Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 02 (21 page)

Chapter Forty-two

Modise arrived a little after noon. He carried a cake in a box. Sanderson retrieved her battered lunchbox and they settled at her desk. While they ate, Modise ran the number from the pick-up through the motor vehicle registration system. It turned out to be a rental from a company specializing in used, cheap to lease trucks and cars—very popular with border crossers. The names on the forms were probably fake but Modise ran them through Interpol anyway.

“What do you think those men were doing in the park?” Sanderson wanted to talk but did not trust herself to venture anything more than the business at hand.

“You noticed when they entered, there was a load of some sort in the back covered with a tarpaulin.”

She had not. She’d been so outraged at the thought of people intruding into the park illegally that she’d concentrated on the men rather than the truck. She nodded anyway.

“Good. And when they left, the bed was empty.”

“So, you are saying they were bringing something into the park, not removing something.”

Well of course. Why was she babbling away like this? Before last night she could speak to this man almost as an equal. But now…?

“Precisely. The question for us to figure out is, what was the something?”

“I am slow here, Modise. What?”

“If they were smugglers or poachers, the reverse would be the case, would it not? They would have something in the truck bed on the way out, not the way in.”

That made sense. But what could that be? “You were telling me about that orgonite business associated with the murder. Could this be more of that? Only this time they were successful? They were in the park for a long time. Perhaps they were placing the orgonite in the park in different places.”

“Of course. That is brilliant, Sanderson. You must be right.”

Two minutes ago I’m acting like a thirteen-year-old school girl around the star of the football team and now I am suddenly brilliant. “How can we find out? Oh, I can drive about in the park and see if I can find these things, some of them anyway.”

“It is a big park, Sanderson. It would be like the needle in the haystack, I am thinking.”

“True enough, but it is my park and I have an edge on anyone else who would want to search. I know where you can drive about easily and where not. I am guessing that unless there was a careful plan, these men followed an easy path here and there in their travels in the park.”

“Do you have time for that?”

“I will make time this afternoon. It is, after all, a serious intrusion into the park.”

Modise wiped some powdered sugar from his lips and dropped the cake wrappings in the bin beside the desk. “You do that. I will ask Mwambe to put out a search for this truck and have it apprehended.”

He stood and before she could react, leaned forward and kissed her quickly on the mouth. If she hadn’t been sitting, she would have collapsed. She looked out into the corridor to see if anyone had witnessed it. He stood to leave but she grabbed his sleeve, pulled him back down, and returned the kiss. She smiled.

“Do we need another business meeting, Kgabo?”

“I will call you. There are things I must attend to and I might have to fly back to Gaborone later.”

“The Old House is very nice if you get there before the truck drivers.” She didn’t know if the truckers ate early or late or if at all at the Old House. But she liked the early part.

“I will call.” This time he made it to the door and out.

Would he?

Sanderson wondered at her behavior. What possessed her to do that? She was becoming a fast woman. What if Mpitle had seen that? Well, so what if she was. No, that was not right either. It is all so confusing.

***

As she’d promised, she drove out to the park and approached the breach from the inside. Once at the fence she checked to make sure the intruders had fixed it firmly in place. She backed around and drove slowly back along the track, her eyes focused on the ground on either side. Fifty meters from the fence she saw where the truck—she had to assume it was the truck and not some other earlier intruder—had pulled into the bush. She swerved to the right and followed this new path. As the Land Rover edged around a low stand of brush, she saw the first of the cones. The men, it seemed had stopped here. There were a dozen of them in two rough lines corresponding to either side of the vehicle. Smart, she thought. Smart enough not to risk leaving the safety of the truck. They must have pulled the items into the cab from the back through its rear window and then dropped them on the ground out of the doors. She eased open her door and retrieved two of the cones.

She drove on. At one place, she noticed a paint smear where they must have sideswiped a tree branch. In the dark in the bush, that would be easy enough to do. Their path looped back and forth across the more beaten path used by others earlier. She found many more of the orgonite cones. She considered picking them up then decided they posed no harm to the wildlife and collecting them would be a huge waste of time. She made a point, when she could, of driving over some of them. The wheels crushed them into a flat, white pile of dust.

After the better part of three hours, she decided she’d seen enough to report the probable extent of the cones’ distribution. These men had worked very hard the night before. She noticed that there did not seem to be a pattern to the drops. Just a dozen cones, more or less, and then a space, then another dozen or so. She didn’t pretend to know about the claims made by Operation Paradise but it seemed to her that if there was some energy associated with these devices, they would be laid out in a grid of some sort or at least a geometrical pattern. Not this batch.

Did Andrew Takeda and Mwambe really believe this nonsense? People claimed it could effect great change in the nature of things. The weather, the ecology, even AIDs. That would be a good thing certainly. But such an idea that these ugly lumps of resin and black sand could do something like that was ridiculous.

She headed back to her office. She would give the cones to Modise to examine. Perhaps she would keep one for herself. As a souvenir.

Chapter Forty-three

Modise called just as the sun set to tell Sanderson some important meeting had been scheduled and he could not meet that night after all. She didn’t know whether the feeling she had was one of relief or disappointment. She and Charles Tlalelo finished reloading the cameras and stood in the trees across the road from the gap in the fence. She realized that if many more vehicles tried to pass through, the ruts would soon be too obvious even for a careless crook and a new entrance would be established. Perhaps it already existed. Was there an alternative? And if so, who used it.

“Charles, do we have enough equipment to set up surveillance at another location?”

“Yes, if we can find more of the wireless activators. There are three more cameras and motion detectors for each of them.”

“Let us drive slowly along this road. Keep your eyes on the fence, and shout if you see anything that even remotely looks suspicious.”

“Do you believe there are still more entrances?”

“It is not a matter of what I believe. It is a matter of what I think possible. That break-in last night could have been only one of many. We must be sure.”

They stopped four times to test the fence. Places where it sagged too much, or seemed loose on the post. Three kilometers further west they found a second entryway. A new one it seemed. Only a single set of tire marks coming and going were visible. There may have been more. The light was fading and she couldn’t be sure.

“Charles, mark this spot. It will be coming dark when you return. Set up a second camera here. Let’s see who else is abusing our hospitality.”

Sanderson returned home to her son and daughter and her routine. But something had changed. She had done this every night for so many years and never thought about it. Sometimes she would work late, but always the same work no matter what the hour. But since last night, it seemed so…what?…ordinary, so dull. Last night had been exciting and even dangerous. Now she discovered she had been spoiled for the everyday. Modise had shown her something new and, thereby, made her see her life for what it was. She pursed her lips. He was to blame for this.

But when she pushed through the door. Mpitle looked up from her homework and gave her a wicked look.

“Do not even begin with me, girl.”

And then there was Michael’s smile and the frustration of the moment evaporated. She carried her cone over to him and placed it beside his bed. Orgonite was probably foolishness but it couldn’t hurt. When all hope has been taken from you, you will try anything to bring some back.

“What is that?”

“Good luck.”

***

“It should be safe enough now, Jack. It’s nearly dark.”

“Can’t be too careful, Harv. Have some more cheese crackers. We’ll wait a bit longer.”

“That car with those two men are back. I swear they look straight at us every time. They know we’re here, Jack. We should get out while we can.”

“Soon, Harv. When it’s dark, we’ll relocate to some other digs. That car salesman offered us his back room, for a price, naturally. Maybe we’ll take him up on that. What do you think?”

“The people after us will go there, won’t they? They saw the number plate.”

“Well, let’s suppose they did. How do they trace it? I reckon the coppers are on their trail same as they’re on ours. So, they can’t tap into the police for a vehicle ID. Also, remember, the bloody truck is sitting on the lot nice as you please. They may find it, but won’t expect us to still be in it.”

“It’s a risk.”

“Life’s a risk. If it ain’t why bother to keep on breathing?”

***

Noga woke. The room had become dark. When had he dropped off? The ropes still cut into his wrists and his wounds screamed for relief. The Boers were back. No luck finding their prey, apparently. He listened to their excuses trying to gauge if their failure had bought him some more time. He didn’t know why, but they had not killed him yet so there must be some connection somewhere.

“No, you did not find them. We know. Our other people did.”

“Other people? They are more than Hans and me working here? Why is that? We don’t need other people.”

“No, of course you don’t. You geniuses are the aces of criminal efficiency. First you fall for a stupid switch by that man over there.”

Noga assumed they must mean him.

“Then you shoot an innocent man in the park for no reason. Then you kill a policeman and another innocent. You go to the men who have our merchandise, and you are talked out of it. And you say you don’t need help? I don’t know who hired you or why, but I am thinking I might have to find some other line of endeavor for you two.”

“But what are these others doing, and why are they in a position to find the man?”

Noga heard a sigh. The tall man was clearly at his rope’s end with these two. Now would be a good time to offer an alternative.

“You need to understand only this. We control all ends of every deal that happens. We loaned these two men the money to buy the minerals. When they were successful in wresting it from us in the Congo, we became the buyers. So, either way, we win.”

“Then why are we looking for them when you know you will have the stuff eventually anyway?”

The lead voice muttered something that definitely didn’t sound like a compliment.

“We do not want to buy it. We will take it and then they will still owe us money. We will have them by the…how do you say?”

“Bollocks,” Noga croaked.

“You see, even our guest understands this, yes?”

“I can help you.”

“Can you now, and how will you do that? You see how it is? He is scheming to save his life. He thinks he has something we need or want, and his life is worth it. Isn’t that so, Mr. Snake?”

“It is. I have much more to offer you than these thick Dutchmen, believe me.”

“Oh, I believe that. A baboon has more to offer than these two. But they work for me. You don’t. So they live and you will die.”

“You’ll kill me before you know what I know? That does not sound like the group I thought you must represent. They are professionals.”

“And we are not?”

“You said it yourself, booted the park job, killed a constable, lost the coltan, and now police are combing the villages looking for you. If that sounds professional, I’m talking to the wrong people.”

“We shall see. What do you know that is worth your life?”

“Untie me, give me a drink, then get these two tree stumps out of my sight and I will tell you.”

Chapter Forty-four

The sun hovered on the horizon and then dipped below it. In the growing darkness, Modise met the American plane at Kasane Airport. A small jet; Modise did not know his airplanes. It could have been a Cessna or a Lear or something French, but as it belonged to the United States government the latter seemed unlikely. Three people ducked out of the plane and wobbled down the stairs that had been dropped for them by a man in uniform. The pilot probably. They spoke for a moment and then walked across the tarmac toward him. This meeting had been the cause of his missing another evening with Sanderson. His mind began to drift, and he forced himself to refocus on the task at hand. He’d already called Painter and he and Greshenko were waiting. The difficulty lay in entering the nearly finished casino without anyone noticing. It would be hard to mistake this crowd for casual tourists.

“Modise,” the director general said, “do you know Anna Tarbel? She is the American presence on this undertaking.” Modise extended his hand. She did the same, her left hand lightly touching her elbow. Nice. “And this is Jamal Mosawi from Dubai. He will be a participant in this charade as well, the Arab bit.” Modise shook his hand as well. He sensed a certain tension between the American and the man from Dubai. Because she was a woman or because she was American? He guessed a little of both and he did not want to know in any case.

Modise walked them across the empty tarmac. The plane would wait for them, or as many of them as necessary, to fly them back to Gaborone that night. Modise had arranged for a delivery van to carry them to the hotel.

“I am sorry about the ride,” he said, “but Mr. Painter, who, it turns out, is a very observant gentleman for his age, spotted a suspicious automobile at his gate. We checked the registration and it is a company car belonging to Nexus Aviation. So, I felt it reasonable to assume he is under observation by the people we are concerned about one way or another, and therefore it is necessary we not be seen entering or leaving.”

“Very clever, Mr. Modise,” Anna Tarbel said. The Arab grunted, whether signaling approval or dismay, he could not tell.

“It will be making several deliveries this night. One to the Mowana Lodge where your room is booked, Ms. Tarbel. Your people are waiting for you there and will help with the…”

Modise paused. How much did the Arab know? The director general touched his knee lightly.

“Other arrangements,” he finished. In the darkened van, he thought he caught a frown cross Mosawi’s forehead. Need to know? He’d check later. He had the van back up to a covered loading dock and the party alighted and moved quietly into the casino’s lobby. The twilight and a very dim view of the hotel allowed them to exit with out being seen.

Painter and Greshenko, both looking ill at ease, greeted them and shook hands as the party was introduced.

“Mr. Painter, I think we have you to thank for this alert.” The DG said, and pulled a pen and notebook from inside of his jacket. “We are grateful, of course, to you, Mr. Greshenko. You are doubtless under a lot of stress, I am sure. I am sorry I cannot ease that very much at this time. It is enough to know that whether we proceed this way, or as your former colleagues wished, the stress level would be the same. At least you know that you have done the right thing.”

Greshenko did not appear convinced. He’d learned survival on the other side of the fence. On this side, the legal side, he had fewer options. Botswana did not allow private firearms except in certain situations and circumstances. Modise suspected that Painter’s friend felt naked and vulnerable. He wouldn’t put it past Painter to have remedied the gun situation in his own way. He hoped not, but who could blame him?

The company sat in what would soon be the main gaming room. Greshenko described the installation of the electronic listening devices in the hotel to them. Tarbel asked a series of technical questions that persuaded Modise that if this plan had any chance of working, she was the one to do it.

“Show me the equipment you are to place in the United States’
rooms.”

Greshenko made an array of items that looked nothing like what Modise had expected. The truth, he didn’t know what to expect. His experience with this sort of thing was limited to some of his training years ago at Quantico, and a few raids on houses in the newer area in Phakalane outside Gaborone. The set-up then had been pretty old school. Nothing as sophisticated as these bits and pieces, some no larger than a straight pin.

“That is a microphone?”

The woman looked up and smiled. “Lovely, isn’t it? And it can pick up sounds as far away as thirty feet…nine or ten meters. And this,” she lifted a small cylinder the diameter of a pencil and shorter than his first knuckle, “is the camera to go with it.”

Modise was impressed. “It is amazing. The miniaturization, I mean.”

“Yes it is, but Mr. Mosawi will tell you that this is last year’s technology.”

Mosawi smiled for the first time. This Tarbel was no fool, Modise thought. She just bought him.

“Oh yes, Inspector, now it is even much smaller. But this is very good, very good. Mr. Greshenko, the apparatus in your rooms is similar?”

Greshenko nodded. “Nearly so. Some of it is older but it is all quite good.”

“I think,” the DG said, “that it would be a good idea to recap for us exactly what you were asked to do, Mr. Greshenko. You told Mr. Painter, who then summarized your understanding of the situation to Modise, who then spoke to me and, well, you see, there is some distance between the beginning of this narrative and its end. It would be tragic if we were to proceed under a misunderstanding.”

“Yes, of course.” Greshenko looked nervously around the room. He let out a sigh and began. “My former colleagues, if that is what they are, called me to Gaborone. I met with them and they required of me a certain task.”

“Excuse me for interrupting, Mr. Greshenko, but do you have any idea…was there any indication which branch of the
Bratva
they represented?”

“It might have been Bout or what is left of his organization, but I think it was this new operator, Oleg Lenka. The man who spoke to me was an old
apparatchik
, you know, from Soviet days.”

“Sorry, go on with your story.”

“Yes. Well, they threatened to expose me to the Russian and Botswana authorities. That would be you, I suppose, if I did not cooperate.”

The DG nodded and indicated Greshenko should continue.

“The task is, or I should say was, to plant listening devices and cameras in the rooms in this hotel where the Arab visitors would be staying as I have just outlined for you. Then I was to use the money they gave me to bribe my way into the Mowana Lodge and perform the same operation in the rooms to be used by the American delegation, particularly the secretary of state. The first part of the job is complete. I have not attempted the second part of the mission, as you know.”

“And what of the money? What were you to do with the surplus, assuming there was any?”

“Return it. Of course, they will expect me to skim a little. It is the custom.”

“Very well, here is the valise. We calculated what it might have required in bribes and removed that amount. The remainder, minus
your skim, you may return to your controller. And good luck with that.” The director general thanked Painter and Greshenko and gestured toward the door. “This is the end of the story for you two gentlemen. We will take it from here. It is unwise for you to know any more than you do. Mr. Greshenko, when the set-up has been completed in the Mowana lodge we will let you know so that you can contact…what are we to call those people?”

“
Agents provocateurs
,” Tarbel suggested.

“Too soft, too intellectual, Ms. Tarbel, with respect. They are a threat to the security of this nation and perhaps to the larger world. No, I think something grittier would be more appropriate.”

“Hyenas,” Modise said.

“Very good, Modise. Precisely. Hyenas scavenge after bigger animals. They pick on the weak and the unwary, and they are also entirely unpleasant. Yes, we will let you know when we are done so you can contact your hyenas.”

“Not so fast, Mr. Director General.” Leo Painter stood arms akimbo at the door. A man on first name basis with senators, federal judges, and at least one ex-president was not satisfied with the dismissal. “What happens to Yuri? You can’t just let him twist in the wind.”

“We will do what we can, Mr. Painter. You need to know this much, no more. Ms. Tarbel here will see to the installation of the equipment. It will be up and running by tomorrow, we hope. If so, you may inform your contacts then, Greshenko. It will function perfectly. The listeners, whom we assume in the end will be Russian intelligence, will hear and see all—the arrival of the party, some disingenuous conversation—and so on. Then, within an hour or so, the signal will be jammed.”

“Jammed? How jammed? This will bring holy hell down on Yuri’s head.”

“No, no. They will learn that a leak opened in their system. It appears that your CIA has been dealing with a former associate of Igor Sechin for some time. The information was turned up quite coincidentally.”

“You think they will believe that?”

“There is precious little loyalty in the dark side of the Russian intelligence community, it seems. Do not fear, the CIA is, in fact working with this man and the leak will be verified. You, Mr. Greshenko, will be in the clear. What will happen after this, however, I cannot say. They will either discard you, or return for more favors. Unless we can expunge this Lenka organization from the country, you will remain at risk. For what it’s worth, I suspect you knew this day would eventually come. It seems it has and that will have to do for now.”

With apparent reluctance, Painter and Greshenko left the room. Tarbel reached into her briefcase, removed a scanner, and proceeded to insure that Greshenko had not bugged this room as well. Satisfied he had not, she nodded and Modise and the remaining members of the party sorted the equipment and settled on the operational plan.

Tarbel carrying a suitcase of equipment was “delivered” by van to the Mowana Lodge, the DG and the agent from Dubai to the airport. At midnight, Modise found himself alone in his room at the Marina Lodge, He resisted the temptation to call Sanderson. He poured a night cap, finished it, and turned in.

When his light went out, the men standing in the shadows across the areaway stretched and left. Their replacements would resume the watch in the morning.