Danger Woman (19 page)

Chapter Thirty-eight

Modise spun the truck into the casino parking lot scattering gravel in a wide arc. He roared past the line of black SUVs which were parked in a semicircle facing the front entrance. He reversed and backed to the main door. He didn't want the people in Lenka's cars to see that there were no soldiers, only police constables, in the back.

“Get out,” he said. “Don't let them see you. Go straight inside and find cover and under no circumstances do you shoot unless I say so. If the shooting does start, I want you to aim at the autos, not the people. Shoot out headlights, tires, and things like that. Only if it is to save a life…yours in particular…should you aim at a person. Understood?”

The constables jumped from the back of the truck and scuttled into the casino. Modise called Greshenko.

“Tell your fake Cossacks to hold their fire. If the shooting begins, they are to try to shoot at the vehicles only. We don't kill people in this country except if they want us to. What do I mean? If they are foolish enough to shoot at us, we reply. Otherwise, we wait for them to see the sense in complying to a request to submit to arrest. So, that is how it is meant. I do not care if the Russians do not play the game that way. No, you are wrong. It is only counterintuitive in your world. Here it is the norm. We are not in Russia or the United States, either, and the sooner they and you come to understand that simple fact, by the way, the sooner we can settle this.”

Modise retrieved a megaphone from under the seat and leaned out of the window. “Whoever you are. This is Police Inspector Kgabo Modise speaking. You are to disperse immediately. You are disturbing the peace and causing a public nuisance. Please leave now.” He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard laughter from both the vehicles arrayed against him and from within the casino. “I do not wish to repeat this. You are in violation of the legal code and you are to disperse. If you fail to do so, the BDF will move out and my officers will be required to arrest you. You have ten seconds…You have five seconds…You have—”

The cars moved slowly at first and then more quickly and drove off in different directions. That fact worried Modise. They should have all gone together to the warehouse that served as Lenka's headquarters. What were they up to now?

Greshenko appeared by the driver side door. “Somehow, Modise, you have pulled this off. I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. What is it about this country that makes everybody act completely ass backwards?”

“Possibly it is because we are below the Equator which makes us upside down to Russia? No? It is because this is who we are and even though we know Lenka is not so smart, we know that he is not stupid enough to start a fire fight with either the army or the police. He will intimidate and he will even assassinate but these things he does in the dark where no one can see him. Out in the open? No, not happening.”

“Then you think we are done here tonight?”

“I would like to think so but, no. Keep yourselves alert. They might return in the dark and unseen. You saw they split up. They have other things they are doing tonight. One of your men or all of them may be on their list. I am thinking that this is only a ploy to draw us here so they can do something elsewhere.”

“Something else?”

“They have already made two attempts to kidnap Ranger Sanderson's daughter. One of theirs is dead. One of ours wounded. I don't know how badly. I don't think they will try for any of her people again anytime soon. You are another story. They might come after you, but I don't think so. No, they will be in town this night and after other officials, what they see as weak spots in the system. Whatever they do, they must do it in a way that cannot be laid at their doorstep later. I think I will be looking for men wearing ski masks this night.”

“I'll tell ‘the Cossacks' to stay alert. Good night, Kgabo.”

Modise called in and told Dispatch to put all police and staff persons on high alert. If they could move their families to relatives, they were to do so. He also suggested they extinguish their lights.

***

A town which has no street lighting may be thought as an encourager of crime. In most places it is. But in the Chobe, darkness with its ever-present wildlife, separated from civilization and people by not much more than habit, can be a deterrent. At least it is if you are from Russia and can't tell a monkey from an elephant in the dark. Darkness can be good and it can be bad. It all depends on what you intend to do in it.

Almost no one knew Superintendent Mwambe's full name. People simply referred to him as Superintendent. Even Derek, his thick nephew, would be hard-pressed to come up with a name. His late wife called him Bubby, a name which had nothing whatsoever to do with his given name. Lenka said he didn't, for the Great God's sake, care what his name was. He wanted two men to visit him and suggest that the fat policeman fall into line. That is, if he didn't want an accident to happen to him or his family, he should consider taking a less aggressive stand when called on to persecute Lenka's men. It was a simple request, no? If he wasn't stupid, he would yield. Police, in Lenka's experience understood the use of power and the compromises it entailed. As far as family went, Lenka did not know that Mwambe's family consisted only of Derek Kgasa and threats in that direction would not produce much in the way of a reaction. Nevertheless, two men, sweating in woolen ski masks, set out for the police superintendent's house to deliver Lenka's message. They paused at the door, flexed their shoulders, and knocked.

Mwambe had received the alert. He'd snorted at Modise and his theatrics and had returned to his television program. He answered the knock at his door. He always did. It was that kind of neighborhood. When he saw the ski masks he realized he should have paid more attention to Modise's warning.

“What do you two men want?”

One of them produced a pistol from his waistband. “Move it,” he said.

“You are breaking the law and I will be forced to arrest you.”

“How's that again, Fat Man?”

“You have a firearm and I am certain you have no permit. I must ask you to surrender the pistol and both of you, please place yourselves on the ground.”

“You do not understand, Fatso, we're coming in and you're going to listen. He shoved hard at Mwambe expecting him to crash into the furniture and then to the floor.

For a large man, Mwambe was very agile and like many others like him, light on his feet. He could dance. Even young women would choose him for a partner because of his dancing skills. He had exceptional balance and one might even say grace. People who did not like him called Mwambe the Dancing Hippo, but they had to concede that he did have the moves. At any rate, a push from even a well-muscled thug would not cause him to stagger, much less fall down. Instead of tumbling to the ground as the masked man assumed he would, Mwambe pivoted anticlockwise, a smooth pirouette, left arm extended, right tucked close to his chest. As his assailant came even with him, his closed left fist clipped the back of the man's neck. He, in turn, sailed across the small room and landed headfirst against the wall. His gun skittered along the floor and came to rest in a corner.

Mwambe continued his spin and as he approached its final, three hundred and sixtieth degree, he unleashed his right arm and planted his fist into the second man's face. Mwambe's fist, like the rest of him, was unusually large. Bone and cartilage cracked and the second man howled. Before he could raise his pistol, Mwambe knocked it from his hand. He grabbed the man's shirt front, yanked and then stuck out a leg and tripped him. He landed facedown next to the first who, as yet, showed no signs of movement, probably because his head had made a substantial dent in Mwambe's living room wall. The two ski-masked thugs lay side by side on the floor. Mwambe put handcuffs on the one with the broken nose and searched for and found a zip-tie for the other. Then he called headquarters and asked for a squad to come and collect two bad men he'd arrested. They should hurry, he said, because he was missing some very good telly.

Two more of Lenka's feared gangsters disappeared that night.

Mwambe might be inefficient, out of date, and socially irrelevant. He might not have seemed even important enough for people to bother to learn his name, but no one ever accused Mwambe of cowardice.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Grelnikov's attempts to doctor his own wounds failed and he'd collapsed in a restaurant across the street from his hotel. From there, an ambulance had taken him to a clinic. His doctors insisted he needed more bed rest. His broken ribs had not completely healed. The bones had not adequately knit. Any stress and they could separate again and he would be in real trouble. His vital signs, while greatly improved, were still those of a man in recovery. He needed complete bed rest for a week and then only light work.

While Lenka's men had been busy stumbling around in the dark, Grelnikov got out of bed and dressed. He muttered something in Russian that could have been, probably was, a racial slur, threw a handful of Zim dollars on the table and self-discharged. He hired a cab to take him from Hwange to Victoria Falls. He crossed into Zambia with an eye to proceeding from there into Botswana at the Chobe crossing and then catching a ride to Kasane. He had unfinished business in that town. After that, he would rest in bed.

All of the nurses and other staff members, while having concerns about him from a medical point of view, were relieved at his decision. He had been a difficult patient, for sure.

***

Whether in southern Africa or the far northern reaches of Finland, morning sunlight tends to wash everything clean and prepare one for a new day, a new beginning. If the night has been daunting, mornings are hopeful, optimistic. They bring the promise of better things, better times, and who knows what else?

Superintendent Mwambe licked his finger and dabbed up the last crumbs of his morning muffin from his plate. “You know, Joseph, you may have a point.”

For the previous five minutes Inspector Ikanya had been fascinated, watching Mwambe's search and destroy mission with his buttered muffin. “Point? What sort of point are we discussing, Motsu?”

“This retirement business. I had a terrible realization last night. I came to an epiphany, you could say. Epiphany…is that the correct word? I discovered something I should have been seeing all along, anyway.”

“And what was that?”

“I am a dinosaur, Joseph. No, it is true. The world has changed and I have not kept up. It is that simple. I do not like women in positions I believe should be held by men. There, I said it. It is what I believe. I am not alone in thinking this, but there are fewer of us who feel that way every day. I know that. I am of that generation that looked to older and wiser leadership which the
Kgosi
provided. They were men of great stature and wisdom, the Four Kings. Now we have this
Kgosi Mosadi
. Is she wise? I don't know. We had the
kgotla
for ordinary justice. Now? Now it is mostly for meetings and talking. Policing meant picking up petty thieves and men who didn't understand what alcohol would do to their persons. Some motor mishaps on the roads and bad behavior. Now, it is crime of great proportions. Russian gangsters, smugglers, poachers, and thieves who will murder for a ten pula note. It has changed. I do not fit in anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“Ah, Joseph, I was a small boy when the great
Kgosi,
Sir Seretse Khama, returned to Botswana from England with his Ruth and we were set free from British rule. Those were great days. We built a nation then, Joseph. Amazing and challenging times, they were. Now, we are just one of many nations finding our way in the world. Civilization, which we all wished for, is here and as the saying goes, ‘be careful what you wish for, you may get it,' yes? It is time for new people to be in charge. Last night I had to disarm two men who came to kill me or perhaps not. I never asked why they had guns aimed at me, but they did. I think they were up to no good and had murder in their hearts. It is not what we are used to, Joseph, this evil gangster business. It was at that moment I realized that in this stage of our country's development, the police must be the Modises, not the Mwambes. We must step aside and turn this new creation over to them.”

“Mwambe, surely…”

“I will be forwarding my retirement papers to the director as soon as the business with the Russian gangsters is done.”

Modise burst through the door. “Superintendent Mwambe, I heard. Are you quite alright?”

“I am fine, Inspector Modise. Those men are the sort who will underestimate a man if they find him amusing or not enough like them. If they had done their homework, they would have known not to get within a meter of me. But, all they saw was an old, out of date, fat policeman and assumed they would have an easy time of it.”

“Well, you certainly did yourself proud. The men are in the lockup with their friends. Sooner or later, Lenka will run out of criminals to put in the field and will have to do his dirty work himself. Then we will have him.”

“I would hope,” Mwambe said, “that you will have him before he does any dirty business. It is time to restore the Chobe to its natural state. As long as you and these criminals are crashing about, there can be no peace. Where will the tourists go now? How shall we exist when we can't know from one minute to the next if shooting will start, if
bakkies
and
combies
filled with dangerous men aren't racing down our streets frightening everything, including the animals? Modise, you must end this and end it now.”

“At least you and the director agree on that. You are correct it must end, but please understand that we are not like the police in the cinema. We do not go out with guns blazing. You know better than anyone, that we are not armed. If this is to end, it will be when Lenka takes a wrong step. He has come close. We are interrogating our prisoners, yours especially. You also should know that they will not give their boss up. The Bratva is a cruel and brutal organization whose reach can even find its way into our prisons. The men you took out believe that if they talk, if they implicate their leader, they will die. Not just die, suffer and then die. It is, as they say, the tough nut to crack.”

“We understand that,” Joseph Ikanya said, “but you have those American men. They seem more than eager to do something. Why not turn them loose on Lenka and when they're done shooting up each other, you step in and jail the lot of them?”

“The Americans, too?”

“Why not? There is a very good reason all this started and it is because that rich American who has left built a casino. It is too big a plum to have not attracted some attention from criminals. Of course they would come and they will keep coming as long as it sits there on the river. It is a criminal magnet. So, the Americans who began all this, the ones who survive the face-off, yes, jail them as well.”

“Well, that is one way to look at it. I believe, however, that the builder of this casino had the government's blessing. That's one. Two, he has turned it into a Botswana-based corporation and has put an expat Russian in charge. Also it is not the first or only casino in the country. Anyway, blame-placing is not a productive use of our time just now. We need a quick and decisive move by one side or the other to finish this. Until that occurs, we wait.”

Mwambe stood, pulled his shoulders back. “Inspector Modise, what can I do to help?”

“You have done quite enough already, Superintendent.”

“I feel I am not done. Can you suggest something? Perhaps more misinformation on that funny phone?”

“Not that. By now they have tumbled to the fact we have been deceiving them. No, I think something closer to home. Superintendent, what do you believe those men were up to when they visited you last night?”

“I rather imagine they wished to intimidate me. It occurred to me they had in mind to turn me into their inside man. Do you suppose they might still?”

“No, I think they will have let that thought go. However, do you think you might want to return the kindness? I am wondering if that warehouse they use as a headquarters can pass a fire inspection? I wonder if a search of the premises might produce contraband. Do you suppose a search warrant might be available to make a sweep like that? As the local Superintendent of Police, doubtless, it should be led by you.”

“Ah, their lair. An excellent suggestion. Ikanya was about to say the same thing. Yes, four or five of us might be needed to accomplish that. We will need to recruit some help.”

“Perhaps Greshenko's Americans would make themselves available. You could deputize them.”

“Is that the correct word, deputize? It is not a thing I am familiar with. Do we do that? It sounds very American Wild West, don't you think?”

“I am afraid this whole operation has become like the American Wild West.”

“Indeed, and certainly not my sort of thing. Very good, I will see to the warrant and, ah…deputize the cowboys. We will have a group to gallop off…what do they call them?”

“A posse?”

“Exactly, a posse. We will have a posse. Meanwhile, you could have a chat with Rra Greshenko about loaning us his friends.”