“Star beer, please,” I said to him.
I then watched as he opened the beer bottle, leaving the cap just on the top of the bottle to prevent the flies from entering. I ignored the rather less than clean glass, removed the bottle-cap, wiped the top and drank deeply straight from the bottle. It tasted so good. Carl watched as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Okay, Julianna, what the fuck are you doing here?”
I grinned at him, taking a second draught of the beer.
“That's better; my God, that's a bloody awful road!” I said.
“Julianna?” he repeated, with a tough of menace.
“I could ask you the same question,” I said. “Why here, why now?”
“Ah, well, it seems that my employer wants me to investigate the possibility of certain mineral deals, if the ah, the right person should regain his, ah, his previously held position.”
I stared at him and laughed.
“Why can’t you just admit that your employer gave up on Vietnam because of the Chinese influence, but I believe that you're here hoping to engineer some form of change of heart in Mgombi so your backers can grab some mineral and oil rights. Ever since the Ghanaians found oil, there's a strong possibility that their neighbours will have some too. The Chinese are also sniffing around, and, if what I've heard is true, the current government are hoping to get some help from them in exchange for the rights you're after.”
“A fashion reporter?” he replied.
I shook my hand to signify that was a vague statement that may not have been entirely correct.
“Look, you told me crap, so I reckoned I was justified in a little crap of my own. I'm a reporter and was after the same story you were.”
“And that was?” he asked, looking sceptical.
“A girl's best friend,” I said, taking another swallow of the cold beer.
“Huh?”
I just looked at him, and then the penny dropped, so he looked around the deserted bar in such a shifty way that I had to laugh.
“Look, I was covering the fashion show anyway, as the Vietnamese were ever so touchy about the theft. Mombossu went home without his guns, Pho' couldn't make a sale without any diamonds and I had something else that needed my urgent attention. All that being said I really am sorry I never got a chance to say goodbye,” I said.
He stared at me with a frown etched on his face.
“Why didn’t you? I rang your hotel the next day to find you’d checked out,” he sounded hurt. “I spent ages trying to find you, but none of the airlines could confirm that you were on a flight.”
“I’m sorry, but I had no choice, besides, I didn't fly out immediately.”
“Just who the hell are you?”
“Julianna Blanchard, and you?”
“Okay, what are you?”
“Just a girl trying to do her job.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Unlike you, not a national government. I told you the truth; I work for a news agency.”
“Which one?” he asked, apparently unconvinced.
“UNC.”
“Ah!” he said, as if those three letters explained everything. “Most of the guys I meet from UNC wear combat gear and are just at ease carrying an automatic weapon or a camera.”
“You haven't been looking in my bags, have you?” I asked, teasing. I was wearing a bright yellow cotton dress that was light and airy enough to cope with the humid and hot Ghanaian weather. My tanned limbs were not quite as dark as the locals, but my long blonde hair caused more heads to turn here than most places I'd been.
“I missed you,” he admitted, reaching for his own beer.
“Aw, how sweet. I really am sorry that I had to leave so quickly, but as I said, I didn't have a lot of choice.”
“So, is this an accident or deliberate?” he asked.
“What?”
“You being here at the same time as me?”
“Oh, deliberate.”
“I'm listening.”
“Did you get anywhere with Lumsden?”
He grinned. “No, but I did hear about your disagreement.”
“How?”
“Someone I knew saw you and told me about it later, after you’d buggered off from the hotel. He was about to come to your assistance when the bastard grabbed you and was about to drag you into the bushes. Apparently he’s got previous for such a trick. But his previous victims were not all quite so adept and self-defence. Anyway, by the time he got to you, Lumsden was on the ground and you’d walked off. He was full of admiration for what you did, as the Brit isn’t well liked.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, drinking another swig from my bottle.
“You never gave any hint of what you’d been through when I met you,” he said with a smile.
I shrugged. “It wasn’t much at the time.”
“Okay, so tell me, what were you really doing there?” he asked.
“I really was covering the fashion show, but there was a mention that Lumsden might have got the low down from the British soldier, what’s his name, and give a clue to the diamonds’ current location”
“Carlisle,” Carl said.
I smiled slightly as if to thank him for supplying the name. Remind me to look into a career in acting when all this blows over.
“Right, Carlisle. Anyway, Lumsden was as clueless as anyone else, so I wrapped up and was brought out before he could exert pressure to have me arrested or something worse. By the way, I think he’s in thick as thieves with Pho’ and the local bigwigs.”
Carl nodded as it did make sense.
“Not any more,” he said.
“Huh?”
“He was recalled later that week. I think London was as pissed off with him as was everyone else.”
“Really? How sad. I hope he’s been posted to Outer Mongolia or somewhere equally fucked up,” I said, with some feeling.
“Who knows where the bastard is, to be honest, I don’t care. By the way, you never told me how this is deliberate,” he reminded me.
“I heard you were here, so I came to explain why I never got to say goodbye.”
“For real?” he asked, grinning at me over his beer.
“Okay, so maybe I have other things to do here as well,” I admitted.
“So why here, why now, and why me?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“Okay. Here and now because there’s a flight coming into Tamale tomorrow, and you know it. You because they reckon that you’ve the balls to do the job properly and New Zealand is one of the few nations to refuse to acknowledge Mombossu and his nasty regime. My boss thinks you’ve the makings of a cracking story and she thought I’d like the chance to see what happens next.” I hoped his male-ego was sufficient to swallow this bullshit.
“She?”
“Not all women are little home-makers,” I pointed out.
He chuckled and ordered another beer.
“I take it you’re not alone?” he asked, just as Harvey entered the bar and stood by the door, looking around suspiciously. Although as black as the locals, he looked just like a US Marine in the nearest thing to off-duty clothing he could get – big boots with bush pants tucked into them, black T shirt and utility vest with more pouches and pockets than strictly possible. I knew his guns were locked out of sight in the Toyota Land Cruiser’s special weapons safe, or at least, most of them were. The bulge under his shirt wasn’t flab!
I ordered another three beers from the grinning barman as Harvey walked over to join us. He nodded at Carl as he sat beside me.
“Mr Bannerman,” he said, reaching for his beer bottle with his left hand and holding out his right to Carl.
“Ah, you have the better of me. I suppose you’re another reporter, but at least you fit the profile of what I know about UNC,” he said, shaking Harvey’s hand.
“Carl, meet Harvey, my two-IC,” I said, causing Carl to look at me sharply.
“Okay, so now you’ve confused me. You talk like a soldier and look like a film star, what the fuck is going on?”