Boss Takes All (26 page)

Maura was puzzled. ‘How many murders does a man have to commit before he gets punished in this country?'

‘Actually carried out with his own bare hands? Possibly none.'

‘But what about the word “accessory”? Our law teacher in Oundle said that was almost as bad …'

‘Right, Tom. And this is where we are strong.'

Bertie was relieved. ‘Surely, Paul, not almost as bad but just as bad. Dickens was being too polite. The law is not an ass but an arsehole. All right, Rafaella?'

‘Bertie, still too polite! And, Alex, don't look so surprised. I know lots of juicy Italian words!'

‘So why was he pointing a rifle at me from twenty metres the night that Londiani was blown up?'

‘Yes, Tom. And what was he doing out on the farm at two o'clock in the morning with that nutcase of a son? Waiting for a bus?'

‘Alfredo Rossi, alias Alfred Ross, we all remember him. Why do we have a photograph of him paying a visit to Rubai's secret farm outside Nairobi?'

‘Barnie, this is where you come in.'

‘Sure. Most of you know that I am Paul's brother, another lawyer. My practice is in Boston. I think the ruthless Mister Rossi could be a very expensive weakness in Rubai's defence. I have associates in several New York law firms and friends in the NYPD. Mister Rossi has a thick file with the FBI. Normal families run stores or go on the subway early in the morning to work for accountants or construction companies. The Rossi family of Brooklyn have an unusual line of business. They kill people to order. I'll spare you the details on his work in Kenya, but we are close, very close to making a deal on evidence from Rossi that will be acceptable in a court here. We have him on toast or over a barrel, take you pick!'

Paul had warning.

‘There are fifteen of us in this room. Doesn't sound a lot. But, Maria, remember Papa's favourite Bible story?'

Maria smiled. ‘Well, wouldn't that be the one where little David gives that philistine Goliath a nasty headache with a couple of pebbles?'

Barnie took up the story.

‘And the moral, children, is, shall I put it this way, if a little guy wants to whip a big guy, he must have surprise up his sleeve and move quicker than an angry cheetah!'

While everyone pondered the implications of Mzee Miller's teaching to his children, Sonya shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

‘You know, perhaps I shouldn't have stayed on for the meeting. I think I'm inhibiting you.'

‘You mean by not talking about Simon?'

‘Maria, you are the most sensitive person I've ever met. You understand that my thoughts on Simon never stop, like some endless painful background music.'

Paul took over in his compassionate way.

‘Sonya, you are half right when you talk about some of us holding back. Simon is never far from my heart. We all see the bloodstained hand of Rubai in this. But … Hosea will explain better.'

‘Madam Sonya.'

‘Just Sonya, please.'

‘I'm sorry. This word, “accessory”. We try very hard to find a link to tie in Rubai. Patrick Uchome, he was Rubai's Kenya number one man.'

‘The one killed with his wife on the road by the Italian chapel?'

‘He was in charge of the kidnap. His boys drove Simon up to Kericho, expecting to … I'm so sorry to be so cruel, harsh, to … so sorry for the tears. They expected to finish their work and return to Nairobi that evening. They were angry when Uchome said that the boss wasn't ready.'

‘But, Hosea, how do you know all this?'

Hosea forced himself on. ‘Two of them did return to the city, without Simon. They drew lots. Simon was kept in a hut outside the town. Two local idiots saw a big payday for helping out. Two days later at noon, Uchome sent word …'

Maura moved to Sonya, knelt down and burst into tears.

‘Sonya, it was just before twelve when we left the Rubai house. If I hadn't forced you to go to that place, perhaps Simon …'

There were no tears from Sonya. When she spoke her tone was calm and businesslike.

‘No, Maura. There would be no mercy there. But where are these men now? They were not at the inquest. Why?'

Paul took over again. ‘Sonya, often criminals refuse to speak. It can be like signing their own death warrants. Some very angry Kericho cops, shall we say, persuaded them to tell their story. Almost killed them. On advice from some anonymous CID man on Nairobi Hill, they were kept in custody. They were nursed over the worst of their injuries by two Sisters of Mercy. That took weeks. Now they are holed up in an old tea store on one of the estates and under constant watch. Daniel was up to see them last week.'

‘Sonya, they won't be the best of witnesses if we manage to get them to court. Rubai's money might get someone to let him know who they are and where they are.'

ell me, Albert, Walter, what do you really think of me?'

Albert Latani and Walter Wambui were bewildered and frightened. They exchanged frowns, each hoping that the other would take the first bite at an answer. Just because they were part of the group of twelve that Boss Man Abel had gathered around him as sounding boards and yes men, it did not mean that they were bosom pals and permanent members of the inner sanctum. Why had he invited them to lunch at Muthaiga for the very first time and afterwards closeted them in a private room for a ‘chat about how things are going in your neck of the woods'?

‘What kind of a question is that, Abel?'

‘Well, Albert, with the three of us here on neutral ground, I thought we could be more open than when the whole thirteen of us get together at my place. If friends can't be frank … Look, I'm a Kalenjin boy and you are a Luo, both successful in our own ways, but you know how this tribal thing is in our blood. And, Walter, from good Kikuyu stock, how long you been the MP for Nakuru North?'

‘Twenty years and hoping for more, Abel.' Walter chuckled. His fears were easing, but he was well aware of how unpredictable Abel was. And it would not be a wise move to upset the man who would soon be the president.

‘And you see how it is. With me in the big job, I have to feel sure of my people. And I want to be frank with you. One or two little things have cropped up. I hate to admit it, but there are times when I can be just somewhat remote from the … the pulse of the nation.'

Abel was trying to prompt a reply, but his solemn companions remained tight-lipped. Neither of them was comfortable. The Rubai spotlight was probing, testing. The real agenda of the Big Man was never easy to work out. After a suitably unnerving lapse of time, Abel shifted slightly in his chair until his focus was firmly fixed on Albert, the very rich Luo businessman.

‘Albert, a few weeks ago now, there was a most unfortunate incident involving a Luo medical man.'

The polite terminology briefly deceived Albert: ‘unfortunate incident' and ‘medical man'?

‘Oh, you mean the cowardly murder of one of the finest, most caring doctors this country has ever had.'

Abel, stung by the unexpected aggression in Albert's tone continued, unruffled.

‘It's true then that Luo people are deeply upset?'

‘Abel, why all this soft language? Outrage, anger, fury. Take your pick. After all this time the cops keep churning out those limp statements: “We think we are getting close to a probable suspect”, and “No, no, the trail has definitely gone cold”. Not Luo cops. But they are as powerless as the rest of us. God help the man behind this when we find him.'

‘I'm with you on this, of course, but it disturbs me to think that this could become a tribal matter. But thank you for helping me feel the pulse on this one. Now, Walter …'

‘Now, Walter'! Abel wanted to pass on to ‘item two' on the agenda. Albert wanted to scream out his disgust at having this crime against the nation passed over so glibly. He held himself in check and even managed an ironic smile when he recited in his head the Kenyan motto of self-preservation: ‘Discretion is the better part of cowardice'.

‘Walter, I have a more specific problem that you could help me with. How well do you know your fellow Nakuru MP?'

‘You mean Simon?' It was Walter's turn to have his mind start to spin and flutter in confusion.

‘Who else? Tell me, do you think we can trust him as a loyal member of the party?'

Sharp-eyed Abel noted with interest Walter's slight hesitation.

‘Abel, Simon Nyache is our oldest, longest serving MP and an honourable man.'

‘Yes, I studied Julius Caesar at school, too. Brutus, wasn't he the honourable man? Just assassinated the boss man! What if I told you that our Simon has been having meetings with members of the new joke party.'

‘You mean Serena, Miller, Komar, that mob?'

‘Very sharp, Walter. A couple of days ago, I had him here. I wanted him to show my boy, Reuben, ‘round Nakuru South before the election, just in case they vote him in. I swear the old fellow wet his pants! Scared out of his wits. I pressed a little. Quite reasonable, I think. I said I'd make the arrangements and let him know. Got a phone call yesterday. “Can the boy, notice not Reuben, can the boy meet me at Gilgil police station. I want to show him …”'

‘Around the mental hospital next door. Abel, he's always asking people that. The place is his passion. Every budget time he asks the government for money to improve the place.'

‘Perhaps he's thinking of joining up himself. And, while I'm on the topic of hospitals, what do you know of the idea to build a new hospital in Naivasha?'

‘Never heard him say a word about that.'

‘You've heard of the Kamau girl? Come into money and she's got the mad idea that she can walk in and do what she likes.'

‘She's a McCall now. Married on the weekend. Big affair, so I'm told.'

‘Tried to smuggle in a couple of aliens - whites, of course. What's going on up there, Walter?

Mention of the wedding brought instant and unexpected relief for Abel's guests. The inquisitor suddenly lost his edge and his interest.

‘Well, thanks for coming. Hope you enjoyed the lunch. When you're in the car park ask my driver, Obi, to come in. Got some things for him to carry.'

* * *

‘What did you think of all that, Walter?'

Albert was giving his lunch companion a lift into the city.

‘Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I was glad I wasn't the only one invited. When I get the call from Abel, I think about checking my will.'

‘He is so unpredictable. He works on it, to keep us guessing.' Caught in a queue of traffic, Albert cleared his throat. Walter had noticed several times before that this trick of the nerves usually meant that Albert was weighing up an idea in his mind, wondering whether or not to bring it out. Albert began again. ‘Confidentially, I got the feeling that the great man is uneasy about something. I mean why did he need to talk with us at all? Is he looking for reassurance?'

‘Same here. I think it's that Kamau girl. Does that sound crazy to you?'

‘Not a bit. Stunning looks, great voice. My girls are always singing her songs. Everyone seems to love her.'

‘They say Abel blames her for the death of Julius. Lucky escape for her, I'd say. And Simon tells me that with her as his wife, Farmer McCall could take his place as the man for Nakuru South.'

‘Walter, a lot of Luo think that our Doctor Simon … Did you hear him, just now? “Unfortunate accident”. I don't want to spell it out. You know the rumours.'

‘And Rebecca McCall is a great friend of Sonya Mboya. You were at the funeral.'

‘Big, big mistake, Abel.'

‘Albert, you used the word “uneasy”. I'm beginning to see that it's more than that. The great Abel is becoming desperate.'

im Sawyer left the three Welsh craftsmen in charge for an hour. His own boys would enjoy that - plenty of work and plenty of fun. The four ‘aliens' were glad to stay on site until the work on Londiani was complete. He and the ‘almost' Doctor Iolo were excited as they skipped down the stairs on their way to the kitchen.