Blood is Dirt

‘I thought you’d rather have had the business.’

‘Thanks for thinking of my welfare, David. That must be a first for the FO thinking of a British citizen in distress.’

‘There’s no need to be like that,’ said David, getting a little camp. He was a homosexual and could resort to that kind of thing with people he knew and if he needed to hide for a bit.

‘I thought you’d have heard about Napier by now. Didn’t the Honorary Consul call you, or was he doing a Graham Greene?’

‘Are you coming to Lagos sometime, Bruce?’ he asked, surfing my question.

‘I’ve got no need to at the moment … now that Napier Briggs is dead. If I do, I’ll call you.’

‘Or maybe I’ll come to Cotonou.’

‘You’ll be welcome.’

Bagado was pacing the room, hands in pockets, his processor whirring,-his hard disk snickering.

‘We’ve got something here,’ he said. ‘It looks as if it’s flying higher than we thought. When you asked him about Adjeokuta why didn’t he just say that Mr Briggs didn’t want an investigation by the Nigerian authorities?’

‘Because …

‘He obviously didn’t offer Mr Briggs the four-one-nine squad option in the first place. Why not?’

‘He wanted him out of there. He was a potential embarrassment?’

‘Could they have known about the toxic waste?’ asked Bagado. ‘What could the British government’s involvement be in a loser like Briggs?’

‘All the writing on the drums at the dump was Italian, but maybe it’s British waste, or there’s a British connection in there somewhere?’

‘It could, of course, just be something private between your friend at the High Commission and Briggs.’

Anyway, we’re finished with Napier Briggs now. He was never even a client.’

‘You might be.’

‘Ah, yes. I forgot. You’re a policeman again.’

8 (#ulink_4ea8c632-74b0-5c54-88d2-bdc1b247c1ea)

By the time I’d dropped Bagado at home and climbed the steps up to my own house it was 8 p.m., but the lights were on, which promised cold beer.

I was about to open the door when I heard Heike and another woman, whose voice I didn’t recognize, talking. The other woman sounded English from the expressions she used but I could tell she’d spent some time in a foreign country. She was used to speaking to foreigners, choosing her words, even though Heike was completely bilingual. The woman was talking about a lover, or a husband maybe.

‘ … there always had to be this ritual,’ she said. ‘We couldn’t just go to bed together and get on with it. The bedroom door had to be locked, the lights positioned, the mirrors in place. He would say things, strange things like, “You and me,” which made me look around the room, you know, relieved. I wasn’t allowed to say anything. I had to be wearing the right things. Normally black, occasionally red, but always the whole bit, suspenders, stockings. He spent a fortune on my underwear and there was always the other things …’