In Nairobi, it was not yet 6 p.m., but Jimmy had been sitting in the Nyayo Bed and Breakfast for over an hour waiting for Luther Jasman.
It wasn’t that he was always early for appointments, but Louise had needed the entire office, including Jimmy’s desk and chair, for a bookkeeping meeting with a client.
Jimmy didn’t mind. The Nyayo was run by an old-school friend Emmanuel, who not only chatted to him while mopping the kitchen floor but kept Jimmy’s coffee mug topped up. When Jimmy returned from a visit to the men’s room, a shortish man of Indian descent wearing a dark suit was ringing the bell in the reception area.
“Ah,” Jimmy said, still struggling with his zip fastener. “You must be Luther.”
“Yes, sir,” said the young man.
“Cup of coffee?”
Jimmy led Luther Jasman to the seat he had been warming for the best part of an hour and called Emmanuel for two more coffees.
“I met Mr O’Brian at an Irish Embassy reception,” Jimmy began, picking up where he’d left off earlier. “I told him about my part-time work at the university. I teach accountancy. Anyway, long story cut short, he asked about students. I said, ‘No problem. How many do you need?’ He said he had problems recruiting staff and thought students on work experience might help.”
Jimmy’s story didn’t quite match his earlier bullshit but, in his opinion anyway, it enhanced it and Luther Jasman was listening intently whilst turning and twisting a shiny gold wedding ring on his finger. “Mr O’Brian gave me your name, so you must be very important with Shah Medicals.”
“No. I am only in charge of product registration,” Jasman said. “I am a graduate of the faculty of biology, you see. It is not so complicated, really.”
“It sounds very complicated to me.”
“Oh no, sir. Not for me. I’ve been there for four months.”
“So, how could you use the students?”
“I suppose to help in the laboratory. I have been told we have many new products coming.”
“So, what sort of students do you need?”
“Perhaps microbiology students. Perhaps pharmacists or nurses. We need students who understand infection control. That is my interest. I also heard we need a production engineer.”
“If I may say so,” Jimmy said, “you seem a bit vague about what the company is planning to do.”
“It is a new company, you see, sir.”
“So, if Mr O’Brian isn’t your boss, who is?”
“A Frenchman,” Jasman said. “He reports directly to Mr Mohamed Kader, sir.”
“Ah, yes. Mr O’Brian mentioned Mr Kader and a Frenchman. I know France well - the Eiffel Tower, the Buckingham Palace and the Marble Arch. What is the Frenchman’s name? I’ve forgotten.”
“Dominique Lunneau, sir. We can call him Dom.”
“So how many people work for you, Luther?”
“Just three, sir. They are from Pakistan. They are allowed here because they are qualified in biotechnology from the University of Karachi.
“So busy.”
“And we are also waiting for the new products to come from Egypt.”
“Egypt? Pakistan? It is a very international company you work for.
Lots of career opportunities, I would imagine. I wish you luck, and I’m so pleased you’d like me to help.”
Luther Jasman turned the ring on his finger more rapidly, nervously, and Jimmy knew he’d pushed him as far as possible - probably too far. He also now remembered that Buckingham Palace was in London but didn’t think it mattered.
He stood up, hoping Luther would not remember too much about the meeting. “Well, thank you, Luther. I’ll be in touch as soon as possible.”
Jimmy called me that evening with an excited fifteen-minute summary on what he’d done in the last six hours. There wasn’t much
that was new, but the Pakistan link was interesting. So was the Frenchman. Perhaps, I thought, it confirms Clive’s information that MI6 and the CIA had been watching Kader’s visits to Pakistan.
“So, Mr Franklin, can I invoice Colin?” Jimmy asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be in touch again, Jimmy. There’s more to do on this case. Meanwhile, just keep mum.”
“Keep mum?” asked Jimmy.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I explained. I knew he’d remember that. Jimmy Banda - the mum ferret.