On the riverside of promise (16 page)

“We could just bribe the MPs then? That
simple?”

“If you find anyone sober. Things have been
quiet for too long around here. They feel settled, at ease. There’s
no fighting right now. Regrouping, they call it.”

“But still…”

“Everyone needs to unwind. War is a tiresome
affair, no? I thought you would know.”

Ethan laughed despite himself and downed the
rest of his scotch.

“Is this why this place is full of
foreigners? No-one really bothers with the curfew? Because the
scotch it serves is barely three years old. All it’s good for is a
pissing.”

Adu nodded with a thin smile on his lips and
added:

“That’s about right. Only it really is
rye.”

“Rye?”

“Old family recipe. There’s a war going on,
remember?”

Ethan didn’t laugh at that last remark,
despite Adu’s brilliant smile. He looked at his emptied glass and
asked Adu then with some puzzlement:

“Family recipe, you said? This place yours,
then? This is what you do, sell drinks and work with the CIA?”

Adu knit his hands together and smiled, while
Nicole sipped at her drink languidly, staring at Ethan. Adu
answered with a careful, concise tone:

“Among other things. Whatever the reason,
we’re here, and there are opportunities all around. It’s a terrible
thing to waste an opportunity.”

“I don’t really like you. Or your kind.”

“You mean businessmen?”

“No. Warmongers.”

Nicole closed her eyes and said calmly:

“Ethan, please. No need for
name-calling.”

Adu smiled thinly before calmly
retorting:

“This isn’t about money, or profit. This is
about survival. I could just as well imply that the British
government is doing the same, trying to hold on to the oil
contracts.”

“We didn’t start this war, you know.”

“But there’s only one outcome that suits
you.”

“That’s politics.”

“So they are politicians, but I’m a
warmonger? It doesn’t seem fair.”

“I think as much, only from a different point
of view.”

“But do you really understand why I have to
do all this? Stand in the middle, play all sides, balance
things?”

“You’re trying to tell me, you have no other
option?”

“Precisely. Someone has to be the voice of
reason in a very unreasonable affair,” he said and grinned before
adding with a shrug…“War.”

“I thought you were just selling info this
way and that according to what suits the CIA.”

“Or maybe what suits me. Even I can’t tell
sometimes,” Adu said with a grin and looked at Nicole sideways for
a moment. When she stared back he went on and added:

“You know where to look. My job is done.”

Nicole shot him a fiery look and told him
with icy deliberation:

“That’s not what we agreed upon.”

“It’s not too late to reach another
agreement. Perhaps it would be much more fair if Mr. Whittmore had
a say in this.”

“How much?” blurted Nicole with a flustered
face, while Ethan frowned and asked rather dully:

“How much about what, exactly?”

“Triple the usual,” said Adu casually,
casting a fleeting gaze at Ethan who repeated his question, this
time a lot more convincingly:

“The fuck what for?”

“Keeping his mouth shut,” Nicole said
briskly. Adu replied with an annoying grin on his mouth:

“Indeed. That would be very bad for both of
you, wouldn’t it? In more than one way. Isn’t that right, Ms.
Heurgot?”

“I thought you said you could trust this
man.”

“Trust is a rare commodity these days. The
price and the client, are… Flexible,” said Adu with a sharp, shiny
grin.

Ethan locked eyes with Adu. He had a look of
calm determination about him, eyes glinting in the dim light of the
oil lamp. The black man’s grin turned into a thin line and a deep
frown appeared on his face when without warning Ethan reached for
his ankle and pulled his combat knife in one superbly fluid
motion.

Nicole’s eyes widened with shock while Adu’s
hands were already upending the table. She only had time enough to
cry “Wait!” but Ethan was already off his chair, trying to sidestep
the table. He went for Adu’s arm with a quick jab of the knife, but
he missed for an inch or so. The upturned table hadn’t slowed him
down and he was right behind Adu who was already thrusting people
aside, edging his way towards the bar.

The sudden commotion made people turn their
heads in a snap. Nicole jumped off her chair and tried to grab
Ethan by the waist. Her initial surprise had made her slow to act
and she missed him by a few inches, grasping nothing but air.

Within moments, Adu had cleared his way
through the tables, smashing glasses and brushing aside stunned
customers. Ethan was only a few steps behind, his knife in hand. A
quick nod and a moment later, the bartender was leaning behind the
counter. When he saw the movement he instinctively rushed towards
the ground in an audacious tackle. Their feet connected; Adu
tripped and suddenly fell sideways at the exact moment when a small
cloud of wooden splinters, smashed tiles and pieces of cloth flew
right above Ethan’s head. The booming sound of a shotgun echoed
like thunderclap around the small bar; mayhem ensued.

Shouts and cries mingled with the sudden rush
of screeching tables and chairs as the panicked customers fled the
’Madimba’. Clicking metallic sounds alerted Ethan that the shotgun
was being reloaded, even as Adu had rolled on his back and turned
around to jump on Ethan.

With his sudden rush he had managed to pin
Ethan’s knife hand, but his grip was lax, his body badly placed;
vulnerable. Ethan managed to swing a punch right in Adu’s face with
his free hand; it barely shook him. A couple more quick jabs had
little effect other than Adu replying with a fist right in Ethan’s
stomach, grunting instinctively as he flexed his muscles.

Ethan tried to get a hold on Adu with his
legs, catch him in a vice. He couldn’t get a good grip, as Adu was
piling up more pressure on his knife hand, trying to wrestle the
knife away. His other hand went for Ethan’s neck and met with
opposition. While they grappled on the floor, Ethan heard a loud
shot without warning, then another and one more, all in quick
succession.

The crowd rushing outside reacted to the
shots with a louder burst of bewildered, panicked shouts. They were
still shouting when he heard the thud of a body falling limp
against the floor, the sound of smashed glass following its way
down.

They were both surprised and for an instant
Adu’s attention waned as he shot a reflexive look behind him, where
the bartender should have been holding the shotgun. In that single
moment his grip became just a tad more lax and allowed Ethan to
slip his knife hand away with a sudden, violent shove.

Losing the grip on the knife hand, Adu tried
to roll over on the floor, put some space between them. He
attempted to put his back against the bar, while he reached for
someplace out of Ethan’s sight. While he swung his body around,
trying to catch Adu from an ankle or a leg, he saw Adu’s face
suddenly go slack, all the tension vanishing in an instant. His
hand stayed for the merest moment still in the air, and then
another shot was heard.

This time he saw Adu’s whole body flex,
quiver and shudder all in the blink of an eye before it fell limp
against the bottom of the bar. Blood trailed down from the hole in
his shaven head, now grossly disfigured, the cracked skull
penetrating the skin. Nicole’s shouts reawakened Ethan who stood
there transfixed for the merest second, mesmerized from the puzzled
look in Adu’s eyes:

“Go! We have to run, now!”

Ethan stood up, sheathed his knife and ran
towards the stairs right behind Nicole. He told her then, out of
breath:

“Why did you shoot him dead? I had him.”

“What an idiot! He was reaching for a
gun.”

“I didn’t see any gun,” Ethan said when he
stepped outside. He could see a few of the customers shouting for
some patrol to come to their help. From the corner of his eye he
could see some of them pointing at him. Nicole dragged him along
behind one of the walls of ’Madimba’ and told him in a very strong
manner, evidently quite upset:

“You can thank me later, you dolt! What kind
of an asshole jumps on an informant like that? Without provocation
as well!”

“Without… He was bloody going to tell on us!
Who knows whom to! I was protecting us! You!”

“Jesus! Just… Fuck!”

“Listen, I think we need to make ourselves
scarce. We’ve got to leave now, tonight.”

“Oh, you think?”

Shouts and the sound of boots and clattering
helmets came from the street behind them. Some of the customers
were talking wildly in accented English and French, while an
authoritative voice wanted them to shut up.

“They’re trying to explain the shots and all.
We can’t go back to the hotel right now,” said Ethan, licking his
lips from his sweat.

“Any brighter ideas, then?”

“The river. Let’s try the river.”

“The river’s crawling with soldiers!”

“It’s full of water as well! We’ll get on a
boat, or lay low someplace until things die down.”

“Die down? Are you- never mind, no time to
argue. Go!” she said as the patrol leader shouted orders to his
men, still trying to gleam an understanding from the terrified
white folk.

They both ran towards the river bank, trying
to use alleys and shadowy paths through the irregular maze of
Onitsha’s neighborhoods. Behind them, they could hear echoes of
bellowing officers and the muffled sound of boots running. At each
corner they would stop for a breath, then silently nod and keep
going with the same pace. Anxious glances revealed wary eyes from
the city folk peeking behind smudged windows and decrepit walls.
They kept running and before long the empty streets gave way to a
wild, lush vegetation.

Dusk had already fallen, and with the
riverside in plain view, they laid low near a thick bush. Nicole
was out of breath, her muscles burning from the effort. She bent
over and weighed herself on her knees with sagged shoulders. Ethan
knelt beside her and surveyed the river bank for a moment. She said
then with pain written on her face:

“That’s it. I’m beat,” and a short breath
later added, “Can’t go on like this.”

Ethan replied with a nod, quite unaffected by
the physical strain:

“Right. I wasn’t thinking about running all
the way to Owerri anyway.”

Nicole laid down on her back and found in her
just a breath of laughter before she replied, still grimacing from
the exhaustion:

“Should’ve thought about that before.”

“Your valuable associate,” Ethan said icily,
“was going to sell us out.”

“What the fuck do you know, anyway?” came
Nicole’s sharp, almost vicious answer, before she added with a
sigh, “Real smart. Brilliant.”

“I know we need transportation,” said Ethan
dryly, staring at the Niger’s steady, gentle flow. A moment later
he added with a vehement grin, “Do you have any brilliant ideas
you’d like to share?”

Nicole shot him a weird look, her eyes all
lit up. She suddenly sprung back on her feet, and said “Actually,”
and then added as if it was her God-given right to do so, “I really
do.”

* * *

The small river barge was dominated by a
rather large stack of barrels and crates. Some had been spray
painted with numbers and letters in the same pattern, while others
were completely devoid of any markings. Most seemed battered and
frayed, while few seemed brand new. As the last light of the day
fell around them, it cast a blurred, murky reflection of the uneven
heap on the water rolling lazily past the flimsy, almost flat
hull.

“You see,” said the Swede scratching his
reddened beard as if deeply ponderous, “You have to have a… How do
you say that?”

“Perspective?”, asked Ethan and drew on his
cigarette. The sound of crickets and buzzing mosquitoes were
drowned by the monotonous `put-put’ of the two-stroke motor that
somehow managed to barely propel the barge.

The Swede replied with a smile that took a
moment or two to form on his sun-burnt face. He then added as he
peeked behind Ethan at the helmsman, a boy in his teens:

“Perspective. See, Muembe there lacks
perspective. He just wants to feed his family. Never asks a
thing.”

“I don’t think he’d been working for you if
he did.”

“Well, of course not. If anyone did, I’d be
out of business,” he said turning back to face Ethan with a thin,
gentle smile on his face. Ethan nodded and said nothing. His gaze
wondered for a moment before it fell on the cargo. He then asked
the Swede:

“And you just run up and down the river like
that? No questions asked by anyone?”