An African Affair by Nina Darnton Read Free Book Online Page A

harmless, and Olumide lets them operate pretty freely. Why the sudden interest?”
    “Maybe Olumide’s changed his mind. I think that was the boy’s body that just floated up.”
    Goren shrugged. “Sorry, Lindsay. That guy was just a local thief hanged by the crowd. Hardly of interest to your readers in New York.”
    “How do you know that?” Lindsay asked. “I didn’t see you over there.”
    “But I saw you—just as I was leaving.”
    “Are you sure it wasn’t Oladayo?”
    “It’s my job to be sure.”
    “Mine too,” she answered, and turned to go.
    But she wondered if the steward had made a mistake. She waited until all the guests had left, then retraced her steps along the side road. The lights were all out in the high commissioner’s compound.
    As she approached the back entrance, one of the guards stepped out of the darkness and ordered her away. She replied indignantly that she had lost her purse. Perhaps it was in the residence. She wanted to ask the steward if he had seen it. She looked distressed—which was not difficult under the circumstances—and after much back and forth, the man relented. He got the steward, who came out looking confused and scared. Out of hearing range of the guard, she whispered, “I told them I thought I left my purse at the house.”
    “No, madam,” he answered in a loud voice. “I no find madam’s purse. I very sorry.”
    “I want to be sure,” she murmured. “Are you absolutely sure that man is the student leader, Babatunde Oladayo?”
    “I sorry, madam. But it not be dere. I sure. I know dat purse. I see it before.”
    Lindsay thanked him loudly, and left. She found her car, climbed into the front seat, and looked behind her; she didn’t see any signs of a tail. They probably had more important things to do. She drove home, pondering how to file this piece without getting thrown out of the country. The story of the murdered dissident was significant—it demonstrated the resistance to Olumide and the ruthlessness of his regime—but it was not worth missing the crackdown against Fakai and the cancellation of the long-anticipated elections.
    Finally she thought of a way to get the story into the paper. She’d mark it “hold for orders” so that the desk would not print it without her okay. The first plane to London was at 6 A.M. Her interview with Olumide was at 11 A.M. That would give her time to go the airport and search for a pigeon, someone who would be willing to smuggle her report out of the country and then call it in to the Globe .
    Luckily, Maureen was in her room with the door closed—she didn’t know how much of her scoop she would share with her friend. She sat at her desk and began to type. When she finished, she pondered where to put her notes. What if the government decided to search the house? She hesitated a moment and then ripped the pages out of her notebook, tearing them into still smaller pieces and, finally, flushed them down the toilet. As she got into bed, she allowed herself one final thought about James. What was he doing with that secretary?

CHAPTER 7
    Lindsay’s alarm went off at four the next morning. The British Air flight to London would leave in two hours. The early hour meant that traffic was not a problem, and in the terminal she found a young American tourist who was eager for an adventure. He promised to carry her story out and to call the phone number she gave him.
    She got back in plenty of time to prepare for her interview with General Olumide. She was sitting at the kitchen table going over her notes for the last time when Martin came in. It was only 7 A.M.
    “Good morning,” she said. “Why are you here so early?”
    “I am sorry, madam. There was no time for you meet the new driver. He here now.”
    Eager to get back to her notes, Lindsay said, “Not today, Martin. I have too much on my mind.”
    Martin refused to be put off. “Sorry, madam,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “You cannot go to Dodan