A Quiver Full of Arrows by Jeffrey Archer Read Free Book Online Page A

afraid; remain at home and everything will be back to normal
in a few hours. This is Radio Nigeria, this is Radio Nigeria. There has been
a...”
    Eduardo switched off the radio as two
thoughts flashed through his mind.
    Coups always held up everything and caused
chaos, so undoubtedly he had wasted the four days. But worse, would it now be
possible for him even to get out of Nigeria and carry on his normal business
with the rest of the world?
    By lunchtime, the radio was playing martial
music interspersed with the tape recorded message he now knew offby heart.
Eduardo detailed all his staff to find out anything they could and to report
back to him direct. They all returned with the same story; that it was
impossible to get past the soldiers surrounding the hotel so no new information
could be unearthed. Eduardo swore for the first time in months. To add to his
inconvenience, the hotel manager rang through to say that regretfully Mr. de Silveira
would have to eat in the main dining room as there would be no room service
until further notice. Eduardo went down to the dining room somewhat reluctantly
only to discover that the head waiter showed no interest in who he was and
placed him unceremoniously at a small table already occupied by three Italians.
    Manuel Rodrigues was seated only two tables
away: Eduardo stiffened at the thought of the other man enjoying his discomfiture
and then remembered it was that morning he was supposed to have seen the
Minister of Ports. He ate his meal quickly despite being served slowly and when
the Italians tried to make conversation with him he waved them away with his
hand, feigning lack of understanding, despite the fact that he spoke their
language fluently. As soon as he had finished the second course he returned to
his room. His staffhad only gossip to pass on and they had been unable to make
contact with the Brazilian Embassy to lodge an official protest. “A lot of good
an official protest will do us,” said Eduardo, slumping down in his chair. “Who
do you send it to, the new regime or the old one?”
    He sat alone in his room for the rest ofthe
day, interrupted only by what he thought was the sound of gunfire in the
distance. He read the New Federal Capital project proposal and his advisers’
reports for a third time.
    The next morning Eduardo, dressed in the
same suit as he had worn on the day of his arrival, was greeted by his
secretary with the news that the coup had been crushed; after fierce street fighting,
he informed his unusually attentive chairman, the old regime had regained power
but not without losses; among those killed in the uprising had been General
Mohammed, the Head of State. The secretary’s news was officially confirmed on
Radio Nigeria later that morning. The ringleader of the abortive coup had been
one Lieutenant Colonel Dimka: Dimka, along with one or two junior officers, had
escaped, and the government had ordered a dusk to dawn curfew until the evil
criminals were apprehended.
    Pull offa coup and you’re a national hero,
fail and you’re an evil criminal; in business it’s the same difference between
bankruptcy and making a fortune, considered Eduardo as he listened to the news
report. He was beginning to form plans in his mind for an early departure from
Nigeria when the newscaster made an announcement that chilled him to the very
marrow.
    “While Lieutenant Colonel Dimka and his
accomplices remain on the run, airports throughout the country will be closed
until further notice.”
    When the newscaster had finished his report,
martial music was played in memory of the late General Mohammed.
    Eduardo went downstairs in a flaming temper.
The hotel was still surrounded by armed guards. He stared at the Beet of six
empty Mercedes which was parked only ten yards beyond the soldiers’ rifles. He
marched back into the foyer, irritated by the babble of different tongues
coming at him from every direction. Eduardo looked around him: it was obvious
that many