Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 02 (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

“What was that all about?” Sanderson asked an equally puzzled Charles Tlalelo. “He went out of here like his britches were on fire.”

A spark of comprehension flickered in Charles eyes. He grinned. “Perhaps they were.”

“What are you going on about, Charles? What do you know of this?” Sanderson felt left out. She did not like it. Men, she thought, had ways of communicating that sometimes sailed over her head and it annoyed her. In truth, she realized that her sex was often accused, rightly, of the same mystery, but that did not make it any easier for her.

“The ladies in the cinema recording, Sanderson. I said they did not seem to be ‘naturalists.’ I meant they did not strike me as people who were qualified to study animals in the wild. Then Modise said—”

“I heard what he said, Charles, but I am thinking not as you did.”

“He said I was right and I was wrong. You see? The women were naturalists in the other sense of the meaning.”

“You have lost me.”

“The French I was required to learn in school would put it,
au natural
. They were recorded in the state of nature and…”

Sanderson blushed and understood. “They were making filthy pictures, you think?”

“Most certainly. I think it is now safe for you to book this equipment permanently into our inventory. Those
cinema people will not be returning to claim their cameras and tapes unless they wish to spend some important time in prison.”

Sanderson shook her head and wondered at the male sex in general. What sort of people made such films and why did men seem to crave them? Did they not have someone to visit, someone of their own at home to love?

“What is it about that which so fascinates men?” she asked, not really expecting a reply.

“It is difficult to say, Sanderson. But since the world gifted us with the internet, it is there for anyone who wishes it.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Just type in any word, the more specific, I should say the more graphic, the better. And there you will have pictures, videos, names and addresses, and opportunities to spend money, download, meet someone who says she shares your interests…whatever you wish.”

“Amazing. This is true?” Charles nodded. Sanderson inspected
his expression for traces of guilt. She saw some and assumed he spoke from experience.

“Imagine, Charles, the trouble the poor man who forgot to retrieve the cassettes and cameras found himself in when they cleared out of here. His boss could not have been happy with him, for sure.”

Charles nodded but his eyes told her his thoughts seemed far away. Sanderson let out an exasperated snort. “You are as bad as the rest of them, Charles.”

“What? What am I? Sanderson, what do you mean?”

Sanderson waved him away. Men!

***

“There is a policeman up from Gabz, Mr. Botlhokwa. He has been to all the lodges and to the police station. I do not think it is a good thing.”

“He can know nothing of any of the business with the man in the park. Someone shot him and that person cannot be connected to us, as we did not have anything to do with that. We only guaranteed entry to the park to the man who is now, unfortunately for him, dead. We have provided that service before and everyone knows it. What is the criminal outcome from that?”

“If they find that shooter and if they roll him over he will lead them to someone local and that someone will be one of our people.”

“Ours? Are you so sure? Then you must step up your inquiries, Noga, and find this rogue lion who is hunting in my territory. Find him and put him down.”

“I am working on it. If I can find the men who bought the information from him, I may have better luck. I am wondering if they have contacted you.”

“No. But sooner or later, Noga, they will surface, you can depend on it. I do not believe they got what they were expecting from the man, and they will soon be complaining about it to us. Then we will backtrack to our man, you see?”

“Or the police will have them first and then, whether it was our doing or not, they will be in here breaking up the furniture,”

“That will never happen. There are too many people who have invested in our, as you put it, furniture. Also, these same people will need our services in a few weeks when certain arrangements need to be made to transport certain people across the border, or away to private places without anyone the wiser. No, we have nothing to fear from the officials this day.”

“Across the border? What do you mean?” Noga quickly picked up on the not so subtle reference to important people. Rumors of the impending visit from the Americans and the Middle Eastern delegates had been discussed by nearly everyone in the area for days. This might be the time to reconnect with the Russian, but he would have to be very careful. What he needed was a quick solution to this problem of the rogue in the bush. Botlhokwa would be put to sleep, so to speak, if he could deliver this man, any man. It wouldn’t make any difference in the end who Noga ended in throwing to the dogs—anyone. Botlhokwa would be pleased that the breach had been filled, and would be less likely to notice any new activity on Noga’s part.

“All in good time, Noga. Just be ready to serve the purposes of world peace—for a price, of course.” Botlhokwa chuckled at his own joke and waved his man away. “Peace for a price. That’s a good one.”

***

“What I mean, Charles, is that I do not understand how you think about these things. I am studying your face and all I see is a far away stare. You have conjured up in your mind how these ladies may have appeared naked, have you not?”

“Certainly not.” Charles face took on an expression of shock. Sanderson was not impressed.

“No? Describe them to me, the women as you remember them. Were they white or colored?”

“They were white. They were Swedish, I think, or from that part of the world where women have that yellow hair and big…blue eyes.”

“Swedish? You are sure of that?”

“No, I…they were definitely white women,
ntle
even, but the men were not.”

“Not? Not beautiful or not white? How did they look then?”

“Asian or something along those lines. Not typical white men.”

“I see. So, how are you imagining those women now, Charles?”

“Sanderson, that is not fair. I am a game ranger like you. I only am concerned for the problems those cinema people may have created with the animals.”

“And I am thinking that you look like one of those men who travel to Swaziland each year or to Nongoma and King Zwelithimi’s Emyoken, pretending to be Zulu so that you can witness the Reed Dance and all the young girls dancing with their breasts exposed.”

“Why would you think such a thing, Sanderson, I would never do that. They expose their…chests at that dance?”

“Fifteen thousand of them, perhaps many more, it is reported. Dancing as near to naked as you could care. Do not tell me you do not know of this. Shame on you, Charles.”

Chapter Fifteen

Modise waited for Superintendent Mwambe to finish his sulk and return to the office. He knew the big policeman wished he would go away, knew he resented what he assumed to be interference from the capital, but he could not concern himself with Mwambe’s petulance now. Something about this murder in the park did not add up and the sooner he or Mwambe’s people unraveled it, the better. The vehicle had been carrying orgonite rubbish and who would steal that? There were people, he knew, who had no patience with this business. He numbered himself among them, but surely no one would kill a carrier of the materials to stop it. Arrest, harass, humiliate them, yes, but murder? It didn’t make sense. Surely Mwambe would see that. And, he had the license plate number of the men who were seen dumping the same stuff in the American’s skip. Lab tests would show if they were from the same source, but he felt he had enough for him to move forward. Suicide? What was he thinking?

He ran his hands across the desk’s smooth surface and opened a drawer or two. He saw the Zapper and recognized it for what it was. Mwambe was a believer in the benefits of orgonite. That might either explain or complicate things. He quickly closed the drawer and lifted a piece of paper from the pile on the right hand side of the desk.

Mwambe loomed in the doorway and took his seat behind his desk. “My aide informs me you wish to see me again. What is it this time?”

Modise ignored the superintendent’s rudeness and outlined what he had been thinking. Mwambe’s expression slowly transformed from irritated to curious. Modise explained that the bullet fragment found in the Land Rover’s door frame might or might not be suitable for ballistics but as the caliber made it clear it most certainly did not come from a pistol. Further, the orgonite in the rear of the vehicle might or might not be from the same source as that from the skip. So, not a suicide and evidently linked to something else. If they knew what, they might have a lead to follow.

“But, it doesn’t matter at this point, Superintendent. What we must do is find these men who disposed of the orgonite and question them. They do not need to know what we can or cannot prove, you see?”

“And how,” Mwambe grumbled, “are we to find these men who were seen at the American casino? Surely you do not think they are cruising about on the streets of Kasane.”

“Ah, that is where we are lucky. I have a license plate number. It is South African and perhaps stolen or from a rental vehicle, but it is a start. You can have your people trace it, put out a bulletin for patrols to look for it. You know the drill.”

“I do. Let me have that number and we will see.”

“Good. Now, there is one other thing. Sanderson has found a breach in the park fence close to Kasane. It appears this is the spot where the murdered man came into the park.”

“You wish me to send a detachment to seal the fence? That would be Sanderson’s duty, I think.”

“No, I don’t want it sealed. I think we should pretend to know nothing of it. I believe it would be better to have her put it under surveillance and see who else comes through.”

“A break in the fence makes no sense. You are from the south. You do not know these parts as I do, Modise. What reason some person has come up with for cutting the fence I cannot imagine, but it is a silly idea. The park is crisscrossed with tracks where guides drive their safari trucks. The airport is within the parks boundaries, for heaven’s sake. This is a wide open range. Anyone can,
if they wish, and with the proper vehicle and a map, drive into the park and onto these tracks and go where they wish, do what they wish. As long as they do not tempt the animals, of course.”

“That is true?”

“Nearly enough. A gap in the fence near Kasane is for convenience, I am thinking. It is for people from outside the area, foreigners and so on, who do not know better. They would need to be directed and someone like…well, someone who trades in illegalities, you could say, would use that entrance for his clients who would most likely be ignorant of the nature of the park. Our local malefactors will know their ways in and out, and certainly need no help of that sort.”

“You were about to say a name. You said ‘someone like’ and then stopped. Who were you about to point a finger at?”

“Rra Botlhokwa came to mind. But we have not been able to prove anything against him as yet. And he has friends in high places, I am led to believe. We are not going to accuse him of anything without a very strong case.”

“Fair enough. What other local illegal activities were you hinting at?”

“We have occasional poachers. They come in from the Caprivi and Zimbabwe, of course. The safari guides will tip them off if they see sick animals, cats mostly, and they slip in and help the poor beast out of his misery. They will leave the carcass for the
manong
and
dipheri,
the scavengers.” Mwambe shook his head at thought of vultures and hyenas worrying a carcass. Modise shuddered at the image of scavengers dining on it. “Poaching has picked up since the president left the Army in others’ hands. When he ran the army it was poachers beware, for certain,” Mwambe said.

“With the probable influx of rich tourists in June, will they be more active?”

“I believe that is a thing that goes without saying, Modise. It is supply and demand. Rich tourists always have peculiar tastes in what they will pay money for. There are men who still wish to bag the big five.”

“Big five?”

“Yes. To shoot one of each, a leopard, a lion, a rhinoceros, an elephant, and a cape buffalo. These are the most difficult animals to hunt on foot. It used to be a rite of passage you could say, among the rich and idle. I thought you would know that.”

“My mistake. I did know, my mind was elsewhere on arrests and so on. Go on.”

“The hunting, however, will be done elsewhere. Zimbabwe or perhaps Angola, but not here. Too dangerous if caught. It is not an activity where a bribe will buy a blind eye and a deaf ear. Still, they must get to the hunting grounds and back again with protected material so…well, there will be opportunities. And then there are the odd things others want. Well, the Asians and Arabs, for example, they will go for the odd bits and pieces. Strange people.”

“That is true. Well, I leave it to you to monitor the locals who facilitate these activities and also a keep a sharp eye on our devious friend, Rra Botlhokwa. Also, we will monitor the gap, and perhaps post some motion-sensitive cameras in the park to find these people and any new ones who, I have no doubt in my mind, will arrive in your town any day now.”

Mwambe nodded his assent. He held up the paper with the license number and raised his eyebrows in a question.

“Yes, certainly, let’s get that looked into, Superintendent. I have a feeling that if we can bring these men in, we will save ourselves a pile of trouble in the future.”

Mwambe stood to leave, but not before letting his gaze roam across his desk behind which Modise had ensconced himself. It was an invitation for the interloper from Gaborone to leave and return the station to its rightful leader. Modise shrugged and stood.

“One last thing, Superintendent Mwambe. I am hoping you can put aside your dislike for Sanderson the game ranger sufficiently to work with her on these intrusions into the park. You understand I am here on the direct orders of the DG and H. E., the President. It will not do to have any disruption of this operation. Certainly not for personal reasons.” Modise took his leave without waiting for a reply. Mwambe had the message. It would be up to him how he responded, and if the response would allow him to retain his office or find himself in early retirement.