Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 34, No. 13 & 14, Winter 1989

“Yes. Also denied.” Teggay frowned slightly and glanced at the floor, as though trying to find there the thread of his narrative. He looked up. “The two of them were spotted by a G.S.U. squad at the funeral of Joseph and Rebecca Mayani. The G.S.U. gave chase, but Mayani and Atlee eluded them. For several weeks nothing was heard of either man. Then, in July, they burned to the ground a farmhouse belonging to their unit captain, thirty miles north of the capital. No one was hurt. The captain was away — chasing down a reported sighting of Mayani, as it happened — and Mayani and Atlee emptied the house at gunpoint.”

“As I recall,” said Andrew, “no one was ever hurt in any of Mayani’s operations.”

Another schoolmaster’s nod. “Correct. And throughout the next year, as more men joined him, there were a number of operations in the western part of the country, where he was hiding. Sabotage, mostly — bridges burned, train tracks dynamited. Most of these directed at the G.S.U. It was a hit and miss approach, tactically brilliant but strategically naive. Mayani simply failed to understand the importance of an organized, politically based guerrilla effort.”

“He never allied himself with any other group, as I recall,” said Andrew.

“Correct,” said Teggay. “He was an adventurer, unwilling to accept the idea of a centrally organized, firmly disciplined, democratic people’s liberation front.”

All this said, once again, with a perfectly straight face, providing Andrew his second prickle of unease.

“Then,” said Teggay, “in July of 1954, he pulled off his most ambitious effort. He robbed the constabulary payroll.”

“Yes,” Andrew said. “The Gold of Mayani.”

A brief nod. “Exactly. By then, the work of our Freedom Fighters had made a shambles of the economy. Merchants were refusing to accept the government’s currency. So the High Commissioner arranged for a shipment of gold from England. Twenty-five thousand British pounds, in sovereigns. To keep the shipment secret, he decided to have it delivered by sea, some two hundred kilometers north of here, and then bring it by lorry, under heavy guard, to the capital. It wasn’t an especially clever plan, but evidently he wasn’t an especially clever man. In any event, Mayani found out. He highjacked the shipment as it was being offloaded from the ship. He and Atlee, and the gold, were never seen again.”

“Some of his men were caught, as I recall.”

“Yes. And executed. But none would, or could, reveal anything about Mayani’s plans.”

“There was a famous pursuit.” Line drawings remembered from the secondary school history books: Mayani and Atlee dashing across the veldt on horseback, the wind tugging at their clothes.

“He was chased the length of the country,” said Teggay. “By the G.S.U. and the regular army. He was seen everywhere — including here, in your township. You know, of course, that his high school teacher, Daniel Tsuto, was living here.”

“And does still. A very old man now.”

“Yes. Something of a legend himself, I gather. He’s one of the people with whom we’d like you to talk.”

Suddenly realizing, Andrew said, “You believe that Robert Atlee came back for the gold.”

For the first time Teggay’s smile showed his teeth: small and pointed, like a rodent’s. “Full points, sergeant,” Teggay said. “Why else would he return?”

“Mayani, you think, is still alive?”

“Mayani’s dead,” he said curtly. “He was wounded during the highjacking — witnesses saw it happen.”

“The story is that he crossed the border to the west.”

“Legend,” said Teggay. “Myth. The man died of his wounds. Atlee hid the gold, escaped, and he’s only now come back to retrieve it.”

“Why wait so long?”

“Who knows? Perhaps he took with him enough to live comfortably for a while, and now it’s gone. Perhaps he was afraid for his life.”

“But he is seen here as a hero,” Andrew said. “He could have come back at any time, openly.”

Teggay’s smile was pitying once again. “Not to retrieve the gold. It’s the property of the government.”

“The British government?”

“Our government. The legally constituted government of this republic. Do you know how much that gold is worth now, sergeant?”

“Much more, I should think, than it was.”

“Close to three quarters of a million British pounds. Over a million U.S. dollars.”

Andrew frowned. “Why is it you want me to assist you? Why not conduct a full-scale investigation?”

Teggay shifted in his seat, crossed his legs. “We want to keep a low profile on this. If word gets out about the gold, we’d be overrun by treasure seekers. The minister will be returning to the capital within the hour. I’ll be checking into one of your hotels under an assumed name. Except for you and your chief, no one in the Township will ever know of the ministry’s interest in this case.”

If they believed that, both the minister and Bwana Teggay seriously underestimated the efficiency of Township gossip.

“Besides,” Teggay said, “you know the people here. They’ll be more likely to talk to you.”