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

the first person to seek a meeting with him.”
Hassan looked at Talya curiously—was she asking him to confront Rasheed?
He shrugged, dismissing her comments.
“Mohammed, I think Talya is in danger. And, I’m not joking, nor am I over-dramatizing…” He shot a meaningful glance in Talya’s direction. “I’m just worried about her safety, so I’ve decided to stay at the Grand tonight. If nothing else, I’ll be more comfortable knowing I’m near her.”
Talya didn’t like their offhand manner. When it came to her safety or liberty of movements, she usually liked to be consulted before anyone made a decision on her behalf. Her approval had been tacit as far as Hassan was concerned.
You, my friend, are taking too much for granted.
“I think that’s a very good idea, Hassan, and, please don’t be so self-conscious, I wasn’t born yesterday. I know how you feel.” Oh, does he now?
Then returning his attention to Talya, Monsieur Fade went on, “To come back to your suggestion about confronting Abdul Rasheed, I think he is a dangerous creature. He’s probably one of those people who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. I believe he wants to scare you off this case or maybe he wants you out of the way all together…”
“No. I’m sorry but I don’t agree,” Talya interrupted. “Why would he have brought Rheza’s car to Bamako then? If he wanted to scare me off the case, or out of the way altogether, all he had to do was to remain in Dakar and behind the scenes, as it were. Yet you’re right about one thing, it seems Rasheed is a man who would probably stop at nothing to get what he wants. In my opinion, what he wants is to entice me into involving my company in his plans, not to get rid of me. I believe Monsieur Hjamal needs technical assistance to continue with his venture in Sabodala. What’s more, I suspect he needs capital to pay for the completion and the running of the plant. And he’s running out…”
“Talya, I don’t think…”
“Hold on, Hassan, let me finish,” Talya uttered, rebuking his interruption. “I’m convinced Savoi’s disappearance, for one thing, and perhaps even Rheza’s sudden departure, were all orchestrated somehow to lure me to Dakar. They want me to stay very much alive, because they need me.”
Monsieur Fade pulled his chair up, put his arms on the desk in front of him, and sighed. A page of his book had been ripped out and replaced by another.
“The ramifications of your statement are frightening, Madame Kartz.” He shook his head.
“Maybe they are, but I don’t believe Savoi and Rheza are in danger—not yet anyway. However, I think Savoi is colluding with Hjamal and Rasheed to force my company to help them reach their goal. As for Rheza she may have stumbled onto the scene at the wrong time.”
“Aren’t you going a little too far a field with unfounded speculations?” Hassan asked. “Hjamal, by all accounts, has never needed any money. I agree he needs technical assistance. That became obvious after reading Gillman’s letter. But to go as far as to say that Savoi, Hjamal and Rasheed are plotting to get Carmine involved, I doubt it.”
“Hassan, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Monsieur Fade cut-in, “but did you just refer to the letter from Richard Gillman? Have you read it?”
“Yes. That’s the letter that was found on his body …”
“Have you got it here and may I see it?”
Hassan turned to Talya. “Shall I?”
“Yes, of course. It will show Monsieur Fade what Richard went through before coming back to Senegal to be murdered.”
Hassan pulled the envelope from his jacket pocket, handed his friend his copy of the letter and the two of them waited until Monsieur Fade finished reading.
Perhaps Hassan was right, collusion was going too far a field. However, the existence of a connection between these people was now undeniable. Their trip to Dakar would provide clarification on that point—Talya hoped. In the meantime, she wanted to face Rasheed, no matter what anybody said, while she had the chance.
Monsieur Fade folded the sheaf of paper, returned it to the envelope, which he handed back to Hassan, and looked at Talya. “Do you remember what I’ve told you about our Senegalese neighbours and their belligerent trait? Now you can see for yourself what I meant. And contrary to what you’ve just concluded a moment ago, I have to believe Rheza is in fact in real trouble. This letter shows what she could be up against. Moreover, I agree Hjamal and Rasheed are at the bottom of this affair. What I don’t understand is why you still persist in wanting to face these people. This does not concern you anymore—”
“How could you say that?” Talya snapped, appalled. “Of course it concerns me. If it weren’t for my company engaging the services of Monsieur Savoi in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this mess. I have an obligation. Not only do I have to clear my company’s name from any dubious involvement in this affair, but I also feel I have some responsibility toward Rheza. I’d like to see her come home safely for the sake of her children, if nothing else.”
The rejection in Monsieur Fade’s eyes irritated Talya. Why was he so obdurate? Did he fully understand the implication of his niece’s involvement? Or was it because a woman proposed to help him?
“And I tell you something else; you’ve read the letter, and I’m sure you’ve noticed there was never any explicit ransom demand for Richard Gillman’s safe return. He was detained against his will and forced to provide the services for which he was engaged initially—but for which Hjamal didn’t pay him. It is my firm belief that in this case, you will not see Rheza home safely until I go down there and face Hjamal to negotiate the exchange.”
“If that’s the case, I can’t let you do that, Madame Kartz, in all good conscience…”
Somehow, I knew he would say that.
“Oh no? And how do you propose to get Rheza back? For all we know she may be a willing participant in this scheme—for now. And if so, would you then be prepared to take the risk of her becoming a hostage if I were not to go down and face Hjamal and Rasheed?”
Monsieur Fade had to face the harsh reality of his niece possibly becoming a pawn to be manipulated at will.
He bowed his head, shaking it. “Believe me when I say I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Madame Kartz, but the danger you’re going to face is even more acute now than any of us could have foreseen. I’m sure Hassan will agree that we can’t just sit by and let you go without some form of protection… Perhaps we should involve the police in Dakar and tell them—”
“Tell them what?” Hassan cut-in, visibly irritated. “That maybe Rheza is being detained against her will? Or would you prefer the other version? That she’s a willing participant in a case of fraud and collusion against a Canadian company. In either case, there is not a shred of evidence to support any accusation against anyone. Furthermore, even seeing Rheza’s car in Bamako does not constitute evidence of a crime being committed against her.” Hassan pushed his chair back and took his favourite position—elbows on knees.
“There is no other way to resolve this, Mohammed, and you know it. The sooner Talya goes, the better it will be for all of us. However, I have to agree with you, she needs protection. That’s why I’ll be with her from now on. It’s the best we can do.”
“So, what do you suggest we do?” Monsieur Fade turned his face to Talya once again. “Since there doesn’t seem to be any way to accomplish this task other than sending you to Dakar.” The frustration in his voice came back more brutal now. Perhaps it was pride which engendered resentment on his part?
“Nothing, absolutely nothing, Monsieur Fade. You have given me an insight into the character of our adversaries even before any of this happened. That’s much more help than I could have expected. But now it’s up to me.”
All of a sudden, visibly impatient to get out of his friend’s office, “I think we should leave now,” Hassan said. “We have taken enough of your time. Please call us when you have heard from the ambassador, will you?”
Monsieur Fade rose to accompany Hassan and Talya to the door, when the phone rang. They stood up. Hassan grabbed his jacket from the back of the seat while their host picked up the phone.
“Hello. Yes, of course I’ll take the call. Thank you.” He lifted his head toward Talya and Hassan, and indicated the seats they had just vacated. Putting a hand over the receiver, he said, “It’s the ambassador, I think both of you should hear this.”
They retraced their steps, and sat down again.
“Mr. Ambassador, Madame Kartz and Maitre Sangor are here with me. I’ll put you on the speaker so we can conference this call.”
“Madame Kartz?” The ambassador’s voice was commanding.
“Yes. This is Ms Kartz.”
“Ms Kartz, I hope we will have an opportunity to meet face to face in the very near future. In the meantime, let me introduce myself. Sir Gillian Faulkner is my name, I am your ambassador in Senegal and we seem to have a problem that needs resolving presently. I am hoping in fact, that the resolving could be done with your assistance.”
“How do you do, Sir?”
“A pleasure I’m sure,” he replied perfunctorily. “I presume you have been given a copy of the letter that was found on Mr. Gillman’s body? I had asked Aaron Broughton to do so as soon as he could meet with you.”
“Yes, Mr. Broughton gave me a copy of the letter this morning when I was in his office.”
“Good. Well then … I’ve received a phone call from James Flaubert a few minutes ago. He told me that he was in fact travelling through Senegal at the time he was reported to have visited the mine site. Unfortunately, he only met with Mr. Gillman very briefly and could report that he seemed to be in good spirit. He added that neither he nor their geologist, Mr. Jean-Claude Gauthier, was ever able to speak freely to Mr. Gillman. He also mentioned that, when he was on site, Richard Gillman did not make it clear to him that Monsieur Hjamal was the President of Minorex. Moreover, Mr. Flaubert told me that he had never met Monsieur Hjamal prior to his coming to Canada. Thus, as I understand it now, when he visited Vancouver, Monsieur Hjamal purported to be acquiring the exploitation rights of a mine site in Eastern Senegal—nothing more? Would that be a fair description of the facts, Ms Kartz?”
Talya nodded. “Yes, I’d say so.”
“Good. Nonetheless, I know there is more to this story than just a passing visit from Mr. Flaubert in Senegal or the finding of a murdered engineer on one of the beaches here in Dakar. Therefore, I will ask you, Ms Kartz, to come to Dakar as soon as possible. I would like to discuss, in detail, how the embassy