An African Affair (24 page)

“I know. There are roadblocks everywhere and it’s been hard to get back, but I think I’ll make it through today.”

She glanced at the statue and wondered if she should tell him where she found it. She decided against alarming him. She’d wait until he returned.

“I hope you get here soon. I miss you,” she said.

“I’ll come over as soon as I’m back.”

“Good.” She paused. “I love you.”

But he’d already hung up.

The house was hot and still and she was surprised because they had installed a generator just a few days ago to power the air conditioner. She walked back into the kitchen to ask Martin what had happened.

“I turned it off, madam.”

“But why?”

“It is too dangerous, madam. My friend bought one and it blow up. His girl was alone in the house. She died.”

Lindsay had heard such stories before. Most local people could only afford second- or thirdhand generators. But she’d bought an expensive new one after waiting her turn on a long list.

“Ours is safe, Martin. It is brand new and made by a good company.”

Martin looked down skeptically; he spoke softly but resolutely.

“My children, madam, they are at home.”

She understood. After Eduke’s death, he wanted some control over his children’s safety. He was willing to run the generator when the children were at school but not when they were home. She didn’t feel she could force him. She sat in her hot living room, reading the paper.

She checked her watch. An hour and forty-five minutes had passed since she’d left Mike’s, so he should be leaving for the hospital soon if he was going to check her story as he’d promised. She got in her car and drove to his house, parking half a block away. She left the car and hid behind some bushes where she had a clear view of his house.

She didn’t have to wait long before she saw him walk down the driveway, climb into his car, and drive away. As soon as his car turned the corner, she approached his front door. Much to her surprise, it was locked. She went down an alleyway to the back, climbed over a low fence into his garden, and tried the glass door there. It slid open. Inside, she walked directly to the shelf where she had seen the ibeji. It wasn’t there; she searched the room but didn’t find it. She climbed the stairs and entered his study. Opening a filing cabinet, she found the statue lying facedown in the bottom drawer. It was an exact duplicate of the one she had found in the shed, but she noticed that it felt much heavier. She removed hers from her bag and held it in her right hand, comparing the weight. His weighed at least five pounds more.

After a minute, she put Mike’s statue in her purse, replacing it with the lighter one she had found in the shed. She looked around to be sure she had left everything else the way she’d found it. She hesitated at the door—had it been open or closed? She decided on closed and then hastily made her exit. She drove home and walked purposefully into the kitchen, where she took out a hammer from her tool box. She placed some newspaper on the kitchen table and laid the statue on top of it. Then she swung the hammer down. The blow caused the statue to fly off the table, but aside from a few splinters, it remained intact. She replaced it on the table and swung again, this time holding it steady at the edge with her left hand. A crack appeared near the bottom and she could make out a seam that ran straight down the side. She swung again. This time the statue cracked wide open. A glassine bag of a white powdery substance was tucked into a hollow in the head. She stared at it for a long time.

If Mike Vale was the Solutions, Inc. operative, she had to tell Vickie right away. But then she remembered James had ordered the statues for export. She knew they had been stolen and had even mentioned as much to Vickie, but the agency might still believe he was implicated. She had to warn him. Maybe they could bring the evidence to the embassy together.

Waiting for James to stop by, her mind returned to Mike Vale. Solutions, Inc. had no ideology other than greed. He could have been paid by Olumide to get rid of William Agapo and then paid by the Northern Alliance to get rid of Fakai and finally Olumide. He’d been in Washington before he came to Lagos, and she couldn’t figure out what use the Americans might have for him, unless he was working for them too. Her mind was racing.

She put the glassine bag back into the statue and swept up the splinters. She wrapped the statue in newspaper and as she was carefully placing the package into her bag, she looked up and saw Martin standing quietly in the doorway. She was furious with herself for not having told him to go home.

“Martin, I don’t know how much you’ve seen, but you must forget it, do you understand?”

“I understand, madam. But I think you too must forget it. You must not follow it. You will be in much danger.”

“We will both be in danger if this gets out. No one must know. I will take this to the American embassy.”

“No, madam. Tell no one here. I think it is time for you to go home. Please.”

“I can’t, Martin. Not yet. Will you help me? Will you keep this secret?”

“I saw nothing. But that may not be enough to save you.” He paused. “Or me either.” He turned slowly and walked away. “I go for my break now, madam.”

“Don’t come back today, Martin,” she called after him. “Take a few days off. Take your family and go to your village.”

He turned slowly. “No, madam. I will stay here.”

“Martin,” she said firmly. “Don’t make me fire you.” Then her voice softened. “Don’t you think that Pauline has suffered enough? Just for a few days. Come back next week.”

Martin sighed but finally agreed. “I will go, madam. But please take care.”

She would, but in case anything happened to her, she wrote down everything that had happened and all that she suspected. When she was done, she put the package and the pages in her safe. She wrote the combination to her safe on a piece of paper, put it in an envelope, and wrote Vickie’s name on the front. She would deliver it to her at the embassy to ensure that the statue would be found. She walked to the intersection and hailed a taxi—she was too shaken to drive—and told the driver to take her to the American embassy. The go-slow was particularly bad and the heat stifling. The driver seemed unaccountably nervous. “No good stop heah . . .” he muttered, almost to himself. Soon a small group gathered, peering into the car. Sweating profusely, he reached over to make sure the doors were locked. Outside, a mob was growing. Lindsay became seriously alarmed when the crowd started to rock the car, yelling something in Yoruba.

Suddenly, someone smashed a brick through the window and an arm reached in, released the lock, yanked open the door, hauled out the driver and carried him away. Lindsay sat dumbfounded as the crowd dispersed as quickly as it had formed. She climbed out of the cab and noticed an old woman who had been watching from behind a stack of canned goods.

“What was that? What happened?”

“Ayah. He no pay his union dues.”

Lindsay sighed. She scanned the street and saw another taxi pulled over on the side of the road, the driver asleep in the front seat. She woke him and told him she needed him to take her to the American embassy and then wait for her.

“I go take you, but you need buy petrol.”

“If you don’t have petrol it will take hours to wait at the station. I can’t wait.” She started looking for another cab.

“I got petrol.”

“I thought you wanted me to buy it.”

“From me. It take me half day-o. You go pay meter plus fifty naira for wait.”

It was outrageous but she agreed. On the long hot ride, she tried to calm down. Once there, she got out, walked up to the marine guard, and handed him the envelope, telling him to be sure it was delivered to Vickie Grebow. Then she got back in the cab and steeled herself for the trip home. Now she’d have time to warn James before Vickie saw the statue, and if Mike or his cohorts hurt her, Vickie would know how to get into her safe.

She saw James’s car in her driveway as the taxi pulled up and felt a surge of relief. She rushed into the house, flung her arms around him, and held him close. He pulled back, smiling uneasily.

“Hey, hold on. I was only gone for a few days.”

“I know. I’m sorry, but wait until you hear what has happened.”

She made him sit down. Then she told him about Mike, being kidnapped, and finding the statue in the shed. James took in the information about Mike with restraint. He just nodded, his mouth set tightly. When she finished, she asked him if he wanted to go to the embassy with her. He seemed to think about it for a long time.

“No,” he said, finally. “I’ll take care of this myself.”

“But they might suspect you were involved.”

“I wasn’t, so I don’t have to worry. I need to check with my supplier to see how many of the statues have disappeared. Can you hold off for a little?”

“No. I sent a note to Vickie. If I know her, she’ll be here first thing in the morning, if not in the middle of the night.”

He was quiet. “All right,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”

He bent down to kiss her and she pulled him closer. They had the house to themselves. He lay on the couch and she lay on top of him; a few minutes later they moved to the floor. He was less controlled, more passionate and impulsive in his lovemaking than ever before. For a little while her anxiety lifted. She almost felt happy.

Vickie didn’t come over that night. She didn’t appear the next morning either, and Lindsay slept late, waking up with a start at 8:30. She had to be at Mike’s in half an hour. James had begged her not to keep the date. He thought it would be too dangerous. But Lindsay was determined to see this through and feared that Mike would be suspicious if she didn’t turn up. Afterward, she planned to go straight to the embassy.

When she reached Mike’s house, it was dark. Since no one answered, she tried the door and found it unlocked. Going in, she called Mike’s name several times, but didn’t get a response. She figured he was still asleep and decided to go upstairs to wake him. She knocked on his bedroom door and when he didn’t answer, she barged right in.

“Hey, Mike, get up. We have a date, remember? It’s past nine . . .”

She stopped suddenly. Mike was in bed lying on his back in a pool of blood. An ugly gash slashed his throat from ear to ear, the blood coagulated in a thick black band. Blood also stained the sheets and had dripped onto the floor near the bed in thick, rust-colored puddles. Mike’s eyes were open, staring and glassy, as though surprised. She backed into the hallway, horrified. As she passed the spare bedroom, she heard a rustling sound. She froze. Her eyes glued to the door, she saw Billy Anikulo standing there, unshaven, dressed in wrinkled pants and a dirty shirt. She started to run down the stairs.

“Wait,” he shouted. “It wasn’t me. I couldn’t stop them. I hid.”

She charged out the front door and into her car and drove to the American embassy. After she told Vickie the whole story, Vickie picked up the phone and asked Dave Goren to join them. Goren entered and Vickie quickly brought him up to date. Before he could respond, Lindsay turned to Vickie.

“Why didn’t you come to my house this morning? Didn’t you wonder why I left you the combination to my safe?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I gave a letter to a marine at the gate and told him to get it to you.”

“I never saw it. Anything hand delivered that isn’t expected is sent to security first.”

Dave Goren looked impatient. “Lindsay, we need to talk. First of all, we’ve got to pick up Anikulo. You say he’s still at Vale’s house?”

“He was when I left. I think Mike was the Solutions operative. Maybe Anikulo killed him.”

“Was anyone else there? The steward?”

“No.”

“Good. We can pick up Anikulo, clean up, and take the body without being seen. I’ll make the arrangements.” He walked out. Lindsay looked quizzically at Vickie, who was visibly upset.

“Okay. I’m going to try to fill you in,” Vickie said. She got up and locked her door. “I’d appreciate it if you’d hear me out without interrupting. You can ask whatever questions you have after I’m done.”

Lindsay nodded.

“Mike Vale was not the Solutions operative. He worked for us.”

Shocked, Lindsay started to say something, but Vickie stopped her.

“Let me finish. Mike managed to get a lot of information about what’s going on. The operative we’re looking for works with the northerners. They’re narco-terrorists. They bring in drugs from Colombia and Mexico and smuggle them to the Canary Islands and from there to Europe. They have ties to the new government and can operate with impunity. But Mike uncovered a second operation. Hired thugs are stealing important life-saving medicines from Lagos hospitals and sending them up north. The leader of the operation, who uses Solutions to pull it off, is a guy named Abdul Abdeka. He’s becoming a major player in the new government. He sees himself as some kind of Robin Hood, but the Solutions operative who worked with him was only interested in the cash.”

“What about Billy Anikulo?” Lindsay asked.

“Mike was offering him asylum in exchange for information. The new government is arresting all of Olumide’s ministers.”

“But what does he know?”

“He knows about Solutions, Inc. As I said, they work for cash and they work for anyone. They have no ideology and no loyalty. Olumide used them—probably for the Agapo killings among others—and Anikulo might know the name of the man on the ground here.” Lindsay was silent, worrying about James.

“When did you find out that Mike had the statue?” Vickie asked.

“I saw it a while ago, but I only found out it was stuffed with drugs yesterday.”

“Did you tell anybody?”

“No.”

“Didn’t you tell me James was exporting statues and that Mike had bought one from a trader?”