Whistleblower

by Terry Morgan

CHAPTER 23

  It was raining in Milan and Guido didn't like rain, especially heavy, late summer thunderstorms. He had parked the black Mercedes as close to the door of the warehouse as he could but it was still too far to walk or run without getting wet. Every few seconds he looked up at the almost black sky to see if the storm might be passing but, whenever he did, there was a flash of lightening that made him blink, wince and wait for the next crash of thunder. Short, fat, impatient fingers tapped on the steering wheel. Then his mobile phone rang.

  "Allo? Yah - of course it's me," he snapped. "You think someone has stolen my phone and is answering my calls?"

  There was another flash of lightening, the rain hammering onto the roof of the car and he expected another loud crash of thunder at any second. "Yah, you need to speak up, Toni. I can't hear you. The world is coming to an end. God is throwing his furniture out of the window and my shoes will get wet."

  He shifted in his seat, put a podgy hand over one ear to block out the crash of thunder and tried listening to Toni with the phone in his other hand. Then:

  "Yah, yah. Stop! Stop! Let us discuss this, Toni. Anything to do with America needs to be taken seriously. The USA is not Nigeria or Pakistan where everyone is expected to play little games. It is not even like Europe where it is so complicated and they are afraid to speak out. No, Toni, in the USA politics and business are linked together and we do not have anyone in place who is reliable enough. In the USA they ask questions about money that goes missing. And let me remind you that we have talked many times about finding a place for American AID in our business. But we are not yet ready. Like all things American this US Agency for International Development is crazy............yah, I know Toni, I know it's exciting but you must calm down, my flower. Do not twist your underwear. Guido has a long term business strategy which must be followed and that strategy was, if you remember from our discussion a year ago, that we would steer clear of USAID until we had made better contacts. So no, Toni. No, no, no - do you hear me?"

  Hail stones now pounded onto the roof of the Mercedes and tiny lumps of melting ice slid down the windscreen. There was another flash, another huge crash and Guido shut his eyes. Wherever Toni was, the weather did not seem to be a factor because the excited voice was still coming through the phone. But suddenly Guido opened his eyes and his mouth, the pink lips formed a perfect circle and he let out an excited squeal like a wounded rat.

  "Weeeee! Well done my flower.......yes, I remember him. Silvester was his name, right? Once a New York cop, then a private investigator, right? But not a private investigator but more of an investor. Silvester the investor who met our very own Tahir in Islamabad offering to invest his time on anything to do with USAID. Silvester the imposter who was not in Pakistan representing the US government at all but was in Pakistan representing Silvester the investor. And Silvester the friend of our friend, the Deputy Prime Minister Kabodi who oversees the USAID malaria projects and the other big money. You mean that Silvester?"

  The response was clearly yes.

  "Weeee! Yes! Toni. Get him over. We can use him. Buy him a first class air ticket. Fly him to Paris - no, fly him to London. Book him at the Dorchester, Park Lane. Our expense. Anything."

  As Guido stopped talking, the rain also stopped and a patch of bright blue sky showed somewhere over Linate Airport to the east. He gingerly opened the door of the dripping car, thought about taking an umbrella that lay on the rear shelf of the car but, instead, tiptoed his way through puddles towards the warehouse door holding up the bottoms of his trousers. Once inside, he stood, took off his wet shoes and walked in his socks past rows of boxes to the spiral staircase leading up to his office, made straight for the laptop computer, logged on and then onto the USAID website.

  There it was, exactly as he remembered:

  "USAID Central Africa Regional Program for the Environment." And on another page the sentence he had been reciting to himself almost word for word for over a year. " USAID welcomes individuals and organizations to share their ideas on how we can do development differently. New ideas and innovations for addressing global development challenges can come from anywhere - a start-up entrepreneur, a university research institute, a corporation, or a grassroots community organization."

  It had always fitted like a glove and suitable local people were already in place, ready and waiting. The missing part with USAID had always been having the right man on the ground in the USA. Silvester the investor and imposter had always looked a good investment.