It took Leon some time to come to terms with the magnitude of Percy’s last gift to him. He had to read the document three more times in order to assimilate it. He still had not the slightest idea of Percy’s total wealth, but his firearms and safari equipment must have been worth at least five hundred pounds, to say nothing of the huge ivory tusk that Leon was using as a footstool. But the intrinsic value of the estate was of no concern to Leon: it was the gift itself, the earnest of Percy’s affection and esteem, that was the real treasure.
He was in no hurry to examine the remaining contents of the trunk, and sat for a while, considering the will. At last he carried the trunk out to the stoep where the light was better and settled into the easy chair that had been Percy’s favourite. ‘Keeping it warm for you, old man,’ he muttered apologetically, and began to unpack.
Percy had been meticulous in keeping his records in order. Leon opened his cash book and blinked with astonishment when he saw the balances of the deposits held by the Nairobi branch of Barclays Bank, Dominion, Colonial and Overseas to the credit of Percy Phillips Esq. They totalled a little more than five thousand pounds sterling. Percy had made him a wealthy man.
But that was not all. He found title deeds to land and properties not only in Nairobi and Mombasa but in the city of Bristol, the place of Percy’s birth, in England. Leon had no means of estimating what they might be worth.
The value was more readily apparent of the bundle of Consols, the 5 per cent perpetual bearer bonds issued by the government of Great Britain, the safest and most reliable investment in existence. Their face value was twelve and a half thousand pounds. The interest on that alone was more than six hundred per annum. It was a princely income. ‘Percy, I had no idea! Where the hell did you get it all from?’
When it grew dark Leon went into the front room and lit the lamps. He worked on until after midnight, sorting documents and reading accounts. When his eyelids drooped he went through to the austere little bedroom and stretched out under the mosquito net on Percy’s bed. The hard mattress welcomed his weary body. It felt good. After all his wanderings he had found a place that felt like home.
He woke to the dawn chorus of a thrush under the window. When he went down the hill he found Max Rosenthal and Hennie du Rand waiting anxiously in the mess tent. Ishmael had breakfast ready, but neither had touched it. Leon took his seat at the head of the table.
‘You can relax, and stop sitting on the edge of your chairs. Help yourselves to the eggs and bacon before they get cold and Ishmael throws a tantrum,’ he told them. ‘C and P Safaris is still in business. Nothing changes. You still have your jobs. Just carry on exactly as you were before.’
As soon as he had finished breakfast he went out to the Vauxhall. After Manyoro had cranked the engine to life, he and Loikot scrambled into the back and Leon headed for town. His first stop was at the little thatched building behind Government House that served as the Deeds Office. The clerk notarized Percy’s death certificate and his will, and Leon signed the entries in the huge leatherbound ledger.
‘As the executor of Mr Phillips’s estate, you have thirty days to file a statement of the assets of the estate,’ the clerk told him. ‘Then you must pay the duty before the remaining assets can be released to the named heirs.’
Leon was startled. ‘What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me there’s a charge for dying?’
‘That’s right, Mr Courtney. Death duties. Two and one half per cent.’
‘That’s blatant robbery and extortion,’ Leon exclaimed. ‘What if I refuse to pay?’
‘We will seize the assets and probably lock you up to boot.’
Leon was still fuming at the injustice when he drove through the front gates of the KAR barracks. He parked the truck in front of the headquarters building and went up the steps, acknowledging the salutes of the sentries as he passed. The new adjutant was sitting in the duty room. To Leon’s surprise, this was none other than Bobby Sampson. He now wore a captain’s pips on his epaulettes. ‘It seems that everybody around here is being promoted, even the lowest forms of animal life,’ Leon remarked from the doorway.
Bobby stared at him blankly for a moment, then bounded up from his desk and rushed to pump Leon’s hand joyously. ‘Leon, my old fruit! A thing of beauty is a joy for ever! I don’t know what to say, what? What?’
‘You’ve just said it all, Bobby.’
‘Tell me,’ Bobby insisted, ‘what have you been up to since last we met?’
They talked animatedly for a while, then Leon said, ‘Bobby, I’d like to see the general.’
‘I have no doubt that the Brig will be delighted to oblige, what? Wait here and I’ll have a quick word with him.’ Minutes later he returned and ushered Leon through into the CO’s office.
