and go? 'There goes little Wilton on her endless trips. Restless. How many birds out there for her to study and paint? Well, I guess her birds are restless too. Wonder when she'll publish her bird book. Wonder who reads the stuff. Sort of a glorified tourist, concerned about politics because it interrupts her collecting. A mad dog of an American. Sneaking around after her birds, talking to the hunters, talking to the schoolteachers, carrying her binoculars and cameras.'"
She took another swallow of her whiskey and laughed. "No, it's not the alcohol talking, Sandy. I'm like this because I nearly died tonight. It would have been a bad death, so the air seems very sweet. I wish you were drunk though, because I'll wish someday that I'd never spoken. But you'll never tell, even if you believe me—Sandy never breaks her word, and who would you tell anyway?"
Wilton looked into the corner of the room and smiled as though she saw something beautiful in the dark.
"Oh, I remember the first time I saw my Lindsey. She stood in that high-ceilinged room at the college reception desk, her face like something carved in white stone and the spirit in her like flame. Her savage intellect, famished for glory. I knew then what a power she might become. What I might make of her. Yes, you should follow her lead.
"You, Sandy, have kept Lindsey safe, and I have kept her successful. She holds the strands of my informant net. But God knows, there have been failures. For all my planning, I lost Balewa."
The sudden note of grief jolted Sandy. She reached for the bottle, not taking her attention from Wilton's intent stare. What did she mean by that? Could Prime Minister Balewa's assassination have been averted? As if Wilton, at least, had known the conspiracy to topple the government when Lindsey didn't? The hair prickled on the back of Sandy's neck at Wilton's meditative tone.
"The corrupt leaders had to die. What alternative but to have the military kill them? The army as judge and executioner. No other group was so dedicated, so tribeless, so believing in the ideal of One Nigeria as the army was. But I didn't anticipate the rest of Nigeria would see only tribal identities, identities the coup officers themselves forgot. If we could have saved Balewa, the only honest ruler, a Hausa and a Muslim from the North, the whole equation would have changed. He represented legitimate civil authority, and the military gunned him down with the rest. I could have stopped that but for a car accident. I lost an informer and I didn't know until too late."
"A car accident." Sandy tested, surprised at how natural her own voice sounded. "What freaking car accident?"
Wilton caught herself in a gasp of laughter and shook her head.
"Sandy, I owe you just so much, but no names or places. Our purposes converge in Lindsey. We're on the same side. Don't worry."
"Screw that. What in hell are you doing?" Sandy said.
"I create a maker of kings. Lindsey will choose leaders for Nigeria's future."
"Goddamned mysteries, Wilton. Sometimes I swear your cheese slips off its cracker."
"Lindsey will appoint. She wants that power. I help her to it by reaping what my father sowed. I inherited his friends and contacts. I've lived in this land most of my life, and I have sown on my own. There's a web of people who owe me, and I use their obligations to advance Lindsey. You and I make Lindsey a power, hidden but potent. The new Federal Government leader, Gowon, will listen to her. Lindsey shall have influence but no glory. Which is hard, because it's the glory that she craves, whatever she says to the contrary."
"You're frigging drunk. Why were you out pretending to be a man?"
"Yes, let's say I'm drunk." Suddenly sad and faded, Wilton bent, using her old anxious gesture to brush the hair from her face. The biggest bruise on her right cheek deepened fast, even through the brown stain on her face. But she fixed a challenging owlish look on Sandy in the kerosene lamplight. "Out on my
She took another swallow of her whiskey and laughed. "No, it's not the alcohol talking, Sandy. I'm like this because I nearly died tonight. It would have been a bad death, so the air seems very sweet. I wish you were drunk though, because I'll wish someday that I'd never spoken. But you'll never tell, even if you believe me—Sandy never breaks her word, and who would you tell anyway?"
Wilton looked into the corner of the room and smiled as though she saw something beautiful in the dark.
"Oh, I remember the first time I saw my Lindsey. She stood in that high-ceilinged room at the college reception desk, her face like something carved in white stone and the spirit in her like flame. Her savage intellect, famished for glory. I knew then what a power she might become. What I might make of her. Yes, you should follow her lead.
"You, Sandy, have kept Lindsey safe, and I have kept her successful. She holds the strands of my informant net. But God knows, there have been failures. For all my planning, I lost Balewa."
The sudden note of grief jolted Sandy. She reached for the bottle, not taking her attention from Wilton's intent stare. What did she mean by that? Could Prime Minister Balewa's assassination have been averted? As if Wilton, at least, had known the conspiracy to topple the government when Lindsey didn't? The hair prickled on the back of Sandy's neck at Wilton's meditative tone.
"The corrupt leaders had to die. What alternative but to have the military kill them? The army as judge and executioner. No other group was so dedicated, so tribeless, so believing in the ideal of One Nigeria as the army was. But I didn't anticipate the rest of Nigeria would see only tribal identities, identities the coup officers themselves forgot. If we could have saved Balewa, the only honest ruler, a Hausa and a Muslim from the North, the whole equation would have changed. He represented legitimate civil authority, and the military gunned him down with the rest. I could have stopped that but for a car accident. I lost an informer and I didn't know until too late."
"A car accident." Sandy tested, surprised at how natural her own voice sounded. "What freaking car accident?"
Wilton caught herself in a gasp of laughter and shook her head.
"Sandy, I owe you just so much, but no names or places. Our purposes converge in Lindsey. We're on the same side. Don't worry."
"Screw that. What in hell are you doing?" Sandy said.
"I create a maker of kings. Lindsey will choose leaders for Nigeria's future."
"Goddamned mysteries, Wilton. Sometimes I swear your cheese slips off its cracker."
"Lindsey will appoint. She wants that power. I help her to it by reaping what my father sowed. I inherited his friends and contacts. I've lived in this land most of my life, and I have sown on my own. There's a web of people who owe me, and I use their obligations to advance Lindsey. You and I make Lindsey a power, hidden but potent. The new Federal Government leader, Gowon, will listen to her. Lindsey shall have influence but no glory. Which is hard, because it's the glory that she craves, whatever she says to the contrary."
"You're frigging drunk. Why were you out pretending to be a man?"
"Yes, let's say I'm drunk." Suddenly sad and faded, Wilton bent, using her old anxious gesture to brush the hair from her face. The biggest bruise on her right cheek deepened fast, even through the brown stain on her face. But she fixed a challenging owlish look on Sandy in the kerosene lamplight. "Out on my
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