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

to see these investments being flushed down the drain, would you?”
“What’s this? What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. Let’s just say that the time has arrived for you to avoid any scrutiny from Madame Kartz. So we suggest that you make your way down to Dakar as soon as possible.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you Monsieur—whatever your name is—although I don’t want to precipitate my meeting with the Kartz woman at the moment, I think I am better placed to observe her manoeuvres from here.”
“You’re sadly mistaken if you think that you could stay in Bamako and avoid investigation.”
“Investigation? What do you mean? I am not under investigation.”
“Yes, Monsieur Savoi, you will be under investigation soon enough—as soon as the Malian government learned of your dealings with the landowners.”
“How do you know all this? Who are you?”
“Just someone who’s well informed and I strongly suggest you get out of Bamako as soon as you can.”
“But I can’t ... I’ve got important business here—”
“More important than getting away from the authorities or do you relish the thought of being imprisoned for fraud? I hear the prisons in Mali are not the healthiest—”
“All right, all right. I’ll be on the next flight out.”
11
An hour or so later, the hotel receptionist was on the line asking if Talya wanted to see someone named Rheza McLean from Monsieur Savoi’s office. “The lady is waiting for you at the bar.”
“Very well,” Talya replied, “I’ll come down in a few minutes.” Someone has broken away from the pack or the beast is sending a messenger to take the beating.
The so-called ‘bar’ could have been better described as a lounge or salon. It was a large room where two rows of brown colonnade punctuated the flagstone floor. The white stucco walls provided some coolness to the otherwise sultry atmosphere. To the right of the doors, a bar stretched halfway across the room. Farther in, there were groupings of comfortable chairs and sofas, hidden under piles of rose and brown cushions, and surrounding six-legged tables topped with finely etched brass trays. On each table, the soft light, flickering from the candles encased in crystal flues, gave a sense of peaceful restfulness to the entire place.
With carpets, engraved copper plates and rugged ornaments hanging on the walls, some of which were miniature reproduction of the doors of Djenné, this lounge somehow reminded Talya of the inside of a sheikh’s tent.
Madame Rheza McLean was sitting upright on one of the chairs. Among all of the people, who were enjoying some late afternoon refreshments, Talya couldn’t have missed her. Only a glance revealed the shell of elegance, the veil of serenity enveloping the lady’s presence. Her face seemed to be moulded in clay. With features so perfectly defined, Talya wondered if she could ever move a muscle without shattering the mask. Her hair was braided in a multitude of tiny tresses meticulously tied at the back with a bow, which recalled the blues of her satin ‘bou-bou’ gown—the woman’s elaborately embroidered version of the man’s djellaba—shimmering and swishing to the touch. As she came closer, Rheza stood up, and Talya then realized how beautiful this statuesque woman really was. She was radiant. She took Talya’s extended hand and gave her a firm, decisive handshake. I would need never to underestimate her.
“Madame Kartz, I presume?” It sounded like “Doctor Livingston, I presume?”
“Yes, I am,” she replied, feeling small and dowdy, much as a schoolteacher when interviewed for a tutor’s position by a wealthy parent.
“Please sit down,” Talya said, taking a seat across from her visitor. “Rheza, is it?”
“Yes,” she replied stiffly, “my name is Madame Rheza McLean.”
Ouch! A little pretentious to boot, aren’t we?
She began to tell an incoherent story, which took about three long minutes to end. When she stopped, Talya couldn’t remember one word she said. She was fascinated by Rheza’s manners, her features, her long fingered, well-manicured hands, and the only resonance from her ramblings that reached Talya’s ears, was the bafflement in her voice.
“All right, Rheza, Madame McLean, I’ve heard what you’ve said, but I really don’t understand why you’re here. I arrived yesterday, expecting to see Monsieur Savoi if not this morning at least this afternoon, but I was told he hasn’t been seen for the past several days. I need to talk to him as soon as possible.” Rheza looked at Talya in dismay, shifted uneasily in her chair, nervously gripping the clasp of her purse that had remained in her lap since she sat down.
Not getting the reaction she expected, Talya went on. “If you could tell me where he is, I could see what can be done about the applications he has filed with the Mines Department. This is the reason I came, and it seems Monsieur Savoi has taken many liberties with my company’s funds. We can’t afford to have an agent spend money and not account for that spending.” That little speech had been intended for the ears of Monsieur Savoi, but since Rheza, pardon me, Madame McLean, came to hear it instead, Talya gave it to her.
Rheza began to say something but thought better of it.
Talya waited.
After a few moments, she decided to respond. “You don’t understand,” Rheza said, lowering her eyes, “I have worked for my uncle for three years. I’m a director of his company but I haven’t been paid since January of this year. I came to see you to ask if I could continue working on acquiring the concessions Carmine wants, and if I could hope to be paid for doing so.”
At this revelation, Talya was about to utter some profanity or other. But, I prefer not to swear in public. A moment later, she came out of her stunned silence. “Are you saying what I think? Monsieur Savoi is your uncle? And, you’ve worked on Carmine’s project for several months without being paid?” Sorry, I am not biting. “Pardon me for saying so, but somehow I find that hard to believe.”
Fixing her gaze on the floor in front of her feet, “But it’s true,” Rheza replied quietly.
“As I said, this is quite incredible. Yet, in view of the fact that your uncle may have abused Carmine’s trust, I am not surprised to hear that he could have taken advantage of his own niece. Nevertheless, you can’t expect Carmine to pay twice for work, which has shown no results thus far, if not negative ones.”
Rheza lifted her head a pleading look in her eyes. Talya felt she needed to keep the conversation going. She invited Madame McLean to have a drink with her and to tell her a little more about herself and her family. She did both.
Rheza McLean was a widow. She had gone to Paris and New York, following her husband of many years on his appointments overseas. In the meantime, she had taken courses in administration, computing and word-processing. She became a qualified bilingual secretary and returned to Mali when her husband passed away. She had two children in their teens.
When Rheza ended her somewhat convoluted recital, Talya said, “All right then. Would you be prepared to work for awhile to correct some of the errors your uncle has made, and concentrate on completing just one of our permit applications?”
Rheza raised her eyes from her glass, from which she had taken only a few sips, and looked at Talya with a thin smile of victory coming across her lips.
Not so fast, Madame McLean, here comes the rest, “…But before you answer, let me warn you that if you come to work for me I’ll have to find out where the money went.” Talya let that sink in for a moment and drank some juice. “Of course, if the funds are recovered, or if you could provide me with a full accounting of your spending, I mean, your uncle’s spending, you will be fully compensated for your efforts.”
“Do you mean I would have to spy on my uncle?” Rheza was obviously amazed by Talya’s offer.
“I don’t think I would call it spying really,” Talya said nonchalantly, “You’ve told me you’re a director of his company. As such you should be able to find an account of the money you received from the landowners and from Carmine, which went into the business, and how it was spent.”
Rheza looked stunned. Yet, she wasn’t stupid, she had seen through Talya’s obvious blackmail.
“In any case, you don’t have to give me your answer today. Maybe you could ring me tomorrow, and let me know what you’ve decided.”
At these words, Rheza McLean got to her feet, clearly intending to evade any further scrutiny.
“I’m very sorry for everything that’s happening,” Talya said, getting up, “but you must understand Carmine could not let things go on the way they were.”
“Yes, I know, but you, you must see the problem I’m facing?” She was on the verge of tears.
Talya didn’t want to detain her any longer. “Do call me tomorrow, and we could talk some more.” She followed her half way to the door. “In the meantime, if you hear from your uncle, let me know.”
“I will. Thank you, Madame Kartz.” And without another word, Rheza McLean walked out.
Talya looked after her, returned to her seat, sat down and emptied her glass. Rheza had left her nonplussed.
She went back to her room disconcerted. She sat in front of the television not seeing any of the images. She thought about this woman—Rheza McLean. A woman endowed with the beauty of a mythological goddess, outwardly wounded in her principles. Her sense of belonging to the family circle had been menaced, perhaps shattered. How was she going to react? The job-offer Talya made was conditional upon providing her with one answer in particular; how did her uncle (or she) spend Carmine’s money? The woman’s obvious greed overshadowed Rheza’s apparent resentment of her uncle’s comportment toward her. In a way, she felt sorry for Rheza McLean. Yet, there was something about the lady that didn’t sit right with Talya; she was lying! The gall of her….
12
The following morning the phone rang, fiercely disturbing the quietness of the room. Talya had just awoken from a fitful sleep. Nightmares had given way to a semblance of peace in the first hours of dawn. She sat up in bed and put the receiver to her ear.
“Hello! Madame Kartz?” the operator inquired.
“Yes. What is it?” She tried to focus her mind away from nightmares to reality.
“A call for you—”
She glanced at the bedside clock. Don’t people sleep around here? “All right, put it through.”
“Madame Kartz, this is Rheza McLean. Are you free this morning to meet with a friend of mine?”
“Yes, of course. But … what is this about…?”
Rheza didn’t let her finish, “I’ll meet you at ten o’clock in the hotel lobby,” and hung up.
Talya looked at the receiver still in her hand. Rheza, what are you up to?
She got up and walked into the bathroom. She was in a daze.
Where are we likely to go? Who is this friend Rheza mentioned?
The more Talya thought about it, the more perplexing the scenario became. She decided to ring Chantal. She hoped she knew Rheza.
Talya definitely had misgivings about Madame McLean.
“Hello, Chantal? Sorry to bother you but…”