‘Pepa? I need the…’ he began cautiously but he was interrupted by a shout.
Solo raced into the woodyard and stopped in front of them, panting and pointing behind him. Pepa stood with a sigh as the red dust storm approached. Christian’s SUV rumbled towards them and crunched to a halt. Used to this by now, they stepped back, coughing. But this time, Christian did not come out to berate and instruct them. Instead, the tinted passenger window purred down and a gun nosed out from the darkness within. Pepa gripped Jacob’s arm. Their stolen mbasela had been discovered.
With a curt clunk, the back door swung open. Solo, Pepa and Jacob looked at each other, then piled wearily into the SUV. Christian glanced at them in the rearview mirror, but said nothing, his gun resting in his lap like a subdued pet. The driver beside him wore civilian clothes and so many silver chains that he seemed caught in a net. Christian gave a slight nod, and the driver reversed the vehicle and sped out of the compound.
The three teenagers sat quietly in the back of the shadowy machine, with its cold air and metallic smell and glinting lights. Jacob heard Pepa’s bare thighs unstick from the leather seat whenever she shifted. Christian was tapping his palm with a finger. Solo’s eyes widened and he nudged Jacob, who peered between the seats. Christian’s palm was lit bright blue – he’d had a Digit-All Bead implanted in his finger. The boys had read about the prototypes online but they had never seen one in person before. Christian glanced at the rearview again and they trained their eyes on the tinted windows.
They drove from Kalingalinga towards Kabulonga, from the compound to the suburbs, moving up in the world. Stone walls rolled by, their smooth facades hiding private schools and fancy motels and apamwamba homes. Even the walls seemed to have their own gardens here – their barbed-wire or broken-glass crowns festooned with bougainvillea, strips of green grass stretching from their feet. Past Crossroads, near Leopards Hill Cemetery, jagged heaps of slate began to appear on the side of the road, stacked vertically like jagged grey flames.
Around New Kasama, the SUV turned onto a dirt road then, after a few minutes, swung into a stone driveway splotched with red ants’ nests. The silver-strung driver parked and leaned back as if settling in. Christian got out and walked off, waving his gun over his shoulder to beckon them. The three of them tumbled out and followed him on a path through lush hedges springing with purple and white flowers – a shocking abundance in the midst of dry season. Jacob had just decided that Christian was taking them into the bush to murder them when they came out into a fenced-off clearing.
Before them was a rectangular swimming pool, its inside painted the colour of shadow, a scatter of leaves poxing its surface. On the other side of it was half of a mansion. Concrete columns stood in the three corners, and there was a flight of steps in the fourth, but there were no walls or ceiling yet. Wave-shaped roof tiles were stacked along the edge of the garden. Though unfinished, the house was furnished, with armchairs and sofas and tables and even a bed. With no walls to hang from, the decor was spread out on the ground: ‘African’ paintings of bare-breasted women with pots on their heads, raffia-trimmed wall hangings, mirrors in gilt frames. Uniformed men prowled around, stepping cautiously around the strewn interior design. Le Grand Kallé muttered from speakers as tall as the men.
Christian walked into the open-air half-building, stepping politely through an empty door frame. They followed. A low voice issued a command and Christian stepped aside to disclose an older man sitting in a leather chair with wooden arms carved into pouncing lions. He was blueblack, bearded, bespectacled, his big belly taut under his army shirt. He gestured for them to sit on a white leather sofa across from him. They huddled together, Pepa’s arms crossed over her breasts. Christian stood beside them, handgun at his side. The man, the big bwana, petted the lions’ heads and smiled broadly.
‘It is now a party!’ he said.
They stared.
‘Greet!’ Christian ordered.
Solo shot to his feet and stepped towards the man in the chair to shake hands, but Christian grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him down onto the sofa. ‘From here!’