Gorilla Republic: Deutschland: Part 25
8th April 2025
Two days later, Banou led Mapacha down the beach. Though he tried to act indifferent, Mapacha was just as stunned as she was at how everything had unfolded. But Banou was done with West Germany. It was time to get back to the hustle, and she wanted to float an idea past him.
“Mapacha, listen. I do not think it makes sense to take the gold back home with us. We should sell it all to Makhlouf.”
“Have you seen him since you gave him the hamsa?”
“No.”
“And you have not forgotten he has not paid us yet, right?”
“I am not worried about that. He’ll pay. He doesn’t strike me as someone who welshes on deals.”
“Okay,” Mapacha said, scepticism plain in his voice. “So, how much should we sell the gold for?”
Banou shrugged.
“We need to find out the price of gold.”
He nodded, though he was not sure who they could ask. They did not have solid contacts in Morocco, apart from the few they had dealt with, people who needed the rest of the team involved.
“You know what, Banou? Let’s call Gwafa. He would know this sort of thing.”
She considered it, then nodded in agreement.
“We can ask Makhlouf to use his phone. I doubt he would mind.”
“No, we cannot do that. As much as he seems straightforward, we should use a different line. You never know who is listening in.”
Paranoia from dealing with the Yugoslavs lingered on Mapacha's voice.
“Let us tell him we want to visit the town and walk around. We can use a call service there.”
She agreed, and they ambled back towards the house. That afternoon passed lazily. Lunch. Relaxation. Banou leafed through old magazines and smoked, while Mapacha succumbed to the heat and napped. Towards dusk, Makhlouf appeared. He looked gaunt and sombre, a far cry from his usual jovial self. Without sitting, he launched into a short speech.
“My friends, I come to express my deepest gratitude for reuniting me with what was once ours. What was taken from us. You have changed my life forever, restored dignity to the house of my father, and by extension, mine. Now, I must meet my end of the deal. Please, follow me.”
Inside his small office sat two large suitcases.
“As agreed, my end of the bargain. If you want to count it, feel free. I will not be insulted. A deal is a deal.”
Banou unzipped one suitcase and peered inside. Neat stacks hundred-dollar bills stared back at her.
“I want you to stay here for a few days. Rest, eat, do whatever you like. My home is yours for as long as you wish. If you need to go anywhere, all my cars are at your disposal, and I will provide a driver. When you are ready to leave, we will call your friend to pick you up.”
“Thanks, Makhlouf,” Mapacha replied.
He lugged the suitcases to their room, then returned to find Banou and Makhlouf on the verandah, smoking. Her presence had lifted his spirits, and he looked visibly lighter. They had dinner, then retired for the night.
Later, when the house had gone quiet and everyone was asleep, Banou crept out of her room and slipped into Mapacha’s. The door had been left ajar deliberately. He was seated in the lounge chair, waiting.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Mapacha pulled out two dark light bulbs and screwed them into the bedside lamps. When he switched them on, he opened the suitcase and poured the money onto the bed. They spread out the bundles and began counting, each passing bills under the lamp’s glow. The hours melted into the tedium of tallying, checking, and rechecking. Dawn broke, and still they worked. Banou, despite the thrill of so much money, was growing weary of seeing it.
By 11 AM, they had counted the last note and packed it all back in.
“That is a clean million, all right,” Banou said, impressed.
Exhausted and hungry, they headed back to the main house, where they found Makhlouf beaming, cigarette in hand. He was clearly delighted with how things had played out.
“So, you two are done then?” he asked, giving them a cheeky wink.
Banou blushed, while Mapacha bristled at his smugness. Makhlouf caught on and continued, undeterred.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. It’s business. And though we are friends, money is money. You have got to get it right. You look knackered. Let’s eat.”
They settled into a slow lunch. Lamb tagine with green olives and lemon, and large glasses of orange juice. After the meal, Banou lounged with a Gitane and more juice while Mapacha sipped his tea, eager for a nap but needing to finalise their next step.
“Tomorrow we need to go into town,” Mapacha said.
Makhlouf, enjoying his cigarette, turned to him.
“No problem. I will have someone drive you. You want a tour?
“Not really. We just want to walk around, see the sights, and start planning our return to Josephine.”
He seemed to realise they did not want him tagging along and let it slide for a moment.
“I’d be happy to show you around,” Makhlouf offered, testing the waters.
“That would be great, but we just want to wander. Besides, you are a busy guy; you must be tired of us in your hair.”
Makhlouf smiled, accepting the hint.
“Fine. I will drop you off myself. You can spend the day there and call me when you are ready to be picked up.”
Mapacha nodded. That was a better plan. It avoided offending their host.
“Nine AM tomorrow?”
“Yeah, that will work.”
Makhlouf nodded, but behind his smile, his mind was alert. Something was up.