Against Advice, Abel Hunts Millie Down in London

25 Oct Against Advice, Abel Hunts Millie Down in London

Twack!  Peter Abel’s dart burrowed into double eleven and he was out. Clarke swore and sat down on his stool, totally deflated. He and Abel had met here at the White Horse for the third time and Clarke had yet to beat him.

“You know, old man, if you really want my help, you’ll lose a game or two.”

Abel shook his head as he recovered the dart from the board. “Not at all, Mr. Clarke. The way I see it, the more crazy you are the more you’ll want to take it out on the men we’re trying to get. If you win, you’ll be in far too good a mood.”

Clarke laughed heartily as the two men took seats at the table and ordered beer and dinner. Each always had the same thing. Shepherd’s pie for Abel, bangers and mash for Clarke. They had fallen into a kind of familiar routine and were becoming friends, enjoying each other’s stories. Clarke was fascinated to hear about Nigeria and the political climate there, and he loved listening to Abel recount how he went about his investigations.

Clarke, the policeman, could identify with Abel and his methods. He nodded approvingly as Abel recounted how he had gotten information from various reluctant sources. And Clarke smiled broadly at Abel’s near escapes and how in the end, his articles often brought down the bad guys.

For his part, the newspaperman enjoyed Clarke’s lectures on the history of London and various parts of England. Clarke even knew what had been on this very spot four hundred years before and regaled Abel with anecdotes. The pub had once been an orphanage, specifically the kitchen and dining area of one. It was straight out of Dickens to Abel. And he could imagine Oliver Twist standing on this very spot, porridge bowl in hand asking meekly for “a little more, sir.” Moreover, Clarke’s police work interested Abel as well.

In between the amusing tales, they had exchanged important information. Abel had passed along his experience with Millie and where he thought her cab might have gone the night he lost her. Clarke checked real estate records and had a few candidates in Richmond, large houses that might have been purchased with dirty money. It was difficult because the men who laundered money covered their tracks so well, working through front companies and dummy corporations.

Clarke was running thorough checks on every company involved in the sale or purchase of homes in that area in the past two years. It was taking time, but he was sure they’d turn up something.

“These blokes always make some mistake somewhere along the line. We just need to be patient.”

Clarke had also tracked Millie through her passport, but it had been a dead end. She was travelling on diplomatic papers, and so her only known address was the Nigerian Embassy. The embassy was no help.

As they began eating their dinners, Clarke warned Abel to take care in his dealings with the woman.

“She returned to Nigeria today. So, there is little to fear from her.”

Clarke shook his head. “Sorry, old man. You’re wrong. I’ve been keeping tabs on her. She’s still in London.”

Abel was surprised to hear this. “Doing what?”

“Meeting with art dealers. She’s after a Turner that’s come on the market. I’d hate to see it wind up in some Nigerian palace. Bloody humidity would rot the canvas.”

Abel was befuddled. Why would Millie lie about her departure date? He asked Clarke what he thought. The policeman sipped the head off his beer and thought a few seconds.

“My guess: she’s going to pop up again. Some place you don’t expect her. And some place you don’t want to be seen. Like the hall of records.”

“How did you know I went there?” Abel surprised again. The man must be having him tailed.

“Once you told me about this thug Tiko’s, I thought maybe I should give you a bodyguard. She’s not the only one who’s going to be keeping an eye on you. Now, do what I said and stay with the tourist stuff.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why the bloody hell not?” Abel sense that Clarke was very annoyed.  He was conducting an investigation in secret, or trying to, but here Abel was running around waving a red flag, acting like an investigative reporter. He had been checking immigration records looking for Nigerians who came and went with some frequency or were connected to Huud or Tiko.

Abel drew a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Clarke. “This appeared in yesterday’s Zodiac. My paper.”

Clarke read. It was the editorial about Huud’s speech calling for prayer. The paper decried him and his whole cabinet and called for a protest. Clarke pursed his lips, annoyed by what he was reading. He looked up at Abel.

“So, what? This spurs you to action? Can’t help yourself?”

“I can’t go on doing nothing when this man is making a mockery of my country. He does nothing. And according to my editor, he’s arranged some kind of phoney conference on global warming.”

Clarke knew a political move when he saw one. “Smoke and mirrors. Global warming takes the heat, so to speak, while they continue to rob the till.”

“Where can I find Millie?”

Clarke looked at Abel as if he were crazy. “You stay away from her. You hear me?”

“I might be able to talk sense into her, Clarke. Maybe she’ll help us. Make her into a double agent.”

Clarke laughed heartily at this. “First of all, you’ve been reading too much Le Carre.”

“I’m more of a Graham Greene man.”

“Second and more importantly, you’re thinking with your dick, Peter. Don’t be a fool.”

They dropped the subject and played another game of darts, which Abel won.  They didn’t discuss the case again that night.

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Despite Clarke’s admonition, Abel went about the simple task of hunting Millie down.  It was child’s play. How many Turners could there be for sale in London? He located the gallery and hung around, feigning interest in various pieces he couldn’t afford in this lifetime or the next.

Abel knew he was flying in the face of Clarke’s good judgement, but he figured that if Millie was planning some surprise visit to him at some inopportune time, it was a better to go on the offensive and make the first move.

About three that afternoon, Millie entered and was shocked to see Abel. He played her role this time.

“Why, Millie what on earth are you still doing in London? You said you were leaving yesterday.”

Millie was clearly flustered, but she covered easily. “I was delayed.” She pointed to the Turner. “I am bidding on this, and the gallery is being rather coy about deciding whether to accept my bid. And I think there is some resistance in the government. They don’t like letting national treasures leave the country.”

Abel gazed at the painting, its violent swirl of colours depicting an ocean storm pulsating before them. Abel liked Turner’s style which was energetic and calming at once. Muted almost.

“National treasures. Every country should take pride in protecting theirs, don’t you think?”

Millie nodded, seeming uncertain of where this was headed. “Yes, of course.”

“These British take pride in their history and who they are. And we Nigerians should protect our country, too.”

It was clear that Millie knew this wasn’t about the Turner, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for Abel. “Well, Peter, if you think it’s wrong to take the Turner from the British Isles, just say so.”

Abel decided to lay his cards on the table. He was tired of games. “You know very well I’m not talking about the Turner. And you know it’s no accident I’m here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. Millie. I know Tiko sent you here to find out what I’m up to. He thinks I’m investigating the party and corruption. And he’s right. I am.”

Abel’s directness threw Millie off for a moment. She only nodded. “I want you to know, I think very highly of you, Millie. I know you’re a good person. And a patriot. And you think you’re helping Nigeria somehow, keeping all this under wraps.”

“Really, Peter, there’s nothing to keep secret. Nobody has done anything wrong.”

“Where do you think the money came from that bought your London mansion?”

“We have no London mansion. Don’t be ridiculous. I told you. I’m staying with friends.”

“In a working class neighbourhood. Then why take a taxi to Richmond?”

Millie was quiet.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to bust you, Millie. I’m not here to make accusations. I only want you to think about this. People are dying in our country. People we could save. But the money to save them is being spent on houses like the one you’re staying in. Every bite of expensive food you take in this city is food you rob from the mouths of the hungry, your fellow Nigerians.”

Millie’s eyes had gone wide and her mouth was open slightly. She seemed stunned into silence from being spoken to in this manner. She finally managed to say something.

“And what do you expect me to do, Peter? See my husband go to jail, my children and me put out in the street, living hand to mouth like those poor souls in Tinnaka? I won’t let my family wind up like them. I won’t see my children hungry.”

“Is that what you think? That without the graft you’d wind up in poverty?”

“You don’t understand, Peter. There are forces beyond our control in Nigeria. Beyond Tiko’s. There are forces, moving trains, from the Federal government down to the local councils. He either plays along or he is buried. He’s doing this for me and the children. He has no choice.”

Apparently, Tiko had convinced her he was under the control of evil forces and that he was a victim. He was stealing because he had no choice. Abel saw that she believed him. Or wanted to at least, and he saw that Tiko had convinced her Abel was a threat, as well.

“I’m sorry to hear you say this, Millie. Because it’s not true. Timo could stop all this if he wanted to.”

“No! That’s a lie. And I won’t help you and your paper spread such vicious things about my husband when all he is doing is trying to help Nigeria. But it takes time, and he has to play the game. If you want a villain, go after Governor Huud and his disgusting wife.”

Abel saw this was a hopeless argument. “May I ask you one thing? You offered yourself to me the other night. Was that real? Please don’t tell me it was for the cause.”

Millie’s eyes filled with tears. This hit home for some reason. Abel didn’t know if she had wanted to sleep with him or offered herself because she was told to. Perhaps his question made her feel cheap.  Whatever the answer, she placed her hand on his, gave it a squeeze and said, “Oh, Peter. We live in such an ugly world. It is like Sodom and Gomorrah out there. They say it is all part of politics” She turned and left the gallery.

Abel walked aimlessly through London, his joy in the city now muted by this encounter. Whatever the truth, Millie was someone he cared for; and her anguish at the life she led made him truly sad.

But this only fuelled Abel’s determination to bring down Tiko and Huud and the rest of the jackals who lied to their wives and pimped them out and stole from the helpless populace who looked to them for salvation.