“I have an appointment, Louise,” Jimmy Banda said. “I might be gone five minutes or five hours.”
Louise glanced up from her computer to watch Jimmy removing his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. “But first of all, I need to make some confidential phone calls,” Jimmy added.
“If you go outside, I won’t be able to hear you.”
Jimmy went outside, found the number for Shah Medicals and, after a lengthy run around finally tracked down Luther Jsasman. Jimmy then spun him a yarn about a meeting in Bangkok with a Mr O’Brian and student exchanges.
“I see,” Jasman said. “I need to check.”
“But it’s already been checked,” Jimmy said, doing what he often did best - lying through his teeth. “Mr O’Brian said it would be OK. Can we meet?”
“I don’t know.”
Jimmy, recognising a man with no authority, decided more bullshit was necessary. “It’s also been discussed with your parent company, Al Zafar?” he said. “Shah Medicals is a much bigger company since my dear mama knew Mr Shah. Decisions are not always made in Nairobi but in places like Bangkok.”
“Yes, I see,” Jasman was breaking a little.
“Can I come to see you? I won’t keep you long. I know you’re a busy man.”
“We don’t have visitors here. We have tight security.”
“Mr O’Brian seemed to think it would be OK.”
“But he’s not my boss.”
“But I heard you needed to recruit good technicians.”
“Yes, it is true. We are very busy, and it is difficult to do what we have to do.”
“Then take on some students, Mr Luther Jasman. That was Mr O’Brian’s idea.”
“But he’s not my boss.”
“So you said. But Mr O’Brian has already discussed it with Al Zafar.
Who do you report to so I can speak to him directly?”
“Well, maybe we should meet.”
Jimmy smiled to himself. “Shall I come to your laboratory?”
“Oh no. Not here.”
Jimmy laughed. “Of course. Tight security. Never mind. My friend runs a bed and breakfast house close by the social hall: Nyayo B&B.
Do you know it?”
“I pass it every day.”
“So, this evening at six. Don’t be late.”
Jimmy returned to his office. “Louise,” he said.
“Yes, Mr Banda.”
“Do you remember an article in the Daily Nation about Shah Medicals?”
“Yes, Mr Banda. A takeover. We lost their bookkeeping business because it was taken over by an Arab company called Al Zafar. Their owner Mohamed Kader came here. It was he who decided they no longer needed our accountancy services.”
“Anything else, Louise?”
“The boss of Livingstone Pharmaceuticals also visited.”
“Was his name Greg O’Brian?”
“That’s it, Mr Banda. You have a very good memory.”
“True. I’m going out. I might be gone for an hour - perhaps several.”
Jimmy’s car, covered in dust from his visit to Mombasa, was parked around the corner from the office. He really wanted to wash it, but it would have to wait because he wanted to find the premises of Shah Medicals. That they had had the audacity to take away the bookkeeping business was what made Jimmy grind his gears and speed off.
What Jimmy found as he skidded to a halt in a side street of the Bakker Industrial Estate was the same nondescript double-storied concrete building that he remembered. But it now had rows of dark green–painted windows and a green double door with a shelter made of corrugated steel. Someone had also built a head-high chicken wire fence linked by concrete posts around it. But the gate was open, so Jimmy got out of his car and walked up to the door. No one seemed to be around.
The green hand-painted sign on the door said “Shah Medicals,” and beneath, in smaller print, was “Part of Al Zafar Agencies Ltd.”
Jimmy surreptitiously photographed the nameplate with his phone, then he returned to his car and photographed the entire building. No one had come or gone. Other than a van parked outside an industrial printing company’s premises next door and two men fixing a wheel on a motorcycle, the road was deserted. But then, as Jimmy started his car engine, he noticed that the rear of the building had been extended backwards into the side street behind. This had not been there when Banda Bookkeeping Services looked after old Mr Shah’s accounts.
Deciding it was worth another look, Jimmy drove off, doubled back into the road behind and stopped again.
From this angle, the building looked more like a small warehouse. It had a loading area with a wide door open to the inside. And through the door, rows of fluorescent strip lights reflected off white–painted walls, floor, and ceiling. And standing on the floor were three large shiny stainless-steel tanks. Plastic tubing ran along the floor, and two men in white coats and hats sat side by side at a desk. Behind them was what looked like an office or laboratory lit by more strip lights.
Perhaps, Jimmy thought, this is where Luther Jasman works.
Pretending to use his mobile phone from his car seat, he took more photos.