BAMAKO, Aribert Raphael [read out loud books .TXT] 📗

you for your concern but it may be a costly and unwarranted trip for him. My company will not be ready to pay for his expenses or his time as counsel if there doesn’t seem to be a need for a lawyer to accompany me.”
“I’m sure Hassan can afford to pay his own way,” Yves countered. “Yet, I can see that you two haven’t talked this through and you’re not ready to committing yourselves to anything at the moment. So, I’ll retreat. I’m sorry if I’ve intruded.” Yves looked embarrassed.
Hassan raised his head and smiled. “You know, father, I came here, as always, seeking advice. Talya did not ask me to go with her, and for reasons of my own, I suppose I tried to convince myself she should go alone. However, during the past weeks, I became more and more aware of her needs and after listening to your words, I know now that going with Talya is a necessary thing to do.” Hassan looked at his father with deference.
“Allah be praised,” Yves said, slamming his fist on the armrest of the lounge chair and lifting his head to the heavens. “Raising this child has not been in vain. He might listen to this old man after all.” He laughed heartily while Hassan and Talya smiled at each other. The old man uncovered their feelings and the tension was broken once again. It was strange. Every time they spoke of their affection for each other, or someone brought up the subject, they would become very leery and unwilling to step into the ring. It wasn’t a topic they talked about easily.
It was nearly four o’clock and it was time for Hassan and Talya to leave. It had been a perfect day. Yves gave Talya a big bear hug and said that if one day she needed to escape from the world beyond these garden gates, to come back and stay with him. Hassan said they should be returning from Dakar within a few days and he would phone him soon. Yves looked apprehensive and worried. He had probably foreseen the future.
30
What’s taking him so long? Richard was pacing the packed sand at the edge of the beach. The waves came dying at his feet, gently rolling under the gleaming moonlight. He heard the car come to a stop on the embankment to his left. A door slammed. A few moments later, Richard saw a dark figure make its way down the sand path toward him. Finally. It took him long enough.
“Have you got the package?” Richard was not one for preambles.
“Of course.” The fellow pulled out a small packet out of his briefcase and handed it to him.
“Good. Shall I return to Nouakchott first, or where do you want me to start?”
“I thought I had made it plain to you; you start distributing the product from the point of landing, or do you want me to draw you a picture?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I know what you mean.” Richard didn’t display any of his misgivings, although he still wasn’t clear where the ‘point of landing’ was.
“Oh, one more thing,” the man said as he turned to leave, “there is a woman who’s arrived in Bamako last month—”
“A woman? Who is she?”
“She won’t be a problem…. She could make trouble for some of us—not for you, though….”
“Who is she? What’s her name?” Richard didn’t like busy-bodies … and why did he mention her if she wasn’t going to be any trouble for him…. Why not?
The stranger shrugged. “She is some sort of administrator from Carmine.”
“From Carmine? I thought you said these guys were not coming back.”
“They’re not, but she seems to be very nosy….”
Taking a pen and a folded sheaf of paper out of his breast pocket, Richard asked again, “What’s her name?”
“Talya Kartz. But, really, I don’t think it should be any concern of yours now….”
“Maybe not, but thanks all the same. I’ll keep her in mind.” Saying this, Richard pocketed the sheaf of paper together with the pen, and bid goodbye to the man who was already making his way back to his car.
He sat on the sand, looking around him to see if anyone was watching him—no one was there. Then Richard unwrapped the packet feverishly and before opening what looked like a Tupperware container, he rolled up one of his sleeves. As he did so, someone grabbed him by the shoulders from behind, and literally lifted him off the ground. Once on his feet, Richard pivoted to face his assailant, still holding the small container in his right hand.
“YOU? What is this? What are you doing here?”
“Surprised, Richard?”
“You could say that, yes. Where do you come from? I thought you were gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, don’t worry about me. I’ll be gone soon enough. Instead, you should worry about you. What’s in the box?”
“What do you mean?” Richard looked down at the rectangular container in his hand as if he had never laid eyes on it before that instant.
“You know very well what I mean. So, don’t let me interrupt you. Go ahead … Let me see…” The man grabbed the box from Richard’s hand and snapped it open. “Just as I thought…”
“Give me that!” Richard yelled, incensed at the man’s intrusion.
Pushing Richard away in a swift and forceful movement, the burly fellow said, “Go ahead, kill yourself. Go ahead. Come on, I want to see you die,” while retrieving a syringe from the container and brandishing it under Richard’s nose.
31
When Talya got back to the hotel, there were a few messages left in her room. Two of them looked urgent. There was one from Chantal and one from James in Vancouver. She dialled the Vancouver number first. She got Sabrina on the line almost immediately.
“Talya! Finally. James has been looking for you everywhere. We were wondering if someone had kidnapped you or worse. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks. And, no, I haven’t been kidnapped—yet.” Talya laughed inwardly. In fact, a handsome man had abducted her that very morning. “I was out visiting some friends today. Nothing to worry about. Is James available?”
“Yes. Hold on, I’ll tell him you’re calling.” The line went dead for a few seconds.
“Talya. Where are you?” James’s voice sounded a little worried and quite impatient. “We’ve been trying to locate you because I have some news for you. This may be important. I wanted you to have this information before you left for Dakar. How are you progressing with the Kankoon application by the way, have you filed it yet? And, have you heard from our friend, Mr. Savoi?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had some information for me. I should’ve left a phone number with the hotel receptionist. Hassan filed the Kankoon application last night. And today we went to visit Mr. Sandros, one of the landowners. He’s Hassan’s father, as I mentioned when we talked about this last week, I believe.”
“Ah yes. Good. And what does Mr. Sandros want? What does he propose?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, he wants nothing right now…”
“That’s absurd. The man wants something, surely… Or what are you not telling me?”
“Only that Mr. Sandros, or his wife, I should say, is the owner of Kankoon…”
“What? How in the world…?”
“Simple. It took me a bit of time to figure this out, but I think Savoi played his cards very shrewdly. He actually called on every friend or acquaintance that he knew would trust him because he is the brother-in-law of the prime minister’s advisor. From there each deal was a cinch, and the twelve landowners are related one way or another. So, when Mr. Sandros’s name came out of the hat it wasn’t so surprising after all.”
“I see. But the question still remains, what are we looking at by way of reimbursement—and don’t say ‘nothing’ because I still won’t believe it.”
“The proposal calls for no reimbursement of the finders’ fee, because Mr. Sandros calls it ‘a worthwhile investment’. The only thing he wants…” Talya went on to explain what Yves wanted and why. James listened to her little exposé only interrupting her occasionally with an ‘and?’ or a ‘yes’.
“Okay, Talya. Will you do me a favour, and write a detailed report of this meeting as well as what we could reasonably expect as a proposal from the other owners?”
“Sure, I’ll do that—no problem. I’ll send it in the consulate’s pouch in a day or so with the copies of the Kankoon application.”
“That’s good. Now for my next question—any word from Savoi?”
“No. I haven’t heard a peep from Savoi or his niece. To tell you the truth, I don’t really know what’s happening with the two of them. From what we know, I can only conclude Rheza is gone to Dakar to find her uncle.”
“Perhaps you’re right…. Now let me tell you why I have called you in the first place. The Dutchman phoned me.”
“The Dutchman! Really?” Talya was surprised.
“Yes, and he told me there was some trouble brewing at a mine site in Senegal. I told him you were going to Dakar shortly and to get in touch with you tomorrow night, since I didn’t know where you were today.”
The Dutchman was a roving geologist, come trouble-shooter. Some sort of mercenary to the mining industry; he was often hired to uncover salting . Talya met him a while back during the Indonesian Debacle when she was working in Australia. Johan Van Burren always managed to be at the right place at the right time either to stir trouble or quash it without hesitation. His presence in Dakar, or his involvement in a mining project at any time, spelled trouble either way.
“I don’t believe it. Do you think he’s involved with Hjamal and his mine? He wouldn’t touch anything unless someone would pay for his services and he doesn’t come cheap…”
“Hold on, Talya, not so fast. He didn’t say he was involved in anything at the moment. He simply alerted me of “trouble brewing at a mine site,” to quote him. He didn’t say which mine site and he didn’t say much more than that. In fact, I thought he was fishing for information from me. And, I didn’t say anything about Savoi.”
“That’s good; because I don’t think telling the Dutchman about Savoi would serve any purpose until I locate him.”
“That’s why I didn’t say anything. When it comes to the Dutchman, you have to watch what you say, and you’d better remember that when you talk to him tomorrow.”
“Oh I will, don’t worry. But tell me something, did Hjamal ever tell you the name of his mining concession? Could it be the same plant as the one you visited when you were in Senegal last year?”
“Hjamal didn’t tell me, no. We never went that far in our discussions, but you know that, you were there. Although I think it must be the same site as the one I visited—it’s called Sabodala, by the way—because it’s the only processing plant under construction in Senegal.”
“So, does that mean Hjamal is the owner of this Sabodala?”
“Maybe, and unless we have proof to the contrary, that would be a fair assumption.”
“But you never met Hjamal when you were there last year?”
“No. I only met the mining engineer, and Jean-Claude chatted with the Dutchman…”
“So he was there last year?”