Free A Good Man in Africa by William Boyd Page A

sociable man. However, I
am
playing golf with him later this week.”
    “Golf,” Adekunle said reflectively. “Excellent. Just you and Murray?”
    “Yes … at least, I assume so.”
    “Good. Keep it that way.”
    “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Morgan said plaintively,“but what’s this all about? I’m afraid I don’t understand anything. Why is it so important for me to become friendly with Murray? What exactly do you expect me to do?”
    Adekunle looked quizzically at Morgan. “I suppose I can tell you now,” he said. “It is not unreasonable. Yes.” He paused, and then said quite quickly as though it were the most natural thing in the world, “I want you to get to know Murray because I want you to bribe him.”
    Morgan wasn’t at all sure he’d heard this correctly. “What?” he said haltingly. “Murray? A bribe? You must be joking.”
    “I’m not joking, my friend,” Adekunle said in a tone that effectively removed any doubt on that point from Morgan’s mind. He suddenly felt nauseous; a nightmare vision of the future was forming in his muddled brain; unrelated events in the past fell into their allotted places in the dreadful pattern; ambiguous remarks and attitudes suddenly became menacingly explicable. With some effort he managed to speak.
    “You want me to bribe Murray,” he said faintly. “To do what?”
    Adekunle took him by the arm and led him to the far end of the stoop. The bar lights cast a faint glow on them. In the darkness somewhere beyond the pool of light the fairways stretched out into the forest. “Let me explain,” Adekunle said reasonably. “There is a building project at our university here in Nkongsamba in which I have a very great interest—not just because of my, ah, professorial connections with the university but for other reasons as well. You see,” he went on, “the university is expanding and they want to build a new five-hundred-room hall of residence and cafeteria. The land that they want to build the hall on belongs to me. I have been expecting to sell them that land for some months now but there have been hold-ups.” He held up his hand for silence as Morgan was about to interrupt. “There is also a university committee called the Buildings, Works and Sites committee. Its job is to investigate and consider the viability of all new university building projects from the point of view of hygiene, social and environmental concerns and report its conclusions to the university senate. It is an important committee; in fact, it carries a veto on all building projects and its chairman …”
    “Is Dr. Alex Murray,” Morgan gulped.
    “Precisely,” Adekunle congratulated. “You are, as the saying goes, catching on.” He plucked at the embroidery on his gown. “I became aware of the problem some time ago through certain contacts I have. But yesterday, on my return from London, I was informed by my sources that my worst fears have been realised. Dr. Murray,” there was a hint of annoyance as Adekunle pronounced the man’s name; Morgan knew how he felt, “Dr. Murray intends to file a negative report on the proposed site. If he goes through with this the land will not be bought and there will be no sale.” Adekunle smiled grimly. “I feared as much,” he said. “I had to make preparations, which is why I … decided to, ah—how would you say?—engage your services in this delicate matter of persuasion.”
    “You want me …”
    “I want you to persuade Dr. Murray to change his mind.”
    “Oh my God,” Morgan said feebly, suffering from an attack of neurotic clairvoyance. “I’m not sure …”
    “Please,” Adekunle said silkily, squeezing Morgan’s arm. “Let us not talk of defeat.”
    “But what’s the problem?” Morgan asked. “Why is he saying no?”
    Adekunle flicked the stub of his cigarette out into the night. “There were certain objections to be expected—the proximity of Ondo village, the inconvenient course of the