The Song of Mawu. Jeff Edwards
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Smith. ‘These old bones of mine were getting too tired for all those important decisions. I’m more than happy to pass the work on to the next generation.’ She rose and beckoned for Brian and Lana to follow her, ‘Let’s go and see if we can find the right person for you.’
Dr Smith led them back to the entrance lobby, to a nondescript door set beneath the staircase that lead to the first floor. A well-lit set of stairs led to the building’s basement, from where they could hear the sounds of a busy office.
Hanging onto the hand-rail for support Dr Smith led them slowly down the steep stairs. ‘I don’t come down here too often because of my hip, so I’m eager to see what’s changed since I last made the attempt.’
‘I’m so sorry to put you out like this,’ Lana replied, as she offered her arm for support.
‘Don’t be silly. It’s the least I can do,’ the old woman smiled before explaining, ‘I hadn’t used the basement for years and it seemed like the perfect place for them to set up their office.’
***
At the bottom of the stairs they found that the basement had been partitioned off into numerous work stations where several men and women huddled over keyboards, busily entering information into the trust’s mainframe computer.
Rani Smith led the Reynolds’ through the work area to a far corner where a further portion of the basement had been walled off to form an office. Here, Rani tapped quietly on the door and entered.
A young woman was talking earnestly on the phone, but her studious face broke into a grin when she saw her grandmother enter and she beckoned her to a chair while continuing her telephone conversation. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go,’ she said, cutting short her call, ‘something important has come up.’
‘You didn’t have to do that my dear,’ said her grandmother, ‘We could have waited.’
The girl grinned at her grandmother, ‘Just someone begging for more money. He deserves it and we’ll give it to him but we don’t want to make it look too easy or he’ll hound us again and again. Now what can I do for you?’
Dr Smith introduced Brian and Lana to her granddaughter Toni Smith, before handing over to Brian for him to explain the reason for their call.
While Brian was doing this Lana noted that Toni was a much younger copy of her grandmother and realised just how beautiful Rani Smith must have been in her youth. Rani’s dark Indian complexion had become a gentle tan tone in her granddaughter but the flashing brown eyes and raven hair came straight from the older woman, as did her slim, tall build. The way the girl paid attention to every detail of Brian’s story and the insightful questions she asked in clarification impressed Brian and Lana.
As soon as Brian was finished she nodded, ‘Well then, let’s see what we can do for you,’ and began tapping away at a keyboard. ‘Namola?’ she whispered to herself as her fingers caressed the keys and data began flowing across her screen. ‘Yes. We have several here. I’ll pull up their profiles.’
Toni Smith read through several screens before nodding her head in negation. ‘No. These won’t do at all. Every one of them has come with a reference from President Lattua himself. They all appear to be children of his friends.’
‘You’re right,’ said Lana, ‘we don’t want Lattua to know about the enquiries.’
‘Isn’t there anyone else?’ asked Rani.
‘Wait. Here’s one. Daniel Zibu. He finished his surgical training two years ago and he’s now practicing so he’s no longer receiving our assistance.’
‘Is he still in England?’ asked Brian.
Toni nodded, ‘He’s applied for permanent residence. He claims that he might be in danger if he returns home. Apparently his father was a member of a political party that was opposed to President Lattua. That is definitely not the way to get ahead in Namola. I can see why Daniel wouldn’t want to go back.’
‘He’s just what the doctor ordered,’ said Rani with a cheeky grin. ‘What was his specialty?’
‘Trauma Surgeon and a very good one from all reports,’ replied Toni. ‘I’ll get his address and telephone number for you.’
15
Two days later, a rather bemused Dr Daniel Zibu was collected from his very modest city flat by a chauffer driven limousine and transported in whisper quiet comfort into the English countryside.
He was here because he had received a personal call from Dr Rani Smith, the head of the Rani Smith Trust. The Trust had enabled him to move from the limited educational standards of the Namolan Medical Academy in Lobacra to the prestigious Guys in London and he would be eternally endebted to them for the opportunity.
Her call had been short and to the point, The Fund, a newly formed charity, needed information which he was in a position to provide. Would he be willing to give up a day of his precious time to assist them? Of course he would.
Daniel wondered just what sort of medical assistance they needed.
***
As the limousine pulled up outside the impressive new headquarters building, the driver climbed out to open the rear door for Daniel. As he did so a small man in a security uniform joined them.
‘Good morning Dr Zibu my name is Teddy Strang the Head of Security,’ he said cheerfully, ‘Welcome to The Fund. If you’ll come with me, the board is waiting to speak to you.’
He led the doctor inside and they took a lift that rose a couple of floors before stopping. Here Teddy Strang led the doctor down a short hallway to a set of double doors. ‘Normally they’d be holding the meeting in their boardroom but seeing as how there are a few extra guests it was decided to use one of the lecture rooms.’
Inside, Daniel found himself led to a small stage, before which rows of individual desks rose in tiers. The first two rows were occupied by a mixed group of well dressed males and females while a map of Namola and its surrounding countries was projected on a large screen.
Before Daniel could fathom what was happening a tall good looking male came forward and held out his hand. ‘Good morning Dr Zibu, I’m Brian Reynolds and these are my fellow directors.’ He then led Daniel around and introduced him to the various directors.
Lana was particularly intrigued when Dr Zibu was introduced to Justine Strang. For once the Chairman appeared to be lost for words and actually awestruck by the doctor and Lana could well appreciate why. Zibu was beautiful with his African looks; tall and broad shouldered with the far seeing eyes of the hunter, yet the hand that gripped hers was long fingered and soft, the hands of a surgeon.
As he passed on to be introduced to the others, Lana turned to Suzie who stood beside her and nodded in Justine’s direction.
Suzie grinned broadly as she too saw the look of rapture on their young friend’s face. She placed her hands over her heart and mimicked a swooning adolescent, which caused Lana to let out a soft giggle and caused heads to turn in their direction.
Forcing themselves to recover their dignity, the two women turned serious on the outside while maintaining their delight internally.
When Daniel Zibu was introduced to Ali and Nori Akuba he was delighted to find that they had recently returned from Namola. ‘I haven’t been able to go back there in years,’ he explained unhappily.
Also present was Rod Taylor, The Fund’s Chief of Operations and his Field Agents’, Sam Tait and Bree Lake. Added to these were several members of The Fund’s newly formed research teams, whose principal job was to obtain whatever background information they could regarding the areas in which The Fund were expressing interest. These teams had been assembled as a result of the failure of their initial attempts in the refugee camps in Namola and consisted of recent university graduates in various fields, including geopolitical studies and modern history.
Finally, Daniel Zibu was led