The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [52]
Colonel Usman arrived on the dot of 8:45 again the next day and Eduardo spent the morning with the Minister of Supplies and Co-operatives—or lack of them, as he commented to his private secretary afterwards. The afternoon was spent with the Minister of Labour checking over the availability of unskilled workers and the total lack of skilled operatives. Eduardo was fast reaching the conclusion that, despite the professed optimism of the ministers concerned, this was going to be the toughest contract he had ever tackled. There was more to be lost than money if the whole international business world stood watching him fall flat on his face. In the evening his staff reported to him once again, having solved a few old problems and unearthed some new ones. Tentatively, they had come to the conclusion that if the present regime stayed in power, there need be no serious concern over payment, as the president had earmarked the new city as a priority project. They had even heard a rumor that the army would be willing to lend-lease part of the Service Corps if there turned out to be a shortage of skilled labor. Eduardo made a note to have this point confirmed in writing by the head of state during their final meeting the next day. But the labor problem was not what was occupying Eduardo’s thoughts as he put on his silk pajamas that night. He was chuckling at the idea of Manuel Rodrigues’s imminent and sudden departure for Brazil. Eduardo slept well.
He rose with renewed vigor the next morning, showered, and put on a fresh suit. The four days were turning out to be well worth while and a single stone might yet kill two birds. By 8:45, he was waiting impatiently for the previously punctual colonel. The colonel did not show up at 8:45 and had still not appeared when the clock on his mantelpiece struck 9:00. De Silveira sent his private secretary off to find out where he was while he paced angrily backward and forward through the hotel suite. His secretary returned a few minutes later in a panic, with the information that the hotel was surrounded by armed guards. Eduardo did not panic. He had been through eight coups in his life from which he had learned one golden rule: The new regime never kills visiting foreigners as it needs their money every bit as much as the last government. Eduardo picked up the telephone but no one answered him, so he switched on the. radio. A tape recording was playing:
“This is Radio Nigeria, this is Radio Nigeria. There has been a coup. General Mohammed has been overthrown and Lieutenant Colonel Dimka has assumed leadership of the new revolutionary government. Do not be afraid; remain at home and everything will be back to normal in a few hours. This is Radio Nigeria, this is Radio Nigeria. There has been a …”
Eduardo switched off the radio as two thoughts flashed through his mind: Coups always held up everything and caused chaos, so undoubtedly he had wasted the four days. But worse, would it now be possible for him even to get out of Nigeria and carry on his normal business with the rest of the world?
By lunchtime, the radio was playing martial music interspersed with the tape-recorded message he now knew off by heart. Eduardo detailed all his staff to find out anything they could and to report back to him direct. They all returned with the same story: that it was impossible to get past the soldiers surrounding the hotel, so no new information could be unearthed. Eduardo swore for the first time in months. To add to his inconvenience, the hotel manager rang to say that regretably Mr. de Silveira would have to eat in the main dining room as there would be no room service until further notice. Eduardo went down to the dining room somewhat reluctantly, only to discover that the headwaiter showed no interest in who he was and placed him unceremoniously at a small table already occupied by three Italians. Manuel Rodrigues was seated only two tables away: