Bokassa's Last Apostle - 3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Mr. Stevens

‘Is the tube always like that?’ Everton asked as they turned out of New Cross Gate station.

‘You mean that Chinese girl? She was hot, wasn’t she?’ Kash replied.

‘What? I meant the boy in the white tee-shirt.’

‘So did I. Come on Girlfriend, go with the programme. Maybe if you weren’t waving your big dingaling at her? Did you see her little wifey flicking her hair, she knew what was going on and she didn’t like it. But the boy was a bit too girly for me. What do you think? Are you into Chinese?’

‘No way! I, er, I think I understood that and I wasn’t waving anything at anyone, it just… well you get used to it after a while.’ He blushed. ‘Anyway, you’re the one who persuaded me not to wear any knickers, so it’s all your fault! Now the solicitor’s is called “Stevens and Williams”, can you see it? Oh yeah, on the corner just over the road, come on… Girlfriend.’ He smiled ironically.

The place had seen better days, just like the neighbourhood. Big old Victorian houses which had once been very genteel and had now started to crumble into disarray abounded. Most had now been turned into flats. In the street, car horns blared and chaos reigned; police sirens sounded from all directions. When they came in, a bell dinged, announcing their presence to a black girl with ironed hair plastered down to her face by lacquer and big hoopy earrings sitting behind a tacky desk.

‘Yeah hello, do you have an appointment?’ she said vacantly.

‘My name’s Everton Jones, I’ve got an appointment to see Mr. Stevens.’

She looked down at the diary and, smacking her lips on her chewing gum, batted her blue eyelids and fake lenses at them and gestured at the cheap chairs. ‘Oh yeah, sit down, I’ll call him.’

The walls were covered in hardboard panels with holes drilled in them, painted cream. It clashed with the garish blue and green check carpet. The girl flicked a button on an old grey plastic exchange and announced them. Minutes later a portly white guy in his late fifties appeared. He was wearing a threadbare blue pin-striped suit and very obviously on edge.

‘Mr. Jones,’ he began, gushing, ‘so pleased to meet you after all this time!’ He extended a pudgy hand which Everton shook. ‘I trust you’ve had a pleasant journey? And this is…?’

‘A friend of mine, Mr. Kashta,’ Everton said, pleased to have remembered Kash’s proper name.

‘The pleasure is all mine gentlemen, would you please come with me?’ he replied, shaking Kash’s hand. ‘Shanice, could you make us some coffee?’ he announced, as he ushered them into an office, barely nicer than the waiting room and sat down behind another cheap desk.

‘Well now, first things first, do you have your passport?’ he asked, smiling, as they settled onto some chairs which looked like they’d come from a surplus store.

Everton shifted on his chair and glanced over at Kash. ‘Well, that might be just a little bit difficult. I was attacked and robbed on Saturday, and they took my passport. Do you still have that copy I emailed you?’

‘Oh my Lord, how dreadful, so it was not so pleasant a journey then.’ Mr. Stevens’ face dropped. ‘But yes I do have it, somewhere. I’d quite forgotten, just a moment.’ He began to rustle through some papers. ‘Here it is. Thank heavens I kept it.’ He held up a piece of paper and squinted at Everton through his half-moon spectacles. ‘That seems to be in order. I think we can continue.’

There was a knock at the door. Shanice came in with a tray and put it down on the table next to them. ‘Help yourselves, gentlemen,’ he added, as the girl wiggled out. ‘What awful news. Is there is anything I can do? For a client such as yourself…’

‘What do you mean, “such as myself”?’ Everton asked, stirring his coffee, ‘I don’t even know you.’

‘Well, I will have to start at the beginning, if you will permit me. It is rather an odd story, quite like the old days,’ he went on, musing into the distance. ‘You see a few weeks ago I had an enquiry from a bank about an old account they had come across with about £20 in it—your mother and father’s joint account, in fact.’

‘I didn’t know they still had one. Do you know anything about where he is or what’s happened to him? You’ve no idea what it would mean to me, now Mum’s dead.’

‘Hold on, hold on Sir, all in good time. He was my former partner, Mr. Williams’ client. I’ve had to piece everything together from what I found in his file. By some strange co-incidence, Mr. Williams went missing the same year and I’ve no idea where he is either. All he left behind was an unopened envelope and a power of attorney.’

‘Hey, hold on. Oh, pardon me for interrupting.’ Kash added as he remembered his manners. ‘That’s odd. Ain’t that what they do for old folks in case they go gaga? Surely Ev’s Pa was young and healthy ways back then?’

‘Well yes, you would think so. But Roger—sorry, Mr. Williams—sometimes kept powers of attorney if he needed to manage the affairs of his—well his less “ordinary” clients—when they were going to be away for any time. It rather looks as though Mr. Jones’ father was preparing for his disappearance. But, when Mr. Williams vanished too, it all went rather badly wrong.’

‘You can say that again,’ Everton put in. ‘What did you find? I suppose you opened the envelope. What was inside?’

‘Well it was a bank statement, but for an account in your father’s name.’

‘Not another old account? How much was in this one?’

‘Enough to pay the rent on a safety deposit box stuffed full of cash.’ He paused for effect.

‘Did you just say “stuffed” with cash?’

‘Absolutely! Right up to the top. I haven’t a clue where it came from, but there was the best part of $300,000 American dollars inside. It took ages to count. You won’t believe how much space that much money takes up. Now you can see why I had to tell you face-to-face.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Everton gasped. ‘Three hundred THOUSAND dollars?—Kash, I’m dreaming, pinch me!—He was a barman, Mr. Stevens. And Mum, she had to scrimp and save to make ends meet. She died without a penny. Why didn’t he give her some of it? I’m sorry, I really wasn’t expecting that!’

‘That’s alright, it’s quite understandable. But to answer your last question, you’ll have to give me a moment to elaborate. All I had to go on, you see, was that statement. When I turned up at the bank with the power of attorney they told me about the safety deposit box and took me down to the vaults to look inside. I was just as shocked as you to see so much money. But there was also an unopened note for my colleague.’ He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a yellowed envelope. Taking out a piece of paper, he read:

‘“Roger. Please look after this money for me and make sure Carlene and Everton are alright. If I get away safely I will telephone you. Bartie.”’

‘So you see, the money—or at least some of it—was intended for the two of you, only neither he nor Mr. Williams returned to make good on the plan.’

‘But my tale isn’t quite over yet,’ Mr. Stevens continued, shifting on his chair. ‘I also found this in the safety deposit box,’ he said, and handed Everton an envelope with his name written on it. ‘You don’t have to open it here if you don’t want to.’

‘No, no, what do you think, Kash, should I open it?’

‘Yeah man, go ahead,’ Kash said, ‘I can’t hardly wait.’

‘OK here goes.’ Everton ripped it open. Something metallic fell onto the table and he picked it up.

‘Looks like some kinda ring.’

‘Yeah, and it’s massive, is that a real diamond in it? And what’s the rest made of?’

‘I don’t know Girlfriend, but it’s beautiful; must be worth a packet. Is that big stone a black diamond? I’ve never seen one before, they’re really rare. It almost looks like Africa, wonder where that white stone is. Hey man, try it on.’

‘OK here goes.’ Everton tried each finger in turn, but the best fit was his ring finger. He placed it on his left hand and held it out, his fingers outstretched.

‘That is so gorgeous, I can’t believe it. You’re right, it does look like Africa. Wow, what else is in there?’ Everton shook the remaining contents of the envelope onto the table. A thong fell out, with a leather pouch attached, sewn up with white string, and a small piece of card. ‘What the… is that all?’

‘You are as wise as me Sir,’ Mr. Stevens said. ‘What does it say?’ Everton picked it up and read:

‘“If you wear one, wear the other, and stay away from women. Do not come after me. Keep these safe, they are the key to your happiness. Good luck my son, you’ll probably need it.”’

‘That’s a bit odd, some crummy old necklace and, what does he mean, “key to my happiness” and “stay away from women”? It’s all a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, I don’t know what to make of it,’ Kash said, ‘and I hardly dare ask, but was there anything else, Mr. Stevens?’

‘Well just a share certificate for a company in Bangui.’

‘“Bangui”?’ Everton asked.

‘The capital of the Central African Republic; I’ve been making some enquiries on your behalf. I’m not sure whether they are worth anything, but I do I think I can get them transferred into your name, if you are agreeable?’

‘Yeah, OK.’

‘Thank you Sir, I will be happy to do that. And there is just one more thing. I think we can give you modest access to your father’s money. I have converted £20,000 of it into sterling and deposited it in his bank account. This is a cash card for it. The PIN number is “1111”, although you can of course change it. It was my wife’s idea actually, since I am now, as it were, making good your father’s intention to look after you. We paid our own children’s pocket money in the same way.’

‘That’s a bit more than pocket money…Twenty… thousand… I don’t know what to say… I suppose I should say “thank you”,’ Everton burbled. ‘I can’t believe it!’

‘Well Everton, if I may call you that, will you visit my office at least every year, when we can organise another transfer of your father’s money? That way I can keep track of your immediate needs. And, of course, please leave your contact details with Shanice. Here is my card. If you should—ever—need my help, please do not hesitate to make an appointment or, as you know where I am, just call in. I’m James, by the way.’

‘Yeah, thank you, er… James,’ Everton said, ‘I will… thanks.’