Black Mischief (25 page)

‘Thomas, you were not listening! Since afternoon, I have been hiding these things in my heart. And now you are going to tell me that I am foolish …'

‘Darling, you have the gift. You would make a wonderful actress …'

‘But you are so stupid sometimes. I am not telling you a fairytale.'

‘I heard every word and I am very angry. I should have been here. Dad could have taken care of all that farmer's talk.'

‘He came today because he knew …'

‘He's an airhead, Rebecca, but a dangerous one.'

‘The Rubais, they will never wash out those spots. Papa says we must not hate … Yes, I forgot. Papa said that this one came to his office. He was asking about Lydia.'

It was pleasant to stand on that ridge. The breeze carried the freshness from the cool heart of the lake. Looking up to their left, they watched the headlights of the evening traffic marking out the diagonal of the A104 as it made its steep descent down the Escarpment to the valley floor.

‘They know that Lydia is here, ‘Becca?'

‘Yes. Thomas, how can they know these things? It is a kind of magic.'

No, just plain, simple, old-fashioned money. Does anyone over at Rusinga know about this visit today?'

She shook her head sadly and for much longer than was necessary to make her answer clear.

‘Just as well we're going over later.'

‘I'm afraid, Thomas.'

It was past eleven, but no one was ready to move away from the comfort of the cosy sitting room of the guesthouse at Rusinga Farm. It was the first gathering to talk about the hospital since the meeting at the Daniels' home after Simon Mboya's funeral. Sonya had brought her three boys up to spend time with Ewan. She was glad she had stayed on.

For an hour and more the enthusiasm that had excited them down in Karen was recaptured. There was no shortage of ideas and, now that they had all seen the land donated by Alex, practical plans were being thrown around. How big, how many beds for general care, how many for maternity, one or two storeys? These and a dozen more were all given air time. Sonya, the medical fundi, was making notes, sharing opinions, often smiling and weeping both at once. She was being part of the fulfillment of the dream of her darling Simon.

Rebecca could carry her pain no longer. Her serious expression and her downcast eyes were warning enough that bad news was coming.

‘Reuben Rubai came calling today. I was over at the house on my way here. He was suddenly inside.'

‘So that is why you were late.' Puzzle solved for Maria but no sense of pleasure.

‘I am so sorry for my deception. I wanted to tell Tom first.'

‘How was it?'

‘Sonya, he's a Rubai. That should tell you a lot. Tom calls him an airhead. I did not understand before how much the Rubais are crazy for marriage. Yes he did, Maria! I wonder if this one is just plain crazy.

‘And he knows we want to build a hospital.' There was a collective gasp. ‘And they want Lydia.' This news stunned them much harder. ‘I would have said nothing if she had been here with us.'

‘She and the boys are stretched out in Ewan's room. What a noise! She was trying to tell them a story. I heard something about snakes and a talking cat. She was loving it. She's beginning to feel safe here.'

‘Bertie, has she been out at all?'

‘Out in the garden, with Ewan, Sonya. With Noah, Moses and Sammy. No one else was here.'

‘I heard the boys from our new place. Our friend had left just before. I could see him through the window, hurrying off towards South Lake Road. I don't think …'

Bertie's Westminster clock began its long midnight chime. No one tried to talk over the comforting sound. Maria spoke the first words of the new day.

‘In the morning, we will talk with her about a new place. Not easy to hide away from these vultures.'

Rebecca offered a possibility. ‘You know that Mary Wajiru is coming tomorrow. We are going to New York on the weekend. She could come with us.'

* * *

At ten-thirty pm, two large cars pulled away from their parking spot in front of the Acacia Club in a side street off Kenyatta Avenue. Their journey from Nairobi city centre would be a leisurely one. There was no need to rush. Travelling up and back would take much longer than the job itself. Drongo Gusil was puzzled.

‘Boss, why is we always doing night jobs? I was enjoying myself back there.'

‘Now you tell me! Half a dozen good people came up to me in the club just now begging me to give them a spot. Perhaps you don't need the money like the rest of us. Four times the going rate sounds pretty good to me.'

‘It was only a question. Sorry, Boss. I like being out after dark. The roads are quiet. Yeah, lots of things. Any chance of a bit of music?'

‘Drongo!'

‘It stops me hearing the engine here. The noise reminds me of my woman. She snores terrible, all night sometimes.'

‘Well, bet you don't get four times the going rate when she's around.'

‘That's very true. Thank you, Boss. Never looked at it that way. Yeah, yeah. Okay if I put my head down, drop off for a few minutes? Wake me when we get there?'

They took the long way ‘round to Naivasha. The bars in town were open and the street girls were enjoying the cool night air with their customers.

‘Boss …'

‘Yeah, I'll buy you one on the way back.'

They pulled into a lay-by on South Lake Road, left a guard and set off on foot.

‘Before any of you ask, it's called the element of surprise. Read that in a book one time. From now on, cut the talking and be careful where you put your feet! This is no city street.'

But there were lights. In the distance Oserian Farm was lit up with their blocks of man-made sunshine, trying to fool the plants into thinking it was daytime. Dotted at intervals around the lake, pools of brightness shone where the security lamps picked out the locations of the farms. The silent group was making its way down a track towards one of these pools.

A very bewildered Drongo put his hand on his boss's arm and whispered, ‘Boss, you sure we're in the right area? Do you think there's any snakes around this place?'

‘Drongo, see this tape in my hand here? Open your mouth once more and you'll have a thick piece of it plastered across it! Just follow the hand signals like always on a job like this.'

They were close enough to see that their destination, the farmhouse over to the right, had two separate buildings, just like the plan showed. The larger one was in darkness. In the smaller, one room had lights on. The front door was unlocked. They could hear every word spoken inside. The boss gave the signal. Drongo grasped the doorhandle and turned it silently. He loved these moments. They gave him a rush of excitement. He was glad he came.

* * *

‘New York for the weekend? For our friend Lydia? I do not think so.'

Of the eight friends sitting around that room, only one did not become rigid with shock. The quiet end to a long evening was transformed into a nightmare scene of surreal horror. Three men were standing just inside the door. They were grinning smugly, pleased that they had been able to get so far undetected. She must be in here.

Tom McCall, sitting in a shadowy corner, was as surprised as his companions, but something else held his attention. He instantly recognised the cultured voice of the spokesman. He had heard it often enough during the most critical two days of his life. The intruders had made no attempt to disguise their appearance and to Tom, the arrogantly relaxed posture of this portly man was unmistakable. Seven months before he had stood facing him in a rocky canyon on North Lake Road. Between them lay Bertie's Harley, tipped over in the skid Tom had made when confronted by half a dozen hefty, dark-suited men very like the ones who had just forced their company on this midnight gathering. Kidnapping had been their business then, an attack that had, amazingly, not ended in the death of the victim.

Lydia, thank God, she was in the other building and perhaps asleep. The still anonymous leader was direct and forceful.

‘We know she is here. Show us where she is. We will vanish into the night like brothers of mercy.'

Tom's spat out his words, calmly. ‘You disgusting bastard! So you threaten us, insult us and cover your filth with your sophisticated lies, your sweet talk. Brothers of Mercy! Brothers of Hell!'

Patrick Uchome, still anonymous to Tom, recognised a voice from his own past. He moved two steps towards the shadowy corner to make sure that his memory had not deceived him.

‘Thomas McCall, my intuition told me that we might find you here. Meddling McCall, is that sweet enough for you?' The mocking, light-hearted tone suggested a man enjoying the superiority of his position. ‘Do you know, I have been hoping we would meet again. Something we need to clear up. Those stories in the newspapers after your little adventure up north. All those lies you told them. Naughty boy! No mention of our part in your rescue.'

‘Get lost and take your bully boys with you.'

Uchome turned aside. He was losing patience. ‘She is here. We know that. Don't force us to search. The boys tend to be, shall we say, destructive.'

When no positive reaction came, he raised his voice. ‘That's it. You have thirty seconds. Drongo!'

There were now six dark-suited men standing in a line behind their leader. The smallest of them reached inside his coat and pulled out a pistol. Mister Uchome was surprised when this obvious raising of the stakes made no impression. There was no fear in the faces of these people. They sat around watching him as if he were playing out a role on some stage.

Maura McCall shifted to the edge of her armchair. Wide-eyed, with her forehead wrinkled, she stared at the fat man in the expensive suit. Less than a year ago, this foppish creature who gloried in his cold, ruthless nature had her eldest son in his power. How much blood did he have on those soft, sensitive hands? Tom had escaped death. She had accepted the miracle without trying to look for explanations.

‘You have come to the wrong house. We have nothing for you here.'

‘Except for the girl.'

‘She's in a convent working with the sisters.'

The laughter was uproarious with plenty of doubling up and hand slapping.

‘Mama, we get paid for our work. We don't expect a cabaret.'

Sonya watched these strangers with a horrified expression. Could these have been the same men who had taken Simon? Now they had come for Lydia, shamelessly, as though they were collecting her to take her to a smart party somewhere. Her next thought stunned her. These men were paid murderers. They killed without mercy, for money. Without a backward glance, they walked away from the corpses they had fashioned from the warm flesh of human beings. They have no conscience and they have no fear. And we, we have fallen so low that we pay attention to these thugs. We have helped to create a situation where we tolerate them as part of the fabric of the life of the country. She wanted to scream out her anger, but the energy had been sucked away from her by a sudden onrush of despair.

Maria sensed her distress and moved from her chair to comfort her.

‘Tie them up. The girl must be in the other house. Charlie, Zac, start with the one in the corner. Alfred, Buba, the other men.'

Tom, the one in the corner, rose preparing to fight the two heavily muscled men stepping towards him.

‘Do not fail me on this one, Charlie!'

Patrick Uchome, trembling with anger, barked out his order through clenched teeth. Slim, wiry, Maura flung herself at the one closest to Tom, catching him off balance. He went down, pushing over a table with half filled mugs of coffee.

‘Mother of hell, I'll kill you for that!' The one called Charlie reached for her ankle. Alex, fired up, stepped hard down on the grasping arm. But he could not avoid the fist of the one called Zac. He slumped to the floor striking his head on the arm of a chair as he fell. Wailing and shrieking, Sonya waded in, flailing her arms at whatever she found in her way.

Above the chaos of noise, Uchome screamed a new instruction.

‘Drongo, now!'

Obedience was instant and two shots were fired into the ceiling. Calm returned. Drongo grinned smugly, pleased that, with two swift movements of his finger, he had given a demonstration of his power. He looked across to his boss, expecting to see a look of gratitude. Instead, the portly man was perspiring freely, surveying the scene with bulging eyes and breathing hard through flared nostrils. Drongo quickly looked to his front again. He had never seen Uchome like this even on really tough jobs.

A few moments of peace followed during which the women gathered ‘round the limp form of Alex stretched out on the carpet in front of the empty fireplace.

* * *

A man was riding a bicycle on the way from one of the town bars. He had touched no alcohol while he talked to two old school friends. He had been seeking their advice about an interview that had been arranged for him the next day.

‘Inspector Caroline is a very unusual woman, Hosea. I think she'll like you. She is slowly getting rid of some of the bad cops who see their job as screwing money out of the people they are supposed to be helping.'

‘Yeah, the job is yours. It will be good to have you. Perhaps we will be able to persuade you to have a couple of beers. Off duty, of course.'

Hosea Kabari had never felt happier. Alone under the night sky, he began to sing to himself. It had not taken him a long time to learn the melody from the girls, but patient Maria had spent many hours getting the words into his head. One of her ‘songs of Mary' was his favourite and always cheered him up.

Yes, he would like living in this place. He loved the dark green hills of Kericho with its endless sweep of tea plantations. There the rain came every afternoon like a welcome friend. Here on the dry plains where the valley spread wide, he would be close to the waters of the lake. He could go fishing. The girls were excited about living so much closer to Nairobi and Maria would be able to give herself to her new work.