The rattan blades of the ceiling fan pushed through the heavy air of the Empire Club. They weren’t kidding about this damn Nairobi heat, James Boddy thought, mopping at his brow. Even the teakwood walls seemed to be sweating. The things we do for money. I hope we can get that coffee concession approved without too much trouble from the Governor-General. Boddy looked around, anxious for his mistress to return from the powder room. Without his asking, a turbaned waiter placed another gin in front of him. But Boddy hardly noticed – his attention was drawn to the khaki-clad figure imperiously striding up to the bar.

From the pith helmet to the waxed mustache, from the monocle to the sunburn, he was a British tropical officer straight out of a Boys’ Own adventure. And his watch was simply magnificent. Chronograph face, Tritnite luminous hands,  ion plated surgical grade stainless steel: Boddy would’ve recognized the Invicta 5093 Speedway II Chronograph from the peak of Kilimanjaro.

Half out of some vague notion that the man might be of aid in dealing with the colonial administration and half out of curiosity, Boddy walked over and stuck his hand out. The officer peered at it suspiciously, then took Boddy’s hand and gazed into Boddy’s eyes, offering a challenge that the businessman met. The officer’s eyes were disquieting and deep, and Boddy had to fight his preference to stare instead at the magnificent timepiece adorning that ruddy wrist.

“My name’s James Boddy, and I’m new in Kenya. Visiting, actually, on business. You look like the sort of man who might have some worthwhile advice for someone like me.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Colonel Arthur Mustard, King’s 5th Rifle Regiment. I’m afraid I haven’t much to say about this wretched little country other than that if you like flies, mud, pickpockets, and late trains, you’ve come to the right backwater. I’d advise you to return to – Chicago, is it?”

“Boston.”

“Ah yes, I used to be better at identifying American accents. Anyroad, I’m just back from the bush, putting down a spot of unpleasantness off to the southeast. You’ve got to have a firm hand with these bloody Mau Mau, or they’ll chop it off and throw it in a cooking-pot, what?”

Boddy smiled. “I figured you for the type who’d be ready for anything as soon as I saw that Invicta 5093 Speedway II.”

“Ah yes, this watch has seen me through Burma, Somaliland, the Falklands, the Crimea – any burden His Majesty has conferred upon me has been lightened by this cracking timepiece. It is both friend and companion, servant and protector. As pleasant as this intercourse has been, I’m afraid I must take my leave. A few of us officers are meeting in the conservatory.”

Boddy handed the man a card. “Yes, I should as well. I’ve been meaning to visit the Empire Club’s famous billiard room. I’ve got an idea to build one just like it in my home. Please, by all means, look me up if you’re ever Stateside. Or while I’m here, in fact. I’ve taken a room at the Edwardian.”

The Colonel stuck the card into a vest pocket without looking at it. “Very well, very good.” With a sharp military nod at Boddy, he turned, heels together, and practically marched out of the bar. They hadn’t spoken long. But Boddy felt somehow that the encounter had been a fateful one.

Just then, Boddy’s raven-haired, almond-eyed mistress oozed up next to him, one lithe leg showing through the slit in her dress. “Who was that?”

“This British colonel. There was something about him, Scarlet. I can’t say, exactly…I feel like I haven’t seen the last of him, like our fates are inextricably intertwined. He could be an enormous help to me someday…Or he could wind up killing me.”

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