BAMAKO by Aribert Raphael (latest books to read .TXT) 📕

arrived in front of the primature before Talya knew it. Hassan parked the car in front of the door as Rheza had done some days earlier. The heat in that parking lot was still as enveloping as it had been then.
Hassan knocked. While they were uncomfortably roasting in front of the prime minister’s counsellor’s office, a small, sombre-looking man opened the door, finally. He did not smile, did not utter a word, just waved them in the direction of the seats opposite the desk and walked out.
Mohammed Fade was on the phone. He, too, waved to them to sit, but he was smiling. They went and sat down and waited for the conversation to come to a close. Observing people when they’re on the phone is really a learning experience. The counsellor’s allure was casual and nonchalant. His body language, however, demonstrated the self-assurance of a man who knows exactly what he wanted out of life, and got it.
Once he put the receiver down, he swivelled his chair to face them. Talya couldn’t tell if he was surprised or bothered to see them, but he greeted them with courtesy and what Talya thought was a certain dose of restraint. Hassan said a few words in Bambara and handed him the letter. Mohammed Fade frowned. He perused the piece of paper and asked Talya if she kept the envelope.
“Yes I have.” She produced it from her purse. “Here it is.”
He took it from her, looked at it and shook his head. He must have noticed, as Talya did, it wasn’t post-marked. Then he said, “Madame Kartz, I know Amadou Savoi fairly well and when I read this I have to wonder why he wrote to you at all. Presumably, he’s gone into hiding taking with him the left over of Carmine’s funds. I don’t see him writing you a note telling you where he is in the first place, and asking you to cover his expenses. It doesn’t make sense. Do you think he wrote this note?”
“No, I don’t think he wrote it,” Talya replied, “I think Rheza did,” and gave him an explanation as to why she thought Rheza wrote the message.
Monsieur Fade nodded, a concerned frown crossing his brow. “This is very disturbing news. I can only say if in fact Rheza wrote this letter, she must have done so under some sort of duress. What I don’t understand is that she usually comes to me with her problems, or if she needed money, which is not likely, because her husband left her quite comfortably off. Anyway, I haven’t heard from her since she was here with you last week. I really don’t know what to make of this.” He looked at Hassan and Talya expectantly.
“You know, I don’t think she wrote this letter under duress,” Hassan said. “I think, on this occasion, she was afraid to come to you for help, because she knew how you would react. She knew you would have told her that her place was here with the children and that she shouldn’t be going after her uncle. I’m quite sure she’s gone already.”
“Yes, that’s seems obvious. But why would she ask for money?”
Hassan reclined in the seat and folded his arms over his chest. “Maybe she had enough money to take the trip, but she didn’t have enough to stay in Dakar where she probably doesn’t know anyone who could take her in.”
Monsieur Fade shook his head. “No, I think she has enough funds available to her to stay where ever she pleases. Besides, we have some distant cousins in Dakar and she may have decided to stay with one of them—which one is the question.”
“Do you have any of their phone numbers?” Hassan’s voice sounded somewhat anxious.
“No. It’s been ages since we’ve spoken.” The counsellor opened a drawer in front of him and pulled out the famous address book. “Let me see if I can call someone in Dakar. Maybe somebody has seen her or my brother-in-law.”
When he found what he was looking for, he picked up the phone and asked his secretary (in Bambara) to put him through to Dakar to a person whose name Talya didn’t quite catch. Somehow, it sounded very familiar. Maybe she was mistaken.
Hassan and Talya sat in silence while the counsellor talked to the party, in Arabic this time. It was strange. She had a feeling of dejà-vu. Monsieur Fade hung up and turned around, once again facing them, his eyes resting on Talya. For some reason, he looked undecided or embarrassed.
A few seconds passed before he said, “I’ve just talked to Abdul Rasheed in Dakar…”
“Abdul Rasheed?” Talya snapped, amazed. “Is he in business with a Monsieur Hjamal?”
“Yes, that’s him, do you know him?”
“No, not personally. I’ve never met him. We only spoke on the phone a couple of times regarding Monsieur Hjamal’s affairs. But what has he got to do with Monsieur Savoi?”
Monsieur Fade looked definitely putout by Talya’s rudeness.
She quickly apologized. “But I’m sorry, I’ve cut you off, please go on.”
“As I was saying, I was talking to Abdul Rasheed in regards to my niece and Amadou Savoi’s whereabouts. He has a lot of contacts in Dakar and he’s offered to help us, if we make it worth his while.”
“What!” Talya said eyebrows arched in utter bafflement. This time she couldn’t contain herself. “Did I understand you correctly? Abdul Rasheed wants money to locate your brother-in-law and your niece?”
“Yes. That’s what his offer amounted to, yes,” the counsellor replied quietly. Seeing her outrage, he tried to explain, “But, Madame Kartz …” She didn’t let him.
“No, Monsieur Fade, enough is enough.” She had about as much as she could take. No more. She was enraged beyond control. She could have thrown something at him. The thought of being asked for money to find a man who had stolen a half-a-million dollars from her company was a lot more than Talya could handle at that particular moment.
She looked at Hassan and said, “I think we should go. We have nothing more to discuss.”
She got up and turned to face an indignant counsellor. “I know you are trying to help. But right now, I don’t think finding Monsieur Savoi is a priority and as for Rheza’s covert request, whether or not she’s in Dakar, I will let you know what I’ve decided as soon as I know myself.”
Talya was terribly upset, but she thanked their host for seeing them and walked to the door of his office. Hassan, who appeared dumfounded, said nothing more than a courteous good-bye to his friend.
When they got back to the car, Talya said, “I’ve had it. I can’t see any reason for me to stay in Bamako any longer than necessary.” She stopped, her mouth emitting some sort of disagreeable groan. “In fact, I’ll just stay long enough to complete the application for the Kankoon permit and take the next flight home. You can continue searching for Savoi if you want, and prove whatever it is you want to prove, I don’t care!”
Hassan’s expression was unfeeling, his gaze reproving. His hands were gripping the steering wheel. He drove Talya back to the hotel without a word. His silence did nothing to abate Talya’s irate thoughts.
When they reached the Grand, he opened the car door for her and said, “I’ll see you later.”
“Any time … And thanks for the ride!” Wow, was she upset!
In the lobby the clerk called after her, maybe there were some messages…. She didn’t want to know. She ignored him and went to her room. She undressed, took a shower, threw a bathrobe over her wet body and tried to make sense out of this insanity.
She didn’t want to call Vancouver yet. She wanted to be able to provide James with a summary of the situation in a cool and collected manner. However, she was far from being cool and collected at that moment—more like a lion in a cage needing a feed.
She tried to turn her mind to something else, but Hassan’s change of attitude toward her was insidiously continuing to permeate her thoughts. The man had been unable to take her reaction for what it was, just a reaction to an unrealistic proposition. He seemed to be shocked by the fact that Talya was angry at his friend’s suggestion. He must have known that abusing her kindness or willingness to help, would not sit very well with her, under any circumstance. What’s more, for someone of Fade’s standing to have the gall of suggesting that she pay someone yet again to find a rip-off artist, was beyond her, not to mention that the proposed investigator was Abdul Rasheed. Once again, she felt extremely uncomfortable at the mere thought of this man’s name.
She decided she needed a break from this hassle. She had to do something to get away. She needed to escape. Yet, she had nowhere to go, or did she? Perhaps, she should seriously consider going home. No. That would be backing down and admit defeat on all fronts. It was too early to do that.
She went to the balcony and watched the traffic below go by, much like a cow would watch the train rolling down the tracks. She chewed the cud and so did Talya.
The fog of anger and confusion slowly lifted after a while, giving way to some clearer thoughts. Maybe there was a connection between Rasheed, Hjamal and Savoi, but what connection? Talya couldn’t very well go back to Monsieur Fade and ask him, now could she? The only obvious link between the three men was the location—Dakar. Maybe that’s where I should go? And, where is Rheza now? In Dakar also … but, she didn’t want to worry about her. She was no longer her problem, or so Talya thought.
All the while, these irritating feelings drew Talya back to Hassan’s conduct. His silence during the drive back to the hotel had unnerved her. He had made no comments about her outburst in Fade’s office. He stoically sat there and said nothing. Why was that? Granted his face had clearly shown the depth of his embarrassment and his utmost displeasure at Talya’s behaviour. Yet, why on earth didn’t he say something? Mohammed Fade was his friend. Why then didn’t he come out and say it: “Talya you were a fool …” or some such thing? Perhaps, she should call him and try getting some reaction from him? Talya’s answer was, no, she shouldn’t. She was tired of arguing with herself and building a house of cards based on pure conjectures. Whatever she should do next wasn’t clear at all. Talk about muddied waters. She concluded that she would need to do a lot more cud chewing and keep on watching a lot more traffic go by before making any decision.
24
Once he left Talya in front of the Grand, Hassan drove for a couple of hours before deciding to go down to the Niger River. He was at a loss for words. What was the woman thinking? There were so many things he would have liked to say and yet the words didn’t