BAMAKO by Aribert Raphael (smart books to read txt) 📖

slept nearly two hours.
Maitre Sanger’s voice came on the line. He said he was waiting for her in the lobby. Gracious, the man is punctual.
In Africa, punctuality is not a matter of course and does not equate politeness. Delays, followed by lengthy excuses and other forms of casual attitudes taking the place of promptitude, are quite common.
She went to the bathroom, splashed some water on her face and looked in the mirror at this image of the dowdy teacher, a caricature to which Talya compared herself very often. The lines under her eyes attested to her disturbed sleep. While she was brushing her teeth, still staring at her reflection, she told herself me-myself-and-I will be back no later than eight o’clock, so tonight could be devoted to writing (maybe). She went to the wardrobe and looked at what was hanging in there, nothing that would make an impression. She picked a pair of white pants and a laced blouse to match. That will have to do for tonight.
Coming down the stairs, she had time to take a look at Maitre Sangor. He was waiting for her. He was tall and very handsome. Is he ever? His face was smooth and didn’t betray his age although his light brown skin showed signs of maturity. His allure was distinguished, almost aristocratic. He wore a dark green suit, tailored to define his muscular stature. Leather case in hand, he looked as much the attorney as he probably was. When Talya reached the last step, he came toward her, a broad smile crossing his lips.
“Madame Kartz, it is a pleasure meeting you.” He extended a hand. His handshake was firm.
“Thank you, Maitre, enchantée …”
“Are you well rested?”
“Yes, thank you.” It is customary throughout Africa to sleep off the afternoon’s heat and carry on with the tasks of the day until late in the evening, so Talya didn’t try to hide the fact that she had just woken from a long nap.
They went to the lounge, Hassan Sangor courteously holding the door open for her. As on the previous evening, the place was crowded with couples and businessmen who were sipping various colourful beverages. They were chatting, drinking, smoking, and overall they appeared very relaxed. A couple of white men, sitting in a corner, brushed a curious glance in their direction when they came in. A white woman accompanied by a black man possibly didn’t agree with their principles. Talya had noticed however, a long time ago, that the reverse—a white man taking out a black woman—was quite acceptable.
They sat down in a nook near a far-side window, Hassan in a chair, Talya in the corner of a sofa, not to be disturbed.
These couches are far too comfortable to carry on with a business meeting, but the lounge was the only venue in the hotel where it could take place. Inviting a man—even her solicitor—to the privacy of her suite, was absolutely out of the question, for now.
Talya asked Maitre Sangor if he wanted a tea, an orange juice or a soda. Since she suspected he was a practicing Muslim, offering him any form of alcoholic beverages would have been a faux pas. He accepted and they ordered two glasses of orange juice.
Once the waiter had set the drinks on the table and had departed unobtrusively, Talya began, “Maitre, I had very little choice in calling you tonight….”
Hassan Sangor looked at her with detachment. His brown eyes, behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, were bright, smiling almost. He made no comments.
Talya sighed and launched into her story. She described in detail what had brought her to Mali and what had occurred since her arrival.
When she concluded, he held her gaze, maybe reflecting for a moment on what he had just heard. “Very little in what you’ve just explained should preclude me from taking your case,” he said neutrally. “I need to remind you, however, that I have to live in this town after you have gone home. So I will not associate myself with disreputable parties.” Such as Carmine. “Nevertheless, your story intrigues me. I will add that I usually win the cases I defend, or the procedures I start against people who have what I call by-passed the law. Let’s just say the evening will be revealing for us both. It will be a cursory meeting, I imagine, and I will let you know what my decision will be before I leave. If these conditions are agreeable to you, we can proceed.”
Talya was impressed. His self-assured manner and his outward confidence in his ability smoothed the edginess she felt earlier. As for trusting him, Talya had some ways to go yet.
“As I explained, Maitre, not only do we have a problem with Monsieur Savoi, most likely embezzling funds, but I will possibly have to face twelve angry landowners, who will want reimbursement of their finders’ fees.”
“Yes, you can assume that these people will be travelling to Bamako as soon as they are told you are in town. However, and providing that I accept to take your case, I would propose to meet with each of them in turn, and examine each of their request separately. As you mentioned, money does not always talk in Africa. We might find a terrain d’entente aside from the reimbursement of these fees in cash.”
“Yes,” Talya said. I couldn’t see him ‘traipsing’ the countryside, as Chantal described it. “But I think for the time being, at least, we should concentrate on finding out what Monsieur Savoi has done thus far and where our funds have gone.”
“I agree that it should be on top of the agenda. Unfortunately, this is not a unique occurrence in these parts. Many investors have lost their money at the hands of thieves. Yet, we need to give him the benefit of the doubt…”
She fixed her eyes on him. “I wouldn’t be so generous. There is no doubt in my mind—none whatsoever— Monsieur Savoi has flown the coop with our money.”
“Let’s just wait and see what he has to tell us first, shall we?”
Talya made no reply. This ‘benefit of the doubt’ business had no place in her agenda as far as Savoi was concerned. She had him ‘guilty as charged’—no question.
Time seemed to lapse at a snail’s pace. They sipped their drinks, looked at each other furtively. Talya’s mind was made up; the man was a challenge, an unnerving annoyance but…, he was ever so handsome.
At seven o’clock, someone flung the door of the bar wide open. Both Talya and Hassan stared at the newcomer in disbelief. The person, who looked around to find them and practically ran in, was not Savoi—it was Rheza. She was breathless as if she had been running a mile.
Talya uttered, “What are you doing here?” when the woman sat down opposite her. She could see her eyes were red; Rheza had been crying. The clay mask had been shattered.
Between gasps, she said, “Madame Kartz…, Hassan…, something’s really happened to Uncle Amadou…”
Talya couldn’t believe it. Rheza McLean had a talent for attracting attention to herself and leaving gaping holes in her wake for anyone to fall in. “What do you mean ‘something has really’ happened to your uncle?” Talya’s voice was flat and guarded. “Didn’t you tell me last night and this morning, you didn’t know where he was?”
“Yes, yes, I know what I’ve said. But…, but that wasn’t true.”
Lies! Talya hated liars. She usually closed the door on them but on her, Madame Rheza McLean, she was ready to slam it in her face.
“You know, Rheza; somehow I knew that you had lied, but I wondered how far and for how long you intended to deceive me.” Talya said with obvious contempt.
Rheza resumed her sobbing. “I’m … very sorry; I’ve made a mess of everything.”
Throughout this exchange, Hassan had, and still looked perplexed. “Calm down, will you? Tell us what happened,” he said. “Madame Kartz will not be able or willing to help you…” You’ve got that right. “…if you don’t explain what brought you here tonight and what happened to your uncle.”
Rheza took a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes. “That’s just it, Hassan, I … I don’t know what happened. My uncle’s just disappeared.”
“What do you mean disappeared? People don’t just disappear.” Talya retorted with undisguised harshness. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“But it does, Madame Kartz.” Rheza was annoyed now. “You see, I left him last night at the villa and this afternoon he wasn’t there. The house was empty. I don’t know where he is….”
The indignation and frustration Talya felt toward Rheza must have been visible enough for Hassan to shoot a reproving glance in her direction. “What makes you say your uncle has disappeared?” Hassan sounded ever so gentle. “A man doesn’t just walk out of life without a trace, so let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”
Meanwhile, Talya stood up, walked to the bar and ordered another orange juice. She then regained her seat, put the juice in front of Rheza and waited for her to calm down. Talya was seething. And to think she had the nerve of asking me for a job!
After a few minutes, Madame McLean resumed her tall-tale. “When I left you this afternoon, I went to the market, I didn’t know what to do. When I had done a bit of shopping, I decided to go and see my uncle. There’s something…, Madame Kartz…, when we learned you were coming to Mali, Uncle Amadou became very agitated. He told me he needed to go away, to think things through.” She took a sip of juice. “He said I should look after the office and to do everything necessary with the Mines Department, so you could get, at least, one permit application through the system. In the meantime he would see to it that the money spent was justified and the proprietors reimbursed in some way.” She leaned back in the sofa, wiping her eyes, catching her breath. “And…, I was stupid enough to believe him and go along with it.” She then paused, her eyes full of tears once again.
She had made a clean breast of almost everything. Talya and her attorney traded a glance. They wanted Rheza to continue with her story.
Watching for their reaction in turn, Rheza drank a large gulp of juice. It seemed to be the truth potion she needed. “…I drove to the villa. It’s just outside of town. When I got there, the place was deserted. Yesterday evening, my uncle was there. I know, because we had dinner together and I came home late. And Allan was there, too.”
Talya frowned. “Who’s Allan?”
“That’s the house-boy.”
“Sorry, I just wanted to know. Please go on.”
“Well, as I found the house empty, I got scared. I thought something had happened to him. After that, I went back to the office. Monsieur Touré told me about tonight’s meeting. He said he had tried several times to contact my uncle at the villa. Of course, Uncle Amadou wasn’t there to answer. After that, Monsieur Touré said he called everywhere in town where my uncle usually went—but nothing.”
Talya sensed that Rheza had reached the end of her narrative then. “But, you’ve said