A Court Of Fowls: Episode 44
...The Maasai’s uncompromising stance ended Scallattari’s resistance. He marched across to a van parked close by on the quayside
and brought forth a cardboard box.
‘Ten thousand US dollars, as agreed,’ he said with a furious scowl.
‘I suppose you will want to count it.’...
Michael Conrad Wood continues his exciting tale set in East Africa.
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Chapter 15
‘You Shall not Covet ....’
We hadn’t been discreet at all, as my companion suggested we
should. I knew we could not afford to linger now. We had to get
away. Without another word I took Nimrod’s arm and pulled him
out onto the street. Neither my uncle nor Hassan would guess that
we had stepped off a dhow. They would assume we would immerse
ourselves somewhere else in Mogadishu. The heat was on however.
We would need to get back to the docks by some circuitous route.
And Nimrod would have to ditch his precious gabardine and blue
beanie. Otherwise he would be far too easily recognised.
‘Never,’ he objected. I almost had to tear them off him, but
compromised by allowing the coat to be rolled into a ball which he
clutched tightly under his arm. We stuck to the back alleys, away
from streets where police patrolled lazily in their pick-up trucks.
There was a frightening moment when one of these vehicles passed
us as we crossed an intersection, but it did not slow down.
Once
more we were able to return to the relative cover of a back street. I
told Nimrod it would be best if we split up. They would be looking
for two people together matching a description provided by Hassan.
Twenty minutes later I returned warily to the dock where I found
that Joseph Lekuton was in the middle of a heated conversation with
a European man who introduced himself as Luciano Scallattari.
He
looked an odd sight standing there, gesticulating in the way that Italians do.
He wore a fancy ribbon shirt with a cravat at his neck. On
his feet were sharply pointed crocodile skin shoes. As something of
a dandy I would not have been surprised if he manicured his nails
and wore silk underwear.
‘It is important that we have the whole consignment,’ he was saying.
‘Then you must pay us,’ retorted Joseph.
‘Why can’t you wait for the cash balance?’
‘We could. But then we will hold on to half of the shipment.’
‘No, no. I tell you. We need the goods right away.’
Just at that moment Nimrod appeared. I noticed he had put back
on the blessed raincoat and beanie. Scallattari turned to him immediately.
‘Ah, Mr Changeywo. Your man here is refusing to give up the
complete cargo until I have paid for everything up front. We have
traded before. Surely you trust me with half the cash, for now.’
‘Our normal arrangement is full payment on delivery. This is not
the type of business where I can extend credit secure in the knowledge that
the rest of our money will be quickly forthcoming.
On the
contrary. Once you have the goods, there is nothing to stop you
walking away forever. Now, if you will excuse us, we are in a hurry to
leave. Pay now or we load everything back on board.’
The Maasai’s uncompromising stance ended Scallattari’s resistance.
He marched across to a van parked close by on the quayside
and brought forth a cardboard box.
‘Ten thousand US dollars, as agreed,’ he said with a furious scowl.
‘I suppose you will want to count it.’
‘In the circumstances, yes. Joseph, please check it while the crew
prepares to get underway.’
That was a lot of money. Scallattari had obviously tried to dupe
Nimrod into believing that he did not have all of the cash. But the
contents of the box were not a dollar short.
We jumped on board
the dhow leaving the Italian to do his own loading.
The women were still waiting anxiously for our return. Now I
saw why Nimrod had insisted that they wait. He plucked a hundred
dollars from the box for each of them. It was enough, he said with a
smile, for them to keep out of trouble for a while.
This was yet another gesture of kindness from my Maasai saviour – to help in this
way, three women who were perfect strangers.
I embraced each of my parting friends. We had not known each
other very long but had been through so much together that now we
seemed like kith and kin. Their initial wariness of me had long ago
evaporated. Ayanna said she would return inland to Dugiuma. She
had to find out whether any of her family had survived the bandit
raid which had led to her enslavement. The girls declared that they
would never go back to Bardera to risk being sold a second time.
With Nimrod’s modest gift they felt more confident about beginning
a new life in Mogadishu. I prayed for them. There was much turmoil
in the capital. It would not be easy to make ends meet, but at least
they were free.
