Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category
by Ted on Jun 5th, 2009
(In which Hercule starts to build the canal across Palm Deux; a vary large boat arrives on the plantation, pulled all the way up from the coast; Sylvie and Hercule start talking, and something starts happening between them; the racist oaf Valery is called on to help Hercule blow up something with dynamite; a mysterious animal dies in an accident; Hercule goes to Sylvie for advice. We start wondering, is love in the air?)
Palm Deux
30 August 1940
12 (1022 lbs.)
As long as the rain holds off, we dig. There are no oceans or lagoons to get in the way this time. It is simply a case of the natives doing what they’re used to doing – making trenches. Except it isn’t in between the rubber trees but beyond them, the biggest trench they’ve ever dug. The elevation and geobarric readings are fine. No fall in scale to worry about either, not even at this altitude. The progress so far is something I could only have dreamed of in Vridi.
The plan is simple: to follow the eastern edge of Zone C, next to the border of the forest. There might have to be one detour in order to skirt a rocky outcrop – a small hill, really – about a mile in from the river. Otherwise Zone C is the perfect site, practically virgin soil just waiting to be used. The only section that needed to be cleared before we began digging was fifty acres of Madame V-C’s park, which took a week to burn. That will leave the park bordered on two sides by water, the Plantain to the south, the canal to the east.
Until now we have managed several yards a day. If we kept going in a straight line, we’d eventually link up with the great Bandama, which winds all the way down to the coastal lagoons and then the Gulf of Guinea. But it is unlikely we will ever reach the river, for Monsieur V-C’s property doesn’t extend that far. And even if we had to dig day and night for the next six weeks, we wouldn’t get anywhere near the Bandama. Besides, the rains are sure to come before long. As it is, they’re already late.
Equipment to build the canal wasn’t easy to come by, but what I have found so far has been ridiculously cheap. Ever since armistice, people have been closing their houses, leaving for the Gold Coast, Liberia, or the south of the continent. As if they can escape the war the further away they go. They are selling off things for a fraction of what they’re worth. I bought two tractors, although a bulldozer would have been more suitable, and a sluice.
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by Ted on Jun 3rd, 2009
Anger
It wasn’t often that Janet’s personnel saw her get mad. The very first time it happened was almost a year ago, when Dee the zoo cage cleaner had decided to leave the project. “It’s too much for me,” she told Janet. They could hear Dee was on the verge of tears. “I just can’t do it to him.” That was before she had made up the excuse about going off to swim with whales.
Janet hadn’t screamed at the time or shown any visible anger. That probably would have made it easier for the people at the office to deal with. No, she had simply kept silent for an entire week instead, and being around her became almost unbearable. Even Ethel Goodleigh found it difficult to tolerate, but she knew it was because there was so much at stake. The loss of Dee had put them back to square one.
The news they received tonight, of the chimpanzee’s unplanned escape and of Upton being tied up and left alone, did not have the same affect on Janet as Dee’s resignation, but they could sense her anger and it scared them. They knew how important it was to her that Upton didn’t get hurt.
“Where is he now?” she demanded, her voice controlled, although she might as well have been shouting. It was a while before someone dared to answer her.
“In the coconut trees, ma’am.”
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by Ted on Jun 2nd, 2009
(In which we watch Hercule watch Sylvie at the fence to the park, trying to figure out where the animals have gone to; Hercule, toying with the idea of going to fight with the Resistance in France, tries to meet with the spy from Dakar, who is recruiting; while spiriting away some tusks to the ivory cache, Hercule sees something odd inside the park; a caracal appears; Sylvie puts on a death-defying show for some guests from Belleville, which shocks Hercule; and Monsieur V-C announces a wonderful surprise for Hercule.)
Palm Deux
20 May 1940
5 (415 lbs.)
She places bowls at the fence of her park, often just scraps from their meals at the villa. It’s hardly enough to draw the animals out of hiding – if that is her intention. She tries anything she can find, from manioc and roots to leaves and overripe melons. Every morsel is guzzled up, although by whom or what still remains a mystery to me. Not a single animal has shown itself yet.
All this I can see from my quarters. Sometimes I use binoculars, because I don’t want her to notice that I too am curious about the animals’ whereabouts. They must venture out when no one is watching or when darkness falls. It helps them that there is hardly ever a moon at night.
I can see that the absence of creatures worries her. The look on her face as she stares through the fence, it is almost one of anguish. Is this how an animal lover feels when the animals stay away? I can only guess the answer.
My curiosity has got the better of me at least once so far. One afternoon, when everyone had turned in for a doze after lunch, I sneaked into the park. I didn’t wander very far, but far enough to have come across something: broken branches, leaves pulled off trees, traces of dung. But I found nothing. The place is so quiet, you can’t imagine anything at all living there. But somewhere inside that fence, they have found a place to hide and food to eat.
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Oh yes, before I end off I should mention something about the low figures over the last few weeks. I admit that I haven’t been at my best. But at least that means there are fewer carcasses to hide. Even Mohammed has been outshooting me; it is the first time he ever has.
When I took him some extra ammunition the other day, I found him with that young girl who started the fight outside the Noix. At least I think it was her. As I said, I have trouble with their faces. All I know is that she is younger than I thought, very young.
* * *
24 May
3 (225 lbs.)
There is a rumor going around here about a man from Dakar, in Senegal, where there is a bigger military presence. With the war coming so close to us, there are always rumors. But I think this person is real. If so, he could well offer me the escape I’ve been waiting for. He might be able to get me out of here.
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by Ted on Jun 1st, 2009
Animals a la Carte
Solomon Magna stroked the bristles on his head. It was a haircut his latest mistress, Eve Catskill, had suggested would make him look a lot younger. And it did. So young did he feel, in fact, that he was planning a second fox hunt for the month.
But he had other things on his mind right now. For one, the fax from Upton, which lay in front of him. As he read it once again, he could feel the bald patch between the bristles, which bothered him. He raised his voice.
“Goodleigh!”
His harassed-looking aide came running into his office, his hunchback trailing him.
“What do you think of this?” he said, waving Upton’s communiqué in the air. He always liked to reserve judgment until Goodleigh had spoken. Even if his assistant was always sickly, didn’t get laid enough, and took too many vitamins, he had a good head on his sloped shoulders. And if Solomon Magna had one strong point, it was that he surrounded himself with people like Goodleigh.
“Excellent idea, sir,” Goodleigh exclaimed.
Solomon Magna was skeptical.
“You really think so?” he asked. “Selling chimps and dogs to those cosmetics companies is one thing – for lipstick and perfume. But animals a la carte?”
The Chairman of Magna Exchange touched his head gingerly, as if he was scared of breaking something.
“I like it, sir. There’s something immediate and quick about it, which you yourself always like. And think of it, who’s going to demonstrate outside a restaurant? You’re totally safe.”
The Chairman smiled.
“Yes. Get in quick, get out quick and make a neat profit. But whatever you do, get in there.”
Goodleigh nodded.
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by Ted on May 28th, 2009
(In which we read about Hercule’s first meeting with the beautiful new madam of the plantation, Sylvie; he kills a chimp, she saves one; Hercule does inspections on animals he’s killed that might prove detrimental to his health (we’ll find out later if there is such a thing as divine justice); our hero is ordered to lie about killing the elephants on Palm Deux; Sylvie has her first dinner party on the plantation, where we meet a cast of odd characters; a young orphan elephant gets named after our hero – ironically; and our heroine makes a visit to the native village and reads palms.)
Palm Deux
2 March 1940
11 (1042 lbs.)
I have finally met her, although it happened in the strangest circumstances.
For the past week, a chimpanzee has been causing havoc in the native village. During its attacks, it has toppled cooking pots, rummaged through their possessions, pulled leaves from hut roofs, and frightened the children. The natives have been at their wits’ end, for it usually turns up in the morning or early afternoon, when they are at work and can do nothing about it. The few times they have had a chance to kill it, they were reluctant to do so. I found this curious, especially when you consider that, next to the core of an elephant’s trunk, barbecued monkey tail is their most favored delicacy.
The offending chimp was a big one, weighed at least eighty pounds, and was as tall as a small man if it stood on its hind legs. Its shouts and actions were terribly human too. Some of the natives believed its size and ferocity came from a malicious spirit. Mohammed, who has no time for these beliefs, joked that the animal’s most ‘spirited’ behavior occurred after bingeing on bangui it had found fermenting in a hollowed-out palm tree!
I only noticed the workers’ agitation a few days ago. On the way through Zone B, I found some of the men absentmindedly making huge incisions in trees that were too young, while others digging a trench appeared quite distracted from their task. At the Coconut Shed, Mohammed and I had to help the women douse a huge fire that left at least a thousand head of fruit burnt to cinders. The women were beside themselves. Only after that did Mohammed suggest it might be the chimp keeping them so preoccupied.
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by Ted on May 24th, 2009
The Iguana Deal: A Problem
“What do you mean, there’s been a hitch?” Jocelyn Magna screamed into the cell phone. Her sarong was lying on the floor and her lipstick had smudged across her face into a scowl. Unthinkingly she began gnawing at the food that had been delivered the previous night but had gone uneaten – except, in a rather physical ceremony, the mango mousse. Hardly tasting it, she thought about losing out to her brother, Felix.
“I cannot believe you idiots! It’s only a matchstick company, for God’s sake. What could possibly go wrong?”
She reached impulsively for a handful of meringues.
“Book me a charter flight out of here.” She paused. “No, I don’t care what airline it’s on. Just do it, asshole!”
* * *
Ella Bazaar Tells a Lie
Upton opened his eyes.
“You saved my life,” he croaked. “How can I ever thank you?”
Ella Bazaar stood above him as he lay on a deckchair at the Motel du Soleil, his pants now on, although he couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there. Ella Bazaar was dressed too, tight shorts and an even tighter T-shirt, the logo SAVE THE WHALES stretched across her chest. He was expecting her to say something about his rash act of diving into a treacherous ocean, but she said nothing.
Even though the Motel du Soleil was in darkness by now, he could see from where he lay that it was totally empty. None of the women who’d been lying there earlier remained. Nor did the menacing black lifeguard. Nor the trio in sombreros. It was as if there had been a mass desertion, a stage suddenly left bare of all its actors. Not that Upton minded. He liked being alone with Ella Bazaar.
“How did you know where to find me?” he asked.
“La Cité is not a big place,” she said. “Omar Touré has done work for me.”
Upton couldn’t mask his disappointment. He had expected the search for Ella Bazaar to be more intricate, more mysterious. Is this all there was to it? Suddenly at a loss for something to say, he brought up the only thing he could think of, the one thing that had brought them together, the stolen animal.
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by Ted on May 22nd, 2009
(In which we read about Hercule buying animals to stock Palm Deux, a most curious occupation for our hero, who prefers hunting; Monsieur V-C orders a fence to be built around Palm Deux; Hercule meets two American hunters; a caracal turns up unexpectedly; Mohammed gets into a fight with some of the French farmers in Belleville; Monsieur V-C brings a woman to Palm Deux.)
Belleville
16 January 1940
13 (1121 lbs.)
I must find some animals. I haven’t been told why. Monsieur V-C has only instructed me to collect as many as I can. The single condition is that there must be a variety of them, male and female, big and small. Mohammed carries on at Palm Deux without me.
What are the animals for? My guess is for hunting. People back home might laugh, say it’s a bizarre notion to put together a hunting ground in Africa. But much stranger ideas have been brought to this continent; the traders I meet, they will import and export anything, no matter how bizarre – perfumes even. “But, Hercule,” I can hear you say, “this is different. Why create what you already have? A hunting place in Africa? There are already enough lions in the streets to shoot.” If only there were. If only I could show you Palm Deux, where I see only one species.
Rather than being a bizarre notion, a hunting ground is a very good one. Monsieur V-C, though he no longer shoots, can entertain his guests for the weekends. The sous-chef in Daloa likes to hunt. And I myself would not mind the chance to go after something new, something other than elephant.
It must be for the animals that I have also been told to mark off a large area north and east of the villa. The fence around it is being erected by a man from Touba who, we heard from Monsieur Singh the accountant, happens to have six miles of barbed wire at his disposal. That is typical in Africa. You find what you least expect in the most obscure of places. A man could as easily arrive here with a ton of truck parts, even though there are hardly any trucks, and then he’d just as easily, just as inexplicably find a place to sell them. It is a maxim I hope holds true tomorrow, when the native hunters return from searching for me.
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by Ted on May 21st, 2009
The Toucan Deal: A Trio
The three men wore no shirts underneath their dark waistcoats, and their chests seemed almost unnaturally big. Felix Magna made a point of not staring at their huge pectorals as he instructed them to rough up Senor Alvarez.
“But don’t hurt him too much,” he added, smiling.
Senor Alvarez, or Giuseppe to his friends, was the owner of Toucan Tobacco, one of the most profitable cigarette factories in Central America and, as such, the latest company that Felix Magna had set his sights on taking over.
In the beginning, Senor Alvarez hadn’t wanted to sell, but Felix could already the old man’s resistance cracking. And all he’d had to do so far was to blow up Senor Alvarez’s Mercedes-Benz. Actually, the three men with big chests had blown it up, but Felix, as always, took, the credit for the malevolence he’d set in motion.
It was the first time Felix had used the trio, and the job had gone off more smoothly than he could have anticipated. He wasn’t sure that his own men could have done it better. He hadn’t seen the wreckage himself, but he’d heard the blast from his hotel in downtown Tegucigalpa, and he’d listened to the bombers describe the carnage afterward.
“There’s a bonus in it for you,” he shouted after the shirtless threesome as they sped off on their motorbikes in search of the to-be-roughed-up Senor Alvarez. Before getting into his limousine, where his bodyguards were waiting for him, Felix paused for a few moments, basking in the knowledge that he would soon be the owner of Toucan. Then he shouted into the air, “Beat that if you can, Jocelyn!”
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by Ted on May 17th, 2009
(In which we read about what Hercule does on Palm Deux; we find out about his relationship with Mohammed and we learn about guns (more than we need to know, quite possibly); the elephants cause havoc on the plantation; and Monsieur V-C listens to his music as 1940 approaches. What will the new year bring?)
Palm Deux
5 December 1939
3 (267 lbs.)
La Cité is not at all what I expected a town in Africa to look like. The streets are lined with cafés the one side, sorcerers the other, boutiques cheek by jowl with the lowliest of bars, diamond merchants next-door to “doctors” who promise to remove certain parts of your anatomy for a couple of sous. I have seen several that will cut out the most delicate part of a woman. One day I came upon a young girl being dragged into one of these doctors by her mother. She was screaming so much, you would have sworn she was being led to her execution.
And yet, the place is as vibrant as it is repulsive, as close to civilized as you can get in the tropics: 15,000 people and growing by the day. I saw a shop selling dresses my young cousin Betty would not be unhappy wearing to her debut at l’Opera.
Up here in the north things are wilder but a lot quieter. Our nearest town, Belleville, is small and unimpressive. The petits blancs are much the same as in the south, worst luck. Curiosity festers like an open wound in the humidity. Despite being an hour away over a bad road, it did not take more than a few days for people to find out there was a new shooter on Palm Deux.
Monsieur V-C promises there will be other work for me soon, perhaps some task of engineering. In the meantime, the elephants keep me busy. My job is not hard, and at last I have something to shoot. In La Cité, there are few animals and nothing worth hunting. If I saw anything, it was mostly the pesky colobus that chatter away in the trees of Banco forest, or the gazelle that often wander into the streets of Treichville. As for the manatees that infest the Ebrié, I left them to the natives, because they are too easy to kill, fat creatures that loll and move away slowly, always nuzzling the lagoon bed for ferns. A few spears from a dugout and they are goners. They are hardly what I would call a challenge. Here in Palm Deux, I have plenty to shoot.
It often surprises me how unafraid the elephants are to die. They are not tame exactly, but nor do they seem to mind us getting near them. One or two may look my way, contemplate the trees behind me, as if they do not see me, then casually carry on eating, unaware that death is so close. And then it is upon them, and I can collect my tooth.
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by Ted on May 12th, 2009
The Tiger Deal: The Set-Up
The communiqués between Magna Exchange’s head office in London and Tiger Enterprises in Hong Kong had been growing frantic in the last few weeks. Jocelyn and Felix had been kept up-to-date about developments, seeing they were both involved in the deal. The only person in the Magna inner circle who knew absolutely nothing about Tiger Enterprises was the third Magna child, Upton.
What Upton didn’t know was this: That Solomon Magna’s accountants, through some truly ingenious paperwork, had concocted a scheme whereby Magna Exchange would be taken over by Tiger Enterprises, a company which had substantial mining interests around the world, but made most of its money off transporting toxic waste and dumping it in Third World countries.
“Let me get this right,” Solomon Magna put it to Goodleigh. “We disperse our funds beforehand, get bought by Tiger, then lie low for several weeks before we buy ourselves and Hong Kong back under another name.”
He knew this was the plan, more or less, but liked asking his hunchbacked aide anyway.
“Is that it?”
Goodleigh nodded and then placed a pile of papers in front of Solomon Magna, who instinctively turned to the portrait of his fake ancestor.
“Grandfather Mortimer would be so proud of me.”
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