There was the crackle of a loudspeaker announcing the imminent arrival of Bilbow’s plane.
‘Only an hour and ten minutes behind schedule,’ Morgan observed brightly. ‘Things are looking up.’
♦
Morgan had just got out of the bath when the phone went later that afternoon. Pulling his dressing-gown around him he padded wetly down the corridor to the sitting room.
‘Hello,’ he said tentatively. ‘Leafy here.’
‘Ah, my good friend, you have returned from your travels.’ It was Adekunle. Morgan leant weakly against the wall.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I was going to ring you. I…’
‘To congratulate me I hope.’
‘Sorry?’
‘My dear Mr Leafy. Are you not listening to the election returns? We have won, my friend. Victory is ours!’ Geniality and good-fellowship oozed from Adekunle’s voice.
‘Oh.’ Morgan felt no excitement. He was unsure whether this was good or bad news. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Such enthusiasm,’ Adekunle said cynically. ‘Still. It looks like being a small majority but a majority nonetheless.’ He paused. ‘I have been trying to phone you. I assume you went ahead with the other matter. Dr Murray and our agreement.’
‘Ah. Now, yes. That was something I…’
‘Did you or didn’t you?’
Morgan thought fast. ‘I didn’t,’ he said, instinctively seeking safety in a lie. ‘I…I was assessing his mood and, um, the conditions just weren’t suitable.’
‘Good,’ Adekunle said. ‘Good.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said good. You have put my mind at ease. This was what I was trying to contact you about but you were nowhere to be found. I was going to tell you not to do anything on this occasion.’
Morgan sat down on the floor. ‘Why?’ he said in a shocked whisper.
‘I have made other plans. I will tell you about them tonight.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Yes. At my house. A little victory celebration before I take up my new duties with the government. Shall we say eight o’clock?’
‘Well it’s very kind of you to ask but I…’
‘My good friend,’ Adekunle said. ‘Let us eat, drink and be merry, as the saying goes. I count on seeing you. Goodbye.’
9
Innocence had been dragged back to her original position. The juju spells had multiplied around her, the same cloth shrouded her body. Morgan thought it was as though nothing had ever happened, as if those two dreadful nights had never taken place. He returned the torch to Ezekiel. The warm African night enclosed them: to the west a thin gash of livid orange, some greys, rose pinks and metallic blues lingered on, edging the rain clouds on the horizon.
‘So,’ Morgan said to no one in particular. ‘She is still there.’ Isaac, Joseph and Ezekiel nodded in agreement.
‘Some person done move her tree days ago,’ Isaac informed him in a deeply suspicious voice.
‘I know,’ Morgan said. ‘Mr Fanshawe told me. Bad business that. However I’m very glad to see she was brought back.’
‘Dis ‘e no respec’,’ Ezekiel affirmed.
‘Well,’ Morgan said, suddenly making up his mind, ‘you can tell Maria to bring the fetish priest tomorrow. I will pay,’ he announced. There were mutters of astonishment.
‘You will pay, sah?’ Isaac confirmed.
‘That is what I said. I will pay. Everything.’
‘Fun’ral as well?’ Joseph asked.
‘Yes yes. Let’s get the whole thing sorted out. Over. Finished.’
‘Dis ‘e very good ting,’ Ezekiel declared. ‘Very very good.’
‘Isaac,’ Morgan said, ‘if I give you money tomorrow will you buy the beer and goat et cetera for Maria? Is that OK?’
‘Orighti,’ Isaac agreed. They made their arrangements. Morgan noticed how the cost had jumped to eighty pounds now he was footing the bill. It would be an especially large celebration they assured him, to which he was cordially invited. He didn’t begrudge it. If anyone deserved a decent send-off, he thought, it was poor Innocence. He’d get it all back out of petty cash, somehow, before he left.
They strolled to the edge of the compound. Cooking smells came from the charcoal braziers. A toothless mammy passed in the dark, her flat black breasts swinging in the light of the lantern she balanced on her head. The child she was leading by one hand pointed at Morgan and called out ‘Oyibo, oyibo.’ White man. Morgan wondered if they ever stopped noticing.
He sniffed the air. ‘Is it going to rain tonight?’ he asked.
‘I think we get small rain tonight, sah,’ Isaac said. Morgan was about to make a remark about lightning never striking twice but thought better of it. He said he would see them in the morning and walked across the lawn to his car.
He drove home to change for Adekunle’s party. As he was pulling on his shirt he shouted for Friday to bring him a whisky and soda. Friday brought the drink and established that he would not be requiring any supper. Morgan decided against his dinner jacket and put on a pale grey suit. As he reached into the wardrobe for it he noticed Friday still lingering by the door.
‘Yes, Friday? What is it?’
‘Please, sah. Let me warn you something.’
‘Warn me? About what?’
‘Nevah go for Nkongsamba tomorrow. I beg you, sah.’
‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘The soldiers will be there.’
‘Soldiers? What are you talking about? A coup? Do you mean a coup d’etat?
‘Ah oui. C’est ça. Un coup d’etat. Demain.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Everybody is knowing.’
‘OK, Friday, thank you.’ The little man left. What nonsense, Morgan thought, as he knotted his tie. That night with Innocence must have addled his brain.
As he set off for Adekunle’s house at ten to eight he felt he was like a man living on borrowed time. The news that he need not have bothered to bribe Murray after all had been a particularly cruel and ironic blow. All that humiliation, all that soul-searching need never have occurred — at that point anyway. Adekunle had seemed only to speak of a postponement, a temporary change of plan. In any event it was over now, and he thought that wasn’t necessarily bad. For the first time in several weeks he sensed a modicum of composure entering his life, probably due to the fact that there was little he could do now to alter or influence events. He decided, there and then, to take Murray’s advice and tell Fanshawe of his indiscretions and thereby deprive Adekunle of the satisfaction of fulfilling his threat. Fanshawe of course would still sack him — or recommend his dismissal — but it would be far better than allowing Adekunle to breathe slanders in his ear. In fact, he made up his mind, he wasn’t going to allow Fanshawe to derive any pleasure from firing him either. He would resign — tell Fanshawe everything, then hand in his resignation. He smiled at the thought: yes, that would be best. He was setting his house in order at last, and now Innocence too was tidied up, so to speak — everything set in motion for the wake. The only small unresolved cloud on his horizon was Celia. He felt a glow of affection spread through his body as he ran through the memories. Celia, the one true love affair of his life, he realized with astonishment, or at least the relationship that came closest to it. Now that he didn’t care about Adekunle he must try to see more of her, he told himself, before he booked his passage home.
Driving up a hill on the way to the university his headlight beams picked out a familiar black-clad figure. It was Femi Robinson, trudging up the slope with a bundle of placards under his arm. Morgan pulled into the verge. Robinson trotted up.