The Death of the Mantis (30 page)

“Anything’s possible. I’d be very surprised, though. It’s just
another wild goose chase.”

Kubu grunted. “Haake had an old map. We think it might go back
to a man called Hans Schwabe.”

“Schwabe? Another treasure hunter? With a treasure map? Grow up,
Mr Bengu.”

“Well, it has what appears to be a geological map on one side.
Could I fax it to you and get your opinion?”

“A geology map? Well, that might be of more interest. Sure, fax
it to me.”

Kubu’s thoughts turned to the Namib Mining Company. He asked Dr
Waskowski if he knew of it.

“Yes, I believe so. A junior exploration company. It’s looking
for uranium in the Kaokoveld, I think. Appears legitimate. I
wouldn’t put my money there, though. Uranium’s past its peak.”

“They wouldn’t have an interest in diamonds? Do you think if
they came across a rich find, they might try to keep it secret?
Mine it on the sly?”

Waskowski laughed. “Hardly! You don’t understand junior mining
companies, Assistant Superintendent. Their bread and butter is
mining the stock exchange, not the earth. An announcement of a big
discovery is their bonanza. Shares shoot up, they’re able to raise
lots of cash, dish out bonuses. Their idea of keeping something
under wraps is to invite only ten mining analysts to the briefing!”
Waskowski laughed again, enjoying his little joke. “And what would
they do with the diamonds anyway? You’ve heard of the Kimberley
Process? Every legitimate diamond is tracked from where it’s mined
until it ends up in a piece of jewellery. It’s like a pedigree.
They’d have no way to sell their diamonds outside that process.
Complete waste of time.”

Kubu sighed. So much for his idea of the Namib Mining Company
being behind all this.

But Waskowski wasn’t finished. “Now if you had a gang of
smugglers or the like, and the diamonds were close to the surface,
that would be a different story. For a few individuals, there could
be real money in it. The Kalahari has kimberlites all right. No
reason why someone couldn’t stumble on a small, rich lode somewhere
in the middle of nowhere.”

“But wouldn’t they also come up against the Kimberley
Process?”

“Of course. But if you get something for nothing, anything you
sell it for is a good profit.”

Kubu realised that the Walrus might have given him what he
needed to convince Mabaku. His heart beat a little faster.

“Dr Waskowski, you’ve been a big help. Thank you very much.”

“Always happy to help the police.” The line went dead.

Kubu hung up, his mind in high gear. Pieces of the puzzle were
clicking into place now, but something still worried him. It was as
if the pieces fitted perfectly, but the picture they made wasn’t
really the same as the one on the front of the box. Yet he couldn’t
find the flaw. He shrugged off his doubts. Let’s try it on Mabaku,
he decided.

♦

“Diamond smugglers!” Mabaku actually jumped out of his chair.
Kubu enjoyed that. He had always wondered just how it would look.
“That changes the whole case.”

Kubu nodded. “It could be a gang, exploiting the Bushman issue
to cover up the murders of anyone who stumbles across what they’re
doing. And the area is supposed to be unlucky, so the Bushmen keep
away.”

Mabaku snorted. “But three murders?”

Kubu shook his head. “Edison has been following up any unusual
deaths in the area. There is at least one more, probably three. And
one long ago. But that doesn’t fit with this, of course.” Mabaku
looked puzzled, so Kubu continued. He spread his topographic map on
Mabaku’s desk, pushing the director’s paperwork out of the way. The
map had two new crosses marked on it, and a dotted line and a solid
line running through part of the region.

“This spot” – Kubu pointed to one of the crosses – “is
where a prospector by the name of Herman Koch died twelve years
ago. Also looking for diamonds, it seems. Not close to where Monzo
or Haake died, but not that far from Krige. Is that a coincidence?
Maybe. But maybe not, because he was the previous owner of Haake’s
map.”

“How do you know that?”

Kubu related Lerako’s conversation with the proprietor of
Berrybush Farm outside Tsabong.

“And here” – he pointed to a cross near Kang to the north
– “is where a Bushman was killed about two years ago – stabbed
multiple times and left to die. The police were unable to find any
suspects or a motive. But the victim apparently lived to the south,
around where Krige died.” Kubu’s finger moved back to where the
other murders had taken place. “Now this line is an interesting
possibility. And I must give Edison full credit for this. Nice
lateral thinking. He knew I was looking for suspicious deaths
in
the area, but he extended that to suspicious deaths
connected
with the area.

“Do you recall the case of the two botany students? They were
found dead after ingesting some Bushman poison bulb? We thought it
might be a suicide pact, but they had no history of homosexuality,
and the coroner eventually settled for death by misadventure.
Perhaps they weren’t experimenting with an hallucinogen. Perhaps
someone slipped it into their food.”

Mabaku caught on at once. “So one line is where they went
through this area collecting plants? You got the route from their
GPS?”

Kubu nodded. “Yes. We kept that data when we closed the case.
Perhaps it needs to be reopened. They drove from Gaborone to
Mabuasehube and then on to Hukuntsi. Mabuasehube was a detour. They
must have gone there for a purpose.”

For a moment Mabaku was lost, then light dawned. “You think
Monzo was on one of his fly-by-night guide jobs? With the
students?”

Kubu shrugged. “We’ll have to follow up with Monzo’s boss. But
I’ll bet they didn’t go into the area alone.”

“And what’s this line?” Mabaku pointed to the dotted line on the
map.

“That’s from Krige’s GPS. We assume he followed Haake, so it’s
Haake’s route as well. For the most part it is to the south and
west of Hukuntsi. There is just this one branch further east. Where
it stops is where Krige died. Maybe he was killed just because he
was following Haake and unwittingly went into this area. An
accidental target, so to speak. The students were to the south and
east of Hukuntsi or, more accurately, north and east of
Mabuasehube. Then they headed to Sekoma.”

“Where they died!”.

Kubu nodded. “Where they died.”

The director thought for a moment, shook his head, and then
counted off on his fingers. “Forget about the prospector. Too long
ago. A Bushman is murdered. Could be by another Bushman. Then two
students are murdered – if you are right about that – using a
poisonous hallucinogen known to the Bushmen. Then three Bushmen are
found with a dying man, but they are saved by some footprints that
later appear to be fakes. Next a man is murdered with a
knobkierie
– often used by Bushmen. Finally a man is killed
by a poisoned arrow. Do you see a common thread here?”

Kubu nodded. “But maybe someone went to a great deal of trouble
to make it look that way. And Khumanego’s worried that our strategy
of hiding our doubts about the poisoned arrow from the press could
backfire. That there might be some sort of racially motivated
attack on groups of Bushmen. He could be right. We
have
to
act quickly.”

“What happened to your theory that Haake was behind it all?”

Kubu shrugged. “It became much less likely after he was
murdered. It may still be that Haake killed Krige, but I’m
convinced there’s more to it than that.”

Kubu had played his cards. It was time to call the hand. “I want
to go out there and take a look.” Mabaku started to react, but Kubu
stopped him. “Hear me out. Khumanego has agreed to guide me. He
knows the area well. I couldn’t do better. I’ll ask Detective
Sergeant Lerako to come too. We have the GPS tracks from the
students and Krige. We can follow those and scout around –
particularly south and east of Hukuntsi, where Krige died. If they
saw something that got them killed, it must be close to where they
went. We have my friend Dr Sibisi’s satellite data about the
possible position of the
koppies – the
student track goes
near that area. Krige’s is a bit farther away. So I know where I
need to go now. I know where to start.”

“And what will you do when you get there, and it turns out
there’s an armed gang or a group of Bushmen with poisoned arrows?
Get Khumanego to protect you? Run?”

“Obviously I can’t go alone. I thought we could take two
vehicles and two or three armed constables.” Kubu was keeping his
fingers crossed that Khumanego wouldn’t consider that an
invasion.

Mabaku was starting to shake his head, but Kubu ploughed on.
“Director, we have to stop these people before someone else
dies.”

The director cast around for some way out. The idea of searching
the Kalahari on the ground for a nest of vicious bandits struck him
as madness. And yet what choice did he have? “Damn it, Kubu. This
plan is too dangerous. We’ll fly over the area. Find them that
way.”

Kubu shook his head. “That could take too long. And you won’t be
able to arrest whoever it is from the air. And once warned, they’ll
be gone. Until it’s safe to come back and start again.”

“I don’t like it. Why must you go yourself?”

“We’ll never find anything without a good guide, even with the
GPS tracks. Khumanego is doing this as a favour to me; he won’t go
with anyone else.”

Mabaku hesitated, torn. “Okay. Two vehicles, three constables.
Take satellite phones and report in, morning and night. You better
start organising this junket. And talk to Lerako. When will you
leave?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“April Fool’s Day. Very appropriate, I’d say. Keep me
informed.”

Kubu nodded, and left before Mabaku could change his mind.

∨
The Death of the Mantis
∧

T
hat evening, Kubu
broke the news to Joy. He was sitting in the kitchen playing with
Tumi while Joy saw to the curry. The days of relaxed sundowners on
the veranda were behind them. They tried to do things together, and
that meant being where the things had to be done. In the early
evening, it was the kitchen.

Kubu was holding Tumi’s dummy and using it to tease her nose,
popping it into her mouth, rubbing her cheek She gurgled and waved
her arms and smiled. Joy smiled too, looking at them over her
shoulder as she fried the garlic.

“I’m going to have to be away for a few days this week, my
darling,” he said casually. “Do you think Pleasant could stay for a
day or so? The two of you could work on arrangements for the
engagement party, and Pleasant could help with Tumi.” The baby
opened her mouth as if to cry, so Kubu popped the dummy into it and
out again. She chortled at him.

“Where are you going?” Joy sounded wary.

“We’re going to do an excursion around Hukuntsi. Try to pick up
where the Namibian geologist who was killed discovered the
koppies
he spoke about. We’ll check it out and see whether
there’s anything valuable there.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Khumanego is going to guide us through the area. I’ll take
along three armed constables in two vehicles. We don’t expect to
find anyone, but rather be absolutely safe.”

“How long will you be away?”

“Three, perhaps four days. We’re leaving on Wednesday.”

Joy took the garlic off the hot plate and turned to face him.
“You’re lying to me, Kubu. You’re not exploring. You’re looking for
the murderer.”

Kubu sighed. Joy always saw through him. “We think there’s
something at those
koppies
, and Haake mentioned tracks.
Tracks can be followed. We’ll just see what turns up.”

“Why do
you
have to go? It’s not your area. You have to
drive halfway across the country before you even start to look for
this lions’ den. Let that other detective do it. The one in
Tsabong.”

“Lerako? He’s not really convinced this is the right thing to
do, and he’s not interested in other possibilities. He’s still
focused on the Bushmen in the area.”

Joy turned back to her cooking. She started grating fresh
ginger, knowing that Kubu liked plenty of it. “Maybe he’s right.
From what you’ve told me, all the murders are connected to Bushmen
in some way.”

“It can’t be Bushmen. It’s just not their culture. Khumanego
says – ”

But Joy interrupted him, banging down the grater and turning to
face him again. “Khumanego! I hear so much about him. But he only
cares about one thing, Kubu. His precious Bushmen! He doesn’t care
about you or the case. As soon as his friends were released at
Tsabong, he lost interest and left you there on your own. And don’t
tell me no Bushman could be a murderer! They’re not so different
from us. Their culture’s not that perfect. There are going to be
criminals amongst them. They’ve come from Adam and Eve too, you
know.”

Kubu was surprised by Joy’s outburst and had forgotten Tumi, who
couldn’t reach her dummy and didn’t like her mother’s raised voice.
She started to cry.

“Oh, give her to me,” Joy said, scooping the infant from Kubu’s
arms. “Just watch that nothing burns. I’ll feed her.” She carried
the baby into the bedroom and closed the door, cutting off Tumi’s
wail.

Kubu pretended to busy himself with the curry until Joy
reappeared fifteen minutes later. She seemed calmer and took over
the cooking again. “I put her down for a sleep. She’ll be fine now.
She was just hungry.” She worked on the food in silence for a few
minutes. Then she said: “I’m scared, Kubu. You’re going out there
in the middle of nowhere, looking for people who are part of the
desert. People who kill with poisons that have no antidotes.” She
swallowed, close to tears. “And Khumanego’s a Bushman! If it turns
out the murderers
are
Bushmen, whose side will he take, do
you think?”