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THE CASEBOOK OF GEEZA VERMIES

  Ha! I’m back onto him! The Denubari have helped me find this Professor Humphries already, and I’ve not been here a day yet!

  I am still reeling from the fact that she gave me her name so quickly, so openly! Malika… She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced. So raw, so completely... free. I don’t know; I’m at a loss to describe it really, but her energy can be felt from fifty yards. Yet it is not intimidating. It lulls you, hugs you, caresses you…

  Her power embraced me in a way that I found very difficult to resist, allowing myself to become totally absorbed by it. Not that I had a lot of choice. So strong. If she is typical of these Denubari Spirits - and I find that very difficult to believe - then these guys are something else.

  To find the name of one of the Spirits back home could take weeks, months, or years of flattery and treading on eggshells – I have even tried trickery and barefaced lies at times - and they may still never tell you. But she just stared straight down into my eyes and offered it to me on a plate - “For I am Malika.”

  Either I am doing something absolutely, one hundred per cent right and they have taken me immediately to heart, or else they are so Goddamn powerful they don’t care who knows them.

  Personally, I have a sneaking suspicion which of the two it is.

  Anyway, back to the case. After a spot of breakfast we decided to both head out and get our bearings. Pretty soon we got mobbed by beggars, mainly kids. Cripplesby couldn’t hack it, so he went back. However Malika’s words were still resounding in my mind - “be kind to the children” - so I dished out handfuls of coins and asked them to show me around.

  After a fairly comprehensive tour, they walked me with great excitement to the compound containing the entrance to the World famous Nairobi-Mombasa Rally to look at all the cars, the crowds and the colours and there he was, plain as day - the Professor, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the other drivers! They were all togged up in their racing gear, presumably for some publicity shoot and they all looked absolutely boiling in the afternoon sun.

  Ha ha! They had led me straight to him! I managed to blag our way past the guards at the fenced perimeter, telling them I was from ‘the orphanage’ bringing the kiddies out for a special trip. So we all walked in, about thirty kids aged from four to fourteen and me. Not the most inconspicuous approach you might think, but sometimes the best way to become invisible is to stand out as much as you can.

  Not a single person gave us more than a cursory glance. The sight, sound and smells of thirty bedraggled, down trodden and noisily excited local kids made everybody give us the widest berth possible. It’s disgusting really, but that is the state of mind humanity is in at the moment.

  I managed to steer us to within earshot of the drivers, where they were stood around chatting. I told the children to listen to the drivers and try to hear what adventures they’d be going on. This was mutually beneficial as it not only added to their enjoyment of the day, but also kept them reasonably quiet so I was able to eavesdrop effectively.

  What I heard was that one of the favourites for the race, a top South African driver by the name of Ollie Donald, had signed up a Mr A Humphries as his co-driver, only a day or so ago. This was creating a lot of excitement amongst the rallying fraternity - could Donald, the previous winner, pull it off a second time in succession with a brand new partner?

  What on Earth is Humphries up to? First he’s stealing fiddly bits and bobs off an audience at some obscure Scottish hotel. Then the next thing you know he’s jetted out to Africa and signed up for the Trans-Kenyan Rally! Weird. And try as I might, I just cannot see a connection.

  I discovered that entries for the race were now closed, so there was no way of pursuing him that way, but we knew the route, so I led my youthful entourage off and asked them to get me back to my hotel.

  After thanking them all and emptying my pockets for them, I found Elliot and told him what I’d learned. He agreed to go and make arrangements to hire a Land Rover or something to get us to Mombassa.

  And now all that remains is for me to carry out my side of the bargain with the Denubari. This is going to be tricky. I haven’t done any house-breaking for some time. I feel here that timing is going to be everything.

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