by P J Skinner
The place hadn’t been tidied since the last occupant left. There were cigarette butts on the floor. At least the bed appeared to have clean sheets even if there was an odd lump in the middle. Jacques grunted and put his arm up to stop her entering.
‘Wait,’ he said, leaning forward and grasping the corner of the sheet which he whipped off the bed like a waiter with a table cloth. There was a huge black snake on the bed. It seemed bewildered for a second, long enough for Jacques to take out a pistol and shoot it. It wormed around for a while and then lay still.
Sam’s ears rang with the retort of the gun fire. Her jaw had dropped to her chest in fright. She wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or grateful. Snakes did not frighten her but having one in her bed was another matter. A pool of blood seeped into sheet and onto the mattress.
‘That was a mamba,’ said Jacques. ‘A nasty welcoming present.’
‘Are you sure it was deliberate? Couldn’t it have found its way in here on its own?’
She had no doubt about its purpose, but for her own peace of mind she had to pretend otherwise.
‘I suppose it’s possible.’ But he shook his head. ‘Your presence in camp will upset a lot of apple carts. Hans and I know about most of the goings-on but our hands are tied as we are contractors and not part of management. We try to control the worst of it but we need someone to take charge. It’s a big job.’
‘But you can help me figure this out?’ said Sam. ‘The problems are labyrinthine. I can’t do it alone.’
‘Yes, but not today. Come to the office with me and I’ll introduce you to the staff while someone cleans this mess.’
‘Um, can you get them to clean more than the mess on the bed please? I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the cleaning staff, but this place is filthy. They even left a snake lying around.’
Jacques laughed.
‘I’ll tell them.’
Hans burst into the prefab, sweating, his gun in his hand.
‘I heard a gunshot. What the hell is going on?’
‘Oh, I had an unwelcome visitor, but he’s dealt with,’ said Sam, gesticulating at the snake.
‘I thought you meant Jacques,’ he said. ‘Is this how you deal with all unwelcome visitors in your bed? Fuck. I’ll keep it in mind.’
And he beamed at her. A lovely smile that almost erased Sam’s misgivings about him.
‘Can you take Sam to the office please? I’ll stay here and make sure the cleaning ladies do a thorough job, the place is disgusting,’ said Jacques.
‘It’s okay, I’ll do it and make sure none of her stuff disappears. You take her,’ said Hans.
‘Okay, let’s go,’ said Jacques.
‘Is it possible to find me a comfy chair please?’ said Sam. ‘I do a lot of reading.’
Hans reacted as if she had asked for a unicorn.
‘That’s not in my job description but I’ll see what I can arrange,’ he said and rolled his eyes to Jacques. Sam pretended not to notice.
***
After a quick trip to the bathroom, Sam made her way to the office. Someone had jammed the front door open with a piece of cardboard to encourage airflow through the building which was elongated down a passage leading from the entrance. The offices on either side of the front door were both occupied.
The office on the right hand of the entrance had a nameplate which read Security. It was open and Sam could see Jacques at his desk talking to one of the security guards. When he saw her, he mouthed ‘one minute’ and winked.
Sam examined the door on the other side of the passage way. It was closed but she could hear noise from inside. Someone had stuck a piece of paper over the original name plate. It read HR Manager, Philippe Mutombo in scrawled script. Sam slipped her finger under the paper and lifted it up to reveal the original inscription - General Manager.
She jumped as Jacques emerged from his office and reached past her to knock on the door.
‘Entre.’
They entered the office to find a young black man sitting behind a huge desk, heavy-framed glasses perched on his nose, his slight frame dwarfed by the massive mahogany structure. He scrutinised her from behind his computer, his face a picture of irritation. Sam glanced around the room admiring the windows on two walls giving her a view of the square and all the goings on. This was perfect for her purposes and would be her office, but she was loath to say anything yet.
‘Yes?’ A tone that implied he was being interrupted and didn’t like it.
‘Hi Philippe, I’d like to introduce you to Sam Harris, the new General Manager.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Sam, keeping her distance from the undisguised resentment seeping out of this individual seething behind his desk.
‘I don’t have time for introductions today. Can’t you see I’m busy?’ said Philippe.
Wow, that attitude has to go, but I need to check something first.
‘We can do this later,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
A look of triumph flashed over Philippe’s sharp features. He rooted around in his desk drawer and fished out a booklet which he handed to Sam.
‘What’s this for?’ she said.
‘It’s a visitor’s booklet. You might need it.’
He smirked. Sam stiffened and Jacques pulled her arm.
‘Let’s go, Sam. We can come back.’
Sam followed him out into the corridor. She gritted her teeth and stuffed the booklet into her shoulder bag.
‘There’s good stuff in there,’ said Jacques. ‘Give it a read. You won’t regret it.’
‘Who does he think he is?’ said Sam. ‘Jumped up little shit.’
‘He’s teacher’s pet. Protected by Charlie Okito, the general manager of Lumbono.
‘Where does Okito hang out?’
‘In the Goro office. He’s a powerful individual, not to be crossed if you want to succeed here in Masaibu.’
‘I think he was on speakerphone during my interview in head office. He did not encourage the board to approve my appointment. I’ll be careful. Can we see the office I’ll be using?’ said Sam.
Jacques took her up the corridor to another room that had an identical piece of paper stuck over its name plate. Someone had written General Manager on it in blue ink. The legend HR Manager was hidden underneath it. Sam pulled the piece of paper off the door and crumpled it up.
‘We won’t need this,’ she said, pushing it open. There was nothing wrong with the room, besides being a little gloomier than the other. It was the same size, but the desk was not as glamorous. That gave her an idea.
‘I forgot to tell Philippe something,’ she said. ‘Can we go back and see him?’
Jacques shrugged. Sam was steaming, but she affected nonchalance. She had to do something or Philippe would walk all over her. He must think he has the support to act like that with senior management. The act of pique has just lost him his corner office. He’ll soon see who’s in charge.
They headed back up the corridor passing the offices of the Maintenance and Union Managers. Sam knocked on Philippe’s door and entered without waiting. Jacques followed her with a bemused expression.
‘Philippe, I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you. I had a look at the other office but it’s not the right one for me. It must be distracting for you trying to work in this office, what with all the windows. I need to see what’s going on outside so I’d like you to swap back to the HR office. Now.’
Philippe’s eyes opened so wide that his eyeballs almost fell out and bounced across the desk. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
‘We must get you moved straight away. Can you organise it please?’ she said before he recovered. She had put down a marker. The look on Philippe’s face was worth any consequence. No time like the present to leave a large boot print.
‘You can keep the desk,’ she said, and walked out, resisting the urge to laugh as she left. They headed outside wher
e Jacques offered her a cigarette which she refused.
‘That was impressive,’ he said. ‘I thought you were going to cave in but you were just warming up. You’d have done well in the Legion.’
‘I doubt it. I’ve been meek all my life, accepting what I got, being polite, waiting my turn, but I had an epiphany. The meek don’t inherit the earth, they get shafted. This project will be my proving ground.’
‘You? Meek? Hard to believe, but if it’s true, that was an excellent start.’
***
‘She said what?’ Hans doubled up with laugher. Tears ran down his cheeks. ‘I can’t believe it. What did Philippe do?’
‘His mouth opened but nothing came out,’ said Jacques.
‘I bet he was straight on the telephone to his minder,’ said Hans
‘Doubtless. We need to be on our guard against repercussions.’
‘I can’t believe the snake didn’t faze her. Most people would have got back into the jeep to the airport. It seems as if she’s here to stay.’
‘She’s a woman on a mission, but how much can we tell her?’ said Jacques.
The smile disappeared from Hans’ face. He blew out his cheeks.
‘We’re between a rock and a hard place here. Our boss wouldn’t take kindly to us upsetting the apple cart. Consaf are a big client.’
‘Let’s play it by ear. We can tell her on a need to know basis.’
‘Okay, but don’t get too soft. The way you gawked at her was not business-like,’ said Hans.
‘That was admiration. How many women do you know who’d take on this job?’
‘None. She’s no pushover.’
‘Anyway, you can’t talk,’ said Jacques, poking him in the shoulder.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Hans.
‘Where’s your reclining chair gone?’
***
The smell of mildew had lifted from Sam’s cabin. Someone had replaced the uncomfortable armchair with a tatty leather recliner. Where had they come up with that? She couldn’t resist sitting in it for a moment breathing in its masculine odour with covert enjoyment. This place was no picnic but Hans and Jacques would protect her if she kept them on her side. Philippe would look for revenge. She’d have to keep an eye on him.
She transferred her tea bags and chocolate supplies from her suitcase into the kitchen. The fridge contained a lone cartoon of UHT milk. She put the chocolate at the back, wrapped in a plastic bag to prevent easy identification. In her experience, cleaners liked chocolate.
There was a ten-gallon plastic drum of water with a tap at the bottom on the now clean countertop. She ferreted around in the cupboards and produced a saucepan and a mug. She lit one of the gas rings and put water on to boil.
While the water was heating, Sam whipped the sheet off her bed again, but this time it was empty. Gingerly, she checked the mattress for bumps but they had changed it. The foam bounced back under her hand. A new mattress. At least that meant no bedbugs. She didn’t mind reptiles, as she’d already slept with a few, but there was real intent behind her unpleasant visit. Who was behind it? Someone who didn’t want her on site.
It was disturbing, but it had also piqued her interest. Sam loved a riddle. A frisson of excitement rose up her back. The water was boiling, and she went back into the kitchen to make tea.
***
‘Boss, it’s me,’
‘Philippe? What’s new at Masaibu? Have you any good news for me?’ said Charlie Okito.
‘Ms Harris arrived today.’
‘I know she arrived, but has she left yet?’ said Okito
‘No, sir, she’s still here.’
‘Did she like the present?’
‘One of the security guys shot it.’
‘Is she leaving tomorrow?’
‘I don’t think so. She asked me to move out of my office so she can have it.’ Philippe’s voice quavered with self-pity.
‘You wimp! I suppose you agreed?’
‘She’s the general manager. What was I supposed to do?’
‘Jesus, it’s bad enough that you are pussy whipped at home, without capitulating to this new woman,’ said Okito.
‘She’s no pushover boss,’ said Philippe, but it was not possible to guess to whom he was referring.
‘Never mind, just make things as difficult as possible for her. She’ll never cope with it all,’ said Okito
‘Okay boss. I’ll get on it.’
‘And report back as often as you can. Keep her in the dark, or we must use stronger measures.’
Charlie Okito replace the receiver. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he had imagined. En guard Miss Harris.
Chapter VI
Loud voices woke Sam from her slumbers. She had been too tired to retrieve her mosquito net from her bag and had used the old one as a stop gap. It was worse than useless. She wound herself in her sheet to keep out the mosquitos which invaded through the holes in the material and she struggled to get free.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she shook out her shoes before putting them on to shuffle to the bathroom; a habit borne of experience. All sorts of insects and reptiles liked to snuggle in the toe of a sweaty shoe or boot, and some of them had ways of retaliating if you squashed them.
The mirror was so small she could only see one part of her head at a time. She tied her hair back in a bun and gave her face a quick once over. Creased from sleep, it was nevertheless glowing after her shower. She smiled at her reflection. The challenge of the new job had animated her features making her look younger.
It was frustrating having a tiny mirror, but it wasn’t as if she had anyone to impress, not yet anyway. She put on her khaki trousers and shirt and tied her work boots with new laces. Then she pulled a curtain to one side and peeped out onto the square. Hans was drilling the local security men with something approaching fanaticism. They carried a truncheon-like stick each but no weapon. Perhaps they didn’t drill with them.
Breakfast was basic in the extreme. The cooks hadn’t pushed the boat out for the new manager. Two cold, greasy fried eggs sat on a bed of lukewarm rice in front of her. The ketchup resembled toxic waste such was its bright red colour. Sam didn’t risk it. At least she had commandeered a small metal teapot full of boiling water into which she had dropped her tea bag.
Sam could not function without tea. She guarded her supplies and always hid the majority in her room locked in her suitcase. It was odd that no-one had ever noticed how much she relied on a brew. The easiest way to destroy her would have been to take her tea bags hostage and threaten to destroy them. They were all so obsessed with their attachment to coffee; it had never occurred to them you could feel the same way about tea.
Hans came in and sat at her table with a huge plate of evil looking sausages and some fried bread. He sniffed his coffee with an air of suspicion.
‘Sometimes I think they use ersatz coffee in this place. Haven’t we got money for proper stuff?’ he said.
‘I imagine so, the budget is huge and we spend it all. I can check if you want me to.’
Hans grunted. He took a large swig of the coffee.
‘Did you sleep okay?’ he said.
‘I did, thank you. I never have problems sleeping. Oh, thank you for the chair, you saved my life.’
Hans sniffed. ‘Jacques did also, with the mamba, so we are even, no?’
The strong competition between the two men fascinated Sam, but she changed the subject.
‘Um, this morning you were training the security guards. I wondered where their guns are?’
The government do not allow us guns on the project, only sticks.’
‘But you and Jacques have guns.’
‘We work for a private security agency so we have permits.’
‘But what happens if someone attacks us? I understood there was still rebel activity in the area.’
‘The local police are supposed to protect us as we p
ay their salaries, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. We have emergency evacuation plans in place in case of an attack. I’ll tell you about them later in a formal briefing.’
‘Is there any informal management get together in the mornings?’
Hans raised an eyebrow. ‘No. Everyone gets on with their job after breakfast,’ he said.
‘I’d like to meet them all today. Could you round everyone up for nine o’clock please? I know it’s not your job but if you help me today, I should be able to cope from then on.’
‘No problem.’
The putrid smell of the sausages drove Sam from the table. She gulped down the dregs of her tea and stood up.
‘Bon appetite. See you at nine,’ she said.
After she had brushed her teeth, Sam walked to the office building where there was a hive of activity. They were swapping the contents of the offices as she had requested. Loath to interfere or give Philippe an excuse for backtracking, she left to investigate life outside the main square. An obese young man wobbling down the path towards her. He tried to avoid her inquiring glance, but she reached out in greeting.
‘Bonjour, I’m Sam Harris. Who are you?’
‘I’m Bruno Kabila.’ He stared at his feet with determination.
‘Which department are you from?’
‘I’m the deputy head of Maintenance.’ For a moment he seemed to inflate but his shoulders slumped as quickly as they had risen.
‘Can you help me please? I’m the new General Manager here and I’d like a tour of the site.’
His gaze rose to her face as if examining it for subterfuge. Finding none, he smiled, a shy smile that crept across his features like a dog expecting a kick.
‘Yes, Mama Sam, I’d be honoured.’
Sam examined him. Did the puppy fat represent a protective shield, or just an inability to avoid the biscuit tin?
‘Lead on.’
Bruno headed back down the road and passed through the gap in the left-hand corner between the prefab accommodation and the Clinic. There was a large open area behind the square screened off by a fence. It fell away and broadened into a flat area covered with basic buildings built from breeze blocks with sloping corrugated roofs.
