“So he somehow managed to register Mutesi’s death without registering Leo’s birth?”
“That’s right. But he didn’t tell me all the details. He just said we had to find a way to get Leo out of the country and nobody would ever catch on.”
“And that was difficult, I suppose?”
“Yes. Getting him out of Rwanda was the main problem. Kigali airport was hardly functioning and was under military control, so we couldn’t just turn up with an African child and fly off without a qualm. We’d have been slapped in prison and neither of us would have been heard of again and I don’t know what would have become of Leo. So, Tony came up with a plan, which actually turned out to be fairly easy. Although I was terrified something would go wrong.
“He was in charge of transport, so he could arrange the flights to make it work. He booked me on a flight to Nairobi, then to London, to send me home. His thinking was that it’s only two and a half hours to Nairobi, so if the baby’s asleep, he won’t be heard or spotted and he can’t come to any harm in such a short time. Then he organised to send some medical samples for testing in Paris on the same flight. They were in big, insulated cases, a lot bigger than a little baby.”
“And I suppose they treat these samples cases with extreme care?”
“Exactly. Leo couldn’t have been safer than in one of those well-padded boxes with lots of air vents. They’re marked all over with stickers like, ‘Handle with Care’, ‘Right Way Up’ and ‘Do NOT Damage’.”
“But I don’t understand the Paris bit when you were going to London?”
“We couldn’t send the boxes to London, because the SOSM testing clinic is in Paris. And we couldn’t send Leo all the way to London, it would have been too dangerous for him. So when we put Leo in the case, just before he supervised the loading, Tony changed the cargo manifest and marked that box, ‘Unload in Nairobi’.”
“And he didn’t wake up and give the game away?”
“We gave him the tiniest dose of sedative, just in case, and he slept for almost five hours. Right until I got on the plane to London.”
“So, you took him out of the case in Nairobi and I suppose the controls there were pretty non-existent, so you just carried him onto the flight?”
Emma nodded. “That’s right. They took the case out and I told them I needed a room to check the samples. I had a big carry-on bag with me, like a carpet bag, with a small box with tissue samples in it, the same weight as Leo. I took him out, he was still fast asleep, and I laid him in the bag and put the samples box into the case, to compensate the weight. Then I told them to put the case on the flight to Paris with the others, so the right number of cases would arrive in Paris and avoid any suspicion. Then I just carried Leo onto the plane in the bag.”
“How ingenious. You’re right, Tony was very clever. But then how did you get him through immigration into England?”
“That part was down to me. Luckily, I still had my Red Cross passport. It’s a kind of ID card that shows you’re a trusted employee and you deserve protection, respect and all that. I was shaking like a leaf, but the immigration people are trained to trust us and they did. I told them I’d had the baby in Nairobi and he wasn’t yet on my passport. We chatted for a while then they wished me well and sent me through into London. I was so relieved that I sat on a seat in the arrivals hall with Leo on my knee and cried and cried my eyes out.”
“I’m not surprised. You must have been absolutely terrified. I don’t think I could have carried it off.” Jenny thought for a moment, “Let me see Leo’s passport. Have you still got it with you?”
Emma reached for her handbag. “Here. I’ve had it with me since we left England.”
“His birth place is registered as London. How did you manage that?”
Her sister took a deep breath. “I hope you’re not going to despise me for this, but it’s the only part of the plan which was really illegal. That’s why I’ve never talked about it before.”
Jenny shrugged and said nothing, so she continued, “Tony came back to Paris on SOSM business after I’d returned and he arranged a meeting in London so he could fly over to see me. We talked about the problem of registering Leo’s birth, because we didn’t want any mention of Rwanda, for obvious reasons. The next day, he had to go out for his meeting and when he came back, he just said, “Problem solved.”
“He gave me a photocopy of an entry in the birth’s register at University College Hospital Maternity Ward, confirming the birth of a boy to Emma Stewart on April 23rd, 1995. It was an absolutely genuine copy of a real entry, signed by Dr A. Forrester. I have no idea how he did it, but when I read it I almost fell over with happiness.
“I went along to the registry office in Marylebone Road and registered Leo’s birth, with parents as myself, single mother, and father unknown. It was a bit mortifying, but they just gave me a knowing look and stamped the form and gave me a copy and that was that. I doubt we could have got away with it now. They’d have asked for DNA tests or some kind of paperwork introduced by Brussels to prove I was the mother, but it really was that simple at the time. I had a beautiful son, all legal and proper and I was over the moon.”
“And that’s why you didn’t want to give any information to the Foreign Office in South Africa. I don’t blame you. They might have dug deep into Leo’s dossier and put two and two together.”
“Are you upset with me, Jenny? I know what Tony and I did wasn’t legal, but it wasn’t like robbing a bank, or killing someone. For us it was the opposite. We were saving a life, a life that might be lost if we didn’t do something. And we were keeping faith with Mutesi. We were looking after her son, just as she asked me.”
Jenny put her arm around her sister. “I think what you did was marvellous and I’m delighted you got away with it. You saved a life and now you have a wonderful son, so how can that be illegal? Well done you and Tony!”
Emma breathed deeply again and said, “Now, before you ask, I have to finish the story. The part about Tony. It’s not a story with only happy parts.”
She steeled herself. “Tony went back to Paris, then down to Kigali again. He had another four months to do on his contract before his first break. We were going to get married when he came back. He had two weeks off, so we’d do it in a registry office then take a week’s honeymoon in Ireland. It would be July, the weather would be nice and Leo would be three months old, so we’d be able to do a lot of things together. We’d found a flat in Marylebone with two bedrooms so I rented it and moved in with Leo the week after Tony went back down.
“We didn’t have mobile telephones then and in any case the phone system in Rwanda was terrible. He sent letters to me almost every day through the SOSM London office and I would go in and collect them. After about a month, the letters came less frequently, every week, then every other week. I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn’t afford to go down and see him. Besides, I couldn’t leave Leo, there wasn’t anyone I could trust to leave him with. I remember you were on a project in France for the LSE then, and Mum was living in that dreadful council flat in Sunderland. Anyway, you know I couldn’t have left him with her in the state she was in, so I just sat there and replied to his letters until I got the last one.”
“The one you’d dreaded?”
“Yes. He told me it was over. He’d been offered a job with the Flying Doctors, in Australia, based out of Sydney. I remembered he’d always been going on about Australia, ‘Opportunities as vast as the country’. But he didn’t think it would work, taking me and Leo there. It would be ‘too disruptive’, was his phrase, and it was best to call the whole thing off. He was happy that he’d helped me get to England with the baby, but he couldn’t foresee any future for us.
“Of course, I was sure he’d met someone else and I wrote and asked him. For the sake of honesty in our relationship I wanted to know the truth, and I was right. He told me a French girl had come down to take my place in the clinic. I remember her name, Nicole Charpentier. He’
d fallen in love with her, just like he did with me and they were getting married and going together to Sydney. Afterwards I found out that she worked at SOSM in Paris, so I’m sure they were having an affair and he arranged for her to go to Rwanda to be with him.
“So, that was that. Leo and I were on our own and I just had to get used to it. Fortunately, I was still on salary from SOSM for another two months and I’d saved a little money, so I had time to find a job. It wasn’t as if I was condemned to the poor house. But it broke my heart at the time. I was in a terrible state.
“You know that feeling, Jenny. You know what it’s like. It’s just so final, so out of your control. You want to blame someone, to fight against it, to change what’s happened and get on with the life you’d planned. But there’s nothing you can do, is there? Except get on with the life that’s left to you. But I had Leo and that was worth more than anything to me.”
Jenny’s mind was back in Ipswich, after the death of Ron, her husband, killed by a pathological murderer and made to look like a hit and run accident. She did know how Emma had felt, losing the man she loved, under any circumstances. Starting life again, making the most of what’s left for you to enjoy. Although she had no child to share her life and love with.
She pushed the thoughts aside. “I’m sorry, Emma. I had no idea you’d had such a disaster in your life. You could have confided in me, it might have helped, but I understand why you didn’t. You couldn’t take the chance that the truth about Leo’s birth and his British nationality would get out.
“But the main thing is that you managed to save him and you’ve loved and looked after him for the last fifteen years and he’s a son to be proud of. Now we’ve got to get through this latest episode and get him back. We’ve got to dissect your story about Mutesi and look for clues that will lead us to Leo. I’m sure his abduction is directly connected to your story and we’ve got to work out why.”
She led Emma into the office, opened her laptop and went online. “Are you up to it now, or do you need to lie down and rest while I start looking up stuff from my notes? Emma?”
Her sister grasped her by the shoulders, tears pouring down her face. “Oh, Jenny. You have to help me get Leo back. He’s my entire world. He’s all I’ve got. Since I lost Tony, I’ve built my life around him. The only reason I write those dreadful books is to make enough money to look after him, educate him and see him do well. I miss him desperately and I’m so frightened when I imagine where he might be. Who he’s with. What’s happening to him. Why he’s been taken. Please tell me we can find him and bring him back safe and sound.”
“Emma. I promise we’ll get Leo back. I promise you we will.” She tried to make her tone sound convincing, but she had no idea of what lay before them.
It was forty-two hours since Leo had been taken.
TWENTY-THREE
Johannesburg, South Africa
He was swimming. Swimming underwater. The water was thick and treacly and he couldn’t make any progress. He struggled against the weight of the water trying to drag him down but it got heavier and heavier and he slowly sank deeper and deeper, threshing around like a drowning shark. It became dark; pitch black. The pressure of the water on him was unbearable. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs empty of air, he was pulled down into the thick, watery bottom of something, something evil, a deathly place.
Then he felt hands on his shoulders helping him, pulling him away from the deep. Faintly, he could see a light. He swam more strongly. It got brighter as he struggled to swim up towards it, brighter and brighter until...
Leo opened his eyes. He tried to focus, but his vision was blurred. In front of him was someone, leaning into his face and shaking him gently by the shoulders. ”Wake up, Leo. That’s it. It’s time to wake up now. You’ve had a very long sleep, but you must wake up now. Here, drink this, you must be thirsty.” A glass was pushed against his lips and he swallowed instinctively.
Water, he registered and coughed as it ran down his throat. He rubbed his eyes and gradually his vision cleared. He saw a young black woman, quite pretty, with a white cap. He squinted again. She was wearing a nurse’s outfit and holding the glass of water. He nodded and she placed it at his lips again. He grabbed it and drank the contents thirstily. He had a raging thirst, his mouth was parched.
“More water please,” he said.
“Not just now, Leo. In a moment you can have some more. Just take it easy and do everything very slowly. You’ve been asleep for a while, so please just take your time until you feel better.”
He moved his head from side to side, taking in his surroundings. It was a small square room, impersonal, with bare walls and no furniture except for a table in the corner with some equipment on it. “Is this a hospital,” he asked the woman.
“More or less,” she replied. “We have everything we need here to look after you, so don’t worry.”
The nurse took his wrist and felt his pulse, looking at her watch. She put a thermometer in his ear and he heard a click and she checked his temperature. She opened his mouth and looked down his throat with a polished spoon as a mirror. Then she brought a blood pressure monitor and slipped the band around his upper arm. It tightened on his bare arm and he realised he was not wearing a pyjama jacket. She noted the results from the machine on a notebook.
“Why am I here? Have I had an accident? Where’s my Mum?” He tried to sit up, but the nurse gently held him on his back. He realised she was very strong and he was very weak. He decided not to fight. She wrapped another rubber band around his arm, tight.
“I need to take a little blood for testing”, she said. “Lie still. Just for a minute.”
She found the vein and swabbed it with antiseptic. “Now.” He hardly felt the needle slip into his arm and a moment later, she said, “Well done. That’s all we need.” She put the phial onto a table near the bed. “Now you can have a little more water. Just one small glass until later.”
He drank it down thirstily. “Have I been sick? Why is my Mum not here? What’s happening?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a while,” she said and taking her notebook and the phial of blood, she left the room.
Leo waited for a moment after he heard the door close then he tried to sit up in the bed. His head swam and he fell back onto the pillow. After a minute or two, he tried again, very slowly and carefully. This time he managed to get himself into a sitting position, his arms around his knees. He waited until his head cleared again and turned to sit with his legs hanging over the bedside. Absently, he saw that he was wearing a pair of jockey shorts, not his.
Gingerly, he pushed himself up until he was standing, holding onto the bedframe. It felt cool and was made of metal. There was another door on the right that he hadn’t seen. Still holding on, he took a step towards the door, then another. He realised he had to leave hold of the bedframe to reach the door. Preparing himself, he lunged at the door and caught the handle to stay upright. His legs didn’t seem to want to follow him, but he dragged them along until he was standing at the door, holding onto the handle. He turned it and almost fell into the room but managed to keep himself up. It was a small bathroom with a shower, wash basin and a toilet. It looked very clean. There was no window. No way out, he registered.
Using the wall to hold himself upright, he managed to reach the door the nurse had gone through. He hung onto the handle and tried to turn it each way, but the door was implacably locked. He looked over at the windows, they were closed up with blinds. Grabbing the bedframe again, he lurched across and reached the windows, but the story was the same, neither the windows nor the blinds could be opened.
“Shit!” He looked all around the room again. There was no other possible exit, or even view out of the room. Staggering back, he collapsed onto the bed and rolled over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. Within a minute he was asleep again.
TWENTY-FOUR
Johannesburg, South Africa
Coetzee was looking at a CC
TV screen in the manager’s office at the Packard Hotel in Mayfair, Johannesburg. He saw Leo collapse onto the bed and fall asleep.
“He looks OK to me.”
“We’ll be sure when I’ve done the blood analysis,” Doctor Blethin, the man beside him, replied in his accented English, “but he doesn’t seem to have suffered any lasting damage. I didn’t expect he would, he’s a healthy, well-nourished boy of fifteen. They don’t come much stronger than that. I’ll get on with it right now.” He left Coetzee alone in the office.
The security chief was in a foul mood. He and Nwosu had received their regular call from the Voice that morning, Tuesday. It was a very disagreeable call. After they’d summarised the catastrophic events of yesterday, there had been a very long and menacing silence.
Finally, the Voice said, “So, you have not only managed to lose Mrs Stewart, the boy’s mother, you have somehow contrived to let her join her sister, Mrs Jenny Bishop, in her home in Marbella. I sincerely hope that you have not mislaid the boy too?”
“He’s still safe and sound and healthy, under our control.”
Once again they heard the sound of someone speaking quietly in the background, then the Voice continued, “Why would Mrs Stewart leave South Africa when her son is missing?”
Before Coetzee could reply, Nwosu said, “We have no idea. It came right out of the blue. She was supposed to come back here but she ran away to her sister’s in Spain. Women do strange things.” He looked at the security chief, wondering if he’d recognise the quotation.
“Could she have learned of the plan from someone, another of your incompetent employees?”
Coetzee interrupted. “No chance. She’s never been in contact with anyone except Lambert and he’s smart enough not to implicate himself in this business. There’s no way she could have found out.” He looked at Nwosu as if to say, I’ve got you off the hook. You owe me!
The Rwandan Hostage Page 13
