'What will you say killed him?'

'Azuka?'

'Noooo. The man standing on the rail track.'

'The train?'

He laughed.

'It's not the train. It's his stupidity that killed him. Or his deafness. One of the two. Did he not hear the train coming? I'm disappointed. I'm very, very disappointed. I knew Azuka had bad luck, but I didn't know he was this stupid. I can't believe I had such a stupid person working for me. How can he carry his two legs and go to Iran?'

Listening to him was somehow a relief. Cash Daddy was right. Azuka had been stupid, and there I was thinking it was my fault. There I was worrying that this business of ours was more dangerous than I had previously thought, that I might someday fall into unforeseen troubles. It was all about sense and craft. And I was certainly not as stupid as Azuka. Like the spider spinning her web and knowing which threads were safe for her to tread on and which were the sticky ones meant to trap her meals, I was quite a master at the work of my hands. One of the Indian girls started cracking the knuckles of Cash Daddy's toes.

'The thing about our business is that one has to be smart,' Cash Daddy continued. 'There are mugus in America, Britain, Germany, Russia, Argentina, France, Brazil, Switzerland, Spain, Australia, Canada, Japan, Belgium, New Zealand, Italy, Netherlands, Denmark, Norway . . . Kings, remind me. What other countries?'

'Spain.'

'No. I've already mentioned that one.'

'Japan.'

'I've also mentioned that one.'

'Errr . . . Israel.'

'Good! Even Israel. There are mugus all over the world. Yet it's the one in Iran that Azuka went to look for. Doesn't he know that those ones are not real oyibo people? Their level of mugu is not as high. In fact, they are almost as smart as we are. Me, I'm not afraid of anybody, but I know where to put my leg and where not to put my leg. That's one of the secrets of my success. Azuka was just stupid.'

He hissed and kept quiet.

'But, Cash Daddy, isn't there anything we can do?'

'Of course, there is. Why not? First thing tomorrow morning, you can go to the Iranian Embassy and tell them you're looking for one of your brothers who went to Tehran to collect from a mugu. Tell them that both of you do jobs together, that your brother hasn't yet come back and you're missing him at the office.' He paused. 'Or, you can go all the way to Iran and try and find the mugu. You have the man's address, don't you?'

I sat there, gripping the arms of my chair. My head was woozy, my palms were sweaty, my heart was thumping fast. Azuka was gone. Vanished. Just like that. And there was nothing any of us could do about it. Not even Cash Daddy who usually had a solution to every problem.

To think that Azuka had been so gay and confident on his way to doom, like the moth as it dances into the flame. What if disaster suddenly overtook me while I was feeling safe and smug? What if the FBI or Interpol were waiting when next I turned up at an airport? What if a disgruntled mugu somehow traced me back to Nigeria and did my family harm? I could almost feel my hair whitening with fright.

'Don't you?' Cash Daddy repeated.

I jumped.

'Yes, I do,' I replied slowly.

'Good. You can go tomorrow. If you leave for Lagos tomorrow morning, you should be able to catch the first flight to Iran. But before you go, make sure you tell me what story you want me to tell your mother when you don't come back. Which reminds me. Why have you been having problems with your mother?'

'What problems?' I asked, surprised. I had never discussed anything about my mother with him.

'This woman phoned the other day. What's her name? That mad woman who left her husband's house.'

'Aunty Dimma?'

'Yes, that's the one. I couldn't talk to her, but she left a message with Protocol Officer on my phone. She said your mother is very worried about you, that I should leave you alone to go and find a job. What's the problem? What's happening?'

Aunty Dimma and her uninvited opinions yet again. But there was something about the atmosphere, something about the realisation that Azuka might be gone forever and Cash Daddy's swift change of subject beyond that problem, that made me gush. Like a geyser, I vented everything, complete with my mother refusing my gifts and better medical treatment when she was ill.

'Sometimes when I go to visit her,' I concluded, 'I wonder if all the money I'm making is worth it. I think she was even happier when she had nothing except the hope that I would one day get a job and start taking care of her. Honestly, I don't know what to do. Sometime ago, I was considering maybe going back to school to do a postgraduate or something. I really don't know.'

'There's a pimple on my cheek,' Cash Daddy said. 'Press it.'

'Sorry?'

'There's a pimple on my cheek,' Cash Daddy said again. 'Press it.'

I realised that he was talking to his Indian girls. Apparently, none of them expected that talking or listening would be part of the job description. They ignored his instruction.

'Kings, I don't think these girls understand English. Explain to them what I'm saying.'

I reached out and tapped one of the girls. With fingers on my face, I puffed out my cheek, and showed her what Cash Daddy wanted.

'Ahhnnnnnnnnnnnn,' she said and smiled, then went to work.

'So how is your mother's health now?' Cash Daddy asked. 'Is she feeling better?'

'Yes, she's a lot better. She eventually saw the eye specialist and they did some tests. The medicine he gave her seems to be working.'

He nodded.

'Kings, I don't believe that at this stage in your life you're still talking about going back to school. Look, don't burn down your whole house because of the presence of a rat. You know what we shall do? Just hold on for a while. Just hold on. Once I become governor, I'll find you one small political appointment that will keep her happy.'

He flapped his right hand in the air like someone flicking through a bulky file.

'Maybe something in the Ministry of Education or Ministry of Finance,' he said, arriving at the page he wanted at last.

'How about the Ministry of Works and Transport?' I asked. Since my father had worked there, my mother would definitely be thrilled.

'If that's what you prefer,' Cash Daddy replied. 'But it has to be something small that won't take too much of your attention. Because as soon as I become governor, I'll have even less time for business than I have now.'

It was understandable for Cash Daddy to be concerned about the future of his business. He had spent years building things up to this level - the local and foreign contacts, the staff, the expertise. He had also taken great pains to recruit and groom me. His suggestion made sense.

'The problem with you is that you don't know how to think,' Cash Daddy continued. 'Too much book has blocked your brain. You see all these problems you're having with your mother? They will all disappear as soon as you get married. Can you imagine how happy she'll be if you brought a wife for her? Once your mother starts seeing grandchildren all over the place, she'll forget about your job.'

Hmm. This sounded quite attractive. And Merit had the sort of appearance that my mother was likely to fall for. She looked like a utensil, not an ornament.

'Even me,' Cash Daddy continued, 'I'm thinking of picking an extra wife. Because of my new status. You understand?'

He asked the question solemnly, like a humble man struggling to cope with the greatness that had suddenly been thrust upon him. I nodded.

'After my first term in office, when I'm campaigning for second term, I want to have a beautiful young woman who'll be following me around. I hear that's the way they do it in America. I hear they even carry their children around with them sometimes. Maybe, I'll bring my boy to join me, too. You know he speaks very, very good English. His English is even better than yours.'

How would his current Mrs react to the concept of her husband bringing in a second wife who would be the face of her husband's campaigns? I could only imagine.

'But Kings, sometimes you make me wonder.'

He shook his head out of the pimple-presser's grasp and turned to me.

'Look, there are many different ways to kill a rat. You just need to forget all the books you read in school and learn how to think smarter. A person who doesn't know how to dance should look at those who know and imitate their steps. Look at me for example. You know I have my car showrooms and my filling stations?'

I nodded.

'You know I have my hotels and my rented properties?'

I nodded.

'That's being smart. That way, when people ask, I can always point and say, this is what I do that brings in my money, that's what I do that brings in my money. Do you understand what I'm saying?'

I nodded.

'You need to look for ways to invest the money you have loaded in your account. There are so many business opportunities for you to choose from. Take telecommunications for example. With this new GSM technology, soon, everybody is going to be able to afford cellular phones. What stops you from getting involved in that? Then there's the Internet. From what I hear, very soon, even poor people won't be able to do anything without using the internet. What stops you from importing equipment and starting your own business centre?'

He waited for me to answer.

'Nothing.'

'You see? Kings, use your brain. If the cow makes its tail beautiful, it will be useful for swatting flies; if it makes its horn beautiful, it will be useful for drinking wine. Learn how to make your money work for you.'

As usual, Cash Daddy was making a great deal of sense. The best thing was just to put Azuka out of my mind and move on with my life.

Forty-three

The documentary was called Chief Boniface Mbamalu - The Politician, The Man. All his years of living on stage, of playing the parts of ambassadors and business moguls and top government officials, were definitely paying off. Cash Daddy sat composed in a knee-length isi-agu outfit and red cap. With legs spread slightly apart and hands folded on his knees, my uncle stared the viewers straight in the eyes and repeated his original promises. He had mapped out strategies to attract foreign investors for the development of infrastructure. He was determined to eliminate corruption from Abia State, starting from the grass roots. He knew he had enemies who did not want him to be governor because they were afraid of his planned reforms, but he was undeterred. It was all about the people of Abia. He was willing to lay down his life for us.

The producers had also interviewed his mother, people from his local community, and people who had benefitted from his various works of charity. I was shocked to learn that, for the past five years, my uncle had been giving scholarships to every single law student from Isiukwuato Local Government Area who was studying in a Nigerian university. He had boasted to me about almost every work of charity he was engaged in. Why had he never mentioned this?

'Why did he choose only the law students?' Eugene asked.

'We're the learned profession,' Charity replied.

'Please, shut up,' Eugene said. 'You make so much noise about this your law. What do you then expect us doctors to do?'

This was one of those rare times when all my siblings were back home on school holidays at the same time. Godfrey had made my house his permanent base for the past year or more; Eugene and Charity had come from Umuahia a few days ago. All universities had thought it wise to take a break and reopen after the elections. No school wanted to bear the burden of quelling any tempests that might arise from polling day turbulence.

My mother's niece's daughter came out of the kitchen.

'Brother Kingsley, your food is ready.'

I left my siblings to their teasing and went over to the dining room. They had already eaten. I realised how hungry I was when I got a whiff of the thick paste of egusi soup that had huge chunks of chicken, okporoko fish, and cow leg protruding from the exotic china bowl.

The front door opened and there was a noise as if a riot had just started in the market.

'Hey, Kings!' Godfrey shouted on his way upstairs.

'Hello,' I responded.

Godfrey was hardly ever without his party of friends. Each day, he appeared with a new set. The two chaps he had come in with also greeted me and followed him upstairs. They were having a rowdy conversation about a European Champions League football match and making almost as much noise as the supporters who had gathered in the stadium for the match must have made. Recently, my brother had bestowed his life on the Arsenal football club. He never missed watching any of their matches, knew the names and birthdays of all the players, and had their face caps, mufflers, T-shirts . . . If only my brother could be more responsible with his time and money.

My cellular rang. It was Merit.

'Did you remember to watch the documentary on Cash Daddy?' I asked.

'No.'

'Oh, you really should have. It was quite interesting. His villagers even have a special song they composed to extol his good works.'

I sang a bit of it and laughed. She may have laughed, she may not.

'O dighi onye di ka nna anyi Cash Daddy, onye Chineke nyere anyi gozie anyi,' I sang some more.

I laughed; she certainly did not.

'Merit, is everything OK?'

'Kingsley, why did you lie to me?' Her tone of voice could have slain Goliath.

'What do you mean by that?'

'I'm so upset with you. I don't believe you had me fooled. Did you really think I wasn't going to find out? Kingsley, what do you do for a living?'

Her question struck me like thunder.

'What do you do for a living?'

'I'm into contracts and investments,' I replied calmly, though sirens were blaring in my head. 'I already told you that before.'

'Kingsley, stop! How long were you going to keep lying to me?'

'Merit, honestly, I don't know what you're talking about.'

She was silent.

'Merit, I've-,'