Danger Woman (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

Irena Davidova sat in the passenger side of the HiLux and scanned the casino as Lenka drove by. He was talking about gaming and how free liquor always paid for itself when you gave it to gamblers because they became reckless and lost much more money. He said it had to be cheap whiskey or vodka, but there was no shortage of that. Irena listened with half an ear. Her mind was on the building and how she would have Oleg build her a penthouse on top. Well, it wouldn't be much of a penthouse, really. The casino had only three floors. Still, she could have something like a fourth story added overlooking the pool and café seating around it. That would be something. A long balcony with a view of the bush, too. She decided she would like living in the wild and dangerous country with its lions and gorillas. Were there gorillas in Botswana? She'd have to ask. If there were none, maybe they could buy one and have it in a big cage behind the hotel. That would be a draw, wouldn't it? Yes, she needed a safe place to settle. No more St. Petersburg ice and snow. No more freezing in the winter for Irena.

“You are not listening to me, Irena.”

“Yes I am. You were speaking of the whiskey.”

“That was ten minutes ago. I asked you if you were hungry and you said ‘We need a gorilla.' What is that all about? There are no gorillas in Botswana, only baboons and monkeys.”

At that moment a gray monkey dashed across the road. Lenka braked and swerved to avoid hitting it. Irena could have sworn the monkey grinned at her as if to say something naughty.

“You must catch that monkey, Oleg. I want him.”

“Catch him? He's gone. You will not see that fellow again for a long time. If he keeps dancing in front of automobiles, he will not last long, either.”

“You will get me a monkey?”

“I already told you. You cannot collect or hunt the animals here. One of the Boers we hired tells me they shoot poachers in this country. How would it look if we come all this way and end up shot to death by the local army for poaching? Anyway, I thought you said gorilla. I will get you neither one. Come, we will be late for our meeting.”

***

Sanderson saw the
bakkie
nearly hit the monkey and braked to make sure it managed to avoid disaster. She watched as it raced across the grassy lawn in front of the casino and disappeared into the trees beyond. She also noticed the people in the truck. It was that Russian who troubled Kgabo Modise so much, and his woman. She had to admit that the woman was very pretty but at the same time she looked like she might have been carved from stone. A hard woman was that one, for sure. Sanderson reengaged the gears and drove on. The Russian woman's face stuck in her mind. What was it about the woman that reminded her of something or someone else? She couldn't think what. It would come to her later. At this moment she contemplated the ways she might help her friend Modise bring this woman and her man down. He should use her and her cadre of game rangers to end this business. Bodies in the park was a very bad thing for the animals.

***

Leo and Yuri allowed Modise to take over the desk in the corner to make his calls. This new plan needed the okay from the boss. Also, he needed to catch up with Sanderson. He tried her number first and spoke to Charles Tlalelo who told him she was out. Should she call back? Modise said he'd try later. His boss put him on hold for five minutes and then they spoke. It would take another twenty minutes and an occasional side conversation with Leo Painter before he received the go-ahead he needed. The operation was on. What to call it?

Greshenko stared at Leo for a minute. He shook his head. “You had this all worked out weeks ago, didn't you?”

“I confess, I had a thought.”

“But you didn't share.”

“No.”

“Why is that?”

“Why? Okay here's the thing. If I work this out in the open, it wouldn't stay a secret past lunch. This place is porous to information. I don't know if it is jungle drums or what, but secrets are as rare as hen's teeth out here. Lenka has to believe the guys who will arrive soon enough are, in fact, a rival Bratva from the States and are here to shove him out of the Chobe. Besides, there was always the chance the Government would change its mind and leave you alone. It was a long chance, I admit, but worth taking. At any rate, I was willing to wait on both counts.”

“Do you think Modise's boss will buy it?”

“He'd better. Anything else is going to fail before it starts and either way be a bloody mess.”

“And it will be my blood that is making the mess.”

“Possibly. On the other hand, it is equally possible you will disappear from the face of the earth. The bad news would be at the hands of the Bratva or the Botswana government. The good news, with the offices of some people I know, and the right amount of cash, that might also happen. You disappear, I mean, not die.”

“Why don't we just do that bit right now and forget Lenka and the Batswana.”

“We could, but then I would be dead and the Russians would own my hotel and I am not willing to allow that to happen. I am settled here. I like this place and I won't admit it to him, but I kind of like Modise.”

Modise, as if he heard the last comment, shouted across the room, “We are calling it ‘Moscow Nights.' What do you think?”

“I think it sounds like someone reads too many cheap thrillers. Also, I think that clown is from St. Petersburg, not Moscow. By the way, Inspector Modise, when you leave, look angry, like your interview with Yuri went badly. They will know by now that you were here and will want to hear what happened. They should think Yuri stiffed you. Yuri, you can expect to be contacted by that freaking sewer rat any time now. Okay, we're in business.”

Chapter Twelve

Since her son Michael had rallied from what Sanderson believed to have been certain death, she made it a point to keep in touch with him every day. It had been easy enough when he had lived at home but, since his AIDs symptoms had disappeared and his health had returned to near normal, he had returned to his small apartment over the garage where he worked. Sanderson accepted the move but, did not like it. Recovering HIV patients relapsed, didn't they? Shouldn't they stay at home with their mothers? She thanked
Modimo
every day for this miracle and worried anyway. What if there had been no miracle and he relapsed?

She parked the door-less Land Rover on the gravel lot and poked her head in the garage. The men who were working on automobiles smiled and greeted her. She could hardly make herself heard over the din caused by the panel beaters hammering and grinding. No, they shouted, Michael had not arrived at work today. No, they did not think he was sick. When they said this, one or two of them grinned. Sanderson wondered at that.

She thanked them and rounded the building corner to climb the stairs to Michael's flat. She tried the door handle. Locked? She knocked. No answer. Now, she had a reason to worry. His friends said he was not sick but, how would they know? Would he tell them if he was? Maybe he was lying in bed feverish and sweating with his disease back again? She remembered that all too well, this fading away disease. Should she call the ambulance service? She pounded on the door.

Something or someone stirred inside. The door opened a few centimeters. Two eyes peered out. Not Michael's eyes.

“Yes? Who is it?”

“Is Michael home? Is he all right?” Who belonged to these eyes?

“You are Mma Michael.” Not a question.

“Yes, what has happened?” The eyes disappeared.

“Michael, it is your momma.”

The door clicked shut. What is this? The door is closed on me? Sanderson knocked again. Michael's voice, muffled by the closed door. “I am here, Ma. Coming.” The door swung open again, all the way.

“Michael, are you ill? The men downstairs are saying you did not come to work today.” Sanderson lifted herself up on tiptoes and tried to peek into the room behind her son.

Michael smiled and stepped aside to let her in. “Sorry, come in.”

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Michael had the blinds drawn. Why do this in the middle of the day? Then she saw the girl, the young woman, the owner of the eyes at the door earlier.

“Ma, this is Sekgele Andersen. You know her father.”

“You are the daughter of the Hyena Man. Yes, I see.” Did she?

The girl nodded and dropped her gaze to the floor.

“So, Michael…?”

“Sekgele and I, we are—”

“I think I am old enough to see what you two are about, Michael. But, are you well enough and…can you be safe with this girl?”

In a country which struggled with AIDS, the whole area of human sexuality and relationships had acquired an entirely different focus than in most other places.

“We are protected, if that is what you are asking, and before you go there, no, her father does not know.”

“He must be told, Michael. He has a right to know.”

“He will not allow it because of the AIDS, Ma. Sekgele and I, we are in love and this is what we must do.”

“No, I am sorry, Michael, but this is not what you must do. You must be honest with Sekgele's father. He is a respectable man and has the right to know. He raised you by himself, Sekgele. It could not have been an easy thing for him. If the situation were reversed, I would want to know.”

“We can talk of this later. Are you to visit or to play momma with me?”

“You be careful how you say that, Mister. You may be a big man now but, I was the one who changed your nappies. You can repair an engine but, I taught you how to use a spoon.”

“Yes, Ma. Sorry. What else can I do?”

“So, okay, I came to ask a favor. I am driving one of our older Game Ranger vehicles. It has lost its doors. They came loose and were removed for fear they would drop off while the truck was moving and be broken past fixing. I have put in many work orders and nothing has happened. It is parked downstairs. Can you help me and replace the doors on the truck?”

“Ah. So, here is what we will do. I do you a favor and you do me one. I will fix this truck and you will allow me to inform Rra Andersen in my own way and time. Okay?”

Sanderson shook her head and looked at the girl. She was very pretty and, downcast eyes or not, she looked like she had her share of brains. Sanderson realized this must be something that Michael and the girl had to work out on their own. She turned to Michael, considered her answer. Her heart said no, her brain said yes. “Okay, then, but you must promise to do what you know you must do and soon.”

“I will.”

“So, the grinning I received from those panel beaters downstairs was about you and…I see. Are you not missed?”

“I am assigned engines fulltime now, Ma. I am moving up in the world.”

“You are being silly.”

“No, no, it is true. These cars coming here from Japan have sophisticated computer systems. I have taken the course and now I am the man they turn to on the newer models. Also, I am paid more. Soon, I will have enough to buy a little house and leave this noisy flat.”

“Is this true? I am proud of you Michael, but…” Sanderson didn't quite know how to say or what came next. How long would this relation last if the disease returned? Was this pretty girl up to nursing a sick man? Had Sanderson been? Well, not at first, but she had adapted and she learned. Sekgele had strength, she knew, but enough?

“The ‘but' you are struggling to say is, I don't know. I feel fine. HAART is working. I am not unusual in this, Ma. Many of us with HIV are growing stronger. We have limitations with some of the things, make that many things we can do, but the future looks pretty good to me.”

“But…?”

“Another ‘but,' yes. Okay, I am sorry, Ma. I will be a wonderful uncle. But, you must look to Mpitle if you want grandchildren. I know this is not what you want, but it is the facts, no matter what I do. Sekgele knows this and is okay with it.”

“I read where there are ways to…maybe as low as two percent of the babies are—”

“It is not something they can do here, Ma, and unless it was zero percent, I would not do it. It would mean that Sekgele…I would not wish this disease on anyone.”

“No, of course not.” Sanderson's heart ached. “Very well, Michael. Call me when you can do the repairs. Oh, I am so sorry, Sekgele, I did not introduce myself properly. How do you do? Now that was awkward. I am happy for you and Michael. I am the mother and it is the way we operate sometimes. You will please forgive me for seeming rude. I didn't mean to be. It is just—”

“I understand, Mma Michael.”

Sanderson smiled. “Yes, you do. I can see that. So, you will tell me if there is any…well, you know.”

The girl looked up and her face lit up with a grin that could melt anyone's heart. “I will Mma Michael,” she said and rushed over and hugged Sanderson. “I love him, Ma.”

“Go on you two. Listen, you both will come Sunday for dinner, yes? I will ask my friend Modise to join us and you can tell me everything. Now, I think I am in the way of some unfinished business.”

Sanderson went back down the stairs and to her truck. She had to admit that Michael seemed healthy, and happy. That Sekgele seemed a nice girl and also seemed happy. All that got Sanderson to worrying. Mothers are only happy when they worry about their children.

Chapter Thirteen

The Air Botswana BAe 146, blue and white paint gleaming, touched down in Kasane late in the afternoon. Greshenko stood in the baking noonday sun next to the casino van and waited. In spite of the heat, he wore a black suit, shirt, and tie. The differences in the fabrics of each caused the light to reflect variously, creating the effect of three shades of black, were such a thing possible. He'd told Leo he looked like Hollywood's idea of a mobster. Leo said that was the whole idea. His appearance should attract attention, which was the point. It would make it easy for his new playmates to find him and for Modise to keep track. Yuri groused a bit and said something that sounded obscene or it may have been Russian, probably both. The sun seemed particularly unrelenting and the reek of kerosene made him queasy. He exhaled, pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face. He felt the presence of others, like himself, who were not there to greet passengers, but to watch. Lenka would have his people in the small crowd of greeters. So would Modise. The presence of the latter was supposed to make him feel safe. It didn't.

The Bratva boss had not taken it well when Greshenko told him the police had questioned him. He already knew that, of course, but wanted to know what they were after and what, if anything, they already knew. Yuri had told him they were aware of Lenka's plans to muscle in on the Chobe hotels, but didn't know the details. But then, anybody who had been paying attention to what had been going on for the last month or so could have figured that much out. He'd added that the police did not know about his own plans, either. Yuri felt sure that remark had thrown Lenka off stride. So, he had plowed on and added, almost as an afterthought, he would not be interested in anything Lenka had to say as he had business of his own to attend to. There'd been a short silence and the line went dead. Lenka would wonder about the reasons why Yuri Greshenko, whom he thought to be his to do with as he pleased, had become so independent. How did that happen? Yuri was sure he would not take the snub lightly but, if he knew anything, he knew how a Bratva mind worked and he knew Lenka would wait and see what it was that had emboldened the person he'd believed was under his thumb to defy him before he moved against him.

Yuri pulled out a dry handkerchief (not black) and mopped his brow again. It wasn't as much a matter of nerves as leaving his back unguarded. He might have missed something about Lenka and if he had, he could expect to hear the pop of a silenced pistol and feel the shock of a bullet at any moment. It would not be a new experience and certainly one he did not wish to repeat. He put that thought aside and turned his attention to the passengers alighting from the plane.

A mixture of a few business types and many tourists dressed in what they must have assumed to be proper safari wear stepped onto the tarmac and made their way to the vans marked with hotel names on their doors. Six men, all in their late thirties or early forties, peeled off from the crowd and walked toward Yuri. They waved and smiled as if they were meeting an old friend, a colleague. In truth, none of them had ever laid eyes on Yuri except for the photographs Leo had sent them by e-mail with instructions about how they were to behave when they arrived. As they drew nearer, they greeted Yuri in Russian and piled into the van while making as much noise within the bounds of normal as they could. Yuri drove them to the casino.

The game was on.

***

Sanderson had to stop at the airport. A package delivery had arrived and one which required her urgent attention, Charles Tlalelo had said. She knew Charles always exaggerated, but she didn't want to take a chance and miss something important. He also told her that her policeman had called and would try to reach her later. She was sorry she'd missed that call. She started to call Modise and then changed her mind. That must be for another time. She was on duty and had to adhere to stricter standards than the others. It was the price she paid for being a woman in a man's job. That is how it was put to her. Progress was slow coming to the Chobe, for sure. The package turned out to be new patches for the Game Park Guides uniforms and surely not the hurry-up job Charles imagined, but she did catch sight of Kgabo Modise. He seemed preoccupied with watching a man in a black suit who was busy greeting six suspicious-looking men. They seemed very friendly and after much backslapping, they drove off in the new casino's van. Modise remained in place until they were out of sight and then made a call on his mobile. He started to walk toward a car Sanderson recognized as belonging to the Army. The Army? Modise is working with them? She caught his eye and waved. He smiled and changed course so that their paths would cross.

“So, Kgabo Modise, you are here to see the planes and their passengers or is it official business, then?”

“Some of the passengers are of official interest, you could say, yes, and one or two of those who come to greet them.”

“The man in the silly black suit of clothes, isn't that the Russian who works for the American at the casino?

“It is. He is a person of interest to me.”

“Oh, yes? In that case, I will not disturb you in your duties.” She turned to leave.

“You are leaving? Wait, I have done what I came to do at this place. It is hot, don't you think?”

“Sorry? Hot? It is the Chobe, Modise. Unless it rains, which is almost never, it is always hot here.”

“Yes, of course. I was thinking that perhaps, if you have time, a cold drink might be a nice thing to have about now.”

“Oh, you are speaking of that sort of hot. So, you have a place in mind where this cold drink might be found?”

“This is the place where the romantic hero says, ‘Your place or mine?' and they go off together.”

“My place is a rondeval with a tin roof and a not-so-big extension. It is definitely not available. So?”

“And mine is a government building I share with others.”

“You are not at a hotel this time?”

“No. The government is economizing. We have a rented house in Kasane now.”

“The restaurant at the Mowana. It is the closest.”

“As I said, economizing, and it would be best if I am not so obvious a person in the area just now. For sure, I do not think I should hang around that particular hotel. Perhaps I can visit a bottle shop and they will supply us with ice and something appropriate for midday, and you can show me the park. I wish to see it as you do, not as a tourist.”

“You will need some very good luck to find ice, Modise, but the park is the place for privacy, for sure, just you, me, and a thousand elephants.”

“You are being so romantic.”

“We must all economize, it seems. There is a place down by the river which in the afternoon will have a breeze and fewer mosquitoes than anywhere else I know. We will slather ourselves with repellant and have our sundowner, only it will be at noon.”

“And hot.”

“And no ice.”

“Yes.”

“Isn't there a little bar attached to the Chobe Game Lodge that looks out on Sududu Island that serves drinks?

“There is, and I know the place. Do you suppose they are open in the afternoon?”

“We will find that out.”

***

Lenka's man drove to the Mowana Lodge and rang his boss. They met outside. Lenka kept his local people separate from his public appearances.

“What have you got for me, Kindo?”

“The Greshenko person met six other men at the airport. They all spoke in Russian.”

“You're sure it was Russian?”

Kindo scratched his head and cocked an eyebrow over his good eye. “I think so. I do not know Russian, but I do know it was not English. I do not think it was French or Spanish. I have heard those people speak and it did not sound like that. They sounded like you when you speak to the old lady.”

“The what?”

“Your woman.”

“Why did you call her the ‘old lady'?”

“Oh, so sorry. It is how we speak of the men's women. It is a term of respect, Rra Lenka.”

“Well, I don't like it. You will call her Mma Davidova from now on. ‘Mma' is what you say, am I correct?”

“Yes, sir, we do most of the time. Some European ladies do not like that any better than the ‘old lady.' They want us to say Missus.”

“Well, you call her Mma Davidova unless I tell you otherwise. Tell me about the men Greshenko met. What did they look like?”

“Um…They looked like you.”

“Me? They looked like me? How did they look like me?

“They were white, tall, and…um…”

“What?”

“Mean.”

“Ah. I guess Greshenko is not what he said he was. He is not just here hoping to escape a life in the gangs. He lied. He must have an organization of his own. He was feeling me out. So, not so stupid, that one.”

“Sir?”

“Never mind. See Cszepanski about your pay and stay in touch. I may need you again soon. Do you know how to fire a gun?”

“Oh, yes, I can do that.”

“Good, then you can stick around.”