Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 02

by Reapers

  “I was going to say attractive, but had some difficulty getting my tongue around the word. I will go along with the others except dowdy. You are many things, Mma Michael, but dowdy is not one of them.”

  Sanderson did not know what to say to that. “Are you staying here in the hotel?” she said instead. She already knew he was.

  “I have a room here.”

  “Oh yes?”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Leo had noticed the PT Cruiser before and thought nothing of it. His as yet undeveloped entryway afforded off-road parking for people sightseeing or visiting one of the mall shops down the road. But PT Cruisers were not that common in Botswana and since the Chrysler Company announced their intention to discontinue the line, not an easy sale either. What were the odds that the identical or a look alike automobile would be parked in the same spot four days in a row? Since the situation with the Bratva had pushed its ugly nose into his business, he’d become sensitized, or perhaps paranoid about all sorts of things. He studied the car for a minute. He could not be sure, but he imagined he saw binoculars trained at him or his building. He memorized this number plate, too. He’d hand it to Modise the next time he saw him.

  The car reversed and pulled away as Greshenko walked up behind him.

  “Shopping for a new automobile, Leo?”

  “What? No, just observing. Have you noticed that car parked out on the verge before?”

  “Which car? You mean the one that just drove away? No, but then I am not looking that way so very often.”

  “They pulled off when you showed up. I wonder…would your buddies in the mob be checking up on you, do you think?”

  “Oh, yes, I think that is most sure. I am not so sure they would do it that way, though.”

  “No? How would they?”

  “I was talking to the foreman just this minute and he tells me a man approached him with a proposition.”

  “A man. What sort of man, or rather what sort of proposition?”

  “He thinks the man maybe is one of them that works for that fellow we talked to earlier in the year, the Mr. Big, Botlhokwa.”

  “Why would Botlhokwa want to know what you’re up to?”

  “Not me he is interested in, you. He thinks Mr. Big wants to squeeze in here somehow, become a stakeholder or something. Your foreman is not so sophisticated in the ways of finance, so he wouldn’t know.”

  “Botlhokwa will be a partner of mine when the Chobe River freezes over. Tell him that.”

  “I will if he asks, but that is not the point I was making. Botlhokwa is openly bent. The people who are after me work in the darkest of the darkness. They will have someone informing on me and that person, I promise you, will never reveal himself as to the foreman by the Botlhokwa person. And he will not tell either of us about it if they do.”

  “Why not? I’d pay for the information, they all know that. They’re good men.”

  “Yes, but they are still only men. Men with families, with homes, maybe nothing more than a rondeval, but it’s theirs and it’s a home. They have friends, too, you see?”

  “Sorry, no. I’m missing something here, aren’t I?”

  “Do you remember what I told you about these men? They will make it very clear that if there is any indication they’ve been compromised, any leak, the man responsible will pay. He will die, his family will die, and his home will disappear. They do not recruit with money, Leo. They do it with terror.”

  “Bastards. So what about the guy in the PT Cruiser at the gate?”

  “I am guessing that is a separate operation, maybe by the same people, maybe not. We are building a casino, yes?”

  “Yes, so?”

  “Who or what sorts of people are interested in casinos, any casino, and large amounts of money, and the chance to wash, you know…”

  “Launder?”

  “Exactly, launder other cash from less overt enterprises.”

  “They are going to attempt to muscle into my, into our, casino?”

  “Your guess. Me, I am certain of it.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Shut the door with some muscle of our own, I think.”

  “And that would be…?”

  Greshenko shrugged and stared off in space. “Perhaps our friend Modise will have an idea.”

  Kgabo Modise was otherwise occupied at that particular moment.

  ***

  As soon as the two goons in the SUV left, Jack and Harvey thanked Taolo Rapolasa and his friends, gave each a one hundred pula note, and told them to stay out of sight.

  “For you own good, lads. Some people don’t understand our calling, right?”

  The men nodded, grinned their thanks, and disappeared around the corner. Jack and Harvey climbed into the truck after repairing the tarp as best they could, and wheeled away from their rented shack. It was not quite dark enough to attempt an entrance into the park, so they drove over to the police station and parked in its lot.

  “Safest place in town,” Jack said, and popped open a can of Saint Louis.

  “Until we’re spotted. Those two guys were slow, but whoever hired them won’t be. They’ll be after us in a heartbeat as soon as they hear what we did.”

  “Easy, Harvey, you go on too much. First, they have to report in. I’m thinking they won’t do that right away, at least not until they come up with a story that will pass muster, and one they both can remember. No easy task, that. Then they will stall about a bit hoping for something to fall out of the sky and into their laps. If they have a brain bigger than a pea, they will mull on it, the go search out our friend Tailor—”

  “It’s Taolo, not Tailor.”

  “Really? Whatever. And they will pump him. He won’t take to the rough stuff so he will tell them that we stuffed the cones with coltan, and then they’ll come running after us.”

  “You think they will go after Taolo now?”

  “Nah, not right off. They’re a bit too short in the smarts for that. Pig stupid, they are. But I reckon their boss will bloody well suggest it and then…well that won’t be ’til tomorrow sometime, and by then the swag will be scattered all over the park and anybody who wants it pays for it through their honker. Relax.”

  “We’ll need to put the GPS in a safe place like insurance. Life insurance.”

  “Right-o and I know just the spot.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m announcing to any and all that it is tucked away on Sududu Island right smack in the middle of the all the elephants and crocodiles.”

  “I don’t know, Jack. Elephants can be dangerous. You walk into a herd of those jumbos and if they’re in a mood, look out. You’re not afraid of elephants?”

  “Actually, I am, but it don’t matter, Harv. It only matters that they are. So, we tell them that’s where the dingus is. Genius, right?”

  “I don’t know, Jack. It’s bloody risky. I’ll be glad when this is over.”

  “Be happy. You’re about to become a very poncey rich man.”

  “Get stuffed, Jack.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Sanderson awoke to the sound of pots clattering on the range in the next room, Mpitle making the porridge, no doubt. She rolled over to go back to sleep, then jerked upright. What time was it? She would be late for work. She slid out of bed, wrapped up in her worn but still serviceable Chinese robe, and moved to the next room.

  “So, Mma, you were very late coming in last night. What were you up to with Mr. Modise, the famous police detective?”

  “Up to? I am up to nothing. We had dinner. We chatted about his work. We—”

  “Oh, his work. I am sure of that. Tell the truth, Momma, what did Mr. Monkey do?”

  “Monkey? Where is that coming from?”

  “His name is Kgabo, monkey. Did you make some monkey business last night? You can tell me.”

  “You will watch your mouth young lady, or I will take that spoon you are holding in your hand and give you what you deserve.”

  “
Then, since you don’t answer me a yes or a no, it must be a yes. Michael, you hear? Momma is having monkey business last night.”

  Sanderson reached for the spoon in her daughter’s hand. Mptle pirouetted away with a laugh and danced to the door.

  “I am off to school. You must hurry with your breakfast or you will be late for your job. Michael, you tell her.”

  Sanderson turned to her son who, it seemed, felt stronger this day and was sitting up in a chair by his bed.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Your daughter is teasing, Mma. Be at peace with that. There is little enough laughter in this house.”

  “No, it is just that we are so busy.”

  “No, thank you, Mma, it is not the busyness, it is because of me. I lie here day after day. I cannot get better, I cannot die and finish this journey. It drags you all down.”

  “That is too harsh, Michael. It is what it is.”

  “No, that is not so. I do not want to argue with you, but you have had too much of this dying going on in your house. First my father, now me.”

  Sanderson spooned her breakfast into a bowl and sat across from her son.

  “Do not speak like that anymore.”

  “I will try not to make you sad, Mma, but you know it is the truth. So, no monkey business, how was your date?”

  “Date? Is that what it was? I don’t know. It has been so long since I did anything like that.” She pulled her robe closer. She could smell the coffee, but had not poured a cup yet. She would let it cool.

  “Michael, you are old enough. Tell me. Was I right?”

  “Right? How do you mean?”

  “Right to leave you and Mpitle and go out with Kgabo Modise? It felt so strange.”

  “Mma you have cared about us so much. You need to find some happiness. Mpitle is almost grown. Soon she will be away at university, or married, or both. I am…well, I am not going anywhere except to either heaven or hell. Not soon, I’m afraid, but there is nothing that anyone can do for me. You must find a life, Mma. If this Modise is serious or even if he is only Mpitle’s ‘monkey business,’ it doesn’t matter. You must enjoy whatever it turns out to be. You cannot stay at home forever.”

  Sanderson stood and poured a coffee, her back to Michael. She did not want him to see her tears.

  “Ten years of death, Mma. Death, and sacrifice for others, and struggles for you. It is time for you to do for yourself.”

  She stood staring out the door at the bright red bakkie that she and Michael had salvaged the year before. Across the courtyard that defined her village, Rra Kaleke was lighting a fire. People moved about.

  They all had lives. She had work.

  Work. The cameras. Charles must be wondering what had become of her. He would be looking at the results of the previous night’s surveillance. She needed to dress and be on her way.

  “Michael, you are right, I am sure, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me to do these things.”

  “No monkey business then?”

  “You are as bad as your sister. And as for what happened last night with Kgabo Modise and me, it is none of your business.”

  “That is the way. Good, my mother launches into the future, her sails set, and a great adventure awaits.”

  “Be still and eat your food. I am late for work.”

  ***

  As she expected, Charles had retrieved the tapes from the camera surveillance and was waiting for her.

  “You are late, Sanderson. Big night last night, I am thinking.”

  “Don’t you start with me, Charles, or you will find yourself in the park on permanent census duty counting the kudu. I have had all the nonsense I need from my daughter.”

  He grinned but did not press on with his teasing. The fact that he’d noticed Mpitle’s scarf had been in Sanderson’s purse, not around her neck, when she had returned the night before, was all he needed to know about her engagement and its late conclusion.

  “Yes, well. I have the tapes and have arranged to view them as soon as you are ready.”

  “Have you had a look?”

  “I only made a quick run through. There is not too much footage but there is some activity.”

  “Well, let’s see them then.”

  They watched as the camera flickered on. A truck, a white bakkie like hers, pulled up to the fence and two men alit. They paused, unfastened the fencing, drove the truck through, and refastened it. She watched as the men climbed back into the truck and it pulled away. The time stamp put the activity as occurring at twenty-three-hundred twenty hours. Sanderson did a quick calculation. Military time never worked for her. That would be eleven-twenty o’clock at night. The picture went blank.

  In a few seconds, it flashed on again. This time the time stamp read zero four thirty-five. Dawn. The same two men worked at the fence from the inside, repeated in reverse their transit through it, and left. The screen went blank again.

  “Did you note the number plate on the vehicle, Charles?”

  “I did. Shall I call it in to Superintendent Mwambe?”

  Sanderson thought for a moment. What with his apparent complicity in the Takeda business, Mwambe might not be the best option.

  “Perhaps another cup of tea. While I think about that. No, I think we will show this to Inspector Modise first.”

  “Modise? Oh yes, of course, Modise,” Charles said, and flashed a mouthful of very white teeth.

  “You stop that grinning, Charles, or so help me…”

  He tried to stop but failed. She guessed she had it coming, but it was so unfair. Other women went out all the time. They had lovers and friends and…well, all sorts of reasons and no one wasted daylight commenting on them. What made her one date in ten years so special? Because it was one date in ten years—of course. Stupid!

  “Just bring the tea.”

  Chapter Forty

  It was still early when Modise drove over to the American’s casino. It looked like it would turn out to be a bright sunshiny day. Leo Painter stood waiting for him as he drove up. He looked worried. Well, he should be. His project, like a lamp at night, had attracted some very dangerous insects. Modise climbed out and walked toward the door of the nearly complete office complex.

  “Inspector Modise, you are looking very chipper this morning. Life must be treating you nicely.”

  “It is, Mr. Painter. I have some news for you.”

  “Good news, I hope. I’ve enough bad this past week to last me for quite a while.”

  “Can we sit outside? I don’t want to risk even accidental eavesdropping.”

  Leo led him to his bench, and the two sat admiring the buildings going up before them. At least Leo seemed to be admiring it. Modise had other things on his mind.

  “We have a plan for your Mr. Greshenko that should meet the needs of those people who are trying to use him. It is only a temporary relief for him, I am afraid, but it will have to do. What will happen to him with regard to his future is another matter, of course.”

  “Of course? Well, I guess one day at a time will have to do. What is the plan?”

  “Am I correct in saying you have completed installing the devices in your rooms?” Leo nodded. They had. He obviously did not like the idea.

  “Very well. As to your hotel, we have enlisted the help of a friendly Arab country who has agreed to use at least some of the devices to feed disinformation to the intelligence gatherers. In fact they thought the opportunity to best one of the super powers would be great fun. They asked if they could do the same to the Americans.”

  “And you said…?”

  “Not this time, later perhaps. You must understand how it is with the smaller nations sometimes. So, one room will be used to do this, the others will be on their own. Frankly, and you cannot quote me, but we don’t care what the Russians—we must assume that is who is behind all this maneuvering—what the Russians know or don’t know, hear or don’t hear. So, that is the set-up here. Now, the more difficult question is what about the America
ns in the Mowana Lodge. We cannot allow the American Secretary of State to have her rooms bugged. It is unthinkable, for two reasons at least.”

  “Only two?”

  “For now, yes, two. First, we are very sensitive to them and their position as a world leader.”

  “And second?”

  “Here again, you may not say anything of this to anyone. If you do, you will find yourself back in your Chicago before you can say Jack Robinson.”

  “I understand. Big deal on the diplomatic scene, right?”

  “A very big deal, as you say. And my government is playing the middle man here. There may be meetings between the North Koreans and the Americans in a place you do not need to know, that is if all goes well with the preliminary talks we will moderate out in the Okavango.”

  “Wow. They’re going to make nice to that pipsqueak dictator?”

  “Ah, that overstates it, I think. I am not in that end of government so diplomacy is as foreign to me as it is, I think, to you. But sometimes, we have learned in this part of the world, it is better to accommodate the pipsqueaks than risk them doing something rash. Pipsqueaks crave attention, you see, and our view is it is better to give them some. It is best for all around to try for peace and quiet than rattle the sword. Yes?”

  “Okay, not my call. When I was in business, those kinds of egomaniacs were usually shoved under the bus. But it’s your game. So what happens with the Mowana Lodge?”

  “Here is all you need to know. The American attaché assigned to this sort of thing will arrive here tomorrow and collect the equipment Greshenko has set aside for that project.”

  “They’ll kill Greshenko if that stuff isn’t up and running, soon.”

  “Trust us. It will be, as you say, ‘up and running’ in plenty of time. Your Greshenko will not risk homicide just yet.”

  “I never thought of your lot being the devious sort.”

  “My lot is not devious, Mr. Painter. We are careful to protect our country, its reputation for neutrality and fair play. That is all. You should wish this for yours as well, I think.”

  “Point taken. Okay. For the time being then, we can breathe a little easier. Now, I have another thing for you. For that last several days, there has been a car parked outside the gate area over there with some guy, maybe more than one, watching the place. I have the license number here.”