by Jake Arnott
‘Well.’ Harry smiled mischievously. ‘I’m something like that. You can call me Harry.’
The man smiled & shook his hand again.
Dr Chukwurah announced that we would visit the project on the outskirts of Enugu the next day.
‘But while you are in the city is there anywhere you would like to visit?’
Harry thought for a moment.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘There is one place I wouldn’t mind having a look at.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘The jail. I wouldn’t mind having a look around your jail.’
Dr Chukwurah frowned.
‘Really, Mr Starks?’
‘Well,’ Harry went on, ‘I’ve a keen interest in criminology, see? One of my hobbies if you like. It certainly would be interesting to compare prison conditions here to those of back home.’
‘Very well,’ said Dr Chukwurah & motioned over to the Chief of Police.
‘Harry, really,’ I muttered chidingly under my breath.
He grinned back at me.
‘You want to come too, Teddy?’
I certainly didn’t. I need to take a rest. Exhausted from all this travelling. And this appalling heat.
‘Suit yourself,’ he replied & went over to where the police officers present were organising themselves into a guard of honour.
When he had gone, Chukwurah came over to me.
‘Lord Thursby.’
‘Call me Teddy, please.’
‘Very well, Lord Teddy. I thought we might have a quiet word.’
He led me into an empty room away from the reception area.
‘Lord Teddy, my government and particularly the government of this region are very keen to encourage investment from overseas in development.’
‘Well, that’s good.’
‘Yes it is. But it is important to make sure that any expansion or economic growth is controlled and regulated for the benefit of the people. We don’t want people coming over here trying to make, what the Americans would call, a quick buck.’
‘Of course not.’
‘Of course not, yes. What we want is long-term commitment otherwise such schemes are not viable. As a politician, I’m sure you understand.’
‘I think so.’
‘Ogungbe is a very ambitious young man. He has, as we say here, got a big eye. As such he is not to be trusted fully. And your friend Mr Starks with his keen interest in criminology . . .’
‘I assure you Harry’s intentions are entirely honourable.’
‘I hope so. For both your sakes. I wouldn’t want you to get out of your depth. You’re a long way from home out here. Might I ask how much you have personally invested in this scheme?’
‘Well, I’ve not exactly put any money into it myself. I’m more of a consultant to the whole enterprise.’
‘A consultant? Yes. That’s good. Well I hope you can maintain a certain objectivity in that role. If things don’t turn out the way they seem. Now, let’s rejoin the party, shall we?’
I agreed. I needed a drink. Jet lag & poor air conditioning made me light headed & a little nauseous. The booze didn’t help but I needed something to stop my head from spinning. The party began to wind down. I made my excuses & went to my hotel room to lie down. I took off all my clothes & lay down in bed under a single sheet. Felt hot & sticky. The air around me was heavy with a humid dread. I got up, wetted a face flannel & rested it on my eyes. Slept fitfully, my mind crowded with half dreams. Confused thoughts made lucid with anxiety.
After a few hours there was a tapping on my door.
‘Come,’ I droned into the darkness.
It was Harry. He stood over the bed.
‘Teddy?’ he whispered.
‘Yes?’ I groaned, taking the flannel away from my eyes, blinking at the light.
‘What a fucking hell hole,’ he announced.
‘What?’
‘The prison. Makes the Moor look like Butlin’s. I pity the poor bastards banged up in there.’
I groaned again & rolled over. Harry patted me on the shoulder.
‘That’s right Teddy, you get some sleep. Need to get up tomorrow to go and look at our investment. See how the natives are getting on with building Starksville.’
Sunday, 20 June
Next morning we rode in a motorcade to the outskirts of Enugu & the development. Dr Chukwurah made another speech & then motioned to me and Harry with expectation.
‘Go on, Teddy,’ Harry urged me. ‘You’re good at this sort of thing.’
I can’t really remember my address. It all came out on cue. All the thank yous, great honours, wonderful opportunities for a young country in the modern world & all that crap. When you’ve been at this game as long as I have you don’t even have to think. Which is just as well as my mind was racing with uneasy imaginings. The heat constantly getting to me. Head throbbing. Brain fever.
We stood before a large billboard announcing the development. There wasn’t much behind it. A huge clearing had been hacked into the jungle. A few earth movers & dumper trucks were parked here & there. The foundations had been dug & various plots marked out with pegs & string. Ogungbe led us around the site with a copy of the plans in his hands. In a determined way he pointed out each section of the scheme as if conjuring an image of it before us. I looked down into the earthworks thinking of archaeology rather than construction. As if history had already left this pitiful site behind & moved on somewhere else. The earth a very red clay. Monsoon water in the trenches, its rustiness made me think of corrosion.
‘Of course we haven’t been able to start work properly because of the rainy season,’ Ogungbe explained.
Harry frowned & nodded. Unconvinced.
‘Yeah.’ he said. ‘But that’s over now, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, just over.’
‘So why haven’t we started?’
‘We’re waiting for the cement.’
‘Cement?’ asked Harry, incredulously.
‘Yes,’ replied Ogungbe with a placatory grin. ‘There’s been a hold up. I’m going over to Lagos today to sort it out.’
We continued our tour. Harry sidled up to me.
‘Cement,’ he muttered disdainfully.
I shrugged, not knowing quite what to say.
‘I don’t like the look of this. Cement? What can be the problem with that. I know all about cement, Teddy.’
Monday, 21 June
Drove out into the bush to visit a tribal village. Treated to a display of ceremonial dancing. Strange ritual processions in huge raffia masks. Harry was quite absorbed by it. Plentiful supplies of palm wine that dulled my headache somewhat.
After the performance Harry was all smiles, mingling with the natives & showing off a few boxing tricks to the young men of the village. Seemed quite at home. Natives seemed drawn to his charisma. Surrounded by smiling piccaninnies. Looking like Kurtz.
Later, he was more stern and subdued.
‘Where’s Ogungbe?’ he asked.
‘He’s already gone back,’ I replied. ‘He’s flying back to Lagos tonight.’
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this,’ he said. ‘I think we should pull out.’
‘Let’s sort this out when we get back home,’ I suggest.
‘I think we’ve been had over, Teddy,’ he said with a soft fierceness. ‘And I don’t like that. I don’t like that one bit.’
The motorcade took us back to the President Hotel in Enugu. We were due to fly back to Lagos in the morning & get a connecting flight back home. Drinks in the hotel bar. Harry became involved in deep conversation with the Chief of Police. Dr Chukwurah took the opportunity to speak to me directly.
‘I hope that your visit has been a success Lord Thursby.’
‘Yes,’ I reply cautiously. ‘I think so.’
‘And, no doubt, you’ll be anxious to get back home.’
I nodded. You can say that again.
‘And your friend Mr Starks. I hope he is satisfied wi
th the way things are going.’
‘Well . . .’ I shrugged.
‘If there are any discrepancies between your investment and the actual progress of this project I’m sure you realise that this is best dealt with by the proper authorities. I, for one, am keeping a close eye on Ogungbe so you mustn’t worry on that account.’
‘Quite.’
‘But your friend Mr Starks. He strikes me as an impetuous sort of a fellow. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to involve himself in the internal affairs of this country.’
‘Most certainly not.’
‘I hope you can convince him of that. Well,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘Here’s to a safe passage home. And if you do happen to find yourself caught up in any, shall we say, difficulty . . .’
He handed me a slip of paper surreptitiously.
‘You can get in touch with me on this number. You might find it hard to get through. The telephone system here is a little primitive. But if you do find yourself in any trouble I advise you to persist.’
Tuesday, 22 June
Lagos
Flew back to the capital in the morning. Again tossed around in a light aircraft & I was sick this time. Too much palm wine & too little sleep. A constant state of anxiety. But some sort of relief as with my head between my knees, vomiting, I thought: at least we are going home.
Landed at the city airport & I found out that Harry had booked us into the Excelsior Hotel by Lagos Harbour. There were some delays in the connecting flight, he explained. We took a taxi & booked in. I went straight to my room & to bed. The air conditioning here was much better than in Enugu. I fell into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.
Wednesday, 23 June
Packed and ready to go but no sign of Harry. Not in his room. Boy at reception said that he’d gone out early this morning. I went back to my room & waited. What the hell is going on?
Thursday, 24 June
Still no sign of Harry this morning. Anxious thoughts only relieved by bouts of impatience & boredom. Started drinking after lunch. Tried not to think about what might have happened. Sweaty hand nervously fingering the slip of paper with a telephone number on it. Decided to give it a bit more time. Went to my room and had a nap.
Woken about six by Harry.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ I demanded. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’
‘Just needed to find out a few things,’ he replied casually.
I got dressed.
‘When’s our flight? I want to go home.’
Harry gave me a rather disturbing little grin.
‘We ain’t going home, Teddy,’ he said. ‘Not just yet.’
‘What? Harry, this is intolerable.’
‘We’ve got some unfinished business to attend to.’
‘You might have. I’ve had enough.’
I picked up my suitcase.
‘I’m going to the airport.’
Harry blocked my path.
‘I’d advise against that, Teddy.’
‘Get out of my way!’ I seethe and tried to push past him. Harry wrenched the case from my hand & threw it onto the bed. Then he grabbed me.
‘Get your hands off me you bloody hooligan!’ I shouted in his face.
With an open palm he slapped my face. His nostrils flared a little but otherwise his expression was calm & measured. Cold. He threw me onto the bed and I crumpled into a ball, knocking my head against my suitcase. The bedsprings creaked a little. I was helpless. Like a child. Suddenly overcome with memories of prep school cruelty. The ghastly humiliations when one is small & utterly powerless. Being beaten. Wanting desperately to please the older boys. I started to sob.
‘I want to go home,’ I wailed.
Harry sat down on the edge of the bed & gently stroked the cheek he has struck.
‘Shh,’ he implored, softly, suddenly becoming an older boy even though he is half my age.
He waited for my sobbing to subside, patting my shoulder slowly. I felt sick to my stomach.
‘Listen,’ he whispered. ‘We’ve been had over. Well and truly. But if these fuckers think they can get away with it, then they’ve got another think coming.’
‘But what can we do? We’re out of our depths here, Harry. Let’s get home and try and sort things back there.’
‘That’ll be too late. We need to act now.’
‘I really think we should walk away from this one, Harry. You know, put it down to experience.’
Harry’s face suddenly darkened.
‘You silly old queen. You think I can just walk away? Wipe my mouth and say, “Oh well, fifty grand down the drain”? What kind of a wanker do you take me for?’
He handed me a handkerchief & I wiped my face.
‘So,’ I ventured fearfully, ‘what are you going to do?’
‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
Friday, 25 June
Drove down to the docks. Harry in his element, looking along the waterfront & nodding as if in recognition. He had the driver stop by a quayside & he pointed out a group of cargo ships moored out in the bay.
‘There’s our cement, Teddy,’ he announced
I frowned & squinted at the distant ships.
‘So what’s it doing out there? Shouldn’t they come into port to be unloaded?’
Harry grinned.
‘Yeah, well, that’s what you’d think, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t understand. What’s going on?’
‘You’ll see,’ he replied & gave the driver an address to take us to.
We pulled up in front of a line of ramshackle bars that were built haphazardly between two large warehouses.
‘Come on Teddy. There’s someone I want you to meet.’
We got out & walked over to one of the fearsome-looking drinking dens. Highlife Bar, was garishly daubed in red paint over the entrance. The place was full of white merchant seamen, drinking noisily in groups. A few black men stood at the bar talking intently, staring sidelong at us as we walked in. Some tartily dressed Nigerian girls at a table in the corner looking bored. Harry nodded at the barkeeper, who looked up & cocked his head at a room in the back whilst polishing glasses & lining them along the counter.
A beaded curtain clattered gently as we went through into a grubby little room with a dirt floor. A swarthy-looking man was seated at a table drinking beer. He stood up and greeted Harry. The barkeeper came through with a bottle of cheap brandy & three glasses. He set them up on the table & Harry handed him a few notes. Harry poured us all drinks. He introduced us. His name is Rico.
‘Salud,’ he said, lifting his glass & draining it in one.
‘Rico is the captain of one of the ships out there,’ Harry explained. ‘It didn’t take me long to find our precious cement. And why it’s still here and not in Enugu. Thanks to our friend here. Rico, why don’t you tell Teddy what you told me?’
Rico nodded as Harry poured him another drink.
‘Is simple.’ Rico shrugged, taking a sip of brandy. ‘We bring cement from Cadiz. This man he say bring it here to Lagos. He say bring but not unload. Stay in Lagos harbour for a month or so then take it back.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said.
‘We make more money waiting in the harbour than we would by unloading. This man say there is problem with import licence. He probably sell licence to someone else. So is not possible to put into dock. Instead, we wait. Come ashore, have a few drinks, have fun with local putas. Then we go home.’
‘I still don’t understand. How can you make more money by not unloading the stuff ?’
Rico laughed, showing a blackened front tooth.
‘No comprende? Is old trick. Demurrage clause.’
‘Demurrage clause?’
Rico explained it all in broken English. An agent for a company procures cement for a fixed price. The cement arrives at port but waits offshore & is never actually unloaded. The company issuing the purchase order is then liable for payment for
all the time that the ships have been waiting to discharge their goods. This is the demurrage clause in the contract, a common procedure in shipping. If they wait long enough they end up getting more money than if they had actually delivered the stuff. Then they can sail off with the cement & sell it somewhere else. And the agent gets to keep the money from the original purchase order.
‘You’ve got to admit, Teddy,’ Harry commented, ‘it’s a brilliant racket.’
‘Well yes,’ I agreed. ‘But in this case we’re the ones that have been, how would you say? Had over.’
‘Yeah. And we ain’t the only ones. Are we Rico?’
Rico frowned.
‘At first,’ he said, ‘I think, the longer we wait the more we get out of the deal. But then I hear nothing. My men are sick and tired of waiting around. They get drunk, get into trouble and I start to worry. I think maybe this agent man, he not honour his agreement.’
They started to talk more intently, their faces up close. I found myself being ignored. I took a sip of the brandy in front of me & winced. It was foul but I was glad to have something alcoholic to comfort myself with. Harry and Rico spoke softly, almost lovingly, of vengeance. This was what I’d feared most. I poured myself another glass of the vile spirit.
I looked towards Rico. Tattoos, scars, strong-looking oil-stained hands. He looked as capable of violence as I knew Harry to be. I couldn’t quite follow what they were saying. Harry was giving brusque instructions quietly to Rico with a solemn grin on his face. Finally they leant back from each other & finished their drinks.
‘Right,’ said Harry as he got up from the table. ‘Phone me at the hotel when you know. Come on, Teddy.’
We went back through the main part of the bar. An argument had started between a merchant seaman & one of the Nigerians. A glass was broken. We hurried out into the hot muggy night.
It was getting dark. On the waterfront we could see the lights of the cement ships out in the bay. Black water lapped against the sea wall. The sky was streaked with purple clouds. We stood in a pool of yellow light from a streetlamp on the quayside. Above us huge moths battered against its sickly glow. A whiff of sewage & gasoline hung in the humid air.
‘You can always find what you want down at the docks,’ said Harry.
‘Harry . . . What on earth is going on?’
