Death of the Mantis

by Michael Stanley

  While the animals liked the new fences, drivers didn’t, and there were frequent confrontations between vehicles and animals. The number of carcasses on the side of the road was a testimony to how often accidents happened.

  Kubu was not in a good mood. He’d been waiting at the emergency center at Princess Marina Hospital since 8:00 a.m. He’d discovered which doctor had advised the Hukuntsi hospital and had managed to talk to him for a few minutes. But the conversation had been discouraging.

  “We don’t really have much useful information about Bushman poisons,” the doctor told him. “The best we can do is to find out what type of poison it is—neurotoxin, hemotoxin, or cytotoxin. The Bushmen use all three. Once we know that, we can do our best to get the victim through this.”

  “Is it likely he’ll die?” Kubu asked.

  The doctor frowned. “Impossible to say at this point. We’ll get help from a toxicologist at the university. But you must understand it takes time. I’m not at all optimistic that she’ll be able to provide feedback in time to be of real help.”

  “What about antidotes or antivenoms?”

  The doctor shrugged. “We don’t know what the poison is. Anyway, many of the known toxins have no antidote. It really depends on the man’s natural defenses and on how much has got into his system. Given what they’ve told us about his reactions so far, my guess is that the poison used is hemotoxic.” The doctor noticed Kubu’s frown. “That means it attacks the blood in a variety of different ways; sometimes it impairs its oxygen-carrying capability resulting in hypoxia—oxygen starvation—or sometimes it acts as an anticoagulant, causing bleeding. More often than not, it does both.”

  Kubu had other questions, but a nurse interrupted to tell them that the patient had arrived. The doctor nodded to Kubu and hurried off with her.

  Tau had sent the arrow with Constable Mopati in the ambulance, so Kubu was able to examine it before it was sent to the laboratory. He extracted it carefully from its evidence bag and photographed it, including several close-ups of the tip and the paste around it. He thought it looked a little different from the ones Khumanego had shown him many years ago, but the small head, slender shaft, and lack of fletching were typical. It’s amazing, he thought, how the Bushmen had been able to isolate such lethal poisons and use them so effectively—poisons that killed animals, yet did not cause problems for those who ate the meat.

  About half an hour later, the doctor came to where Kubu was sitting impatiently.

  “He’s not doing well. In addition to the headaches, nausea, and small traces of blood in his urine, he’s now having some difficulty breathing. It’s almost certainly a hemotoxin that’s been used. They act slower than most neurotoxins, which go after the nervous system.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “Yes, but not for long. He needs rest, and we’re considering some blood transfusions. My colleague has contacted the Poison Information Centre in Cape Town for help.”

  Kubu accompanied the doctor to Haake’s ward, where a policeman sat inside the door. Haake was sitting up with a glass of water. He’s turning yellow, thought Kubu, surprised at the man’s color.

  “Mr. Haake, we meet again,” he said, not offering to shake hands.

  Haake nodded and said in no more than a whisper, “Why did your man in Hukuntsi arrest me? I’ve done nothing wrong. He said I’d murdered that Krige guy I found in the desert. What’s going on?”

  Kubu frowned. He’d not expected Haake to raise the issue of Krige’s death. Rather, he thought, Haake would avoid it.

  “Mr. Haake, we spoke to your previous employer, Mr. Muller of the Namib Mining Company. He said you stole some documents or data from the company, and he’d hired Mr. Krige to follow you. You phoned him when you got back to Windhoek and indicated that you knew about Krige.”

  Haake hesitated. “I found out Krige was a private investigator and guessed Muller hired him to follow me. I wanted Muller off my back. He had no right to pry into what I was doing. No right!”

  “It’s an unlikely coincidence that you just happened to find a man dead in the desert—someone who was specifically following you. Especially as there was no evidence whatsoever that anyone else had been anywhere near.”

  “I didn’t kill him! There was someone else there. He shot at me!”

  “You had motive and opportunity. And we can’t find anyone else who would want to get rid of Krige.”

  “I’m telling you, I didn’t kill him.” Haake’s voice was no more than a croak.

  Kubu sat down and pulled out his notebook. “I need some information from you, Mr. Haake. First, what do you do every time you come into Botswana? It seems you go into the same area of the Kalahari each time.”

  “I’m going to die, aren’t I? Those fucking Bushmen have poisoned me.”

  “The doctors are trying to find out what’s happened to you. It’s going to take a few hours.”

  “Even if they do, I’ll die. Nobody survives those poisons.” He leaned forward and grabbed a blanket from the bottom of the bed. He wrapped it around his shoulders. “I’m so fucking cold!”

  “What have you been doing in Botswana, Mr. Haake?” Kubu repeated sharply.

  “I’ve been prospecting.”

  “For what?”

  “This and that. Anything I could find.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “Nothing much. A few gemstones—amethysts, mainly.”

  Kubu pulled his chair closer—Haake was becoming difficult to hear.

  “Are you sure that’s all?”

  “I took some samples here and there. Wanted to have them looked at in Windhoek.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In my four by four. I expect you know that already. Been through it while I was in hospital, I suppose.”

  “No, we haven’t been through it. But we’d like to. Do we have your permission?”

  “Why not? There’s nothing there but a few rocks.”

  “Mr. Haake, I need your help if we are to find the person who shot you. I need more information about what you’ve been doing and where you’ve been.”

  “I’ve just been looking around.” He was breathing rapidly, as though there wasn’t enough air in the room.

  “You’ve been following a map. Where is it? I’d like to see it.”

  Haake frowned.

  “Assistant Superintendent! Please.” The doctor stepped forward. “He needs rest. You’ll have to come back later.”

  “I’ve just one more question. Have you received any threats or warnings?

  Haake frowned. “No,” he gasped.

  “Come on, Detective. That’s all.” The doctor took Kubu by the arm and led him into the passage outside.

  “Doctor, you don’t understand. We have several murders we think he is responsible for. I need to talk to him.”

  “You can do that later. He needs all the rest he can get if he wants a chance to pull through this. Come back at two this afternoon, and we’ll see how he’s doing.”

  Having no option, Kubu left the ward, and then called Tau in Tshane.

  “Tau! This is Kubu. Get your forensics person and go through Haake’s vehicle very carefully. Get his GPS—make sure you don’t turn it on. Check for anything unusual—rocks, papers, anything like that. Also see if you can find a hand-drawn map. Check for fingerprints on all the door handles.”

  “Okay. I’ll have to drive it up to Kang first.”

  “No, no. Get the forensics person to come down. I don’t want anything disturbed any more than it has been already.”

  “Okay. It looks as though he never got the glass at the back of the vehicle fixed. It’s covered by a piece of cardboard taped to the car. Half of it has come loose, as though it was pulled away. He used duct tape, so it shouldn’t have come loose by itself.”

  “Make sure they dust around that too then. I’m not sure what we’re looking for, but I’ve a hunch there will be something there. Some sort of clue as to where he’s been
or what he’s been up to.”

  After ending the call, Kubu went back to the CID offices at Millenium Park to call Lerako and debrief Mabaku.

  Kubu was frustrated. He had a man suspected of being a murderer, but couldn’t interrogate him properly. And, to make things worse, there was a chance the man would die before he could get the information he needed. Back at his office, he paced and paced, accomplishing nothing. The solutions to one and perhaps two murders lay tantalizingly close, but were just out of reach.

  At 12:30 p.m. Kubu couldn’t stand it any longer. He drove to the Wimpy at Game City. Normally he would prefer to go to the Mugg and Bean upstairs, but he was impatient and didn’t want leisurely service. He wanted food right away. Steak and eggs!

  When he finished he headed back to the Princess Marina Hospital and arrived there at 1:45 p.m. He went in at once hoping that he could talk to Haake earlier than the doctor had indicated.

  He was in luck. When he stuck his head around the door, the doctor waved him in.

  “He’s feeling a little better. The rest did him good. Probably didn’t sleep at all last night, what with that siren going all the time. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  Kubu sat down and pulled out his notebook.

  “Mr. Haake, I’m pleased you’re feeling a little better. That’s a good sign, I’m sure.”

  Haake hauled himself to a sitting position and adjusted his pillows for more comfort. “What do you want to know?”

  “I’ve been asking around about you and it seems you’ve been looking for the source of the Namibian diamonds. Is that what you’ve been doing?”

  Haake shook his head weakly. “No. I was just looking around. No diamonds.”

  “And what did you find?”

  Haake didn’t respond for a few moments. He breathed heavily.

  “Found some koppies. Not marked on my maps. Found some amethysts there. But . . .” Haake stopped talking and shut his eyes.

  “But what?”

  There was no response, and Kubu could see Haake was struggling to breathe.

  “But what, Mr. Haake?”

  Haake opened his eyes. “Nothing. There is nothing worthwhile there.”

  “Where are your maps?” Kubu asked. “We’d like to see them.”

  “No maps. Had them on previous trips.”

  “Come on, Mr. Haake. I don’t believe you. Where are your maps?”

  Haake should his head. “No maps.”

  Kubu was becoming exasperated. “Mr. Haake, I’d like to look through your belongings here at the hospital. Do I have your permission to do that?”

  Haake shook his head.

  “Dammit, Mr. Haake. You’ve got to help me! A few minutes ago you mentioned koppies. Was that where you were going when Krige was following you? Is that why you killed him? Because you didn’t want him to report back to Muller where you’d been? Didn’t want him to know where the diamonds were?”

  ”There are no diamonds at the koppies! I only found them on this last trip anyway. And I wasn’t near there when I found Krige.”

  “But if Krige was still alive, he would have followed you there too. You didn’t want that, did you? It was easier to murder him and make it look like someone else did it.”

  Haake shook his head. “You’ve got it wrong. I didn’t kill him.” He took several deep breaths. “Why do you think it was me? What evidence have you got?”

  “Mr. Haake. You stole information from the place you last worked. When they sent someone to follow you, you had an obvious motive to kill him. And you had the opportunity. There isn’t a scrap of evidence that anyone else was in the vicinity. You’ll have a difficult time convincing anyone of your innocence.”

  Haake shook his head again. “Why don’t you fuck off, Detective. I’m tired. I don’t need this shit.”

  As if on cue, the doctor walked in. “Time to leave, Assistant Superintendent.” He opened the door for Kubu.

  “I’ve got lots more to ask him. When can I come back?”

  The doctor followed Kubu into the corridor. “Come back at five. I’ll see how he’s doing. Maybe you can speak to him again.”

  “Have you heard anything about the poison?”

  “Not yet. We gave him some blood plasma, and he seems to have stabilized a little. At least he hasn’t deteriorated much since he got here. I’m hoping that’s a good sign.”

  “When will you know what his prognosis is?”

  The doctor shrugged. “We’ll have to watch him carefully and see how it goes.”

  Kubu shook his head in frustration and stalked out.

  Just before five, Kubu walked back into the hospital, only to be stopped by the receptionist.

  “Superintendent Bengu?”

  Kubu nodded.

  “The doctor says you must wait here for him, please.”

  “Has Haake deteriorated? Will I be able to speak to him?”

  “You’ll have to speak to the doctor. Please sit down over there.”

  It was nearly half an hour before the doctor appeared. Kubu stood up as he approached.

  “Can I see him now?”

  “Yes, but only for a few minutes. He’s getting weaker. I think there’s some internal bleeding—his urine has more blood in it.” The doctor shook his head unhappily as he walked with Kubu to Haake’s room.

  Kubu opened the door and nodded to the policeman sitting inside. He was shocked by what he saw. Haake was now attached to what appeared to be a heart monitor and several drips, and had an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. How am I going to hear what he says? Kubu wondered. I could hardly hear him before. He sat down next to the bed.

  “Mr. Haake?”

  No reply, but the monitor showed life and Haake’s chest rose and fell ever so slightly.

  “Mr. Haake?”

  Haake’s head nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Mr. Haake. I need to ask you some more questions.” Again a slight nod. Haake battled to sit up a little and removed his mask.

  “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

  Kubu wasn’t sure how to respond. “You’ll have to speak to the doctor. I haven’t heard anything. I want to find who tried to kill you. Do you understand?”

  A slight nod.

  “It would help me if I knew where you went. We searched your car and couldn’t find your GPS. Where is it?”

  “Gone.”

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?” Kubu voice was beginning to rise in frustration.

  “Gone.” Haake paused. “Stolen in Hukuntsi. Someone broke into my four by four. Must be the people from the koppies.”

  “People from the koppies? Who are they?”

  Haake shook his head. “Never saw them. But they got there before me.”

  “Why would they want to attack you?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe they thought I would steal whatever’s there.”

  “What do you think that could be?” Kubu was getting confused.

  “Don’t know.”

  “How did you know someone got there before you?”

  Haake shook his head. “Didn’t see anyone.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Very strange. Motorbike tracks in the desert. Around the koppies.” He took a deep breath. “But nobody there.”

  At that moment the doctor interrupted. “Detective, you must leave. You’re exhausting my patient. He needs to rest. And I need to get him back on oxygen. As you can see, he’s struggling to breathe.”

  “Just one more thing! Mr. Haake, this is very important. Give me the map. If we know where the koppies are, we can see who’s there. It’s possible someone saw you and didn’t want you coming back.”

  “Don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know!” Kubu’s voice rose in exasperation. “Where are the koppies, Mr. Haake?”

  “It was on my GPS.” He gasped, struggling for air. The doctor put his hand on Kubu’s arm. “Come along, Assistant Superintendent. He needs to rest.”

  Kubu brushe
d the hand aside. This was a crucial moment. “Can’t you remember the coordinates? Or how to get there? Please give me something I can work with.” Kubu thought he saw a glimmer of a smile flitter over Haake’s face.

  “You’ve got to leave now.” The doctor grabbed Kubu’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “If you don’t let him rest, you’ll never get anything more out of him.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Kubu came into the CID later than usual on Friday morning, having spent much of the previous night waiting fruitlessly at the hospital. He went straight to the director’s office, gave the door a perfunctory knock, and walked in. Miriam glanced at him with surprise and gave a small shake of her head, but Kubu ignored her. He had news Mabaku would want to hear.

  He found the director at his desk looking through a collection of newspapers. He was reading the Daily News.

  “They’ve gone mad!” Mabaku exclaimed. “This one is talking about tourists being in danger in the Kalahari! Look at the other headlines.” He held up the front pages so that Kubu could read them. TOURIST NEAR DEATH. BUSHMAN KILLER STILL FREE—POLICE HELPLESS. POISON ARROW ATTACK.

  Kubu nodded. The Botswana press tended to be calm and measured. Minor events made the headlines, and political speeches were covered respectfully. Even Krige’s murder, which had been reported with gusto, was presented calmly. But the attack on Haake had turned that upside down. A poisoned arrow striking from the dark. People are scared, Kubu thought. They think of Bushmen as small and harmless, if they think of them at all. Suddenly they seem dangerous. He sighed.

  “Haake’s dead,” he said. “He died early this morning.”

  Mabaku dumped the newspapers and leaned back. “Well, it’s murder now. But they’d already decided that.” He nodded at the spread of paper on his desk. “I’ve called a press conference to nip this thing in the bud. Tell them it’s all under control. An arrest is imminent and so on. I’m going to get our three helicopters out to Hukuntsi. We’ll find these Bushmen if it means looking under every grain of sand. That should get the press on our side and calm them down. You’d better come. It’s at two.”

  “I’ll come, but there’s quite a bit I need to tell you, and it may change how we handle the search and the reporters too. This isn’t as straightforward as it seems.”