Windfall

Chapter 10

They got back to Nairobi just after eleven next morning and, as Nair parked the car outside the Norfolk, Stafford saw Curtis in the Delamere Bar sinking a beer. He said to Hardin, 'Tell the Sergeant 'I'll see him in my room now.'

'Okay,' said Hardin.

'I'll find Chip,' said Nair.

Stafford nodded and got out of the car. He went into the bar to buy cigarettes and then went up to his room where Curtis and Hardin awaited him. He looked at Curtis and said, 'Where's Gunnarsson?'

'At the Hilton,' said Curtis. 'Chip is covering him.'

'Chip is covering him,' Stafford repeated. 'All right, Sergeant; exactly who are Chip and Nair?'

He wore an injured look. 'I told you.'

'Don't come the old soldier with me,' said Stafford. 'I've had better men than you booked for dumb insolence. You've told me nothing. Now, out with it. I want to know if I can trust them. I want to know if they'll sell me should Gunnarsson offer a higher price. How much are we paying them, anyway?'

'Nothing,' Curtis said. 'It's a favour.'

Stafford looked at him in silence for a while, then said. 'That does it. Now you've got to tell me.'

'I'm a mite interested, too,' said Hardin.

Curtis sighed. 'All right; but I don't want anyone getting into trouble. No names, no pack drill; see? I told the Colonel I'd been in Kenya before, but that wasn't the only time. I spent a leave here in 1975. The Colonel knows how it's done.'

'You talked to a Chief Petty Officer and came over as a supernumerary in one of Her Majesty's ships. A free ride.'

He nodded. 'She was one of the ships on the Beira patrol.'

'What's that?' asked Hardin.

'A blockade of Beira to try to stop oil getting into Rhodesia,' said Stafford. 'And bloody ineffectual it was. Carry on Sergeant.'

Curtis said, 'I went ashore at Mombasa, had a look around there, then came up here on the train. I'd been here three or four days when I went to have a look at that big building – the tall round one.'

'The Kenyatta Conference Centre,' said Hardin.

'That's it," said Curtis. 'It wasn't finished then. There was a lot of builder's junk around; it was a mess. I'd left it a bit late in the day and before I knew it the twilight had come, and that doesn't last long here. Anyway I heard a scuffle and when I turned a corner I saw four black Africans attacking an old Indian and a girl. They'd beat up the old man and he was lying on the ground, and now they were taking care of the girl. It was going to be a gang rape, I reckon. It didn't happen.' He held up his fists. 'I'm pretty good with these.'

Stafford knew that; Curtis had been runner-up in the Marine Boxing Championships in his time. And a tough Marine Colour-Sergeant would be more than a match for four unskilled yobbos. 'Go on.'

'The girl was fifteen years old, and the man was her grandfather. The girl was unhurt if scared, but the old man had been badly beaten-up. Anyway the upshot of it was that I took them home. They made quite a fuss of me then – gave me a meal. It was good curry,' he said reminiscently.

'We'll leave your gourmet experiences until later,' Stafford said. 'What next?'

'The Indians were in a bad way then. Kenyatta had declared that holders of British passports must turn them in for Kenyan passports.'

'It was the Kenya for the Kenyans bit,' remarked Hardin. 'I was here then. The word for it was "localization".'

'The Indians didn't want to give up their British passports but they knew that if they didn't the government would deport them,' Curtis said. 'India wouldn't have them and the only place they could go to was the UK. They didn't mind that but they weren't allowed to take any currency with them, and their baggage was searched for valuables before leaving.'

'Yeah,' said Hardin. 'They were between the rock and a hard place.' He shrugged. 'But I don't know that you could blame Kenyatta. He didn't want a big foreign enclave in the country. It applied to the British, too, you know. Become Kenyans or leave.'

Curtis said, 'They asked me to help them. I'd told them how I had come to Kenya and they wanted me to take something back to England.'

'What was it?' Stafford asked.

He sketched a small package in the air. 'A small box sewn up in leather.'

'What was in it?'

'I don't know. I didn't open it.'

'What do you think was in it?'

Curtis hesitated, then said, 'I reckon diamonds.'

Stafford said, 'Sergeant, you were a damned fool. If you'd have been caught you'd have been jailed and lost your service pension. So you took it to England.'

'Yes. Landed at Portsmouth and then went up to London to an address in the East End.'

'What did you charge for your services?'

He looked surprised. 'Nothing, sir.' Stafford regarded him thoughtfully, and Curtis said, 'They were good people. You see, they got to England and settled. And after that my Amy was a fearsome time in dying and I had a hard officer. I applied for compassionate leave and he wouldn't let me have it. I got it at the end, though; I was there when she died. And I found those Indians had been looking after her – taking flowers and fruit and things to the hospital. Seeing she was eased.' He was silent for a while, then repeated, 'Good people.'

Stafford sighed and went to the refrigerator. He broke the paper seal and took out a bottle. 'Have a beer, Sergeant.'

'Thank you, sir.'

He gave another to Hardin and opened one for himself. 'So when you knew we were coming to Kenya you went and asked for assistance. Is that it?' 'Yes, sir.'

'What's the name of this Indian family?' Curtis held his silence, and Stafford said gently, 'It's safe with me, Sergeant.'. Reluctantly he said, 'Pillay.'

A snort came from Hardin. 'Every second Gujarati is called Pillay; those that aren't are called Patel. It's like meeting a Britisher called Smith or Jones.'

Stafford paused in the pouring of the beer. 'Gujarati! This is where it stops making sense. Nair Singh is a Sikh, and since when have Sikhs and Gujaratis been chums? Not to mention Pete Chipende – he's a black African and that's a combination even less likely. And you say these two are helping us free of charge? Come on, Sergeant!'

'Hold it a minute,' said Hardin. 'Max, you need a short course in Kenyan political history. I was working here, remember? The Company was very interested in political activities in Kenya, and I was in it up to my neck so I know the score.'

'Well?'

He held up a finger. 'A one party state – the Kenya African National Union; that's KANU. Kenyatta was President, and the vice-President was Oginga Odinga. But even in a one party state there are factions, and Odinga broke away and formed the Kenya People's Union – the KPU. Kenyatta wasn't having that. There was a power struggle and, in the end, the KPU was banned. Odinga spent quite a time in jail. That was back in 1969. Of course, being Africa the brawl was about tribal loyalties as much as anything else. Kenyatta was a Kikuyu and Odinga a Luo. I've been keeping my ear to the ground while I've been here, and even now KANU is losing ground among the Luos. Of course, there's ideology involved, too.'

'So what's this got to do with anything?'

'Odinga had to get his money from somewhere; he had to have a war chest. I know he got some from the Chinese and some from the Russians. Kenyatta wasn't having anything to do with the Commies – he closed down their embassies – so they'd do anything to embarrass him. But there was a strong feeling that Odinga was getting funds from the expatriate Indian community in Britain. They'd been thrown out and they didn't bear Kenyatta any love, either.'

'So what's your conclusion?'

'My guess is that Chip and Nair are Odinga's supporters, KPU men. The KPU is banned but it's still going strong underground. If a source of UK funds should request a favour it wouldn't be refused.'

'Damn!' said Stafford. 'Bloody politics is the last thing I want to get mixed up in.'

'You're not mixing in politics,' said Hardin. 'You're not attacking the government. Just accept the favour and keep your mouth shut. Those guys could be useful. They are being useful.'

Curtis looked woebegone. Stafford smiled, and said, 'Cheer up, Sergeant; the Good Samaritan nearly always gets the chop in this weary world. It's really my fault. I told you back in England that I didn't want to know what you were up to.'

Curtis drank some beer and Stafford could see him take heart. Hardin said, 'You can bet there'll be more than Chip and Nair. They may not show but they'll be there.'

'What tells you that?'

'Past experience,' he said, and drained his glass.

So that was that. Stafford had allies thrust upon him that he could very well do without. But Hardin was right – they could be useful. He determined to accept their help up to a point and to keep his mouth shut as Hardin advised. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. But trust them he would not. Chip showed up early in the afternoon. It seemed that Gunnarsson was doing what Stafford had done – sleeping away his travel weariness. But he had not appeared for lunch and had a meal sent up to his room. 'Who is keeping an eye on him now?'

Chip showed a mouthful of teeth. 'Don't worry. He's being watched.'

So Hardin was right; Chip and Nair were not alone. Chip said, 'Mr Farrar's party is coming in from London on the morning flight.'

'How do you know?'

Again the teeth. 'My brother-in-law is an official at the airport.'

Nair turned up a few minutes later. He brought with him a thick envelope which he handed to Stafford. It proved to be a rundown on the Ol Njorowa Foundation. It was quite detailed and he wondered how Nair had got hold of all this information at such short notice. Very efficient.

There were five Trustees; K. J. Patterjee, B. J. Peters, D. W. Ngotho, Col. S. T. Lovejoy and the Rev. A. T. Peacock. He said, 'Who are these people?'

Chip lounged over and looked over his shoulder. 'One Indian, a Parsee; three Brits and a black Kenyan.'

'People of influence? Of standing in the community?' ".

Stafford heard a chuckle and looked up to see that Nair's face was wreathed in a smile as well as a beard. Chip said, 'We wouldn't go as far as to say that; would we, Nair?'

Nair laughed outright. 'I don't think so.'

Chip's hand came over Stafford's shoulder and tapped on the paper. 'Patterjee was jailed for trying to smuggle 12,000 kilogrammes of cloves from Mombasa. That's highly illegal in this country. Peters was convicted of evading currency regulations and jailed. Ngotho was convicted of being a business prostitute; also jailed.'

'What the hell is a business prostitute?'

Nair said, 'Non-citizens cannot hold controlling interests in businesses in Kenya. There was a brisk trade in front men -Kenyans who would apparently own shares but who did not actually do so. Pure legal fakery. It was Mzee Kenyatta who coined the phrase, "business prostitute", wasn't it?'

'That's right,' said Chip. 'He made it illegal. Colonel Lovejoy is okay, though; he's been in Kenya forever. An old man now. Peacock is a missionary.'

Stafford was baffled. It was a curious mixture. 'How in hell did three crooks get made Trustees of the Ol Njorowa Foundation?'

'It is odd,' agreed Chip. 'What is your interest in the Foundation, Max?'

'I don't know that I have any interest in the Foundation itself. The Foundation is peripheral to my investigation.'

'I wonder…' mused Nair.

Chip said, 'You wonder what?'

'If the Foundation is really peripheral to Max's investigation.'

'Since we don't know what Max is investigating that's hard to say,' observed Chip judiciously.

Stafford sighed and leaned back in his chair. 'All right, boys; suppose we stop talking with forked tongues.'

Chip said, 'Well, if we knew what we were doing it would help. Wouldn't it, Nair?'

'I should think so.'

Stafford said, 'I'll think about it. Meanwhile, if you cross-talk comedians will allow me, 'I'll get on with this.' He turned pages. There were plans of the College which appeared to be quite extensive, involving lecture rooms, laboratories, studies, a library and a residential area. There were sports facilities including a swimming pool, tennis courts and a football field. There was also a large area devoted to experimental plots, something like British garden allotments but more scientific.

Stafford flipped a few pages and found a list of the faculty and caught the name of Alan Hunt. He tapped the name at the top of the page. 'This man, Brice, the Director. Your friend, Hunt, seems to think he's a good man, good for the Foundation. Would you agree?'

'Yes, I would. He's built up the place since he's been there.

He works in well with the agronomists at the University, too.' Nair shrugged. 'I think the University – and the Government – are pleased that the Foundation can take up some of the financial load. Research is expensive.'

But Hunt had said that cash was tight. Stafford ignored that for the moment and flipped back the pages to the beginning – to the Trustees. 'How long have these three jokers been on the Board of Trustees?'

'. 'I don't know,' said Chip. 'But we can find out. Can't we, Nair?'

'I should think so,' said Nair. 'Not much difficulty there.'

The telephone rang and Stafford picked it up, then held it out to Chip. 'For you.'

He listened, answering in monosyllables and not speaking English. Then he put down the phone, and said, 'Gunnarsson is up and about. He's at the New Stanley, having a coffee at the Thorn Tree.' He stood up. 'I'll be about his business. Coming, Nair?'

'Might as well. Nothing to do here except drink Max's beer, and I can't.' He joined Chip at the door.

Chip turned, and said softly, 'I hope you'll make up your mind about telling us what this is about, Max. It would be better for all of us.' The door closed behind them.

Stafford seriously doubted that. If Hardin was right and a proscribed political party was looking for loot to replenish its war chest there was too much of it about floating relatively loose for him to take chances. He spent the rest of the afternoon concocting a suitable story which would satisfy Chip and Nair, and then went to see Hardin who was in his room packing.

Hardin went back to London. Farrar duly arrived and wasted no time. He whisked the two heirs down to Naivasha. Unknown to him Gunnarsson went, too, and they all stayed at the Lake Naivasha Hotel. And, unknown to any of them, Chip and Nair were there. A real cosy gathering. Stafford stayed in Nairobi digging a little deeper into the curious matter of the Trustees, although he would dearly have liked to be a fly on the wall when Farrar, Hendrix, Hendriks and Brice got together in Brice's office.

They stayed in Naivasha for a total of three days and then returned to Nairobi. Farrar and Dirk took the night flight to London, and Stafford wired Hardin to expect them. Gunnarsson moved into the New Stanley with Hendrix, and Stafford sat back wondering what was to happen next. Sooner or later he would have to make a move, but he didn't know the move to make. It was like playing chess blindfold, but he knew he would have to do something before distribution of the estate was made and Gunnarsson and Hendrix departed over the horizon, disappearing with three million pounds. Stafford badly needed ammunition – bullets to shoot – and he hoped Hardin would find something.

Chip came to see him. 'You wanted to know when the various Trustees of the Foundation were appointed.'

'I could bear to know.'

Chip grinned. 'Lovejoy and Peacock are founder Trustees; they've been on the Board since 1950. The others all came on at the same time in 1975.'

Stafford sat back to think. 'When did Brice take over as Director? When exactly?'

Chip said, 'Early 1976.'

'Interesting. Try this on for size, Chip. The Foundation was started in the 1950s but, according to Alan Hunt, it went moribund just after Kenya went independent. But that doesn't mean to say it had no money. 'I'll bet it had more than ever. The Charities Commission in the UK has done a survey and found scores of charities not doing what their charters have called for, but piling up investment money. No jiggery-pokery intended, just apathy and laxity on the part of the Trustees."

'So?'

'So the Foundation must have had money. Where else could Brice have got it for his revitalizing programme? Now, take three vultures called Patterjee, Peters and Ngotho who realize there's a fat pigeon to be picked over. Somehow, I don't know how, they get themselves elected on to the Board of Trustees. They appoint as Director a non-Kenyan, a stranger called Brice, a man who doesn't know the country or its customs and they think they can pull the wool over his eyes.'

'While they milk the Foundation?' said Chip. He nodded. 'It would fit. But what about Lovejoy and Peacock?'

'I've done a little check on that pair,' said Stafford. 'Colonel Lovejoy is, as you say, an old man. He's eighty-two and senile, and no longer takes any active role in any business. Peacock, the missionary, used to be active in the Naivasha area but he moved to Uganda when Amin was kicked out. Now he's doing famine relief work there up in Karamoja. I don't think they'd be any problem to our thieves. But Brice is too sharp. He's no figurehead; he's proved that while he's been Director. Our trio have hardly got their hands into the cash register before he's really taken charge. He's got his hands on the accounts and they can't do a damned thing about it.'

'And they couldn't fire him,' said Chip. He laughed. 'If he caught them at it he'd have them by the short and curlies. And if he was sharp enough he'd keep them on as Trustees. That would put him in as top dog in the Foundation. He wouldn't want a stronger Board – it might get in his way.'

'Maybe he'd sweeten them by letting them take a healthy honorarium this side of larceny. That's what I'd do,' said Stafford. 'Just to keep them really quiet.'

Chip said, 'Max, you have a devious mind. You could just be right about this.'

'And what it means is that Brice is an honest man. The take could have been split four ways instead of three, but he really built up the Foundation into a going concern. I'd like to see this man; I have a standing invitation from Alan Hunt.' Stafford looked at his watch. 'I'll ring him now.'

'I'll drive you to Naivasha,' Chip offered.

'No, 'I'll go alone. But stay in touch. And keep a careful eye on Gunnarsson and Hendrix. If they move I want to know.'