William Boyd - A Good Man in Africa

‘Alex,’ Morgan called. ‘Can I…can I have a word?’ Murray came over.

‘This is incredibly embarrassing for me,’ Morgan said, ‘But I have to ask. Please don’t report this to anyone.’

‘But I’ve told…’

‘I’m begging you,’ Morgan said earnestly. ‘Please, I will lose my job, you see, and it’s the only thing in my life that means anything to me, that’s any good at all. Please.’

‘What are you asking me to do?’ Murray said. ‘Pretend all this never happened?’

Morgan squirmed. ‘Well…yes.’ But he saw immediately that it wouldn’t be enough. ‘Couldn’t you just forget about making that negative report on the site? You see, if you do veto the project Adekunle will go to Fanshawe anyway. That was the deal: I had to stop you from doing that.’

Murray lowered his voice. ‘So in fact you want me to give the all-clear for the hall project. But why should I?’

‘For me ,’ Morgan pleaded. ‘Otherwise I’m finished. I mean that. Not just my job. Everything.’

‘Why is this project so important to Adekunle? Is he bidding for the contract through Ussman Danda?’

‘No,’ Morgan said quietly. ‘He owns the land.’

Murray looked up at the sky. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he laughed sardonically, ‘no wonder he’ll pay ten thousand pounds.’

‘That’s still available, by the way,’ Morgan interjected.

‘I’ll forget you said that,’ Murray responded harshly. He paused. ‘You’re asking me to let that hall project go through for your sake alone — so that you can keep your job.’

Morgan looked at the ground. ‘Yes,’ he said ashamedly. ‘I know I’m a bloody fool, that I got myself in this mess but…’

‘No,’ Murray said flatly. ‘I’m sorry, Morgan, but no. I just can’t — won’t — go that far.’

‘But why not?’ Morgan beseeched unreasonably, ‘Why not? What’s so important about the University of Nkongsamba, Adekunle, this country? What does it matter to us — people like us? In the end there’s absolutely nothing we can do; the Adekunles of this world’ll win through eventually. Let them build the bloody hall there.’ He felt like a man seeing the end of his tether twitch beyond his grasp.

‘It’s got absolutely nothing to do with the University of Nkongsamba,’ Murray said patiently.

‘Then why won’t you do this one little thing?’ Morgan asked despairingly. ‘I’ll go down on my knees if you like.’ He felt the familiar sensations of intense Murray-hatred returning. ‘Is it because it’s ‘wrong’?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘You don’t want to do the ‘wrong’ thing, is that it? Can’t you see that life’s just not that simple? Good⁄bad, right⁄wrong. It just doesn’t work that way any more.’ He spread his hands. ‘You’re way out of touch Alex, out on a limb: nobody else is playing by those rules, so why you? Why is it so important for me to lose my job?’

Morgan saw Murray’s jaw muscles tighten. ‘Frankly I don’t give a damn about your job,’ he said in his steely Scottish voice. ‘If you’re a big enough bloody fool to get entangled with people like Adekunle then that’s your problem. As for your simple reading of how my mind works, that’s off-target too. I’m not concerned about ‘good’ and ‘bad’ as you put it either; if I’m interested in anything it’s in seeing a bit of fairness in the world, and I just don’t think it’s fair that some greedy bastard like Adekunle should cheat his way into several hundred thousand pounds at other people’s expense. And I’m afraid for your sake that I can’t just sit back and let him get away with it. And now that I’m in a position to see that he doesn’t, nothing’s going to stop me. I won’t worry too much about whether it’s right or wrong but at least I’ll be secure in the knowledge that some justice has been done, that one fat bastard hasn’t had it all his own way. I’m sorry, but I can’t see my letting you keep your job, and thereby allowing the University of Nkongsamba to build a hall of residence on a rubbish dump and provide Adekunle with a small fortune, as being remotely just or fair. It may sound stupid but I couldn’t forgive myself.’

Morgan’s shoulders slumped. He felt exhausted. He felt angry because there was no response he could make: he agreed with everything Murray had said.

‘Look,’ Murray continued in a less passionate tone. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I won’t make any report until January the third which is the day my committee meets again. Adekunle’s had it now. I’m not naive enough to believe I can ever prove he owns the land, but nothing he can do can stop my negative report. That gives you time to sort things out yourself — and I promise I won’t mention your name in connection with this.’

‘But Adekunle will, don’t you see?’

‘That’s why I’m giving you the time. Pre-empt him. Go to Fanshawe yourself: tell him everything before Adekunle can.’

Morgan groaned. ‘No, it won’t work. I could never tell Fanshawe these things. You don’t know him, don’t know his expectations. He’d go raving mad.’

‘It’s your only option,’ Murray said. ‘You never can tell about people, what they’ll think, what they’ll do. You may be surprised.’ He waved at his son. ‘See Fanshawe,’ he advised, ‘lay things on the line. But remember: January the third and I make my report to the Buildings, Works and Sites Committee.’ He paused and touched Morgan fleetingly on the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But I’ve got to do it.’

Morgan watched him go to join his son.

Morgan lay on Hazel’s bed staring up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. Hazel had gone out to buy him more beer as he had drunk his way through the six bottles in the fridge during the course of the afternoon. He had come to the flat straight after his catastrophic round of golf with Murray, gone into hiding like a fugitive, lying low. Before he’d left the club he’d phoned Bilbow, told him to make himself at home and said that he didn’t know when he’d be back.

‘That Adekunle chap came round this morning just after you’d left,’ Bilbow had said. ‘Seemed very keen to see you. Oh yes, and if that Fanshawe character rings up once more I think I’ll blow me top. He’s phoned half a dozen times today already. What’ve you done to him?’

Morgan’s heart sagged. What were Fanshawe and Adekunle after? ‘Never mind,’ he’d told Bilbow. ‘Just keep telling them you don’t know where I am.’

‘As you wish, squire,’ Bilbow cheerily acknowledged.

Morgan had passed the day in a perplexing succession of moods: deep Stygian gloom, devil-may-care indifference, throat-tightening self-pity and his usual apocalyptic universe-hating rages. The sole alteration in the pattern was that Murray did not appear as major target of his vengeful fury. It was no longer the same between him and Murray now, he realized; the old clear-cut division had been replaced by something more complex and puzzling. The front-line had disappeared. This was a turn in events that he found distinctly off-putting, for it seemed to take no account of the fact that Murray had bluntly told him that he was not going to change his mind about the negative site report — the pivot upon which the future hinged as far as he was concerned. He just couldn’t understand why he was letting the man off so lightly.

♦

The next morning he lay contentedly in bed watching Hazel get dressed. The sun shone through the slats in the shutters. The traffic sounds came up fuzzily from the street below.

‘Where are you going, by the way?’ he asked her.

‘To vote of course,’ she said.