Detective Kubu 03; The Death of the Mantis

by Michael Stanley

  “You’ll thank me when I arrive with help. You got me into this, Assistant Superintendent. I’m going to get myself out of it. Why would I trust your judgement now?”

  “Tau, as your superior, I order you to stay!”

  Tau laughed at him. “You’re ordering me to stay? Ha! I’m going. Hope to see you soon!” With that, he stripped off his shirt and put it over his head. Then he turned and, ignoring the vehicle tracks, walked resolutely into the desert.

  “Tau! Tau!” Kubu shouted. “Don’t take off your shirt! You’ll sweat more. Lose more water. Put it back on!”

  Tau walked on without looking back.

  Kubu shook his head. Tau was making every mistake. He shouldn’t have left, and he shouldn’t have taken off his shirt. And he should have followed the tracks. He’ll get lost, Kubu thought with anguish. His chances of getting through are close to zero.

  Kubu spent the next fifteen minutes dragging dead branches into the centre of the tracks. If I’m unconscious, they’ll know I’m near, he thought. Then he put his white undershirt and underpants on top of the pile, spread out as much as possible. Not very big, he mused, but at least it’s a different colour from the surroundings.

  He looked up into the sky. “Please, God, let them find me! And help Tau. He needs it.”

  ♦

  Mabaku was at the office at six a.m. Edison was there to meet him. He was looking tense and hadn’t slept much.

  “There’s been no word from Kubu,” he said.

  “What’s the status of the back-up Land Rovers?”

  “They’ll be ready to leave just after lunch.”

  “Get them to leave as soon as they can. Make sure they both have satellite phones with them. If they haven’t got everything they need, get the police at Tshane or Kang to take care of it and have it waiting when they arrive. I want them to push on tonight and get as close to the others as possible.”

  “Can we get a helicopter to search?”

  The director pressed the button on his intercom: “Miriam, where are the helicopters? I need to know now!”

  Only a few minutes passed before Miriam stuck her head in. “One is having its annual service, and the other two are in Kasane working with immigration on the illegal alien stuff.”

  “Damn! Call the Molepolole Air Base and see if any of their choppers are available. Tell them it’s an emergency.”

  Miriam’s head disappeared. Mabaku waited impatiently until she returned. “You can have a Defence Force helicopter when it returns tomorrow night. But you’ll have to find a pilot, if you want to use it before Monday morning.”

  “See if one of the police pilots can get to Molepolole tomorrow. Let me know as soon as possible.”

  Mabaku turned again to Edison. “You’ll report to me every hour on the hour as to what is going on. I don’t want any surprises. If something important happens between the hours, I want to know about it. Immediately! Understand?”

  “Yes, Director. Every hour, on the hour.”

  ♦

  Mabaku stood up and walked to the window. He gazed out at Kgale Hill. He had a dilemma. Should he phone Kubu’s wife and tell her that they’d lost contact with him, or should he wait until the following day? Phoning her would send her into a fit of anxiety, perhaps greater than usual because of the baby. But not phoning her was unfair. She deserved to be in the loop.

  He paced up and down, unsure of what to do. Eventually he decided to phone. He knew he couldn’t face her if something happened to Kubu and he’d kept quiet.

  ♦

  The phone rang just as Joy was giving Tumi her bath. She put her down on a folded towel and answered. A chill ran through her as she recognised Mabaku’s voice.

  “Is there anything wrong? Has something happened to Kubu?”

  “Joy, relax. I am just calling to say we’ve lost radio contact with Kubu. We don’t expect anything to be wrong. His satellite phone is probably not working. But I thought you should know. We’ve dispatched two additional vehicles, because one of Kubu’s broke down, and I’ve a helicopter standing by at Molepolole Air Base just in case. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Are you sure he’s okay?”

  “He was fine when we spoke to him yesterday morning. It’s probably nothing, but I’m not going to take any chances. Why don’t you have your sister spend the day with you? I’ll phone you this evening and let you know what’s happening.”

  Joy put down the phone with tears in her eyes. What if Kubu was dead? What would she do?

  ♦

  As the relief Land Rovers were moving along the Trans-Kalahari Highway to Kang, Kubu was lying on his back in the little shade afforded by the rough canopy he’d built. He’d hollowed out a depression in the sand in which he could lie. His arms were folded across his chest, and a handkerchief covered his face. He tried not to move at all, but that was difficult, especially when little insects started to explore his body.

  Not only was he very hot, but he was ravenous. He hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch time the previous day. He’d poked around in the sand, hoping to find a tuber the way Khumanego had shown him so many years earlier. A couple of times he saw the telltale vines that led to the edible roots, but even after digging down a metre with his bare hands, he’d found nothing. And he was parched. He could almost feel the heat sucking the water from his body.

  Part of the time he tried to blank out his mind, to meditate, to detach his physical discomfort from his consciousness. The rest of the time he thought about the murders, and in particular about Khumanego. And when he thought about Khumanego, his emotions swung rapidly between anger, disappointment and self-recrimination. How could his old friend have become so greedy that he would leave Kubu in the desert to die? And for what? Some gemstones? After all they had gone through together? How could Khumanego have used him the way he had – on the flimsy pretext of looking after Bushman interests? And how could Kubu have been so gullible as to believe him?

  Kubu tried to build a murder case against Khumanego in his mind. But he found it hard to pull all the pieces together. Was that because the evidence just wasn’t there? Or was it because it was becoming harder to focus his attention?

  It was all so confusing that he closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind.

  ♦

  The relief Land Rovers reached Tshane by mid afternoon. The Saturday roads had been relatively quiet, and they’d made good time. The four policemen were drenched in sweat by the time they arrived and were pleased to have a break to stretch and pour cold water over their heads, while the vehicles were refuelled and provisioned. The next part of the trip would be far less comfortable, and, most probably, dangerous.

  ♦

  Kubu couldn’t bear it any more. He’d been lying on the sand for nearly eight hours. He had to stand up and move about. Despite his lack of activity, his shirt was wet through, and although his face was covered, his brow was dripping wet. My God, he thought, if I’m sweating like this, what about Tau? He was mad to leave. In this heat he may only last two days. I hope he doesn’t get lost. But maybe he can shoot something to eat. Perhaps there’s a chance he’ll get through.

  Kubu was getting desperate to urinate, but was trying not to in the hope that that would slow dehydration. I’ve no idea whether it helps, he thought. But why take the chance? Now if I had a couple of big plastic bottles, I could use the sun to turn my pee into water easily enough.

  As that thought ran through his head, so did a childhood rhyme:

  ♦

  If ifs and ands were pots and pans, There’d be no need for tinkers’ hands.

  ♦

  He grinned. “I’m losing it,” he said out loud. He glanced at his watch. “Four o’clock. The Land Rovers may not even have left Tshane yet.”

  That’s not the way to think, he admonished himself. Be positive.

  He thought about Joy and Tumi. They were reason enough to get through this. He pictured Tumi’s little fingers curled around his own. An
d Joy in bed with him, caressing him. Softly. Gently.

  “The Land Rovers will drive through the night until they meet up with Pikati and Moeng. And they’ll find me a few hours later. That will be tomorrow morning.” He liked the sound of his own voice. He felt he had company in this barren place.

  ♦

  Mabaku phoned Joy at six p.m.

  “They haven’t reached the place where the Land Rover broke down. It may get too dark to drive off-road. They’ll be there early tomorrow morning. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll phone as soon as they get there.”

  Joy poured herself a large glass of wine. Pleasant had gone home at Joy’s insistence, because she had a date with Bongani.

  “I’m sure Kubu’s fine,” Joy muttered to herself. “I’ll have an early night, and Mabaku will call in the morning.”

  In fact, she did not sleep well. A combination of a little too much wine and her fear of losing Kubu kept her awake. She spent most of the night admonishing herself for being so hard on Kubu for not pulling his weight around the house. He works so hard, she told herself. He needs a break when he gets home. I’ll try to be more understanding in future. That decision made her feel slightly better.

  ♦

  The Land Rovers did indeed drive through the darkness, keeping a close watch on their GPS. They found the tracks at the first waypoint, where Kubu and his group had left the road, and set off to follow them. But after an hour, they decided to stop for the night – they’d been driving for over ten hours, the last part in very difficult conditions, and they were afraid of losing the tracks. In the morning, it wouldn’t take long to reach the disabled Land Rover.

  They reported to Edison, who was resigned to living at CID headquarters for the weekend, and asked him to tell Pikati and Moeng that they’d be there early in the morning.

  ♦

  The second night was much worse than the first. Kubu had no company, and a body that ached for food and water. His physical discomfort made it much more difficult to lie still. He was too cold to sleep, and he tossed and turned, uncomfortable in the extreme. To make things worse, there were jackals close by. He could hear them howling, as though inviting others to a banquet. And he thought he heard the eerie call of a hyena in the distance. That was the animal he was most afraid of. Fearless, a hunter as well as a scavenger, with the strongest jaws of any animal, a hyena ate everything, including the bones of their prey.

  When he woke up, Kubu spent half an hour scouring the area for melons and tubers, but found none. Despondent, he lay down in the shallow depression – his nest in the desert. He tried not to move, and lay there, eyes shut, willing his rescuers to find him.

  ∨ The Death of the Mantis ∧

  Thirty-Seven

  The relief team set off as the sun rose. Although they didn’t know any of the original group personally, they had heard of the fat detective and his ability to bring criminals to justice. Police always looked after their own, so they were eager to find out what was happening.

  They came upon the disabled Land Rover at about half past seven. Pikati and Moeng had crawled from under the vehicle at the sound of their approach and were delighted to see the newcomers.

  After a short conference, they decided to take the two vehicles to follow Kubu’s tracks. They’d leave a note explaining what they were doing, in case he returned.

  Sergeant Mogale, the leader of the relief team, phoned Edison, who was waiting with great anxiety for news. He briefly explained what the situation was, and what they were planning.

  “The director wants you to report every thirty minutes from now on,” Edison said. “No exceptions! I think he’ll personally wring your necks if you don’t. I’ve never seen him so worked up.”

  ♦

  “Joy, this is Mabaku. The relief vehicles have reached where Kubu last reported from. But they still haven’t heard from him.”

  Joy was so distraught, she couldn’t say anything.

  “Joy, I know how you must be feeling, but there is nothing to suggest something bad has happened. The vehicles have plenty of food and water. Try to keep calm, and don’t think about it. Kubu is a very resourceful man.”

  When Joy put down the phone, she slumped into a chair. She was exhausted. Not only was she sick with worry, but Tumi was crying incessantly, no doubt affected by her mother’s anxiety.

  I need help, Joy thought. She picked up the phone to ask Pleasant to come over again.

  ♦

  As the day wore on, so the temperatures rose. Even partially shielded from the sun by the makeshift canopy, Kubu was intensely uncomfortable.

  “You have to keep your mind occupied, Kubu,” he said aloud, trying to mimic the survival instructor’s British accent. “If you don’t, you’ll go mad!”

  He decided to hum all the arias he knew – he would have preferred to sing them, but feared it would take too much energy, a commodity in short supply. So for the next hour or so, the insects of the Kalahari were treated to a collection of operatic favourites.

  “Am I going to make it?” Kubu wondered after his second encore. He wasn’t feeling nearly as optimistic as on the previous day. That morning he’d tried to imagine what Khumanego might have done after driving away, to make rescue unlikely.

  If it were me, Kubu thought, I’d circle back on my tracks until I reached where we left the planned route. Then I’d hide the tracks where we turned off and continue on as originally planned. After several hours I’d hide the Land Rover and disappear.

  This speculation depressed Kubu. It would be very difficult for anyone to find him. They’ll drive right past where we turned, he thought.

  Perhaps I should walk out, he thought. If I walk at night, it’ll be cool enough, and I should be able to see the tracks in the moonlight.

  And if I sleep in the day, I won’t lose too much water. And I’ll be closer when they come for me.

  Tjf they come, a little voice said.

  “When they come,” he said out loud. “When they come! I’m going to make it. I know how to survive.”

  Even in his tired state, he was worried by the little sliver of negativity that had insinuated itself into his brain. He realised that dehydration was beginning to affect his thinking and attitude.

  He closed his eyes and tried to will his discomfort away.

  ♦

  The searchers made their first call back to Edison, where Kubu, Tau and Khumanego had made their first stop. It was easy to see the footprints around the track.

  They made their second call where Khumanego had persuaded them to deviate from the planned route. No footprints left the area of the vehicle. Still, they felt they were getting closer.

  On the third call, they had nothing to report. The tracks seemed to stretch out endlessly ahead of them. The fourth and fifth calls were again the same. Nothing to be seen, except the tracks leading them on.

  On the sixth call, however, Director Mabaku was on the phone. “Mogale, you need to pick up the pace. We’ve got to find them. It’s been more than two days since they left the others.”

  “Director, we’re going as fast as we can. It’s not easy out here. They’re probably still with the vehicle, so they’ve got water and food.”

  “Try to go faster. I’m worried about them.”

  The group took a short break, eating stale sandwiches and drinking a lot of water. Then they set off again.

  Almost exactly half an hour later, they saw Kubu’s Land Rover.

  They stopped several hundred metres away and approached cautiously, weapons at the ready.

  “Kubu! Tau!” Pikati shouted. “Are you there?”

  No response.

  “Kubu! Tau. Are you there?”

  They spread out and moved ahead carefully. When they got to the Land Rover, they saw there was nobody inside. Mogale immediately called Edison, gave him their co-ordinates and told him what they’d found.

  “But no Kubu? None of them?”

  “Not that we can see. But we’r
e going to look for footprints now. I should be able to tell you, when we talk next.”

  They spent the next thirty minutes scouring the area for clues to what had happened. All they found, leading away from the Land Rover into the desert, was a single trail of barefoot prints. Very small.

  “It has to be a Bushman,” Pikati said. “Maybe it’s Khumanego.”

  “But he had shoes! And where are the others, then?”

  No one had an answer.

  Mogale picked up the satellite phone. “I need to speak to Director Mabaku,” he told Edison.

  “He’s right here!”

  It took a few minutes to explain the situation. “What should we do now, Director? Should we follow the footprints? Should we go back?”

  Mabaku thought for a few seconds. “If you’re sure the footprints aren’t Kubu’s or Tau’s, don’t worry about them right now. Drive back to the other Land Rover and keep a close lookout for footprints next to the track. They must’ve left the vehicle somewhere along the way. You found some already, but maybe you missed some too. If you don’t find any others, spend some time where you did find them. Search all around the area. There has to be an easy explanation. If none of that works, I’ll have a helicopter go to your camp first thing in the morning. Maybe it’ll see something you can’t.”

  ♦

  When Mabaku told Joy that they had found Kubu’s Land Rover, but he wasn’t with it, she dropped the phone and burst into tears. Pleasant put her arm around her sister and picked up the phone to speak to the director.

  “Director Mabaku. This is Joy’s sister, Pleasant. I’ll stay with Joy until you find Kubu. She’s not taking it very well.”

  “Thank you, Pleasant. If you need any help, please say so. Any shopping, a police psychologist, anything. All you have to do is ask. But please try to reassure Joy. There’s nothing to indicate that anything has happened to Kubu.”

  ♦

  The temperature was over forty degrees under the little tree where Kubu lay on his back, but he wasn’t sweating nearly as much as he had the previous day. He felt very lethargic and didn’t want to get up and walk around. I’ll wait till it’s cooler, he thought.