Read Online Elephant Dropping (9781301895199) by Bruce Trzebinski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bruce Trzebinski
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last drag on his cigarette to finish it.
‘How do we know you are you? Is there anyone in Malindi who can
vouch for you?’
Brian frowned.
‘The manager at the NNB bank here in Malindi knows who I am. Evans
Njugu, I can call him.’
‘Yes, you
better do that.’
He used his
mobile. ‘Hello Evans? Listen, I have a small problem. I’m at the
Malindi Police Station. I have been involved in an accident - yes,
I’m alright - yes but my briefcase was stolen. Can you ask the
Nairobi office to e-mail down a copy of my passport?’
Mugo leaned
forward, interrupting. ‘And your work permit.’
‘Yes Evans, and
a copy of my work permit. Yes, the police want to see it. Can you
come with it to the police station? Ok, thanks.’
Mugo asked.
‘This Evans, how long have you known him?’
‘We met for the
first time this morning. I flew down from Nairobi, but we are work
colleagues.’
Mugo said. ‘You
wait outside in the courtyard. Don’t try to leave,’ he warned,
‘when he brings your ID we continue.’
Brian stepped
out of the office and looked for somewhere to sit while he waited.
He settled for a small step outside the office, taking off his
dusty socks and stuffing them inside his remaining shoe. He found
himself in a surreal situation. Part of him just wanted to walk
out, the other half too scared to. Based on his experience so far,
it was better to do what the police asked him to do. He would laugh
about this one day, he told himself, comforted by this thought, he
tried to relax.
*
Evans was in a
dither, having waited in nervous anticipation for Brian’s arrival,
the phone call had completely thrown him. The first mention of the
police station sending shivers down his spine. He took a few deep
breaths, trying to calm himself. He immediately called Azizza on
his mobile, explaining quickly the latest events. ‘What shall I
do?’ he asked.
‘Do?’ She
asked.
‘Yes.’
‘When the
e-mail arrives, take it down to the police station and hand it
over,’ she said simply.
‘What about
Nicholls?’
‘He has had bad
luck, so go and be supportive. He is your boss after all, isn’t he?
Just go and be helpful, don’t get involved in anything the police
are up to, you know what they are like.’
‘Yes, yes, ok
thanks Azizza.’
‘You’re
welcome, call me any time,’ and she hung up.
*
Patel looked up
from what he was doing, raising his eyebrows in silent
question.
‘Nicholls is
with the cops,’ she told him. ‘They want a copy of his passport,
the bank is going to e-mail it through from Nairobi.’
‘Oh good,’
muttered Patel returning to his task.
Azizza asked.
‘Do you want help with that?’
‘Yes alright,
my fingers are too big.’ Azizza took the briefcase from Patel.
Bending down to listen to the tumblers on the lock, she flicked the
dials round with her sharp fingernails, listening for the telltale
click as a tumbler fell into position. She had the combinations in
no time, and pushing the buttons to one side flicked open the
latches handing it ceremoniously to Patel, ready for him to lift
the lid. She craned over his shoulder as the two of them looked at
the contents of Brian Nicholls briefcase.
Patel picked
out the passport and the work permit in glee. ‘Ha! In luck,’ he
exclaimed, ‘look a husband for you,’ he teased Azizza.
She took the
passport from him. ‘No, he’s too white,’ she said looking at the
photo and reading the particulars, ‘and too short.’
Patel read
through the bank documents with interest. Fingering the key to the
White Marlin apartment, he held it up. ‘Shall we keep this? They
will give him a spare.’
‘No, if it’s
missing they will change the lock. I know that manager he’s German,
very efficient.’
‘Ok,’ he tossed
it back into the brief case, looking wistfully at the dollars and
credit cards, ‘and the money?’
‘No.’ She shook
her head.
‘So, we just
take the passport and the work permit right?’
‘Yes, let him
wonder
‘How do we know you are you? Is there anyone in Malindi who can
vouch for you?’
Brian frowned.
‘The manager at the NNB bank here in Malindi knows who I am. Evans
Njugu, I can call him.’
‘Yes, you
better do that.’
He used his
mobile. ‘Hello Evans? Listen, I have a small problem. I’m at the
Malindi Police Station. I have been involved in an accident - yes,
I’m alright - yes but my briefcase was stolen. Can you ask the
Nairobi office to e-mail down a copy of my passport?’
Mugo leaned
forward, interrupting. ‘And your work permit.’
‘Yes Evans, and
a copy of my work permit. Yes, the police want to see it. Can you
come with it to the police station? Ok, thanks.’
Mugo asked.
‘This Evans, how long have you known him?’
‘We met for the
first time this morning. I flew down from Nairobi, but we are work
colleagues.’
Mugo said. ‘You
wait outside in the courtyard. Don’t try to leave,’ he warned,
‘when he brings your ID we continue.’
Brian stepped
out of the office and looked for somewhere to sit while he waited.
He settled for a small step outside the office, taking off his
dusty socks and stuffing them inside his remaining shoe. He found
himself in a surreal situation. Part of him just wanted to walk
out, the other half too scared to. Based on his experience so far,
it was better to do what the police asked him to do. He would laugh
about this one day, he told himself, comforted by this thought, he
tried to relax.
*
Evans was in a
dither, having waited in nervous anticipation for Brian’s arrival,
the phone call had completely thrown him. The first mention of the
police station sending shivers down his spine. He took a few deep
breaths, trying to calm himself. He immediately called Azizza on
his mobile, explaining quickly the latest events. ‘What shall I
do?’ he asked.
‘Do?’ She
asked.
‘Yes.’
‘When the
e-mail arrives, take it down to the police station and hand it
over,’ she said simply.
‘What about
Nicholls?’
‘He has had bad
luck, so go and be supportive. He is your boss after all, isn’t he?
Just go and be helpful, don’t get involved in anything the police
are up to, you know what they are like.’
‘Yes, yes, ok
thanks Azizza.’
‘You’re
welcome, call me any time,’ and she hung up.
*
Patel looked up
from what he was doing, raising his eyebrows in silent
question.
‘Nicholls is
with the cops,’ she told him. ‘They want a copy of his passport,
the bank is going to e-mail it through from Nairobi.’
‘Oh good,’
muttered Patel returning to his task.
Azizza asked.
‘Do you want help with that?’
‘Yes alright,
my fingers are too big.’ Azizza took the briefcase from Patel.
Bending down to listen to the tumblers on the lock, she flicked the
dials round with her sharp fingernails, listening for the telltale
click as a tumbler fell into position. She had the combinations in
no time, and pushing the buttons to one side flicked open the
latches handing it ceremoniously to Patel, ready for him to lift
the lid. She craned over his shoulder as the two of them looked at
the contents of Brian Nicholls briefcase.
Patel picked
out the passport and the work permit in glee. ‘Ha! In luck,’ he
exclaimed, ‘look a husband for you,’ he teased Azizza.
She took the
passport from him. ‘No, he’s too white,’ she said looking at the
photo and reading the particulars, ‘and too short.’
Patel read
through the bank documents with interest. Fingering the key to the
White Marlin apartment, he held it up. ‘Shall we keep this? They
will give him a spare.’
‘No, if it’s
missing they will change the lock. I know that manager he’s German,
very efficient.’
‘Ok,’ he tossed
it back into the brief case, looking wistfully at the dollars and
credit cards, ‘and the money?’
‘No.’ She shook
her head.
‘So, we just
take the passport and the work permit right?’
‘Yes, let him
wonder
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