Читать книгу The Song of Mawu - Jeff Edwards - Страница 20

14

By the time Eliza’s flight landed in Lobacra she was exhausted. Making connections at numerous airports had robbed her of any sleep and the bumpy flight into Namola had her wishing once more for the private jet that had last taken her out of this country.

Collecting her suitcase, she was able to pass through customs quickly by handing over a moderate bribe to the official on duty.

As she walked through the dusty terminal she felt a hand grab at the suitcase in her hand, ‘I’ll carry that for you.’

Eliza looked up at the tall man who now stood beside her. He was the age of her father with craggy features and the red nose of a seasoned drinker. His smile was kindly as he prised the suitcase from her hand.

‘I didn’t see you. I wasn’t expecting to see you.’

‘When Toby contacted me I knew there had to be a story out here so The Fund made all the arrangements and here I am. I beat you out here because you had to divert to Jersey. What was that all about?’

‘You’re a very good reporter Mick Sloane. You knew exactly which question I can’t answer. How do you do that?’

‘Pure natural talent,’ beamed Mick Sloane. ‘Come on, I’ve got a car waiting and a million other questions for you to answer.’

‘Heaven help me,’ smiled Eliza as she fell in beside the tall reporter and they left the air conditioned terminal for the African heat.

***

Brian Reynolds parked his Jaguar among similar prestigious vehicles that lined the kerb of the elegant London avenue. He and Lana climbed out and made their way up a short set of stairs to a solid set of double doors that quietly hinted at the wealth of the residence they guarded.

They were admitted by a sombrely dressed elderly female who silently led them down a carpeted hallway and ushered them into a book-lined library. There they found seated behind a large mahogany desk an even more elderly lady wearing a bright sari and reading through a stack of files.

When the door opened she closed the file before her, and stood to welcome her guests. ‘Brian, Lana,’ she smiled, ‘it’s so good to see you again. I’d begun to think that you’d forgotten this doddering old lady.’

‘Never!’ smiled Lana, as she took the woman’s hand and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘You’re always close to our thoughts. In fact, we were wondering if you’d care to be one of our guests at the opening of the new headquarters. We’ll even let you sit next to Prime Minister Foster. He’s already agreed to officially open the building.’

‘Sit next to that swine! Never! I can’t stand politicians! They should all be sent out to do a hard day’s work once in a while! I’ll be glad to come, but if I sat next to the Prime Minister I’d be too tempted to tell him what I really think of him and his government. Sit me up the back and as far away from the politicians as you can.’

Brian laughed at the old woman’s outburst and knew that, given the chance, she was more than capable of telling the Prime Minister a few home truths. ‘We’ll make sure that our duly elected officials are protected from your wrath.’

‘And so you should,’ laughed Dr Rani Smith as she sat her guests down on a large leather sofa. ‘Now, what brings you here today? You were rather vague on the telephone.’

Brian explained briefly about The Fund’s involvement with the refugee camp in Namola and how they had lost control of their village to Joseph Lattua’s army.

‘Before we can formulate any sort of response we have to know more about the current situation in that country,’ added Lana, ‘That was how we lost control in the first place and we can’t afford to make the same mistake again.’

Rani Smith nodded, ‘I see. And you want me to find you someone who knows the in and outs of Namola? One of its citizens.’

‘Someone reliable, but someone who will be willing to talk freely,’ Lana added.

Rani Smith studied the couple and waved to the pile of files she had been working on when they entered. ‘I know the sort of person you’re looking for and I’m reasonably sure there’ll be a few candidates among the young people my trust offers assistance to, but I’m not really the person you should be speaking with. Nowadays I’ve been relegated to a mere figurehead for the trust. I receive the vetted files and give my permission for the funds to be handed over.’

‘Ever since we received the bequest from my dear friend Jade’s estate we’ve been able to help so many more students than we ever could have before. Originally my daughter helped me but it all became just too much even for the pair of us. That was when my granddaughter stepped in. With her degree in business administration she has turned the trust on its head.’

‘Now she has a staff of ten with computers and business plans to cope with the work-load.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Brian.

‘I’m not,’ replied Dr Smith. ‘These old bones of mine were getting too tired for all those important decisions. I’m more than happy to pass the work on to the next generation.’ She rose and beckoned for Brian and Lana to follow her, ‘Let’s go and see if we can find the right person for you.’

Dr Smith led them back to the entrance lobby, to a nondescript door set beneath the staircase that lead to the first floor. A well-lit set of stairs led to the building’s basement, from where they could hear the sounds of a busy office.

Hanging onto the hand-rail for support Dr Smith led them slowly down the steep stairs. ‘I don’t come down here too often because of my hip, so I’m eager to see what’s changed since I last made the attempt.’

‘I’m so sorry to put you out like this,’ Lana replied, as she offered her arm for support.

‘Don’t be silly. It’s the least I can do,’ the old woman smiled before explaining, ‘I hadn’t used the basement for years and it seemed like the perfect place for them to set up their office.’

***

At the bottom of the stairs they found that the basement had been partitioned off into numerous work stations where several men and women huddled over keyboards, busily entering information into the trust’s mainframe computer.

Rani Smith led the Reynolds’ through the work area to a far corner where a further portion of the basement had been walled off to form an office. Here, Rani tapped quietly on the door and entered.

A young woman was talking earnestly on the phone, but her studious face broke into a grin when she saw her grandmother enter and she beckoned her to a chair while continuing her telephone conversation. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go,’ she said, cutting short her call, ‘something important has come up.’

‘You didn’t have to do that my dear,’ said her grandmother, ‘We could have waited.’

The girl grinned at her grandmother, ‘Just someone begging for more money. He deserves it and we’ll give it to him but we don’t want to make it look too easy or he’ll hound us again and again. Now what can I do for you?’

Dr Smith introduced Brian and Lana to her granddaughter Toni Smith, before handing over to Brian for him to explain the reason for their call.

While Brian was doing this Lana noted that Toni was a much younger copy of her grandmother and realised just how beautiful Rani Smith must have been in her youth. Rani’s dark Indian complexion had become a gentle tan tone in her granddaughter but the flashing brown eyes and raven hair came straight from the older woman, as did her slim, tall build. The way the girl paid attention to every detail of Brian’s story and the insightful questions she asked in clarification impressed Brian and Lana.

As soon as Brian was finished she nodded, ‘Well then, let’s see what we can do for you,’ and began tapping away at a keyboard. ‘Namola?’ she whispered to herself as her fingers caressed the keys and data began flowing across her screen. ‘Yes. We have several here. I’ll pull up their profiles.’

Toni Smith read through several screens before nodding her head in negation. ‘No. These won’t do at all. Every one of them has come with a reference from President Lattua himself. They all appear to be children of his friends.’

‘You’re right,’ said Lana, ‘we don’t want Lattua to know about the enquiries.’

‘Isn’t there anyone else?’ asked Rani.

‘Wait. Here’s one. Daniel Zibu. He finished his surgical training two years ago and he’s now practicing so he’s no longer receiving our assistance.’

‘Is he still in England?’ asked Brian.

Toni nodded, ‘He’s applied for permanent residence. He claims that he might be in danger if he returns home. Apparently his father was a member of a political party that was opposed to President Lattua. That is definitely not the way to get ahead in Namola. I can see why Daniel wouldn’t want to go back.’

‘He’s just what the doctor ordered,’ said Rani with a cheeky grin. ‘What was his specialty?’

‘Trauma Surgeon and a very good one from all reports,’ replied Toni. ‘I’ll get his address and telephone number for you.’