Читать книгу Legacy - Jeff Edwards - Страница 18

It came as quite a surprise to El Kalil. Ali Akuba had just bought himself a Rolls-Royce. Where had the money come from for this?

He and his men had followed Akuba and the man had not done anything to earn the money legitimately. He worked in his taxi each day and friends drove it on the opposite shift. There was no way he was earning enough money to buy a Rolls-Royce, even if the car in question was at least twenty years old.

They had followed him to a car yard specialising in second hand luxury cars, where he had taken possession of the vehicle and driven it to a lock-up garage. After parking it, Akuba had locked up the garage and been collected by his own taxi.

‘When did he buy it? Did any one of you see him visit the car yard before today?’ El Kalil asked the members of his cell. None had.

Once again, there were vital questions that had to be answered.

El Kalil pondered whether to confront the man directly. To do so would make Akuba aware there were people interested in his movements. That would drive him to either retaliate or go into hiding. Neither option would be of advantage to the cell.

It would be best to keep Akuba unaware of their interest for the time being.

That evening, El Kalil dined at a small restaurant in a predominately Muslim quarter of the city.

Finishing his meal, he paid but, instead of departing, moved towards the toilets at the back of the restaurant.

Scanning the faces in the crowd, he couldn’t see anyone who appeared to pay him any particular attention, so he moved into the shadow of an alcove. He waited there for a time to make sure he was not followed before slipping through the kitchen to the rear laneway.

Once outside he climbed a rickety stairway fixed to the rear wall and opened a door at the top of the staircase on the first floor. The small room he entered was empty except for a large male standing guard on a second door.

El Kalil nodded to him as the guard opened the door and motioned him inside.

Seated inside were two elderly men, dressed in traditional Middle Eastern garb. On any day the pair could usually be found in the vicinity of the mosque, sipping coffee at one of the cafes or playing chess in the park, dressed like anyone one else on the street. To all appearances the old men were enjoying their retirement, living out the remainder of their lives as quiet, law abiding, senior citizens. In reality, they were the leaders of the freedom movement in the city. All cells were kept apart, but their leaders all reported independently to these two men.

El Kalil bowed and seated himself before them.

He reported his suspicions about Akuba and requested instructions on how to proceed.

‘We will discuss the matter and let you know tomorrow.’

The old men discussed El Kalil’s news as they sipped coffee in thimble sized cups. There was enough evidence to raise suspicions about Akuba’s actions. It would be best to find out exactly what he was up to.

Questioning Akuba would possibly reveal the cell to public scrutiny, but they had numerous cells in the city. The loss of one, would ultimately secure the safety of the rest. It would be worth the risk.

After prayers at the mosque the following morning, the message was passed to El Kalil to question Akuba personally.

Ali Akuba finished his shift in the taxi and handed the vehicle over to his friend, who then dropped him off at the mosque for prayers.

After prayers, he walked home, glad his day was over and looking forward to his evening meal.

He opened his front door and was shocked to come face to face with a man seated in a chair facing the door. Ali recognised El Kalil from the local mosque. Smiling, El Kalil rose and beckoned him to follow.

El Kalil moved into the kitchen and Ali, dreading what lay ahead, followed. He found his family seated at the kitchen table and several young men lounging around the room.

Akuba’s eyes were drawn to his young daughter. One of the young men stood behind her chair, holding a knife to her throat.

El Kalil turned to Ali: ‘As you can see, your family is quite comfortable for the present. Let us both now sit down in the lounge-room, and have a discussion.’

‘What do you want with me?’ whispered Ali. He had known terror in his native Nigeria, before escaping to a better life abroad. Now it was with him again. Rage and anger gripped him. He feared for himself and his family, but especially he feared for his daughter. He knew terrorists cared little for other people and cared little for life itself.

El Kalil made himself comfortable while Ali perched on the edge of a chair.

‘My friend,’ El Kalil began, ‘you have proved to be an enigma to us. We would like you to answer some questions so that we may unravel these mysteries.’

‘What do you mean? What could I know?’

‘Let me start at the beginning,’ began El Kalil. ‘You arrive from Nigeria with little or nothing. You work hard to provide for your family.’

Akuba nodded, not knowing where this was going.

El Kalil continued: ‘You work for years to get just a little way ahead. Long hours, low pay. Yet suddenly you purchase a taxi licence and a taxi. How can that be? You do nothing different with your life. There’s no one to die and leave you money. So how can you suddenly become a taxi owner? Truly a mystery. Solve this mystery for me Akuba.’

Ali licked his dry lips and tried to decide what to tell the men, remembering that one had a knife to his daughter’s throat.

El Kalil smiled at his discomfort: ‘Don’t even consider telling a lie. We have checked you out. We know you don’t have a bank loan. We know none of your friends have lent you any money. The moment you try to lie, my friend will slit your daughter’s throat and then we’ll move on to your son.’

Ali nodded: ‘I’ve been saving up for years. I nearly had enough. Then, one day, I took a fare that paid me enough to buy the licence.’

‘A fare! A single fare! And where did you take this fare, to the moon?’

‘No. She just wanted me to drive her around the city and to help her with some lifting.’

‘Truly Akuba, you must be a marvellous driver and have the strength of Hercules to warrant such a large reward.’

‘She was a very generous person. She had me make a delivery later on and paid me in advance for that as well.’

‘I should like to meet this wonderfully generous soul. Where does she live?’

‘I don’t know. She selected my taxi at the railway station and I dropped her off there again at the end of the day. She rang me on my mobile phone to let me know when to make the delivery.’

‘And what sort of drugs were you delivering?’

‘No. Not drugs. DVDs.’

‘Where did you deliver these DVDs.’

‘To a company in the city.’

‘Which company?’

‘The Briscoe Corporation.’

‘What was the woman’s name?’

‘I only know her as Mrs Green.’

‘How did she pay you?’

‘Cash.’

‘This Mrs Green carried cash with her. Enough cash to enable you to buy a taxi licence?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you just take the money off her. She couldn’t have stopped you, could she?’

‘She promised more in the future. She said she might have more tasks for me and that she would pay cash for that work as well.’

‘And has she contacted you again?’

Ali licked his lips, thinking. El Kalil watched him closely and wondered if he was about to tell a lie. He was taking far too long to respond.

Ali decided: ‘Yes. She has rung me since.’

‘And what did she want you to do this time. More deliveries?’

‘No. She wanted me to pick up a car and take it to an address.’

‘What else?’

‘I’m to look after it till she needs it. Make sure it runs properly.’ ‘What sort of car?’ asked El Kalil, already knowing the answer.

‘It’s an old Rolls-Royce.’

El Kalil smiled. It seemed Akuba had been telling the truth.

‘How did she pay you?’

‘In cash. Like before. She posted it.’

‘Where is it?’

Ali stood and walked into his bedroom. Reaching inside a wardrobe, he extracted a shoe box. Opening the lid, he showed the contents to El Kalil.

El Kalil reached into the box and extracted the banknotes within. Counting it, he was surprised at the amount.

‘You have certainly found yourself a wealthy benefactor,’ he said as he pocketed the money. ‘Our cause is much indebted to her. I shall be back for more later. Be sure to keep your Mrs Green happy,’ he smiled.

El Kalil moved back into the kitchen.

Taking the knife from his assistant, he pressed it to the girl’s neck.

‘Please remember everyone,’ he said as he looked around the table, ‘we have not been here. We were never here. You have never seen us before in your lives. If any one of you forget that, I will return and I will be less gentle next time.’

His men moved out of the house until only he remained.

‘Just remember my words. I have been here once, and I can return any time I wish. The distance between life and death is small.’

His arm holding the knife moved quickly, expertly. The small girl screamed as blood flowed down her neck. El Kalil smiled as he surveyed his work and walked from the room.

Ali leapt to staunch the flow of blood. He pushed a towel to the gash as his daughter sobbed hysterically. His wife Nori gathered the girl in her arms and the family rushed the girl to hospital.

No stitches were required; the wound was not deep enough. But if El Kalil had placed the slightest pressure on the knife, the child would have bled to death. His warning was abundantly clear.

El Kalil reported his findings to the old men.

‘We want all possible information about the owner of that car,’ they replied.