Oil on Water (17 page)

The man he pointed to was seated on the very edge of the patchy shade cast by the tree’s few leaves. He was a fair-skinned, balding man, dressed in green military fatigues, mostly now torn and dirty, his head bowed between his knees, exposing the round bald spot at the back of his head.

—The Professor needed to raise money quick quick to pay for a consignment of guns he was expecting from overseas, so he sent that guy over there, his name is Monday. His assignment was simple: take some of the boys, and enough guns and boats and everything you need, go to one of the oil companies in Port Harcourt and kidnap one foreign oil worker and bring him back. Well, he went, and he returns with this cheerful-looking man who keeps saying they are making a terrible mistake in kidnapping him. Well, they didn’t listen to him. They lock him up in one of the tents over there reserved for such purposes. They send their ransom demand, and they wait for the company to get in touch so they can begin negotiations, but surprisingly, the company shows no interest. Meanwhile, the hostage is treated like all other hostages, very good food, everything he needs, they even bring a doctor to see him when he has a problem. Well, eventually they discovered what was wrong. The hostage was not a white man at all, despite his very fair skin. You know what he was? An albino! And here he was eating the best food and sleeping all day, as if he was on vacation. Very funny, isn’t it?

—What do they call this place?

—Forest. And you, what is a reporter doing here?

—I was taken by force, together with that man over there. If I can talk to the Professor, I can prove who I am.

—Don’t worry, the Professor will see you eventually. His men will tell him what you said and he will want to verify if it is true. I just hope you can prove you are who you claim to be.

And, having said that, the man suddenly lost interest in me. He went back to his spot and to his ruminations.

20

I
was somewhat cheered by the man’s assurance that the Professor
would definitely see me, and even further cheered when a team of women appeared with food in a big basin and then proceeded to ladle out portions in plastic plates to each of us. The food wasn’t remarkable—rice immersed in a mess of beans—but it was filling. After eating I decided to tackle Salomon right away—I had given him enough time to recover, and perhaps what he needed to snap him out of his self-pity was conversation. I went over and sat next to him, and he looked up but said nothing. He was a tall, angular beanpole of a man. His skin and clothes looked as if they hadn’t touched water in a long time, and he gave off a musty smell that was quite overpowering, even in the open air. He kept licking his dry lips as he waited for me to speak, and I saw his hand shaking slightly. He kept darting glances at the guards, who were now watching us intently.

—Hi, Salomon.

—Hello.

—We need to talk . . .

—I don’t want to talk. Leave me alone, please.

—Look, Salomon, I know you’re scared of what might happen to you here. I’m scared too. But by talking to me, you’ll be doing yourself a favor.

—How?

—Once I have your story, they wouldn’t dare do anything to you, because they know when I go out there I will print it, and the world will know you are here, kept against your will . . .

—Nonsense.

—What?

I thought I was doing so well, and for a moment I was telling myself that even Zaq would be proud of my persuasiveness, but obviously the driver wasn’t persuaded.

—These people, they no care. They have killed before, and I know nothing is going to save me . . . nothing . . . The Professor is a madman. I have seen what he can do. A few days ago, just before we ran away, he shot a man over there. Point-blank. He said the man was giving away information to the soldiers, he screamed at him and called him a traitor, then he took out his gun and, boom! He shot him and said, Throw him into the water for the fish to eat. Just like that.

I refused to let my perturbation show. If I showed no fear, nothing would go wrong. I renewed my effort, and as I spoke I was aware my words were also aimed at myself, at my quaking heart.

—Well, but isn’t that another good reason why you should tell me everything? Isabel told me what happened, about her husband and your fiancée. The police have everyone thinking you’re some crazy kidnapper—don’t you want to put the record straight? This might be your only chance, you know. Don’t you want your family and friends to know the truth, the real truth?

—It is a long story . . .

—I’m very patient, and it doesn’t look as if we’re going anywhere soon.

—What do you want to know?

—Your side of the story. Why did you kidnap her?

—I didn’t kidnap her . . .

—Well, okay. Tell me about you and Koko.

I saw his eyes darken with anger, and he started to rock himself back and forth, back and forth, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

—Well, I knew she was pregnant. We lived together, and we were happy—well, I thought we were. I was happy. I was looking forward to being a father. I never suspected she was cheating on me, how could she? It was I who brought her to Port Harcourt from our village. She wanted to be a nurse, she took the exam, and as we waited for the results, she begged me to help her look for a temporary job, just till the results came out. And so I talked to my Oga. He was always good to me. A nice man. And he said, yes, why not? And that was how she started working in that house. I did everything for her. If only I’d known things would turn out like this. I should have realized something was wrong when she got her exam results and she said she wasn’t going to nursing school anymore. She said we needed the money for the wedding, and for the coming baby.

Salomon paused, as if to go on would be just too painful. He continued to rock back and forth, back and forth, the harsh sun overhead forcing the sweat to drip down his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.

The day she told him about James Floode, he had returned early from work. The madam didn’t need him for the rest of the day, so he went to his two-room tenement house and turned on the TV. Usually Koko was home from work earlier than he was, but today she didn’t return till after nightfall, and he had started to worry. He saw that something was wrong the moment she entered. She looked distracted, and she went into the bedroom without a word. When he followed her he found her lying in bed, her eyes closed. When he asked her what was wrong, and if they were not going to eat, she threw off the sheets and started raging at him. It was as if she had been waiting to do this for a very long time.

—You this man, why don’t you leave me alone? Don’t you know where the kitchen is? Or don’t you have hands?

—She had never behaved that way before, and I thought it was the pregnancy, so I said nothing. I just turned to go back to the living room, but then, as I turned, she made that sucking noise through her teeth and said,
Mumu
. I couldn’t believe my ears. I asked her, What did you call me?

—
Mumu
. Fool.
Mugu
. You heard me right. And I want to tell you, I am moving out tomorrow. No more marriage.

—Koko, have you been drinking? Is it me you are calling a fool?

—Yes. All this while I have just been pretending with you. And this pregnancy that you think is yours, it is not. It is the Oga’s pregnancy.

—I don’t understand.

—What is there to understand? Me and the Oga, we are in love. He is getting a divorce from his wife, and he is going to marry me. He will take me to London with him when his contract finishes.

Salomon didn’t know what happened; he said he saw himself standing over her, his fist raised. He must have hit her, but she didn’t cry, in fact her eyes were glowing with triumph, and she was still hissing at him. She said if he touched her again, he would not only lose his job, but she would make sure the Oga had him arrested. Slowly he lowered his hand. He went out to a nearby bar and he drank till closing time, and when he came back she wasn’t there—she had packed a bag and left.

—The next morning I decided to go meet the madam and tell her what had happened. She was very friendly, unlike the other
oyinbo
women I had worked with, who only shout orders at you. I remember, the day she arrived, I had picked her up from the airport, and she told me how tough it was getting through customs, and how they asked her to open all her bags, and how they had put their hands all over her things, including her underwear, a few of her things had been confiscated for further examination. She said to me in her soft English voice, I’m sure I’ll never see them again. Will I, do you think? She was like that when we drove around, asking questions, leaning forward in the back seat and talking to me.

—At the house I was told by the guards at the gate that Madam wasn’t at home, and I decided to check the European Club, even though it was I who always took her there. When I found her, she seemed very sad, and I knew she was dealing with the same problem as myself. But later, at my uncle’s motel, I realized she didn’t know it was Koko her husband was leaving her for.

He stopped his narration suddenly and stared past me at the sun that seemed to be hanging on the edge of the sky, all orange and red and purple, as if it were only a hand span away.

—Reporter—

—Call me Rufus.

—You know why I am telling you all this, Rufus? It is because some of us might not live to see another sunset like this one.

—Everything will be fine. You’re doing the right thing by talking to me.

—You must write it down exactly as I say, because I am the only one who knows everything that happened. I had a hand in the kidnapping, at first, but later I took care of her very well, otherwise . . . she wouldn’t be alive right now.

—What happened after you left her at your uncle’s motel for the night?

—It is a long story . . .

—I’m listening.

—I went back to my room, but I couldn’t rest. My mind was still worried. Later, when my neighbor Bassey came back, we sat down to drink and when he asked me where Koko was, I told him everything. When I left him, he went and told his friend Jamabo, a police officer, and it was Jamabo who came up with the kidnapping idea. Late that night they came knocking on my door. I listened as they laid out the plan. Jamabo said as a police officer he had seen many cases of kidnapping and it is like plucking money off a money tree—that was how he put it. And when I asked, What if we get caught? He said there was no danger of that: usually the police stay out of it, leaving the oil company to handle things its own way, which is what it prefers. But what of the woman? I said. She has done nothing wrong, will she be all right? Jamabo said nothing would happen to her. She would remain in the hotel room, we’d treat her well, and we’d let her go as soon as we had the money. It wouldn’t take more than two days in all. He said technically it wasn’t even kidnapping; I’d just be collecting payment for all the pain these people caused me, a refund for all my investment in Koko. And that was what convinced me. The Oga had insulted me badly, he’d taken away my pride, my dignity, my manhood, and all the time I was serving him honestly, diligently. I trusted him. And another point, the money wasn’t even coming out of his pocket: the oil company always pays the ransom, and Bassey said that if you thought about it carefully, you’d realize that the money came from our oil, so we would be getting back what was ours in the first place. Well, I started to really think. This was the chance of a lifetime. And, like Jamabo said, it wasn’t a real kidnapping. So we all agreed. We were going to ask for one million dollars. Over three hundred thousand each. We would be rich. With that kind of money I could get out of the country and no one would ever find me.

And so, their plan carefully prepared, the three went to the motel early the next morning. Isabel looked surprised to see not just Salomon but also two other men with him, one carrying a duffel bag, but she let them in and turned to Salomon for explanation. Salomon just stood there, unable to speak, unable to look her directly in the eye. But when Bassey pushed him aside impatiently to face her, Salomon found his voice.

—I will tell her.

He took her into the next room and told her the two men outside would stay with her until her husband paid ransom for her. He said if her husband cooperated, she would be free in a day or two. Slowly she sat down on the bed, shaking her head.

—No, Salomon, you’re doing the wrong thing. Listen, they’ll catch you and you’ll go to prison—do you want that? I know you’re doing this because of your fiancée, but this is wrong.

He turned and left the room, locking the door behind him, but Jamabo went in again and inspected the windows, making sure they were all firmly secured. The men stayed in the living room all day, playing cards, and when night finally fell, Salomon checked on her once more to make sure she was okay—there was a fridge in the bedroom, with water and fruit and bread in it—and then he left. However, a big shock awaited him when he got home and turned on the TV.

—The first thing I saw on the screen was the madam’s face, she was missing, and then my own face, the last person she was seen with when leaving the European Club in her car. And I remembered I had left the car at the motel, and I began to worry. What if somebody stumbled upon it, my uncle or one of his workers?

The same story was on all the stations: Isabel Floode, only six months in the country, abducted on the way home from the European Club, her driver, Salomon, wanted for questioning. He felt trapped in his room, unsure what to do. The plan had been for him to take the ransom note to Floode’s office in the morning and to drop it there without being seen; Jamabo had drafted the note with clear instructions as to where to bring the money and how to get the woman back. But this was now too dangerous and would have to change.

He couldn’t stay in his room any longer, so he quickly gathered together a few things and took a bus back to the motel.

—I went straight to number nineteen and knocked on the door. I could see the curtain shake as a figure observed me from inside. I shouted, It is me, Salomon, open up quickly. Jamabo opened the door and dragged me inside, telling me to keep my voice down. I looked around and he was alone. I went to the adjoining room where the madam was, and it was empty. Jamabo is sitting on a chair in the first room, waiting for me. Sit down, he told me, there is a change in plans. What do you mean, there is a change in plans? I shouted at him. Who is making the plans, is it not me? He said, Sit down, I am making the plans now. Listen, we think the million dollars you are asking is too small for this operation. But that is bigger than you are ever going to earn in all your life as a policeman. Besides, this is not a real kidnapping, I said. Isn’t it? he asked. My friend, kidnapping is kidnapping. Did you see the news? I am thinking that is why you came back so quickly, isn’t it? Where is she? I asked. Don’t worry, she is being taken somewhere safe as we speak. I saw the news and I knew she couldn’t stay here any longer, so I called a friend of mine who owns a boat and now he is taking her to an island not far from here. No one can find her there. We’ll soon join her. But before we go, I want to make sure you are with us. This is not a game anymore. That is why we are asking for three million instead of one. Last week, a foreign family was kidnapped, a man and his wife, their company paid three million ransom for them. Cash. This woman is worth nothing less than that, but if they decide to negotiate, we can go down to two million. Are you coming with us? You decide. But, I said to him, this is not a real kidnapping. But it is, he said, we will get the same prison sentence regardless of how much we ask for. You are a kidnapper already. Well, I had no option. And we left. First I went and checked out of the motel room, as if nothing was wrong, then we took the car and dumped it in front of a supermarket, then we set out for Agbuki Island. That was where she was being taken by Bassey.