Chicago struck him like a dream, something he could have planned mathematically. There was the captivating heights of the skyscrapers, juggernauts with no competition in sight, then the marvellous Great Lakes. Caught in the sunlight, they dissipated like silver flashes into the sky, and seemed to stretch to infinity. They made the city seem to float, a crowded ship manufactured by some delirious inventor and cut adrift to seek its destiny.
Bat installed himself on the hundredth floor of the Omniscient Hotel, where there was no day or night, where one washed one’s face with clouds in the morning and dried oneself with the legs of the ubiquitous sun. Up there, he hoped to fool the night and mislead the Babit trinity into passing his suite by. He could look out for miles and feel like a bird flying over the lakes, or dodging in and out of the buildings and the clouds.
For a whole week he went each day to the racing track. There were limitless lines of scrap cars ready for sale with prices ranging from fifty to five hundred dollars per cadaver. You chose one, paid for it and filled it with petrol, then raced and crashed it at the end of the road. There was beauty in the demolition job, with iron tearing, tyres squealing, the crowds cheering, the smell of petrol overpowering, the mangled carcasses towed away, like dead bulls, to be crushed into balls of steel. He would crash four cars a day and return to his hotel bruised, purged, and sleep like a stone.
On the fourth day, however, he arrived at the track feeling down; the Babit trinity had located him and had terrorized him. He was more reckless than usual. The third car overturned. He was pulled out of the wreck with cuts to his face and legs. He was taken to a doctor on a stretcher, but his injuries were minor. He retired to his hotel. In bed, with the wounds and the leg smarting, he realized that he had been intending to cause himself damage for some time. Now that it had occurred, he felt better. He would stretch his leg and hear from muscles he had not heard from since Cambridge. He would turn and hear his body scream with pain. He now had enough distraction to keep his mind occupied. Coupled with the talk shows and sports on television and the whisky, he managed to get by reasonably well. The Babit trinity now visited for shorter intervals. He would wake up, stay in bed, and sleep again.
It was during this time that he saw an advertisement for hunting rifles and another for a shooting school, which claimed to be able to teach you within days. His mind flew back to his days in the Parliament Building and his wish to learn how to handle a gun. He made inquiries and was enrolled in the nearest shooting school, not far from his hotel. Military science and technology had never interested him as such because for most educated people soldiery and anything to do with it is the preserve of barbarians. He applied himself to the theory part of the lessons as if he were doing another degree course. He learned the history, the evolution, and the mechanics of guns. He concentrated on rifles and pistols, the most prevalent weapons in Uganda. The practical part was harder but also more fascinating. He could see his enemies, and what could happen to them after a bullet had entered their hearts. At the beginning the noise gave him headaches. But it was worth it, for a psychological barrier had been broken down. He could somehow empathize with his brother. There were moments when he forgot himself, feeling all-powerful, with the weight of the gun like a key to heaven or hell. It was an exhilaration that neared that of speed. Maybe that was what Tayari felt when setting the bombs.
These were his best days in America. Once a week he got on the phone and talked to the Kalandas, asking about the lawyers. Everything was ready; the trial was about to start. He spent one more week at the shooting school, made one tour of the city and prepared to return home and shoulder his burden.
THE DAY BAT ARRIVED was the day Dr. Ali left Uganda for the last time. The relationship between him and Marshal Amin had broken down. As far as Ali was concerned, he had no more work to do. The main bone of contention was Uganda’s southern neighbour: Tanzania. Marshal Amin wanted to attack the country and neutralize the guerrillas who were now and then attacking Ugandan border towns. Dr. Ali had offered sacrifice and the omens had not been good. Despite that, the Marshal wanted to go on with his plan. Dr. Ali had aired his displeasure and warned that Amin was digging his grave, but the Marshal saw no other way out of the stalemate. Amin had then consulted other astrologers, who had given him positive omens. He believed that the Dream could be wrong this time. . The parting had been acrimonious, with Amin accusing Dr. Ali of exploiting him. He had threatened to close the department of astrology at the university if the astrologer left and to deport all Zanzibari astrologers, but nothing could keep Dr. Ali in the country. He did not mind if astrology disappeared in Uganda; he had many followers elsewhere on the continent and abroad. As his Learjet headed for Zaïre, the astrologer felt delighted; he had played baby-sitter for long enough. Now he was going to sit back and enjoy himself. Mobutu’s chances were very good. He had an iron grip on his country and no fear of guerrillas. The astrologer kept thinking that Uganda was like a madwoman of untold beauty; efforts to save her were bound to be doomed. Lovers would come and go, breaking their backs trying to free her from the bonds of hell, but it would finally be left to herself to break the chains.
AS SOON AS BAT RETURNED, he knew that the coming months were going to be tempestuous, to say the least. For the first time he was obliged to get out of his XJ10 at all roadblocks. He endured body and car searches and demands for bribes with a stoic air. He would look at the rifles in the soldiers’ hands and feel like emptying magazines into the bastards.
A week after his return his lawyers withdrew from the case. They were reluctant to give the reasons why, but he found out that they had been abducted and their lives threatened by armed men. Bat conferred with the Kalandas and the Professor and they found other lawyers. This was a pretty distressing period, but as one of the principal players in the drama, he had no way out. He gritted his teeth and hoped for the best.
GENERAL BAZOOKA FOUND a new purpose in life when his old lover asked him for help in the murder case. He had always known that Victoria would return. They had been together for so long that the bonds, however aged, would be hard to sever. His original plan had been to engineer her escape from police custody and kill the trial summarily. A prince could get away with it, but his chief advisor, the self-effacing colonel, had cautioned him “to let justice take its course.” He discovered that if he wanted to punish Bat properly, and to spit at the justice system at the same time, he had to let the trial go on. Thus he had let Victoria endure the humiliation of detention. He had nonetheless ordered the police to make life easy for her. She was given her own Nissen hut, where she could look after her child, prepare her own meals, and receive visitors.
He had renamed the child, calling her Samsona, claiming paternity on the technicality that Victoria must have carried his sperm in her body for years before it exploded into germination. He had convinced Victoria, who was not in a position to argue to the contrary, that this was a common occurrence among bears, and since bears, lower animals, could do it, what of humans? Whenever he came to visit, she would tell the child, “Come and greet your father, Samsona.” The child would come and sit on the General’s lap. He would make an effort to play with it before tiring of the games and sending it off. There was little conversation between the General and Victoria, partly because it had always been that way, partly because there was not much to say. The General usually came to instruct her what to do when the trial began. He had made sure that the State Research Bureau paid her salary on time, and in full, and gave her round-the-clock protection. This last provision did not sit well with the police, but there was little they could do about it; they had their lives and careers to think about.