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

“Good morning, Talya … and you don’t bother me, what can I do? By the way, I’ve got the documentation all ready for you. Shall I bring it over?”
“Oh, thank you. That was quick. But I won’t need it for a couple of days I’m afraid. I’ll send someone to pick it up if you want?”
“No, no, that won’t be necessary, I’ll bring it down the next time I come to the hotel.”
“That’ll be fine, thanks. But that’s not what I’m calling about. I had a meeting with Rheza McLean last night…”
“You did?”
“Do you know her?”
“Well, yes, I know of her. She’s Monsieur Savoi’s right hand, as far as I know. So what’s happening? Did she tell you where he is?”
“No, she didn’t. She asked me for a job.”
“What? Doesn’t that beat all! The nerve of the woman, I can’t believe it.”
“Oh believe it, and to top it off she’s phone me this morning to go with her to meet some friend of hers. Do you think I should go along?”
“Not without me you don’t! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” She, too, hung up in Talya’s ear.
At ten o’clock, after Talya dropped the Kankoon documentation that Chantal had brought with her, in her room, the two women were sitting on one of the sofas in a corner of the lobby.
“By the way,” Chantal said, “I talked to Jean-Claude about the landowners.”
“Oh yes, and what does he think? Are we going to have them knocking down our doors?” Talya was curious to hear Jean-Claude’s thoughts on the subject. He must have had some inkling about the deal Savoi had possibly made with them, since he knew there had been twelve permits under application.
“He said that they wouldn’t travel to Bamako unless they were told something was amiss with Savoi. He also said that if you retained a lawyer he would give me a list of the proprietors so that he could get in contact with them and see what kind of settlement could be reached.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea, and I think that it would also help if someone went to visit these people and see what kind of reimbursement they would expect.”
“What do you mean? Wouldn’t they want to see their money back?”
“Not necessarily. I would bet some of them would go for payment in kind rather than cash. These people are often in need of medical attention or some form of support, more than they are of cash.”
“You mean something like offering them a trip to the hospital for a check-up or drilling a new water-well closer to their house?” Chantal readjusted the red belt that accented the blue skirt and striped shirt she wore that morning. Always looking fresh and wholesome.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. When I travelled with my father, although that was a long time ago, the people we met, often needed glasses to read; they wanted to read the Koran and couldn’t. They would have given their right hand to be able to read. Some others needed malaria pills or even some seeds to plant the next crop....”
“Well, in a way, that’s a relief, but who do you suggest we send on this little errand? I don’t think a lawyer, not the ones I’ve met anyway, would go traipsing across the Sahel in order to settle a claim, do you?”
Talya had to smile at Chantal’s suggestion. No, I couldn’t see any lawyer doing that.
“I don’t know, Chantal. Since Jean-Claude is out of action for a while, James will have to address that problem.”
“That reminds me, did you get in touch with him?”
“No, not yet. He was out of the office when I tried. I’ll send him a report later today anyway.”
“Oh, I wish Jean-Claude hadn’t been so stupid with that old trunk.” Chantal lowered her eyes ruefully. “You know, I just asked him to drag it down the stairs…” and she went on to explain (in detail) how Jean-Claude got hurt.
Talya listened politely but her thoughts turned once again to their problem, to Rheza McLean. In fact, she was to become a serious problem.
A few minutes later, when the double doors opened and Rheza came in, the effect was startling. Her apparel was a far cry from the business suit Talya was expecting. She wore a long dress tightly moulding her shapely body. The black and white pattern of the silk fabric enhanced her figure even more so. She had a black organza scarf loosely wrapped around her head and shoulders. Talya couldn’t get over the transformation. The gown was slit at the sides, which discreetly showed her long legs at each step she took while the black high-heel shoes clicked on the tile floor rhythmically. Her make-up was flawless—a bit of blush, some mascara and a touch of lipstick to define her exquisite facial features. She looked like a woman on a call from an escort agency.
Where is the ‘lady’ I met last night in the lounge?
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, ladies, but the traffic in town was horrible,” Madame McLean said with outward aloofness, a cloud of flowery perfume enveloping the two women as she came closer.
Still staring at her, Chantal and Talya finally stood up and blurted out some welcoming comments, to which Talya added, “Rheza, before we leave, may I ask you where we’re going? And who’s this friend of yours we’re going to see?”
“I rather not talk about it right here,” Rheza said, abruptly turning on her heels and crossing the lobby. “Let’s go to the car and I’ll explain.”
They were already reaching the doors and walking out before Talya could stop her. Rheza had the knack of taking over a situation. She made Talya feel awkward.
This woman is going to draw rings around you and before you know it, she’ll have you on a leash doing tricks.
Rheza walked ahead of them to the parking lot, pointing out her car.
A Mercedes? Of all the nerve! So that’s where Carmine’s money has gone—into a Mercedes no less!
Talya was astonished and speechless. Chantal stopped beside her agape. She too had no words to express her amazement. Talya caught up with Rheza and when she had recovered her faculty of speech, but none of her composure, she barked at her, “Did you buy this car here?”
“No,” Rheza replied with a derisive smile. “This is my uncle’s car.”
“You mean Monsieur Savoi?”
“Yes.”
Talya could not believe her ears.
Chantal was staring at this gorgeous vehicle. It looked as if it came straight out of the show room—lustrous nacre, chromed trimmings with black leather interior.
“How is it that you drive his car and you can’t tell me where he is?” Talya was furious.
Rheza turned around to face her. Her voice was cold, almost menacing. “I don’t know where my uncle is. I told you that yesterday. He’s left his car behind, and I’m using it, if that’s alright with you?”
“Of course, it’s alright with me. It has to be, hasn’t it?”
Talya couldn’t very well force her to hand over the keys right there and then, now could she? She went on barking instead, “Will you at least have the courtesy to tell me where we’re going?”
“I’m not intending to kidnap you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. We do not use such means of persuasion in this country.”
Somehow, Talya doubted the truthfulness of that statement. She saw Chantal frown. Obviously, she was also in doubt as to the veracity of that assertion.
Seizing Rheza’s wrist before she had time to turn away from her, Talya glared at Rheza, and with all of the restraint she could muster, she uttered, “You’re a remarkable woman. You seemed to be very much in control of your every move, but as a rule, I don’t like to be kept in the dark about anything. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” Rheza replied, her features set in resentment.
Talya released her wrist and stood there, fuming. Rheza still wouldn’t tell her where they were going. Instead, she opened the car door, and once she settled behind the wheel, she slammed it shut.
Thank goodness, my fingers weren’t in the way.
Coming out of her stunned gazing, Chantal walked around to the other side of the car, and they both climbed into the back seat. All the while Chantal hadn’t said anything, but her face showed plenty. Talya had noticed this about her before; she was the observer. She would tell her later how she felt—when they were alone.
As they closed the car doors, Chantal turned to Talya and said, “If Madame McLean is finally ready to tell us who we’re going to see, maybe I know the person.”
Talya saw Rheza’s clenched jaw in the rear-view mirror. The woman looked back at her and hesitated. Then, she turned around to face them. “I don’t want to start working with you on the wrong footing. You’ve got to understand something, Madame Kartz, my uncle unfortunately has done wrong by more people than you realize. I’ve discovered this last night when I rang one of his associates in New York. The same as you want an explanation for the disappearance of your money; others in town have lost their assets at the hands of my uncle, and they may want to talk to me before I’ve had a chance to clear this up with him. This is one of the reasons I’m taking you to see Monsieur Fade. He may be able to help us.
“Madame Gauthier, you must know him?” Rheza turned her back to Talya and Chantal once again, and put the key in the ignition.
Talya looked at her companion expectantly; Chantal’s eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Oh! I’ve heard of him, yes,” Chantal replied, still smiling. “He’s the Director of the Ministry for Sports and Entertainment. Jean-Claude tells me he’s also a Counsellor to the Prime Minister. Apparently, he seems to know more about soccer than he does about politics.”
“What is this?” Talya felt ripples of anger climb up her spine again. She grabbed the back of the seat in front of her, and pulling herself inches from Rheza’s ear, she sneered, “Please tell me we’re not going to see a soccer fan to resolve our problem?”
Rheza didn’t reply. She switched on the ignition and reversed the car out of the parking stall. Talya knew she wasn’t going to get a straight answer for the time being. She fell back in her seat and looked out at the traffic, the city bustle, without seeing anything. Her mind was abuzz with frustration. Chantal extended her hand and tapped on her arm in a manner as to soothe a petulant child.
A quarter of an hour later, they were at the gate of the ‘Primature’ (the Prime Minister’s Department). Rheza had a chat with the guard, and they proceeded into the courtyard at the centre of an assemblage of low buildings; a whitewashed one-storey affair that looked more like servants’ quarters than offices. They parked the car in front of one of the houses and got out to be instantly assaulted by searing heat. Monsieur Fade’s name was in evidence on a nameplate stuck on the door.
Rheza knocked. They waited.
Every second seemed like minutes. Chantal was protecting her head from the sun with