He realised that the General was at that point of inspired drunkenness when he spoke a little too freely - even for this gathering. He surveyed the room furtively. But the others were hard at the serious business of drinking. He really should not bother, he decided, because they were all bound by a common greed. And the General picked carefully. You had to be a hard drinker to get in - that was apart from having that kind of political ambition likely to break your neck at the end of the day if you failed. Gokobiri noted Amadiora’s discomfiture and tried to come to his aid.

“Are you all right, General?“ He was the only one who dared talk to Babiavelli with such freedom. Babiavelli’s mood swung dangerously.

“Shut your rubber! Danbarauba. Are you. Suggesting that I - that... Drunk?“ In his inarticulacy he waxed lyrical. “What’s your corn with my beer? Somebody should clean out their rotten mouth with a dash of sea water - what’ your corn with my beer?” He repeated for emphasis. Gokobiri only picked up his bottle of Harp and drank...

One never really knew how far gone the General was, Amadiora thought. Just when you assumed he had burnt out his fuse, he confounded the company with the renewed vigour of his drinking. He seemed to have a circuit-breaker in his head; so that he functioned in fits and starts because when he spoke again he rambled, his speech was broken and slurred.

“....They ‘ll  nefer un’erstand...You know, the vapour - the fapour - of power. You ‘ve tu - to haf a s’rong head tu hol’ it - to be able to hold it. Like that thing there...” At which point he stood up. All of his muscled six feet was ram-rod. He circled the centre-table littered with cigarette ash and filled with empty beer-bottles, took the three flight of steps up to the bar level and walked up to The Fountain of Wisdom. Amadiora knew they would once more have to seat through a lecture on The Vapour Theory. Babiavelli reached out a steady hand and caressed the glass structure. It was about his height and he had to bend in sliding his fingers down the stem.

“This reminds me of the waist of one of my mistresses - Aisha.“ He straightened himself again, reaching up to touch the neon arm. And tha’s de hand grabbing for pow’r. But as you can see, it’s missed. The fumes ‘re escaping... Can you see it. Tha’ hand shu’ld really hol’ - hold de glass ‘ere“. And he grasped the concave bulge just above the stem. And this reminds me of her breasts. You hol’ the glass an’ drink in the fumes. It gives strength - pow’r ... because then - no senti - sentiments. He turned towards the seated men, and catching his foot in his flowing babanriga, lurched. His cap fell  unto the floor. It was the bar-man’s job to pick it up whenever this happened. He regained his balance and strolled towards the men, continuing his monologue without a break. “We are the receptacles of power...Must keep the fumes inside.“ He dropped into his seat and his head fell forward in a sudden doze.

The bar-man left his glass cage and retrieved Babiavelli’s cap from the floor. He moved forward with caution as if the seated men embodied  one dangerous and unpredictable animal likely to attack him without warning. Amadiora received the cap as Babiavelli was still slouched, eyes closed. He put the cap beside him and asked the bar-man to replenish the table, unnecessarily reminding him to include a star for the General. In a few minutes Babiavelli’s eyes flew open. The bar man brought five sweaty bottles on a tray. He began to whistle as he set the drinks on the table.

“What makes you so happy whistling like a canary? “ It was Babiavelli in a querulous mood.

“Let him alone, General.“ Alcohol loosened Gokobiri’s tongue. “Why shouldn’t he whistle. If being a canary lessens his boredom... In fact, bar-man have a beer on the house.“

“Which house? My own abi  your own?“ And to the bar-man, “If  I by mistake smell even water  for your mouth... No salary. Six months. Se you dey hear me so?“ Suggestively Babiavelli pulled at his own right ear-lobe with a think thumb and index finger, opening the bar-man’s ears to words of wisdom. The bar-man hemmed and hawed and left hurriedly while Gokobiri protested the unfairness of it and Amadiora tried to calm Babiavelli, who insisted it was the bar-man’s fault for being a bar-man and not a colonel in the army. Was this the type of job he should be doing. And for the next few days whenever Babiavelli was in the mood the bar-man became canary or the whistler.

Babiavelli picked up the  fresh bottle of star between thumb and index finger. It was a trick with him. Pausing  and looking meaningfully at his lieutenants he  took a long pull from the bottle. The others followed suit. This was  called a half salute - half because they were still in their seats. It was useful in re-invigorating the company and at the same time wishing the General a long healthy drink throughout his life. The spirit of competition was abroad and Amadiora simply drained his bottle before putting it back empty on the table. He belched richly and gave a supreme hiccup. Babiavelli nodded at him in satisfaction.

“That was a pleasant surprise, Chucks. Than’ you for de honour. I only hope. Hope  you can still take the salute b’fore we leave. To answer your question Nebu, no - have not read Oliver twist... No such civilian past-time.“ He turned once more to Amadiora. “So the boy dies, yes?“

“yes!“

“It’s a pity“, Gokobiri put in , “we had to pay off the deceased’s family so much for nothing.“

“Perhaps it was a good thing, we can make jounalistic capital out of it“, Nebucadnezzar quipped.

“And how.“ This was Alajobi.

“We hushed it up at the time; we could publicise it now and give credit to the Gen. for caring  about the misfortune of Nigerians. In fact I would suggest, General, that you call a press conference protesting the possible judgement of ‘not guilty’, insisting that justice be carried out. We would then make sure the fact that you gave financial compensation to the family of the deceased is insinuated in the newspaper story.“  Babiavelli chuckled.

“Exce - llent! Brilliant idea.“ 

“I am not so sure,“ Amadiora contributed. “There is no time for such a rigmarole. The judgement will be passed tomorrow.“ Babiavelli  glared at him with blood-shot eyes.

“Are you with me or against?“

“That is not the point...“

Gokobiri turned to Amadiora in irritation. “Can’t you stall! Adjourn the case for a few days!“ A light dawned suddenly on Babiavelli. Swaying slightly from side to side in his seat, he looked levelly at Amadiora.

“Okay, say it Chucks, out wid it. Wetin be de wahalla?“ Amadiora hesitated. He had not meant to be so obvious. “Don’t worry, talk my frien’.“

“Well...“ Amadiora stopped and shifted in his seat. Alajobi and Nebucadnezzar began to laugh at him. It was a dry, drunken cackle and it pained Amadiora. Gokobiri got impatient and took control of the situation.

“General, if I know these lawyers well, I think Chucks wants some Kola.“

“So what’s de problem then, eh , Lawyer...sege!“

“Yes”, Amadiora was forced to admit, “the prosecution might contest the adjournment.“ 

“But dat one na small thing! Come, how much... Okay. I ‘ll give you one million naira; if you need more let me know; God punish Naira,” he swore for emphasis, “Danburauba!“ 

 “No, no; quite enough!“ Amadiora frowned. In the gloom no one noticed. Deep inside his alcoholic torpor, some nebulous thought swirled darkly. Babiavelli dropped off again. Still possessed by his grand journalistic vision, Nebucadnezzar  saw reel upon reel of newspaper editorials extolling the General’s magnanimity rolling off the printing machine, softening the hearts of a disillusioned citizenry,  appealing to the goodwill of a large section of the country - peasant, professional or intellectual.

“Wasn’t it a trade union leader’s son that got killed,“ he said more to himself, “the working class should be happy  with the way this case ends.“

“Yes,“ answered Gokobiri, “and a trouble-shooting union leader at that.“ In the lassitude of the moment he betrayed a secret between himself and Babiavelli. “We had to cool him down a bit; he was causing labour unrest in one the General’s manufacturing plants.“

The clouds in Amadiora’s head cleared. He started, opened his mouth to say something but simply fell back into his seat. He suddenly understood what had bothered him. Babiavelli had taken it upon himself to pay off the bereaved family - which meant he had been privy to the boy’s death before it happened. It was conscience money. He realised he did not know as much as he thought he did. He stared at Gokobiri.