.’ Francine didn’t say anything. She just went very white and stood staring at Chibesa, a look of betrayal once more on her face.
Chibesa closed his eyes and shook his head then opened them, took off his glasses and polished them on the bottom of his highly coloured embroidered shirt.
‘I tried to tell you,’ he said in a voice so quiet they all leaned forward to catch his words. ‘When we were in the office planning your trip to Ndola, I mentioned I’d met Kabwe once before.’
‘Yes, but you gave me to believe it was a chance meeting, years before.’
‘It was. At least it was more than seven years before, and I only met him at the conference. We never communicated after that.’ He sighed and looked around at the three of them. ‘May we sit down again, ladies; this may take a while.’
Suzanne sat at one end of the sofa, while Chibesa took his former seat at the other end. Francine chose a hard-backed chair as far away from Chibesa as she could. Charlie didn’t move from her position guarding the door. The young man continued to talk in his quiet tones. Suzanne realised she had never heard him raise his voice to anyone.
‘To tell you the truth’—at this point, Charlie snorted, but Chibesa ignored her and carried on talking—’I was embarrassed about the deception I’d taken part in—and I was also very fearful for my job. Work’s scarce in Zambia these days and those of us lucky enough to have a job are very careful not to do anything to risk getting fired.’
‘But, as you say, Chibesa,’ interjected Suzanne, ‘this all took place years ago. Why should it affect your position now?’
‘There is always someone snapping at your heels, eager to get you into trouble and then profit from your misfortune.’
‘But why would you be in trouble?’
‘Because I impersonated someone else; I tricked my way into the conference. And afterwards, I used some of the experience and some of the knowledge I gained that week to enrich my essays and push up my marks. It could be suggested I cheated my way to my degree.’
‘That’s all a bit convoluted, isn’t it?’ It was the first time Francine had spoken.
‘It may seem so to you, Francine, but believe me, I’ve seen it happen before,’ he said, smiling ruefully at her. But this time, she didn’t return his smile. He turned back to Suzanne, maybe sensing she was curren
tly the best opportunity he had for an ally. ‘Besides, it was a big thing to me, but it was probably something Kabwe didn’t even remember. And Dr Businge was an old friend who knew his father. It didn’t seem relevant that I’d met him once. And then after he killed himself, there didn’t seem to be anything to be gained by speaking up. And the longer I left it, the harder it became to say anything.’
‘But this would explain why you didn’t want to come with me to Ndola. I wondered at the time whether the reason you gave for staying in Lusaka was nothing but a ruse.’
‘Well, I did think it was better to “let sleeping dogs lie”. Although when you were kidnapped, I was horrified. If only I’d been there, it might never have happened.” Suzanne didn’t want to think about her interlude in the isolated hut; it was an episode she had managed—almost—to exorcise from her mind. She waved her hand at him.
‘Or on the other hand, we could both have been kidnapped—or worse. There’s nothing to be gained from regretting decisions made in the past.’
‘Okay, Chibesa,’ Charlie said from the doorway, ‘I can understand why you might have kept quiet about having met Kabwe Mazoka. But why on earth didn’t you tell us about knowing Francine? You were unmarried, even if Francine wasn’t, and you didn’t indulge in anything other than a bit of rumpy-pumpy.’ Francine frowned at this dismissal of their passionate encounter in this way, but said nothing. ‘You weren’t spying or anything like that. What was there to lose?’
Chibesa looked puzzled for a while then said, ‘But I didn’t know anything about Francine’s involvement in all this until tonight. You never mentioned anything about her when you were in Zambia.’
Suzanne thought back to the evening when their suspicions had been aroused. Not knowing who they could trust, the sisters had decided the best policy was to ‘trust no-one’—except each other, of course—until they had come back to England and put some of their theories to the test.
Counterfeit! Page 20
