Ivory Nation, Andy Maslen [e manga reader .txt] 📗

back in his chair. Behind the bar owner, the men Gabriel had been observing straightened their postures. He saw hands edging towards pockets, or the backs of waistbands. Prepared himself.

Mafombe stood too, turning to pat the air at the men readying themselves for something more kinetic than playing cards and chatting up women. They stood down.

Mafombe turned back to Stella, all smiles. He stroked a palm across his skull. Pointed at the second flute.

‘May I?’

‘Did the barman tell you who it’s for?’

‘He did.’

Stella shrugged as she sat back down.

‘Then you know the answer,’ she said.

Gabriel glared at a couple of the young men still arrowing hostile glances in their direction, then lowered himself into the leather banquette’s embrace once more.

‘I will take half a glass,’ Mafombe said, finally, lifting the champagne to his lips.

Gabriel watched the man’s Adam’s apple hop as he swallowed. Visualised the blood vessels pulsing beneath the skin.

Mafombe placed the glass on the table with a click.

‘Blood diamonds, eh?’ he asked, placing his fingertips on the base of the flute and circling them to swirl the remaining champagne. ‘Where did you used to get them?’

‘Sierra Leone. The DRC. Ivory Coast. Wherever the sellers weren’t too greedy.’

She sipped her own champagne and sat back with a smile, a high-roller in the murky world of illegal commodities. Gabriel mentally revised his opinion of her – upwards – once again.

‘But no longer,’ Mafombe said.

‘Like I said. Too hot right now.’

‘And ivory isn’t?’

Stella smiled.

‘Let’s just say it’s time my organisation diversified its investment portfolio. Now, can you take me to the man whose champagne you’re drinking or not?’

Mafombe checked his watch; a Rolex, Gabriel now saw.

‘Why don’t you sit back and enjoy the show? I have to make some calls. In an hour we can go, yes?’

Stella inclined her head.

‘One more thing, Mr Mafombe.’

‘Please, call me Peter.’

‘Peter, I’d like you to have a word with your friends over there,’ she said, jerking her chin over his shoulder. ‘Tell them to back off. Otherwise I fear for their safety. My colleagues here are well-armed and well-trained. You can guess where.’

Gabriel fixed Mafombe with a dead-eyed stare. The guy was probably making an educated guess. South Africa. Wrong. Russia. Wrong. America. Wrong. Israel. Right. Belgium. Wrong. The UK. Right. People like ‘Joyce’ didn’t wander into places like the Oasis Lounge without some extremely effective protection.

As he got to his feet, Mafombe smiled down at Gabriel, acknowledging his presence for the first time. He looked at Eli, then back at Stella.

‘Enjoy the music, Joyce. I’ll send over some beers for your,’ a beat, ‘colleagues.’

Gabriel watched as he threaded his way through the crowd, pausing here and there to whisper into cocked ears. Stances softened. Stares drifted away. Laughter replaced silence. The bar exhaled a sigh of relief.

‘Ever do any amateur dramatics? Because that was a bravura performance,’ Gabriel said to Stella once they were alone again.

She grinned.

‘I played Tinker Bell in a school production of Peter Pan once,’ she said.

‘Is Captain Hook going to come through?’

‘I think so. The barman will have told him how much cash I brought in here. Money talks with guys like that. He’ll want a cut of whatever deal goes down.’

Peter Mafombe was as good as his word. He slid into the booth next to Eli exactly sixty minutes after their first encounter. He spoke across her to Stella.

‘You are in luck, Joyce. My colleague wants to meet you.’

She inclined her head.

‘Good. When and where?’

He waggled his head from side to side.

‘Not so fast, Joyce. There is an arrangement fee.’

‘A what?’

‘He is not a man to be hurried. And he wants to be sure you are serious. Twenty thousand US. The meeting will be next week some time. I will tell you when and where once he has the payment.’

Stella stared at him. Gabriel registered the relaxed pose and muscle tone. How was she doing it? Deep in enemy territory and she looked like she was having a drink in her local.

‘Five thousand,’ she said.

‘Fifteen is the lowest he can accept. He told me so himself.’

‘Seven and a half.’

‘You expect me to take such a piss-poor offer to my colleague? He is the big man hereabouts in ivory. Thirteen.’

‘Nine.’

Gabriel could see where the haggling would end up. He assumed Mafombe could, too.

‘Eleven.’

Gabriel heard the hint of a question mark. Fatal.

Stella shook her head.

‘Nine,’ she repeated, more firmly this time.

‘– and seven fifty?’

‘– and a half.’

She reached for her glass and drained it. Then turned to Gabriel, moved closer and whispered into his ear.

‘Lovely weather we’re having for the time of year.’

He nodded, allowing a smile to steal across his face. He glanced round Stella at Mafombe, then placed his lips close to her ear.

‘I hope we get the chance to see some wildlife while we’re out here.’

Mafombe’s eyes flicked between the two of them. He checked his watch, then started twisting the cufflink on his left wrist. Finally he sighed.

‘You drive a hard bargain, Joyce. Nine and a half. I take it to my colleague, then I call you with details of the meet.’

Stella nodded at Eli, who lifted the briefcase onto the table and popped the catches with a double snap. Stella raised the lid, shielding the contents from prying eyes elsewhere in the bar.

She lifted out a handful of bundles and passed them to Mafombe. He ran a long-nailed thumb across the edge of one of the stacks of bills, smiled and nodded, then stuffed them into his inside pockets.

‘Wait!’ she said sharply.

She pulled a ballpoint pen from the inside of her jacket and grasped his hand. She turned it over and wrote a number on his palm.

‘Call me with the details.’

He stood, then bent down towards Stella.

‘You are not afraid I will simply take your money, and to hell with the meeting, Joyce?’

She smiled up at him, a forgiving expression such as a patient school teacher might bestow on a slow but harmless student.

‘You are going to call me with the details by midnight tomorrow,’ she