Marnier roared. He ran a hand through his thick black locks.
‘I win,’ he said, and laughed some more.
‘So why did she marry you?’
‘That’s personal. I only mentioned it to illustrate a point.’
‘She keeps herself in very good condition.’
‘Perhaps you’re one of these guys who looks at her ass too long,’ he said, touchy.
‘She didn’t give me much opportunity.’
Marnier roared again, hard enough to split any stitches he might still have left in him.
‘She lost you without even having to think about it,’ he said. ‘Ah, M. Medway, I think I’m going to like you.’
‘That worries me.’
‘I don’t like many people.’
‘If you’re including Jacques in your list, I might as well tell you he didn’t seem to like being your friend too much.’
‘Jacques?’
‘The guy who was in here just a minute ago.’
‘Him?’ he said, contemptuous. ‘He’s a fool.’
Suddenly, for a whole load of very good reasons, I had the desire to get out of there, get back home, get away from all this…all this manoeuvring, all this manly sizing up.
‘Let’s get back to why you’re hiding, Jean-Luc.’
‘Is there more whisky?’ he asked, finishing his glass.
I refilled him but not myself. Discourage the man. Let him drink alone. I showed him the olives.
‘Lebanese,’ he said, chewing one.
‘Time’s winged chariot, Jean-Luc.’
‘What?’
‘It’s hurrying near.’
‘You have an education,’ he said. ‘Now look, I want you to do something for me.’
‘Is it to do with why you’re hiding?’
‘I’ll be honest with you…’
‘Is that unusual?’
‘You’re very interesting, M. Medway,’ he said, looking at me out of the corner of his head.
‘Call me Bruce, for God’s sake.’
‘You’re quicker than I thought, Bruce,’ he said.
‘I can be slow too. As Carole found out.’
‘And my gardien,’ he said. ‘It means you have a good understanding of your strengths and weaknesses. Self-knowledge is a rare thing.’
‘Pity I don’t adhere to the little that’s come my way.’
‘Then you’re unpredictable as well…not a bad thing.’
‘Let’s get back to what you want me to do for you. The Kluezbork II, for instance.’
‘That will resolve itself.’
‘You’re not hiding from angry relatives.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Of the five dead men. Your stowaways.’
‘Mine? Where did you hear that from?’
‘It’s well known that you shift a little human cargo along with your cotton seed.’
‘They won’t be able to stick that on me.’
‘They’re talking to the chef d’équipe of that final shift…’
‘They won’t get anywhere.’
‘You don’t know the man who’s running the investigation.’
‘Your M. Bagado? He still won’t get anywhere.’
‘You’re covered then?’
‘You don’t think I can work out of Cotonou without a lot of…support. Very expensive support, I might add. You must realize by now, Bruce, that’s the beauty of Africa. Everything is possible avec la graisse.’
‘This isn’t port business. It’s police business. And Bagado doesn’t…’
‘Let me ask you something,’ he said, lighting another cigarette from the butt of the last. ‘Have you heard of Bondougou? Le Commandant.’
The name disappeared into the smoke over Marnier’s shoulder and then on into the darkness of the room.
‘I see.’
Marnier gave me a huge Gallic shrug and stubbed out the butt in the tuna can available. He picked up the refilled glass of whisky.
‘Your health.’
‘Yours too,’ I said, pouring myself one and joining him. ‘You need it more than I do.’
‘If I stopped smoking,’ he said, ‘I’d come apart. The tar glues me together.’
‘I don’t want to think about that for too long,’ I said. ‘Are you hiding or aren’t you? You went through quite a performance to get to me.’
‘You came to see me first. I don’t know all your connections yet. Maybe someone has asked you to find me,’ he said, shrewd eyes on mine.
‘Is that why you’re keeping my phone occupied?’
‘Expensive but safe.’
‘So somebody’s after you?’
‘Somebody’s always after me.’
‘You’re that kind of businessman.’
‘Sometimes people disagree with the way I make things work.’
‘For them or for yourself.’
‘Ha! Yes,’ he said, and fingered the couple of inches of thick scar tissue he had between the corner of his mouth and jawline.
‘Maybe you’re not being so honest about how your face was cut up,’ I said.
‘It was a machete attack.’
‘I can see that.’
‘Let’s talk about what you’re going to do for me.’
‘Good, I’ve got a home to go to.’
‘How nice,’ he said, irritable now, the breathing going suddenly. ‘I want you to take me to Grand-Popo.’
‘You’ve got a wife. She’s got a car. Renault 5 Turbo. Fast, comfortable.’
‘Carole’s been under enough strain as it is.’
‘What are we going to do in Grand-Popo?’ I asked. ‘The beach is nice.’
‘I’m going to meet somebody.’
‘For dinner. I’ve heard the Auberge isn’t bad. Better for lunch, though.’
‘Perhaps. I’ve taken a small house so we’ll have some privacy.’
‘Who are you meeting? If that’s not too intrusive.’
‘A man from Togo. That’s all you need to know.’
‘But we’re going to meet in this house you’ve taken, not out on some open piece of wasteland in the dark. I don’t like those kind of meeting places and I’ve been to a few in my time.’
‘Now you’re adhering to that little self-knowledge of yours.’
‘And why not?’
‘Don’t