Five: As long as the price is right

Outside the Hotel, Richard got into his Honda Civic Saloon car and drove away. Had he looked into his rearview mirror, he could have seen a metallic grey Peugeot 504 car pull out from the front park and follow him.

Richard drove casually through the town center. In Cairo Road, he parked his car in front of CENTRAL AFRICA TODAY magazine.  The weekly magazine had offices in Zambia, Malawi, and Zimbabwe.

The metallic gray Peugeot parked one hundred meters down the road.

Richard pushed the swinging doors open and entered the ever busy-looking office, with reporters and people always going in and out. He asked the young lady at the in queries desk if the Editor- in - chief, Mr. Cohen was in.

"Yes, Mr. Nyangu, he is in."

" Occupied?"

"No. Please go right in," she said.

He knocked at the door labeled WILLIAM COHEN, EDITOR IN CHIEF, ZAMBIA BRANCH.

"Come in." A voice said from inside.

He opened the door and walked into the spacious office, covered in a wall-to-wall thick carpet.

"Ah, there you are Ritchie...long time no see," said the caucasian man as he stood up. He came around to his desk and shook hands with Richie. " So nice to see you, old fellow," he added patting Richard's shoulder affectionately. "Please take a seat."

Mr. Cohen, a prematurely balding man, was a Jew in his late thirties. He had a jovial and cheerful disposition by nature. He was, as the boys said," a good guy for a white man."

"So, where have you been hibernating?" Mr. Cohen asked when Richard was seated.

" You know how it has been of late,  Bill. I've been in a proper muddle, and finding my feet hasn't been an easy task. And on top of that, I have lost my job."

"I am sorry about that- losing your job, I mean. I was shocked when I heard."

" I guess I will get used to it, sooner or later. But losing a job you like- a job you love, so to say can be very disheartening; especially when you know you have lost it unfairly. "

"Everyone knows you were fixed Richie; but the question we seem not to be able to answer is, why?"

Richard heaved a sigh, then leaned forward." I will be on the level with you Bill. For some months now, I have been trying to unmask a very powerful underground organization that is operating in the whole of Central and Southern Africa. There is a very powerful syndicate that, along with other things, is directing and coordinating the smuggling of precious stones, drugs, rhino horns - you name it."

" I remember it was briefly mentioned during your trial," Mr. Cohen said leaning back in his chair.

"The mistake I made was that I published information before I had gathered enough solid evidence. Hence the newspaper was sued for libel and slander.  You know what followed next," Richard said bitterly.

Enlightened, Mr. Cohen nodded thoughtfully. " Yes, The paper paid heavily-- and you lost your job."

" Yes, I lost my job," came Richard's meditative reply. " The board of Directors demanded my immediate resignation. I was told to resign or else face the disgrace of been fired. I have my pride - I resigned, with deep regrets."

"Look here Richie, you are a friend of mine; I will let you into a secret. Mr. MacMohan has given his notice of termination of the contract. He is leaving the country in a month. Can I offer you his job?"

"What was his line?"

"He was our PR man."

"Public relations Officer, eh?" he said in mock horror.

"Yes."

"Sounds tempting, but I am sorry Bill- I am a newspaperman; I would hate to get stuck behind a desk with a file for good. Thanks to all the same," Richie said.

"Take your time Richie, thick about it. "

'I will," Richie said," Incidentally, that is, not the reason why I came-- to cry on your shoulders, I mean. I have come to discuss this article I want to write."

"About what?"

" About the syndicate."

"Syndicate? So you are still at it eh?" Mr. Cohen said raising his eyebrows.

"Yes."

"Look here Richie, take my advice; let sleeping dogs lie. Leave the syndicate alone."

"I'm sorry, I can't. The snag with sleeping dogs is that they the nasty habit of sleeping on your favorite chair or the only vacant chair available," Richard said shaking his head. " I will not rest until I get to the bottom of it all. I lost my job because of those bastards and if that was not enough, they tarnished my reputation as well. As I said, the mistake first was to publish an article with a lot of hearsay. I was naive enough to think that by throwing around general hints; I could arouse public outcry, enough to force the relevant government organs to start an investigation. So naive. "

"Then why do you want to repeat the same mistake?" Asked a puzzled Mr. Cohen.

"No, I won't. This time I have changed tactics- I am gathering evidence; hard solid evidence. Evidence that can stand up to the tests and rigors of any court. And that is where you come in."

"How?"

"If I brought you a watertight article about the syndicate, would you be brave enough to publish it?"

"Certainly. As long as it is ' watertight" as you say, I can always be, quote: " be brave enough to publish it," unquote. It wouldn't be nice if this magazine was also compelled to pay heavy libel dues over the same article."

"Thanks, Bill. You won't be sorry about this. It will be the greatest story you will publish this year. The biggest and most sensational," Richard said, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Any positive progress so far?"

"Yes. For the two weeks, I have been nosing around hotels and other shady places - nightclubs, discos - houses, motels: you name it. I have enough information to have many petty dealers arrested. But those are small fish; they don't interest me."

"Won't you give me just a gist of it?"

"No. Not just yet. All I can tell you is that there are very big names that are strongly connected with the syndicate. Big names in both political and business circles; household names, as it were."

"So when do you think you will be ready?"

"I can't say really. I was talking to one of the waitresses at Paramount hotel. She had good information, but not good enough. She gave me a name, though, of one of the girls that the syndicate has used before," Richard said.

"What makes you so sure that she will talk to you?"

" I have been assured that she is the type that would sell her mother to the dragon, then sell the dragon to the devil- if the price is right."

Cohen chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. " A double-crosser, eh?"

Richard shook his head and grinned amusedly. "Not a double-crosser. Her friend called her a 'shrewd businesswoman."

"I wish you luck."

'Thanks. Well, I will be on my way now," Richie said as he stood up.

"It was nice to see you," Mr. Cohen said as he escorted his visitor to the door. "Why don't you come home tomorrow, a say about 20: 00 hours, Julie had missed you so."

"Thanks but not tomorrow. My fiancee, Sera, is coming. She is arriving at 18: 30 hours by coach service."

"She's arriving, is she? That's more reason why you should come over. I am sure Sera wouldn't mind; Sera and Juliet would just love to be together after such a long time."

"I will hear what Sera has to say when she arrives - trust women to claim the last say over such matters. I will ring you."

" That's fine. Goodbye and good luck," Mr. Cohen said as he closed the door after his visitor.

Richard Nyangu went out. He got into his Honda Civic and drove away.

As he drove into the ever-busy Cairo Road, a metallic grey Peugeot 505 car pulled out a hundred meters away and started to follow him.

Abdul was still on his tail.

Beatrice had told Nyangu that Patricia Brown lived in Woodlands extension. So Richard gunned down his Honda Civic saloon car in that direction.

"I hope Beatrice was not exaggerating about the validity of the information that Patricia can sell," he thought as he drove past Kabwata Estate.