Fragment #62 - What the hell is going on?

The shop is a mess. I step in, slowly, not sure of what I am going to find. I can feel Steve getting quite nervous. I reassure him with a smile. I just saw at the corner of my eyes the gentleman at the back of the garage.
“I’m ok, really.”
“I’ll stay here, at the door, ok? I won’t understand anything anyway.”
“Sure, no problem.”
I walk in, wandering around, until the owner comes closer, and smile. I can see he’s not serene.
“Tiens, revoilà la petite polyglotte.”
“Bonjour Monsieur, comment allez-vous?”
“Super, et toi miss ?”
“Euh... Bien, merci...” I look around us. I can’t think of anything else to say.
“Bon, j'ai un truc pour toi.” He searches through a pile of stuff, and pulls out the frame I looked at on my first visit here. The Babel tower.
“Pour moi?” I look at the painting. I brush very lightly the nice colours, the drawing of the little men building that tower.
“Non, je ne peux pas accepter.”
“Ah, il va bien falloir, miss, c'est un cadeau. Ca se refuse pas.”
“Un cadeau? Mais... Pourquoi?”
“Pour vous ouvrir les yeux sur le monde, mademoiselle j'ai-la-langue-bien-pendue.”
I smile frankly when I hear the nickname he gave me. But the first part of his sentence confuses me.
“Je ne comprends pas. De quoi parlez-vous?”
“C'est un peu long à expliquer, j'ai toute une théorie sur les mystères de l'univers, de l'existence, de l'art, des liens entres les Hommes. Je suis pas certain que ça vous intéresse ni que vous ayez le temps.”
He looks trapped. What’s going on here ? This man has been released from jail, he is walking freely, and still there’s a tension in the air, so thick that I can almost touch it. I can see Steve getting more nervous as the time passes by. I decide to accept the present, and not to linger too long in the shop.
“Et bien, merci beaucoup, je suis très touchée.” I look at the frame again. And then at the man. “Qu'allez-vous faire maintenant que vous êtes libre?”
“Maintenant que je suis libre ?” He starts tidying nervously.
I can feel a tension arousing from my belly. What the hell is going on here?!!
“Qu'y a-t-il?”
He sights. “Je dois quitter Dakar, au plus vite. On me cherche, et si on me trouve, je donne pas cher de mes vieux os.”
“Mais qui?”
“Crois-moi miss, moins tu en sais, mieux tu te porteras.”