BAMAKO - Aribert Raphael (red queen ebook TXT) 📗

Talya suggested, batting an eyelid. “How’s that for playing the part of Daphne in her absence?”
“I guess I can do that.” He was enjoying her teasing eyes. “And I prefer to do that than seeing you run off to Hjamal by yourself.”
“Don’t even go there. You’re—” He assaulted her with one of his sick-puppy look. She returned the gaze. “I’m supposed to be quiet is that it?”
“No, no just go on—”
“All right, all right. No more ifs and buts for now, and could you get on with it please?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, chuckling.
She got up, picked up her purse and trotted out, leaving Hassan bewildered and to his secretarial duties, to take a walk.
She wanted to be alone. She went down past the terrace restaurant and onto the beach. The sand felt cool under her feet. The sun hadn’t been shining on it long enough to heat it. She needed to assure herself that what she was about to reveal to these people tomorrow, was the right conclusion to this long-drawn affair—The Savoi Affair. Yet, she had no proof and it bothered her. Maybe she needed to recruit the ambassador’s help.

At eleven sharp, Talya heard a knock at the door. She didn’t know which of the two men would be first. She suspected James would be. She had a last look around the apartment—the maid had done a wonderful job in removing all traces of anyone’s passage.
“Hello, Kiddo,” James said when she opened the door. Kiddo was the nickname Talya got after a few weeks at Carmine. She couldn’t recall how it came about, but she was always pleased when James addressed her with it.
“Good morning, how was breakfast?” She closed the door and looked at her boss appreciatively. His allure was carefree and happy. Actually, he looks like the cat that just swallowed the canary.
“Glorious, is how I would describe it. That restaurant downstairs is something else. Talya, you’ve been spoiled rotten,” he said with a smirk. “And you know what the best thing about this is? The aircraft company is footing the bill for the whole thing.”
“No. Really? You mean the guys who brought me here?”
“Oh yes—them. I went to the desk this morning to check if I needed to give them a credit card or something after you’d explained how you ended up here. And they told me Air Location had given orders to put everything on their tab.”
“Wow, that’s nice of them. I bet Ken will be happy with that.”
“Absolutely. He’s already asking when you’re going to give him your expense report.”
Moments later Hassan knocked and came in dressed to a T. He had changed for the meeting. The man must have packed his entire wardrobe before coming down.
She made the introductions. James and Hassan eyed each other for a fraction of a second before sitting down.
James spoke first. “Maitre, I’ll begin by saying thank you and then I’ll have to say congratulations.”
“There’s really no need to thank me, Monsieur Flaubert. Talya did most of the work. And as for the congratulations, I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’ve put up with Talya for nearly two years, Maitre, and I still don’t know why I keep her around.” He threw a quick glance in Talya’s direction. She smiled. “Yet, you’ve managed to stand her for over a month, in the middle of this turmoil? Of course, I have to congratulate you for your tolerance and steadfastness. I have a good idea what you went through!”
They laughed. The ice was broken.
95
“Okay, let’s start with a few questions,” James began. He had chosen to sit on the sofa once again, and across from Talya and Hassan. “And let’s leave Savoi and Mali aside for now. What exactly have you discovered about the ownership of Sabodala?”
Talya turned to Hassan. He had the answers to that question.
Hassan put his elbows on his knees, lifted his face to James and said, “In all the paperwork that I was shown, I couldn’t find anything which proved that Monsieur Hjamal was authorized officially to occupy the land, let alone mine it.”
“What about permits to dig wells or drain septic tanks, for example, or even permits to construct the plant? Did you see any of that?”
“No, I didn’t see any permits of any sort. The only thing that was relevant was the accounting ledger. It showed numerous transactions taking place for over two years and funds being transferred from Mali into Minorex’s account and some expenses for the purchase of the equipment for the plant—but, again, nothing by way of payment of taxes or fees for acquisition of permits of any kind.”
“Now, Maitre, I’d like you to think carefully before you answer the next question. The ledger which you’ve examined, did it show clearly that Savoi actually transferred funds into the business?”
“Not very clearly, no, except for the name of Savoi’s company being mentioned in brackets from time to time, beside the amounts received.” As James was about to interrupt him, Hassan held up his hand. “But that’s not all. As I’ve told Talya, when I phoned her on the day, I had found bank account statements, which showed the details of each of the transactions that had taken place—dates, amounts, everything.”
“I see. That’s excellent,” James said.
Hassan and Talya looked at each other. They were taken aback. Why would embezzlement become ‘excellent’ all of a sudden?
“I see that you don’t understand. Do you, Talya?”
“You’re right I don’t. Why is it excellent?”
“Because, this is one way to acquire a minor interest in Sabodala.”
She didn’t see the reasoning behind that statement immediately. Yet slowly she woke up, and it became clear.
James went on with his explanation. “After I left you last night, I called Ken, and we had a long discussion about Sabodala. What he said was this: if we can prove that Carmine’s money has been used in the development of the mine, and expenditure has been made toward the purchase of the equipment, we can then claim a minor interest in the venture. Or we could claim first right of purchase from Hjamal, if he decided to sell. That is, of course, if he owned any of it, but since he doesn’t, we will have the first crack at acquiring permits from the government as a foreign developer and a shareholder of Minorex.”
“That’s wonderful! And what’s the Board got to say about it?” Talya was all smiles now.
“Not so fast, Kiddo, we need to plan this out first. You’ve said we were going to meet with Mr. Hjamal, did you make an appointment?”
“No,” Hassan rushed to answer, “Talya didn’t have time to look after the secretarial duties, I did,” with a teasing smile at the corner of his mouth. James was observing the two of them, but he kept quiet. “Hjamal was very surprised at the request, but he accepted to see Talya (the three of us actually) at three o’clock this afternoon.”
“That’s good. And what about the commissioner and the meeting tomorrow morning?”
“That wasn’t easy, sir. I had to talk him into it. Anyway, he finally agreed.”
“And does he know who we would like to see at the meeting?”
“I told him, and he was the one who proposed to call them.”
“Very good. Next time I’ll need an assistant I think I’ll call on you, Hassan.” James glanced at Talya knowingly. “Okay, here is what we’re going to do.”
For the next hour, James planned their move, and much of their discussions focused on business culture differences between Senegal, Mali and Canada. In the end, they decided to go for lunch at the terrace restaurant.
Talya was pleased, happy actually, that James had taken the reins again.
Going home isn’t such a bad idea after all.
When they reached the table behind the long bar and closest to the beach, Talya noticed Rheza and Mohammed sitting some ways near the gardens. She went to greet them. Mohammed rose as he saw her approach. Rheza, who looked much refreshed, smiled but remained seated. Her ankle must have been bothering her yet.
“Talya. How are you? Won’t you join us?” Mohammed was brimming with enthusiasm. He looked content.
“I’m just fine, thank you, but I can’t. How are you? And you, Rheza?”
“I’m fine, Madame Kartz.” The ruefulness in her voice was unmistakable. “This is such a lovely place.”
“And you should enjoy it then, because I’m sure it won’t be long now until you’ll be able to go home.”
“What about you? When are you planning to go back?” Mohammed asked.
“I don’t know. A lot depends on the meetings we will have with Monsieur Hjamal.”
“Oh?”
“Yes… But you didn’t know Monsieur Flaubert arrived last night, did you?”
“Did he really? That’s excellent news. He will bring you the guidance you need.”
“He has already,” Talya said. “A few hours with him is like taking a refresher course in business logic. Anyway, I won’t keep you. I have to return to my bosses.” She nodded in the direction of James and Hassan, who were waiting for her to return before sitting down.”
Mohammed chuckled. “Yes, I guess you have two bosses to contend with now, haven’t you?”
“I’ll see you in the morning if not sooner.”
“Madame Kartz?” Rheza looked up at Talya. “Can I ask you if we’ll ever see you again?”
“I don’t know, but I hope so. Now, I must go. Please excuse me. Oh, Mohammed, I almost forgot,” Talya said, retracing her steps. “Have they released Monsieur Savoi yet?”
“Yes, they had to. He’s at the Terranga I believe.”
“Well that’s a good place for him I guess.” She paused. “But what’s going to happen now? The proof of embezzlement is here…”
“Don’t worry about any of that. Leave it to me,” Mohammed cut-in. “I’ll see that you’re cleared, I mean Carmine is cleared from any bribing accusations and all that sort of thing. Just go home.”
“Okay then, see you later.”
96
Walking down the sandy road toward the nearest bus stop, Rasheed was in no mood for company. He was in the mood for revenge. The Kartz woman had meant trouble since the day she arrived in Bamako. He had it all planned beforehand—Richard had been expendable, a liability really. The way she had weaselled her way into Hjamal’s business was incredible. She was devious, unbearably stubborn—like a rabid dog, she wouldn’t let go of you once she got hold of your ankle.
The honking of a bus drew Rasheed out of his thoughts. He climbed aboard and gave the driver the only bill he had in his pocket—100 CFA. He knew it would not be enough to get him to Dakar.
“That’s not enough,” the driver said. “Where you going?”
“Dakar,” Rasheed replied flatly.
“Well, unless you have a hundred more of these”—he waved the bill under Rasheed’s nose—“that’ll get you only to the next stop.”
“I don’t have anything else,” Rasheed flared, once again blaming the Kartz woman for his troubles.
“Come on. You must have something worth the trip to Dakar. Let’s see…”—he peered at Rasheed’s hand; the one holding his jacket—“What about that ring? That would get you to Dakar and back if you wanted to part with it.”
“That’s worth more than ten trips to Dakar…”
“Okay. You don’t want to give the ring then you don’t want to go to Dakar.