The Song of Mawu. Jeff Edwards
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pushed the button for B4, the fourth level of the basement and when the destination button lit up, he hit the same button several more times in a prescribed pattern. The lift doors closed and the group descended.
The directors stood in silence watching the floor numbers pass from the tenth floor down to the ground floor and then further on down to the basement levels. When the last number B4 was lit, that light remained on but the lift continued to drop beyond the lowest level of the building. A further four floors later the lift finally stopped and the doors opened onto a small bare lobby. Once they were all out, the doors of the lift closed behind them and returned to the B4 level where it would await their call.
The directors were now in a small square lobby surrounded by three walls of painted cement, each totally unadorned. There was no indication of any way out of the enclosed area other than the lift in which they had arrived.
Toby Brown stepped up to the wall on the left hand side of the lift and placed his security card to a scanner that had been skilfully disguised and looked like nothing more than a small blemish in the paintwork. Immediately a small click was heard on the opposite side of the lobby and a carefully disguised door slid open.
Without a word, the directors entered the hallway beyond. Toby was the last one through and applied his pass to a pad inside the door. He watched to make sure the secret door closed behind them.
Movement activated lights switched on as the group passed, until they arrived at a door at the end of the corridor. There Eliza used her pass to gain entry.
Beyond the door, the group found themselves in another board room which was almost an exact copy of the one where they had been sitting in minutes before.
However, the walls of this room had been lined in lead, and its depth below ground level, as well as its secrecy, ensured that any words spoken here would not be heard beyond these walls.
Finally, free to express their views, the group broke into animated conversation and Eliza gave vent to her feelings in no uncertain terms, swearing loudly.
Nori placed her arm around the young woman’s shoulders and hugged her comfortingly.
Justine shook her head in frustration before taking charge. ‘Okay, okay. We’ve all had time to yell and scream, now its time to get down to solving the problem. Sit down everyone and we’ll get on with our meeting.’
Slowly the directors took their chairs and Justine noted that there were tears of rage on Eliza’s cheek, ‘I’ve got to get back there! They need me! I’ll leave straight away!’
‘Will you calm down!’ Justine ordered her friend, ‘Let’s take a moment to consider the situation. Then we’ll decide what to do.’ She took the note from Eliza, and straightened it out before reading it out aloud. ‘Namolan soldiers have taken over your property. Our people being used as forced labour.’ She then looked up at Eliza. ‘Alright Justine, what light can you shed on this message? Would it be correct?’
Eliza looked at Nori and Ali, and then nodded. ‘Not long after we moved in we were visited by Lattua’s brother. That’s General Thomas Lattua the head of Namola’s armed forces. He’d been in the valley with his men when the British Engineers had built the camp. He turned up with a fleet of empty trucks and I think he came to see what he could ‘souvenir’ from what the engineers had left behind and it took him by surprise to find us there using all the buildings.’
‘He didn’t like our presence one little bit and we had to produce all our documentation to convince him that we had every right to be there,’ added Ali. ‘We produced the lease to the property, signed by Governor Trong, the Provincial Governor of Victoria, and the administrator in charge of the area that includes the valley of Ashloko, but he still remained adamant that we should not be there. I think he must have contacted the Governor and his brother the President before he finally went away.’
‘He came back on several more occasions and we had visits from the governor as well,’ said Nori. ‘They ‘said’ it was to learn from our methods, and to see if they could be used to increase productivity on some of their unproductive lands, but the looks of greed I saw when the land began to prove productive told us an entirely different story. I’m sure they were waiting for us to turn our backs so that they could move in.’
‘Well they certainly didn’t waste any time,’ commented Suzie Brown. ‘It seems as though your plane’s wheels were hardly off the ground before they made their move.’
Eliza stood up, ‘Well I’m going back. Now!’
Nori put her hand on the girl’s arm and tried to pull her back into her seat, ‘You can’t go. There’s an army sitting in your camp waiting for you. We have to be careful!’
Justine nodded to her friend, ‘Nori’s right. Sit down. We’d need a larger force to remove them now and we don’t even have a pea shooter between us. We have to think about this.’
Reluctantly Eliza slumped into her chair and looked around at her friends in frustration.
‘The first thing we have to do is try to speak to someone in authority out there,’ said Brian, ‘We have to find out their reasons for doing this and put forward our legal claim to have the army withdrawn from our property,’ said Brian.
‘Spoken like a true solicitor,’ replied his wife with a wry grin.
‘He’s right of course,’ said Justine. ‘I think we need to go right to the top and speak to President Lattua himself. We’ll put our complaint straight to him and plead our case to have the military return our property to us.’
‘I’ll go out there and speak to him face to face. Ali will help me,’ said Eliza.
‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea,’ said Ali, ‘From what I learnt about President Lattua when we were out there, I think we’d better find out how deeply he’s involved with this before we try to go and visit him. I’ve heard stories of people who tried to oppose the President and simply disappeared without a trace.’
Eliza remained silent as she too recalled some of the stories from the Namolan community.
‘I’ll make some arrangements and try to set up a teleconference with the President. We’ll take the call in here so that we can all listen in and form our own opinions,’ announced Justine.
6
It was decided that Brian would represent The Fund in its discussions while the other Directors listened in, and after much effort the call was placed through.
‘Good morning Mr President, my name is Brian Reynolds and I’m the legal representative of The Fund which is operating a rehabilitation camp for refugees in Ashloko.’
‘A very good morning to you Mr Reynolds. How may I help you?’ asked a cheery Joseph Lattua.
‘Well, Mr President it seems that members of your army have taken possession of our camp.’
‘Really Mr Reynolds? And why would members of the Grand Army of Namola want to take over a refugee rehabilitation camp? You haven’t been hiding insurgents there have you?’
‘Most assuredly not Mr President!’
‘Well then Mr Reynolds, perhaps it’s a more mundane problem.’
‘Like what Mr President?’
‘Taxes Mr Reynolds,’ responded Joseph Lattua cheerfully as he warmed to his task. ‘Has your organisation paid all its taxes?’
‘We’re a charity helping penniless refugees. What sort of taxes would a group like ours be lible for?’
There was a soft chuckle over the line, ‘Why Mr Reynolds how naïve you are. Surely you realise that there are import duties to be paid on the supplies you have imported, land taxes on the amount of land that your people have brought under cultivation, water taxes for the volume of that most precious commodity that you are consuming, income tax on the wages you are paying your workers,