Boss Takes All (13 page)

‘The ones in the car with you.'

Lydia's reply was a pained shake of the head.

‘I knew it. And they were not friends.'

Another shake, more vigorous this time.

‘Little one, do you need a drink? There is water here.'

There was a long pause while the patient tried to size up her unusual companion. It did not take much thinking for Lydia to accept that this person meant her no harm. Obviously she was not a regular nurse.

‘Why are you sitting with me? Is this your work?'

It was Gloria's turn to pause. How could she explain without scaring the child or, worse, causing her to laugh?

‘My name is Gloria Patami. My husband is Peter. We look after the church at the bottom of the hill. The Englishmen brought you to us. We took you out of the car. We sat together in the church until the police came. The constable, Naluki, I know his mother. He said that there was no life. He was wrong and I knew it. Praise God, the lady sergeant believed me. And so you are here.'

The pause on Lydia's side was longer this time. There were some big things to take in. She listened to the sound of her own heavy breathing and let her thoughts seeds take root and blossom.

‘Gloria, that is a beautiful name. What you say makes me think of my friend Maria. She saves lives, too, just as you have saved mine.'

The tears were flowing on both sides. Gloria stood up and moved closer to the bed. She reached down to exchange a painful embrace.

They shared the comfort of the island of peace in that cool, bare, whitewashed room. Even then Gloria was troubled, restless without knowing why. There was a threat to their peace, to their very lives.

‘Tell me your name. The sister asked me and I could not say. The doctor wants to know where you live for when you are ready to go home.'

Lydia felt a deep shame for the shaft of suspicion that crossed her mind. Could all this be a part of a trap? She struck the side of her bed hard with her hand, angry with herself for her lack of trust.

‘Lydia Smith. I am from Nairobi. I am not a good person.'

‘Thank God. Neither am I!' Gloria paused briefly. ‘So, you were on your way home?'

‘Home. That is a big word but,' she decided that it was time to make, for her, a bold claim, ‘this home is in Naivasha, at Rusinga Farm. I have many friends in those places.'

‘Lydia Smith, we must speak with those friends very soon. Do you have the telephone?'

‘I have nothing, not even a number. But I have a person who will know. Inspector Caroline will tell us.'

* * *

The key fitted and, in no time, the door was opened. Caroline was sitting on the wall of the veranda of Londiani Farm when her mobile rang. It was a familiar voice. American. Angie Summers and Caroline had been friends since their days in Langata when the ambitious young police sergeant and the Peace Corps girl from Montana had lived in adjacent apartments.

‘Caroline, we've got a patient who says she knows you …'

One astonishing leap and one triumphant punch into the air transformed the hearts and minds of the previously gloomy and uninspired group slouched around on that open veranda. While the glorious hubbub around her spread upward and outwards into the enveloping night, Rafaella McCall sat incredulous, trying but failing to find suitable words of thanks for a new miracle.

The mystery of Lydia's disappearance was solved. Caroline was able to tell her Naivasha people about the car crash, the deaths of the kidnappers and the rescue of Lydia herself. At last they knew where she was.

‘But I have a dark thought. Others will be searching for her. Perhaps they know where she is, too. Angie tells me that Lydia is fit to travel if she has to. We need a fast driver who is a little bit crazy, ready to go right now.'

‘Or a plane. The mad American spared us that, by accident, of course.'

‘Alex, no. Impossible. Bertie, will you let Tom …'

‘There's a strip right next to the hospital, you know. I flew there once. Maura, you were with me. The Kingoni boy, shattered his arm …'

‘That was in broad daylight.'

‘They've got lights. Listen. This is what we do. And now. Tom and Bertie take the Pajero. Okay, Bertie? I'll race you. Caroline, phone your friend. Explain about the lights. Expect me in twenty minutes. I'm off. On my way back, I'll snake along the road. If I dip, turn back. Anyone fancy a ride?'

The skies out of Londiani were as empty as the roads. Rollo, chosen for his better eyesight, was the twin who sat next to his father in the cockpit of the white Cessna. No pilot in the whole Central Rift knew the routes in and out of the valley as well as Alex McCall. No one was more aware of the risks involved in this desperate night flight. There would be no margin for error. It was almost three years since his father, Don, cool and concentrated, lost his life because of a trivial miscalculation on a straightforward landing on their home strip.

He flew out over the lake and then banked to his left. He climbed until he was parallel with A104. Rollo spotted it first. They were onto the rectangle of light quicker than they had expected. He allowed himself one trial run before coming down, tense and tight-lipped. The landing was rough but safe.

‘Alex, two passengers. Okay? I think you're just in time. We heard that there's some action at the main gate. Some guys are having trouble with our night guards. Two Marine Corps youngsters. Yes it's true. We've had our military up here since they hit our embassy a few years back. Well done, Gloria! Kwaheri, everyone. Thanks for bringing some excitement into the lives of two young men! Downhill's best for a quick lift-off!

The Cessna was barely fifty feet above the Mercedes that was waiting with its engine running outside the stone-built compound wall. Two of its occupants, standing outside, swung hard ‘round as the plane passed directly overhead. Mister Zac and Mister Buba sighted their pistols on the broad white metal of their target, only to be distracted at the last minute by a volley of rifle shots. The front tyres on the Mercedes exploded at the same moment as the powerful engine burst into flames and sent up a thunderclap roar that jolted ten thousand villagers near and far out of their sleep.

* * *

Confusion and disturbance broke out below and above. Caleb and his companions were transformed in seconds from unwelcome invaders to vulnerable patients. The unexpected extra passenger in the little machine that was swinging its way south-east across a moonlit sky had created a minor logistical problem.

After helping to belt a flustered Gloria into the seat next to his father, Rollo had to move backwards to find a place to squeeze his bulk into the cramped rear area. Two attempts by him and Lydia to accommodate each other left them both in acute discomfort. Alex saw danger. One unforeseen jolt or lurch could mean that one of his passengers would be tumbled into his lap, making the plane uncontrollable.

‘Rollo, take the seat and hold on tight to Lydia. That should be interesting for the pair of you! Home in fifteen minutes. I hope Tom and Bertie will spot us. I dare not dip with you two on the loose up here. Lydia, we meet again in strange circumstances. See that moon over there? In my head I've just been over it, if that makes sense to you. Okay now, you two? I'm about to go into a bit of a dive.'

Alex barely knew his co-pilot's name. He was pleasantly surprised by Gloria's calmness. It was probably her first time up, at least in a tiny, cramped machine like this, but her eyes were constantly on the move taking in the details on this, her new view of her world.

There were new views for the passengers behind him, too. They were enjoying the enforced closeness. Being pressed up against a man's body was something she was very familiar with, but never with a man so young, so muscular, so masculine. Doctor Angie had given her painkillers for the journey, but the throb in her injured foot and the ache in her head were as uncomfortable as ever except that the feel and the smell of this companion made them much easier to bear.

Rollo was familiar enough with Lydia's story. According to that he was holding a Nairobi street girl in his arms, a high-class tart. Only she was neither of these things for him. He understood that she had more courage than he would ever possess. She had offered to sacrifice her life to save his father. She had been pursued mercilessly by Rubai thugs. She was loved and trusted like a young aunt by Ewan Briggs. And she was beautiful. It embarrassed him to have such a lovely creature in his arms. She was probably hating the experience.

* * *

It was too late to cancel the heavy equipment. The hope was to have all the clearing finished in a single day and that would mean an eight o'clock start at the latest. Three hours to go and not a single one of the ten people out under the stars on the veranda at Londiani had been to sleep that night. Lydia had spent part of that time in a bed, but that had been no relaxing experience. Five am and the chatter was noisy and excited. There was plenty to talk about.

Tom and Bertie had arrived at the American hospital minutes after the Rubai men. Tom kept his distance when he saw that another car had beaten them to the main gate. They had a grandstand view as simultaneously a familiar white shape had appeared out of the darkness climbing steeply while far below the car up ahead exploded and sent flames into the slipstream only seconds too late to do damage. The gaps in that story had been filled in by an animated Angie Summers.

‘We don't have a burns unit up here, but we are giving them first aid. Some rich city guy is sending an air ambulance to collect them. The Lord knows how he found out about all this stuff. I'm only a humble gynaecologist, but I'd guess that they all have over fifty per cent burn damage. Our two marine guards have zero sympathy. Their poor mothers …'

For the first time Lydia and Gloria understood the danger they had been in. They exchanged solemn looks before embracing. Gloria had her explanation and gave thanks.

‘God was in front of us and behind us, like always.'

A bewildered Lydia shuddered and over Gloria's shoulder caught the relieved gaze of a sympathetic Rollo. He was pointing the thumb of his right hand upwards.

The quiet of private contemplation replaced the high spirits that had come when they had discovered that Lydia was back amongst them. Alex looked at his watch, unnecessarily, for one glance towards the east told him what the time was. For him the coming of a new day was a moment for stillness and waiting. He had watched the unfolding of the dawn thousands of times from that veranda, not always with the luxury of the leisure to rejoice in the wonder of it.

That first light was the purest of the day. It seemed to have come to wash away the failing darkness. Its power intensified relentlessly and rose to a climax when lines of grey puffs of cloud hung above the horizon against a background of a strong red that began to fade quickly before vanishing with the irresistible rise of what was for a few seconds a plate of molten gases.

Two hours later the rumble of the heavy procession ceased and the large vehicles stood in a line twenty metres back from the shell and the rubble they were about to carry away. In ten minutes the site was clear of people. The veranda would stay, but the rest of the old house would be carried off. The broken pieces of stone, brick and plaster would be dumped in piles on the other side of town ready to be used as hard core for the base of the new hospital. Burnt trees would be uprooted in the house garden and with the considerable remnant from the flower farm built into a huge bonfire. Villages around would have the picking of this heap for firewood or charcoal before a final burn-off.

None of those ten who had seen the arrival of the new dawn would stay to watch the wrecking crew at work. Gloria, still bubbling with energy, was anxious to return to her Peter and her church. Did she have stories to tell him! Inspector Caroline would ferry her along the lower road back to her home and combine her role as social worker with a professional inspection of the car crash the night before.

None of the McCalls could stomach the prospect of watching the final destruction of the family home. They had their distractions lined up. Their first stop was to be Nakuru Park.

n the morning after his disastrous night away from home, Abel Rubai returned to his Pink Palace in Karen in a state of almost total exhaustion. And there was nothing to show for the energy, physical and emotional, he had pumped out of himself. If there was any consolation, it came in the form of some new realities, some changed perspectives that had forced themselves on him, none of them comforting in their individual selves.

Less than twenty-four hours after sending Patrick Uchome and his wife in pursuit of Lydia whatever - ‘See, I cannot even remember her name' - he found it difficult to understand why he had ever attached such importance to a nobody like her. Her physical attractions had served him well for a brief evening. It was also true that it bothered him that she might have evidence on him about the silencing of the meddlesome Mboya. How foolish of him to have contemplated even the slightest threat to him posed by this frightened … child.