Silhouette

XXXIV

Dave leads her to the shed. Ola sits, crosses her legs. She says, “And you haven’t. You’re still annoyingly modest.”

Dave laughs. His throat is filled with words he wants to say, words he should have said.

Dave and Ola had been going out for nearly four months before he’d left for the peacekeeping mission in Mogadishu. They’d met at a seminar which was held in the barracks. Ola was working as an accountant then; running audits for the military, working payrolls. Each night they went out for dinner and chatted, after which Dave walked her back to her apartment.

They’d been quite a sight then; Dave in his pressed uniform and Ola in her grey pantsuit walking the cobbled street that led to her apartment.

Dave remembers it all like it was a different world, a different dimension. He’d often wondered what would have happened if there was no Mogadishu.

Dave points at her lapel. “Lieutenant, eh?”

Ola shrugs. “Everything changed after Mogadishu. I work the audits now, as a liaison with the ministry of defence. The rank doesn’t really mean much, but men do think twice before talking to me.” Ola clasps her hands. She says in a lower tone, “And what happened to you? You went silent after Mogadishu. No calls… nothing.”

Dave shakes his head. He can’t meet the intensity of her eyes. “I… It was…”

“I thought we had something. Something good. I checked the reports from that disaster and you weren’t listed among the casualties, so you weren’t dead. That was a relief at least.”

Dave rubs his forehead. He sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“I’m working through some… issues.”

Dave looks into Ola’s eyes. They are a warm brown, she isn’t wearing any makeup. She has a strong angular jaw and a peculiar nose; it looks almost Roman. Her lips are a slight shade of red. He remembers their first kiss.

Dave’s ashamed as well as angry. He looks away, the mechanic is testing the car. “I’m sorry,” he says.

The officer shuts the bonnet of the Peugeot. Ola stands. “I have to go now.” She takes a red pen from her front pocket, takes Dave’s hand and turns his palm upwards. “You know what? Let’s meet sometime soon.” She scribbles her number. She squeezes his arm. “Call me,” she says.

Dave watches her leave. He can hear his heart.

***

  Thomas sits on a long concrete bench. Vincent Tiu sits on the other side.

They are in a park. The bench they are seated on is some feet from the pavement, too far away to be heard by the occasional jogger or couple.

Thomas sees Charles seated on the bench opposite to them, with a newspaper in his hands; just a man catching up on the news. But Thomas has seen his waist holster. And his rigid posture meant he was keeping watch.

The deputy director of the SIA is nothing like Thomas thought he would be. He is short, even shorter than Thomas. His hair is a buzz cut completely white at the temples.

Thomas had a painter roommate while at the university, his works took one corner of their room; tin cans of paint, boxes of brushes and large canvases. Thomas remembers the canvases, utterly bleak, desolate and empty. Until they were filled.

Thomas scrolls through his laptop.
Vincent’s face is like a canvas. Thomas hasn’t seen an expression flit across his face.

"How far does this go"? says Vincent.

"Big and wide. Way up in the government."

Vincent grunts. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "Continue."

"There is a pattern that keeps repeating itself; Inglot Suiss, a Swiss investment arm. The Nigerian government partnered with them and Inglott Suisse contributed $2.5 billion to the Niger Delta Development Fund. Ostensibly, for new infrastructure and oil development projects. Instead, $1.8 billion was diverted into several shell companies, one of them Gold Star."

"Owned by Chief Koko." Seeing the look on Thomas's face, Vincent says, "Absurdly rich people are also issues of national security."

"So what do we do?"

"Chief Koko is out of reach for now."

Thomas feels his heart quicken anytime Chief Koko's name is mentioned. "Why?"

"He is going to be sworn in in a week. He is going to be extra careful, all thanks to your friend: the detective."

"So we just sit and do nothing? This isn't some ingenious ponzi scheme. This has conspiracy written all over it."

“The world is a dangerous place, but you know that already.”

Thomas laughs. There is nothing humorous in it. “I was shot at. I have been accused of a murder I didn’t commit and now I’m a wanted man. I can say I’ve seen my own share of danger.”

There is a moment of silence. Vincent stares at nothing. Thomas sighs, he gives up trying to decipher Vincent.

"After all these is over, we’ll need two tractor trailers to haul it all to court," says Thomas.

Vincent’s lips turn down for a moment. Thomas thinks he was about to smile. Vincent says, "Let's worry about making it to the finish line.”