Silhouette

XI

A caravan of black buses rumbles down Berger Boulevard. The passengers are all policemen. All dark coat and white gloves.

The sky is grey and wet. The light drizzle doesn't seem to stop; it falls on and on like there is no end.

The last bus rolls to a stop before a short white gate and Dave steps out. Rose is behind him. A long line of officers - about two hundred -file into the cemetery. Dave joins the long queue. To his right, a journalist's camera flashes.

The sound of shoes crunching gravel is loud. The headstones stand starkly against the lush, green grasses; grey and imposing.

There are a handful of people gathered around a coffin. A white haired priest is reading from the Bible. Dave sees Ralph's wife, Nora. Her wrapper and shirt is black. She holds the hands of two children. A boy and a girl. The boy is young. Very young. Not yet five, Dave guesses. He is holding a toy car in his hands and seems to be immersed in the way the tire rolls. The sleeves of his sweater cover his hand completely. The girl is older, as tall as her mother's waist. They look alike. A petite frame, long nose and high cheekbones. And just like her mother, she is staring at the coffin with an empty face.

Dave can't hear the priest's words. He is too far away. The line slowly dwindles as the policemen pay their respects. Dave sees Deputy Commissioner Anthony and an Inspector who was on sick leave.

Finally, there is no one before him and he approaches the coffin. Rose is before him. She places one hand on the coffin and squeezes her eyes shut. She sniffs and goes to Ralph's widow.

Dave removes his cap and peers into the coffin. Ralph is dressed in his ceremonial uniform. Light blue against black. His face is like dry leather and his skin is tight around his forehead.

Dave swallows and takes an involuntary step back. His skin is hot and there is a ringing in his ear. An image flashes in his head. Rows and rows of coffins with the Nigerian flag draped over them. He remembers the funeral then. He remembers standing before hundreds of coffins. Some of them didn't hold bodies; some soldiers were never found.

He remembers standing with his body hurting in a hundred places and huge chunks of his memory missing.

Dave stumbles backwards and a hand catches him. Dave turns and almost removes his gun from its holster. But it is only Jonjo.

"Are you okay?" asks Jonjo. "You look like you've seen a ghost." He grins then clears his throat as if he had said the wrong thing.

Dave stares at Jonjo. At the slight wrinkles on his shirt, the unevenness of his shaved jaw, and the drops of rain that fall slowly on his cap. He blinks hard and drops his hand from his side holster. "No," he says. "I... I'm fine."

"Okay, boss," says Jonjo. There is a slight frown on his face.

Ralph's widow is speaking. "Ralph loved life," she says. "I hope you will remember him for that."

Dave loosens his top button and takes several steps back. He hears the traffic over the low walls. He hears voices; school children shouting, the blare of a train in the distance.

Deputy Inspector Anthony steps forward. He gives Ralph's widow a small smile and hugs her. He removes a piece of paper from his pocket and clears his throat. Then he begins to read off Ralph's citations.

Dave does not hear him. His eyes are fixed on the horizon. The sun is slowly peeking out of the grey clouds.

A splatter of applause follows Deputy Inspector Anthony as he comes down from the podium. He nods at a cluster of men at the edge of the crowd with gun barrels peaking up above their shoulders.

The six men of the honor guard set the coffin on the stand. Another sergeant drapes the Nigerian flag over it. The team of riflemen form at the edge of the grave. There is a hoarse shout and the riflemen bring up their weapons. They stamp them, raise them to their shoulders and aim high. The whiplash cracks echo through the cold morning air as several startled birds take flight.

The Deputy Inspector stands with his hands clasped behind his back, his face blank and his back straight. Dave wonders why there isn't an official inquiry into Ralph's death. Perhaps Rose is right and he is neck deep in Chief Koko's business.

Dave remembers what Ralph had scrawled on the road with his dying breath. EC311A.

The coffin is slowly lowered into the ground. Amazing Grace is played on trumpets and drums. Ralph's widow shakes hands and hugs as the policemen disperse. She walks up to Dave with a small smile on her face. Rose is behind her.

"Thank you for coming," she says. "Thank you for your support." Her boy is making guttural sounds as he rolls the car on the gravel. The girl is holding on to her waist.

Dave manages a smile. "It is our job."

"You can always talk to us if you need anything," says Rose.

"The Deputy Inspector says the state is offering to sponsor the children's education until the tertiary level. I couldn't ask for more."

Dave meets Rose's eye. "You all deserve more. Ralph was a good man."

Nora nods. "I was told it was a sting operation gone wrong."

Dave meets Rose's eye again. He clears his throat. "Who told you - "

"Yes. Unfortunately," says Rose. She holds Nora's shoulders and begins to steer her away.

Dave walks after them. "Mrs. Benjamin, where did you get that information from?"

Nora stops in her tracks. "Your boss, Mr. Anthony," she says. "Is something wrong?"

Rose glares at Dave and beams a smile at Nora. "No, nothing you need to worry about," she says. "Why don't we take the children to the car. They'll catch a cold out here."

Dave watches them walk away. He wonders if he should tell Rose what he found in Deputy Inspector Anthony's office. He wonders if there is something else going on apart from a politician soliciting the help of a top ranking police officer. It happened all the time. The police force is slowly being eroded by politics.

He puts his hands in his pockets and yearns for the smell of diesel and grease and the roar of tanks.

The drums fade and the street falls silent.