Masks of Nyarlathotep

Violence in Mombasa

A lunatic on the loose

Another boring day on the docks. Mr Smythe had Maliki moving that pile to over there. Always “move this there, load this here”, Maliki was a strong young man, but he wondered if it was worth leaving the tribe to come to the big city. The glitter of civilization had drawn him, but he was the lowest of the low here. At least he was able to put food on the table for his baby…

The drudgery was broken by the sounds of gunshots from across the street. Was that coming from Mr. Singh’s place? This couldn’t be good Maliki thought. Mr. Singh had all the right connections, he had the docks sewn up like a tribal vest. If someone was making a move on Mr. Singh it would be bad Ju-Ju! Then Mr. Singh’s factor came running out the front door, fleeing for his life. Maliki dropped the heavy sacks he was carrying on his shoulder, should he run for cover like the others in the area had? As he looked back he saw a white man in a cheap suit come running out of the building,. He didn’t recognize him. The man came running right over to Maliki and in an undeniably British accent under his labored breaths ask Maliki “Which way did he go?” The look in the man’s eyes… Whatever it was it made Maliki afraid. Maliki meekly pointed down the street where Mr. Singh’s man had run. The British fellow took off in that direction. All had gone quiet in the warehouse….

Inspector Worthington was going over the case file from the ship murder one more time. If only all his cases came like this, wrapped in a neat little bundle with a bow on top. Cases were never this easy… almost TOO easy. It made him wonder.

Then the report of multiple homicides on the docks came in. Witnesses and everything. Reports said a British man was involved. Inspector Worthington was not a big believer in coincidence. A ship comes rolling into port with a dead body and a culprit all wrapped up in a bow. A few days later more bodies. Uh-huh, coincidence, sure…

His thought immediately went to that thug who was partners with the dead guy from the ship. He had seen his type before, that guy was trouble. Of course there was the big bald guy with the crazy eyes. Crazy was crazy. They were both British weren’t they? He put those thoughts out of his mind, a good detective does not predispose himself to a solution, he bases it only on the facts. But the fact that there were two worrisome Brits who had just come to Kenya colony WAS a fact. He jotted it down in his notebook and headed off to do his job.

Inspector Worhington was certain whoever did this was NOT from Mombasa. Nobody would hit a known well connected smuggler like Singh so loudly in such a messy manner. They had to be outsiders. The witness, that native laborer Maliki, said he could recognize the man who chased that accountant from the warehouse. Problem is the description Maliki gave was clearly neither the thug nor the lunatic. Maybe an associate? The obvious lead was to check the people who were involved with the ship murder first. There were only 3 hotels that Europeans were likely to use, might as well take Maliki there and see if he can finger the British guy. Couldn’t hurt to have Maliki take a look around. Gotta knock off the low hanging fruit first, then dig deeper.

It was just routine questioning. While at the Met, the third hotel, things had gotten quite boring but then there was some sort of disturbance amongst the staff. Coincidence that there was a disturbance just after an Inspector and witness showed up asking questions? Again, not a big believe in coincidences Inspector Worthington followed up. A guest had gone ill. Might as well check. There’s the guest says the kitchen manager, why was he out back of the service entrance? Maliki said “That’s the man!” Really? This easy again? Inspector Worthington shook his head as he got out the cuffs, wondering where the neat little bow was…

Gavin was in jail. Again. This jail was nasty. So were these colonial cops. He knew they wanted him to flip on Uncle Chuck for slaughtering those guys. He held out for as long as he could.

Fortunately Sean had some experience with graft. The colonial officials had only recently come to power and that made them easy to grease. One large later spread across numerous slimy palms and Gavin was free. Good thing this Ajah Singh fellow was slimier than these other slime balls else Gavin was likely facing firing squad.

However, the message was clear. Leave Mombasa or they would ALL go to the hoosegow. Now about that train schedule…


Uncle Chuck’s Thoughts

Been in Mombasa just about long enough. Three hotels, everyone else in sight is a blackie, the cops looking for “the Europeans”, Gavin in and out of jail just a tad too fast, no safe house, three hotels in town that are cul-de-sacs – time to head out and head out quick.

Mamma didn’t raise no fools.

But what in the hell are we doing here anyway and why did we go into that warehouse anyway and why did Sean have to punch that big guy? If I could catch a fast train to London, I’d be on it and done with this crew. I think once they lost they lost James they lost their way.

Well, there ain’t no fast train to London but we gotta go someplace. Wonder where that will be and if we can keep from getting hung or shot when we get there.

Violence in Mombasa

Sean’s Thoughts -

I believe we are our own worst enemy. We alone will be our downfall. We are acting as amateurs. If it were up to me, I’d go this alone. I’m certain it would be safer for me. And now a train ride with these nitwits.

Violence in Mombasa

Helen What were you thinking:

How many times in the past 6 months have I said that to myself?
“What were you thinking?!”
We had this great idea to try and take a look at Mr. Singh’s records to try and find the connections between everything and the Penhew foundation and where it might lead us next.

What were we thinking breaking into a warehouse in the middle of the day when the neightborhood was too dangerous for us in the evening to just break into the office and check out the records.

Now I’m shooting at people everytime I turn around and Uncle Charlie is killing people who are trying to kill one of us.

Thank goodness Sean knows how to bribe officals because thats exactly what he had to do get Martin out of jail after being ID’ed and arrested as one of the gang that broke into and killed the workers at Mr. Singh warehouse.

We have to avoid the police and Mr. Singh’s people and get out of town. I’m out of here.

Violence in Mombasa

A single story accommodation in the docks district of old Mombasa with a stellar view of the earth. I wonder how any journalist survives in this place. The jails in Cairo are mediocre at best but at least there’s an understanding. I’ll not even comment on the food, because there was none, not even thin porridge. The beds were no more than bug infested straw that smells of mildew. I’m glad we’ll be heading inland soon. Overall 2 stars out of 5.

Violence in Mombasa

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