Her parents’ home was a white mansion on a drive overlooking the lagoon. A policeman opened the gate and peered inside the car at me. There was an old Rolls Royce gathering dust in a corner. I wanted to see it but Amaka was already walking into the building. The policeman kept looking at me.
Inside, in a large bedroom, she measured me with her eyes then reached into a wardrobe and brought out a folded bundle of white clothing.
‘Try this on,’ she said, and left.
In the mirror over the dressing table something caught my eye. I turned to look. Next to the bed, leaning against the wall, was a double-barrelled shotgun. I heard a door close. I remembered she had gone to get dressed as well. I placed the borrowed clothes on the bed and began to unbutton my shirt.
We arrived at the party dressed alike in white, though Amaka had a huge red headscarf wrapped around her head that looked like an origami flower. She told me it was called ‘gele.’ Perhaps this meant something, the fact that she’d chosen matching outfits for us.
At the entrance of the Yoruba Tennis Club, people were showing their invitation cards to the police. Amaka put her arm in mine and pressed her phone against her ear. I hesitated when it was our turn at the gate but she tugged my arm and we walked past the policemen unchallenged.
A huge white marquee was set up in the middle of an open field. A live band played just beyond the gigantic tent. Gabriel guided us by phone to his table. He had saved us two seats by placing his wife’s handbag on one, and a half-eaten plate of food on the other. He stood to greet us, looking theatrical in a flowing white outfit that at full spread was as large as a duvet cover. He had to keep gathering the excess fabric into folds over his shoulders. All the guests were in white outfits.
‘Where is madam?’ Amaka said, looking around.
Gabriel pointed out his wife, standing with a large woman who was fanning her face with an embroidered fan.
‘She’s with the wife of the new NDIC chairman. I told her to introduce you. You’d better run along now.’
She looked at me apologetically and I nodded that I would be fine. She held my arm and squeezed it before leaving. It felt good. Perhaps we were cool again? It occurred to me then that we’d had our first fight.
‘Won’t you sit down?’
He looked drowsy. There was a glass of wine and an empty bottle on the table. He pushed a glass towards me and poured red wine from a bottle that he brought out from under the table. I took in the crowd with my first sip. The vibrant music, the beautiful people, Amaka as my date – it all felt surreal.
‘You look good. Did you have it made here?’ Gabriel said.
‘Oh, no. It’s her father’s.’
‘The ambassador’s? She’s dressing you up in her father’s clothes now? Interesting.’
‘If you say so. Tell me, what’s she up to?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I know Amaka; she’s always on one project or the other. It’s either an orphanage she’s trying to rescue or a politician she’s trying to expose. What is it this time?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’
‘I’m sure you know, but she has sworn you to secrecy. Never mind, she’ll tell me herself when she wants to. Sooner or later, she tells me everything.’
‘You two seem to be very close.’
‘Yup. Like brother and sister. Nothing going on there, my man. No need to worry about me.’
‘There’s nothing between us,’ I said.
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He took another sip from his glass and started people-watching. ‘You know, I know everything about these people. Every single one of them. You see that one there? The woman with the fat ass? Last month, I sold her father’s house in Monaco. The man was a civil servant all his life. Head of Service. You have to ask yourself where he got the money to buy a twelve million pounds sterling villa cash down. Her husband used to be a good friend of mine.’
‘Used to?’
‘Oh yeah, he died. Cancer. We played golf together. He always won; that’s how I got him to be my client. I’ll tell you a funny story. A few years back, he got her a gym subscription for their anniversary. He didn’t understand why she was upset. She made her point by getting him a penis enlargement kit in return. She called me in the States to buy her the stuff.’
We laughed at the story then he pointed at someone.
‘See that guy there? The tall lanky fellow? He used to be in the Navy. He was a commander. Shehu, that’s his name. Shehu Yaya. Retired Navy Commander Shehu Yaya. He had a brilliant career. We all expected him to make CNS one day, Chief of Naval Staff, but then he got mixed up in a dirty oil bunkering deal and they quietly retired him. Guess what he does now?’
‘Oil bunkering?’
‘Nope. I never said he did it. In fact, the deal that got him the sack had nothing to do with him. His sin was actually not looking the other way, but that’s another story. What he does now, my friend, is this: he arranges young girls for his rich friends in the Force. Can you believe that? A man, who got kicked out of his job for being straight, now pimps girls the age of his daughters to the same bastards who ended his career. Now what would you call that, poetic injustice?’
I turned to watch the retired commander. He was standing in a group with four other men, all deep in conversation, except for him. He was looking at something. I followed his gaze to Amaka. She was chatting with Gabriel’s wife and an elderly woman. Her back was to him. She looked gorgeous. I noticed a few other men checking her out too.
‘What about the man she’s looking for? Is he here tonight?’
‘Who? Malik?’
‘No, Chief Amadi. Is he here?’
‘Well, I haven’t seen him. Why is she looking for him?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘So, why do you ask?’
‘I saw the expression on your face when she asked you about him.’
‘What expression?’
‘You seemed to disapprove. Do you know something about him?’
‘Well, you see all these people here? I know how they all made their money – it’s my job to know. I need to know who’s rich or who’s going to be rich, you understand? But that guy, Amadi, he just appeared on the scene out of nowhere. I’ve asked around and no one knows how he made his money, what he does, or for that matter how much he’s worth. I’ll tell you a secret. I have people in the banks who tell me how much any one has in their account. I need to know how much you can spend if you’re asking about a villa in the Côte d’Azur, you understand? I need to be able to weed out the time wasters. I’ve asked all my contacts about this geezer and he doesn’t have one account in any bank in the country. Not even under a false name. And yet he spends as if he prints money.’
‘Drugs?’
‘Nah. I doubt it. That racket has become too dangerous to run through Nigeria. I thought he was fronting for someone in government but that would require a registered business, at least. He doesn’t have any. I dodged him over a property he wanted to buy in Cape Town last year.’
‘Why?’
‘If I don’t know where the money is from, clean or dirty, I can’t weigh the risks.’
‘What risks?’
‘Money laundering took on a new meaning post 9/11. For all I know he may be conning some Arab nation under the guise of religious advancement in Nigeria. Using funds like that to buy properties abroad may be interpreted by a paranoid CIA agent as funding extremists – however they may arrive at that, you follow? No, thank you. I’ll stick to my corrupt politicians and dubious businessmen.’
‘What about black magic?’
‘What about it?’
‘Could that be the source of his wealth?’
He looked at me as if I just said something stupid.
‘Guy, don’t tell me you believe in that hocus-pocus bullshit. I don’t know what he does for his money but I don’t think Amaka should be messing with him. Whatever she’s up to, please stop her.’
Amaka had disappeared. I saw that a lot of the guests had gathered to dance in front of the band. Dollar bills were being thrown into the sky, or plastered onto the foreheads of female dancing partners. The ground beneath them was covered in notes and young girls were picking them up and stuffing them into empty wine boxes.