Bloodland: A Novel (30 page)

Jimmy doesn’t move a muscle.

‘OK.’ Conway takes another deep breath. ‘You know, when I look back at it now, at that evening – we were in the main lounge, the Angler’s it’s called – I can see that everything was in place for what happened afterwards.
We
were there. Gianni Bonacci was there. He was a couple of tables over, with some of the Nike people. And Susie Monaghan was there, up at the bar with Niall Feeley. It’s like a … a tableau.’ He pauses to visualise it.

Jimmy tries to visualise it, too. Lounge of a big country hotel? Mahogany-panelled walls? Red leather armchairs? Fine art prints of hunting and angling scenes?

He looks at Conway, who seems lost in reverie. Jimmy has some questions here, needs certain things clarified, but does he ask now, or wait? He waits about two seconds. ‘How did you know them all?’

Conway looks at him. ‘Dublin. Everyone knows everyone. I knew Niall from years back, and of course I knew Susie. Who didn’t?’ He sighs. ‘And for some reason Bonacci stuck out. He didn’t have that
executive
look.’ He pauses again, his eyes busy, as though he’s trying to work out how much he’s said so far and if there’s any chance he might be able to just cut loose at this point and stop.

Jimmy jumps in. ‘So, what then?’

‘Well, later on, I got talking to Niall and Susie at the bar, and somehow Gianni Bonacci ended up joining us. You know how it is, people come, people go, but at the same time I think he was mesmerised by Susie. He kept staring at her from his table and eventually just came over and wormed his way in. He started talking to Niall and within ten minutes had got himself invited to go on this big, all-bloke trip Niall and Ted Walker were organising for Sunday. They’d hired a helicopter and were going to be scouring the Donegal coastline for good spots where they could go paragliding later in the summer. Anyway, after a while I got talking to him myself and before I realised he was a UN inspector I was telling him about the mine at Buenke and how I was in the process of selling it to Clark Rundle. I mean, why not? It wasn’t a state secret or anything. I didn’t go into any of the details, but he seemed very interested and after another couple of drinks started asking me if I knew what was going on in that part of the DRC and if I’d ever heard of Arnold Kimbela. I said of course I had.’ He pauses. ‘Even though I hadn’t.’

‘Who?’

‘Arnold Kimbela? Local warlord. I checked up on him later, too. He was originally the leader of a Mobutuist rebel faction, but then he went on to gain control of this huge mineral-rich territory in the east, which he now runs as a sort of
de facto
state. All mining contracts and land sales there have to go through him. He also has an iron grip on the local population. Torture, rape, mutilation, whatever. At its best it’s a form of indentured labour, and at its worst … I don’t know. When First Continental was running the mine there, at Buenke, it wasn’t anything like that, it was a proper mine, so…’

Jimmy swallows. What?

‘So. I don’t know,’ Conway goes on. ‘Apparently he’s a very smart guy, from a rich background, educated in Belgium and all of that. What can I say?’ He shrugs it off. ‘But look, the point is, Bonacci seemed to get more and more puzzled at the idea of a company like BRX wanting to buy a copper mine, and in that particular location. BRX is a private company, he said, and very secretive, so that sort of information doesn’t usually get out. Which is when I realised I should have kept my mouth shut. I toyed with the idea of letting Clark Rundle know what I’d done, but I decided against it. I chickened out, basically. I
should
have told him, though.’ He pauses. ‘Because that might have…’ He looks away, shaking his head.

Jimmy glances down, and sees the notebook in his hand. He isn’t taking any notes. Should he be? Where’s his pen? How’s he going to remember all of this?

Shut up.

Conway looks back. ‘Anyway, at that point Bonacci’s attention was very much divided between me and Susie, and of course Susie won out, especially as she started flirting with him, and pretty outrageously. The reason for this was because her ex-fiancé, Gary Lynch, who she was more or less stalking, had appeared in the bar and she was trying to get his attention. She even left with Bonacci, though no one seems to know how far that went. One thing is certain, though, she was doing a lot of coke. What’s also undisputed is that Bonacci spent most of the next day trailing along behind her like a lovesick puppy. Now I didn’t see any of this. I was off in a conference room with my solicitor poring over the contract. But what also must have happened during the day, at some point, and which
nobody
saw, was that Susie and Bonacci broke into – or somehow inveigled their way into – Clark Rundle’s room and went through his papers. Rundle said later on that his stuff had been disturbed, that certain things had been moved. No one can know now, but what seems likely or at least possible is that Bonacci shot his mouth off to Susie about BRX and the mine, maybe trying to impress her, maybe genuinely concerned about it, and that Susie, crazy bitch that she was, suggested they both go and find out more. Sneak into Rundle’s room. It’d be a hoot. Come
on
. Carpe
fucking
diem.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Now this probably isn’t the sort of thing Bonacci would have done in a million years, but there he is, who knows, maybe coked out of it himself, and with this gorgeous woman egging him on, going, have you no
balls
?
I
have. Come
on
.’

Conway stops, stares ahead, seems to be considering what he’s just said, trying it out for size. He looks back at Jimmy. ‘Maybe that’s not how it was, not exactly, but it
fits
. It explains what happened later.’

Jimmy nods. He’s reluctant to open his mouth, in case this stops.

He nods again, hoping it will act as a prompt.

‘In the meantime,’ Conway says after a while, ‘I was still locked away with my solicitor, but I had this great idea. I decided to get on the phone to Larry Bolger and persuade him to come down to the conference, swing by for an hour or two, show his face. It was a Saturday, he was due in Cork anyway for a thing that evening, so it wouldn’t be a big deal. I’d done a lot of favours for Larry over the years, and this wasn’t asking much. I figured if I could be seen hanging out with the prime minister, introducing him around, it’d strengthen my negotiating position with BRX. So after a bit of cajoling Larry agrees. He shows up around six o’clock and before you know it we’re all sitting at a table in the main dining room – me, Larry, Clark Rundle, James Vaughan and this other character, Don Ribcoff. There’s minimal security, just a couple of guys on the door, and the atmosphere is very relaxed, very congenial. Larry and Vaughan, it transpires, have met before and have plenty to talk about. I’m going over some figures with Rundle, and for those few moments, sitting there at that table, I feel
brilliant
. I mean, think about it, with James Vaughan beside me I’m one degree of separation from
John F. Kennedy
. It’s amazing. I feel like I’m a player, like I’ve arrived or something, and this is just the beginning.’ He exhales loudly. ‘What a joke.’ He looks away again.

Jimmy waits. Then can’t wait any longer. ‘What happened?’

‘What happened? We’re all there, in the middle of our various conversations, when Gianni Bonacci arrives into the dining room and walks right up to our table. He says his name, that he’s with the UN Corporate Affairs Commission and then he slaps a piece of paper down in front of Clark Rundle and in the space of time it takes for the two guys on the door to get over and grab him he says,
Thanaxite? You’ve found thanaxite in eastern Congo? And you’re going to be extracting it? Does anyone know about this?
Then he bangs his fist on the table and says,
We need to talk
. And that’s it. They drag him off.’ Conway clears his throat. ‘Was Susie there in the background, hovering outside? I don’t know, maybe she was, I can’t remember, I didn’t see, but what I
do
remember is the shockwave of panic around that table, Jesus Christ, it was palpable. Rundle was as white as a ghost. He grabbed the piece of paper, looked at it and then flung it at Ribcoff. From what I could see it was a printout of a photo, probably taken on a mobile phone – a photo of a document. I didn’t see what was on it, but I didn’t need to, we’d all heard what Bonacci said. Anyway, it was the strangest thing, over the next minute or two, no more, Larry and I just sat there, frozen, not even daring to look at each other, as this desperate, whispered conversation took place between Rundle, Vaughan and Ribcoff. I don’t know if it was blind panic on their part, or … or contempt for
us
, but it was as if we weren’t even there. Vaughan asked how Bonacci had gotten a hold of this information, and Rundle said that didn’t matter
now
, Jesus, because the situation had to be contained, and immediately. Ribcoff started to say he’d look into it, but Rundle said
no
, looking into it was for later, right now this little fucker, whoever he was, had to be stopped, he had to be prevented from causing any further damage. Ribcoff put his hands up and said, fine, tell me what to do, and Rundle said, whatever you have to … clean him out first, bleach him, and then …
whatever
, but don’t make it obvious, don’t make it about
him
, he’s UN for Christ’s sake, I don’t know, cause a diversion, some sort of distraction. There was a silence and then Ribcoff said
right
, and left the table. After another tense pause, Rundle looked at both me and Larry and said,
Gentlemen, listen, I’m really sorry about this
 … but before he could get any further, more security arrived and there was a bit of a flurry and Larry was whisked away and then Vaughan got up and left as well…’

Conway suddenly seems overwhelmed. He turns away and starts massaging his temples. He walks over to the big, grimy window that looks out onto the empty plaza.

Jimmy stands there, watching, waiting. Questions are piling up in his mind now. He tries to filter some of them out and to prioritise others – the obvious first question being, what is thanaxite?

That’s the word – the name – Conway used, isn’t it?

Jimmy pats his jacket to find a pen. He flips his notebook open and scribbles the word down – a preliminary version of it, at least – and then a few quick notes.

Photo of a document? Taken on a mobile?

Does anyone know about this?

Bleach
him?

After a few moments, Jimmy glances up at Conway – at his stooped frame, his hunched shoulders, his head leaning forward against the dirty glass of the window.

Is he losing him?

With no other way to frame the question, Jimmy just blurts it out. ‘Mr Conway … what is thanaxite?’

*   *   *

As the convoy pulls out of the compound, Rundle feels a surge of contradictory emotions – acute relief and intense irritation. He’s relieved that he can go back to Vaughan with the good news, but he’s irritated that he had to come all the way down here to hear it in the first place – given that J.J. had apparently heard the very same thing a week earlier.

He’s also irritated by Arnold Kimbela himself, this little tin-pot piece-of-shit who insists on being treated like a form of royalty – he won’t use phones or e-mail, won’t deal with middle-ranking executives, even refuses to work with accountants. If he wasn’t sitting on an invaluable deposit of thanaxite, the man would have run out of money, arms, supplies
and
friends a long time ago.

But it doesn’t take Rundle more than a minute or two to realise that the relief here far outweighs any irritation.
He
controls the supply chain, which he’s just locked down for another couple of years, more or less. Effectively, that now means he’s got Jimmy Vaughan by the balls.

He turns to Ribcoff and says, on a whim, ‘How far are we from the mine?’

They’re on their way back to the airstrip.

‘Fifteen miles.’ Ribcoff answers. ‘About. Why?’

‘Can we make a detour?’

Ribcoff calculates. ‘Sure. There’s time. I guess.’ He pauses. ‘Is that such a good idea?’

Rundle nods his head firmly. ‘I just want to have a quick look.’

Ribcoff leans forward to relay the change of route to Lutz, who radios ahead to the car in front.

About a mile or so farther down the road the convoy takes a left turn and within seconds conditions get considerably rougher – the road twistier, bumpier.

Rundle has never been hands-on when it comes to his business, not really, not the way old Henry C. was, visiting sites, rolling up his sleeves, examining geological charts, talking to foremen, certainly not the way his great-grandfather was, Benjamin Rundle, who apparently used to get down and dirty operating steam shovels, laying railroad tracks and digging irrigation canals. Maybe it’s part of the evolutionary process, but Rundle has always been a head-office man, the boardroom and the bank being his natural habitats. BRX has operations worldwide and he has travelled extensively, but how often has he strayed beyond the climate-controlled confines of the airport, the hotel and the conference centre?

He did once visit a BRX mining facility in Brazil, now that he thinks of it. It was to mark the start of a massive drilling project using a new and innovative technology.

Somehow, he suspects, this will be different.

Quite how different he has no idea until they arrive on the outskirts of the mining settlement.

It proves to be something of a shock.

What was he expecting, though? An open pit? Excavators? Dump trucks? Maybe some timber structures and an abandoned copper smelter? He would have seen photos and advanced satellite imagery of the Buenke mine back when they were negotiating the purchase of it from First Continental, but these wouldn’t have made any lasting impression on him.

As the convoy stops, Rundle leans forward to get a better view. ‘What the
fuck
?’ he says.