[Leine Basso 04.0] Cargo

by DV Berkom

  As Leine expected, Alma and Hattie didn’t take the news well. When she told them they were going back that evening to retrieve Hugh’s body, Alma protested.

  “One body’s enough,” she said. “Those men demonstrated that they’d shoot anyone who came close to the camp. What makes you think there won’t be someone watching the balloon, or that they haven’t already taken the body away?”

  “We’ve got it covered, Alma,” Derek said. “We’re going to do recon before going in. We’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe you two will be, but what about Rashid?”

  Derek gave Leine a look. “I have every confidence that Rashid will do as we say.”

  “He would have gone in on his own,” Leine added. “If he tried that, the chances are high he’d be killed.”

  “Oh. Well. That’s different.” Alma shook her head. “Hugh was such a good man.” Tears welled in her eyes and she turned away.

  “I’m so sorry, Alma. We didn’t realize...” Leine searched for an adequate explanation but found nothing to help.

  Alma wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. “It’s not your fault, Claire. Hugh knew what kind of man Wang was, knew there’d be risk involved. This is Africa.”

  Leine was beginning to hate that saying.

  Chapter 30

  Victor Wang studied his cigar, enjoying the sweet, spicy scent of the expensive tobacco. He produced a silver cutter from his pocket and expertly snipped off the end. With the strike of a long wooden match, Wang held the cigar a distance from the flame, allowing the sulfur to burn away before he warmed and eventually lit the end. He extinguished the match and dropped it into the crystal ashtray next to his chair.

  Sapphire had poured him a measure of Tasmanian scotch, neat, and Wang held the glass beneath his nose, giving it a delicate sniff. He’d gotten the last bottle of the award-winning single-malt whiskey and had paid more than £1,500 for the opportunity.

  Today, however, the whiskey and fine cigar did nothing to dispel Victor’s bad mood. He disliked doing business with the men who were coming to meet him today, preferred to conduct meetings in his adopted city of Bangkok. He realized if he wanted to continue to operate without restriction in Tanzania, he would have to strike a deal with the devil, which was how he viewed impending negotiations. Besides, they had delivered several fine specimens for his “lion reserve,” as well as the girl Zara, whom the men had reported as being a kind of big cat whisperer.

  Wang had to admit she worked well with the abandoned cubs and the juvenile males that he’d purchased, although she tended to bond too strongly with them for his taste. He hadn’t explained what she was training them for, nor would he. She could easily become a liability if she knew his intention of becoming the biggest canned hunting operator in Tanzania. Let the South Africans have their cheap camps for those who wished to feel the thrill of killing a tame African lion. Victor Wang would give his large cats only enough exposure to humans so that they could easily be moved from camp to camp. The rest of the time he intended to make sure the feline’s ferocious reputation as “man-eaters” was honed to a fine edge. Then he could charge a premium, adding the Asian tigers from his last shipment to the menu as another incentive.

  Sapphire appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but one of his expensive Saville Row dress shirts and a lazy smile. The electronic shock collar around her neck gave her a butch appearance that Wang liked. She studied him with her almond-shaped eyes as she touched herself through the fabric, her nipples hardening. Wang sipped his whiskey and glanced at his watch to gauge the time. Doctor Death, as the militant leader liked to call himself, was notoriously late to anything except an execution. Wang deemed he had close to an hour before Death’s entourage arrived. Victor opened the top of his oversized pinkie ring to reveal a chamber filled with gray powder, and shook some of it into his drink. He then swirled the glass, giving the golden liquid a cloudy cast.

  Sapphire’s lazy smile turned into a knowing one as she watched him take a sip of the whiskey. She unbuttoned the shirt, eyes riveted to his, and ran her fingers along her neck and down her chest to circle first one nipple, and then another. Her hand dipped lower, and she began to touch herself, emitting a soft moan as she did.

  Wang shifted in his chair, his erection growing. Sapphire closed her eyes as she brought her fingers to her mouth and licked each one. Keeping his eyes on her, he finished his drink and stood, his breath coming faster. He unbuckled his belt, sliding it through the loops until free. Coiling it around his hand, he stepped closer, still watching her, his erection throbbing.

  Her eyes opened to slits, she moved backward into the tent until she was next to the bed. He followed, stopping in front of her.

  “Turn around,” he commanded, his voice hoarse. “And take off my shirt.”

  Sapphire did as she was told, draping the expensive shirt over the end of the four-poster bed. Wang licked his lips, taking in the curtain of dark hair cascading down her back, hiding the ugly discoloration from their previous session, now yellow with a hint of black. He enjoyed looking at her small, firm buttocks and slender legs. The blood pulsed through his temples, the purported aphrodisiac qualities of the black rhino horn sweeping through his system. He felt invincible, convinced he could read minds, fuck for hours, and rule the world. His mind raced, unwilling to believe the sensations were due only to a placebo effect.

  He had to figure out a way to acquire more rhinos.

  “Fucking endangered list,” he muttered.

  “What did you say, my king?” Sapphire asked, turning her head at his words.

  “Do not speak,” he snapped, and dropped one end of his belt so that the heavy buckle dangled freely. Sapphire hunched her shoulders and ducked her head, growing quiet. Victor Wang drew his hand back and swung the buckle through the air so that it landed with a sickening thud against her lower back, clearing the other bruises by several inches.

  Without saying a word, she grabbed the bedpost with both hands and squared her shoulders, bracing for more. Wang continued, raising angry red welts the length of her body, filling in where he’d left off the day before.

  He reined himself in just shy of a complete beating and dropped the belt to the floor.

  ***

  An hour later, Victor Wang left Sapphire on the bed, passed out from the pain, and walked onto the front deck. Several men wearing sunglasses and holding AK-47s stood next to a group of late-model four-wheel-drive pickups. A broad-shouldered, powerfully built man wearing a beard and head scarf leaned against the fender of the front vehicle, grinning.

  “You are like the animals your guests hunt, eh, Victor?” The man laughed and the rest of the men joined him. “I have never seen such a beast. You take what you want and act out your fantasies with the whore.” He shook his head. “If I did not know any better, I would think you had been sampling the dark powder.”

  Victor Wang smiled, hiding his distaste for the militant and his men. “Welcome. Will you join me for a drink?” He held out his hand, indicating the chair next to his.

  Assad Khouri, known to his men as Doctor Death, shrugged off his rifle and handed it to the man next to him before ascending the steps to take Wang’s seat. He sniffed the empty glass on the table.

  “I will have some of that,” he said, waving his hand dismissively as he leaned back in the chair, his legs splayed in what could only be considered an insolent posture.

  Wang walked over to a nearby bamboo cabinet to retrieve a lesser bottle of scotch and another glass. He returned to the table and poured a measure of whiskey for each of them.

  “Only the finest for you,” Wang said, smiling.

  Doctor Death picked up the glass and sniffed. As Wang had anticipated, he downed the drink in one gulp.

  Wang poured another for him, set the bottle on the table, and picked up his drink. Unwilling to spend more time with his guest than was absolutely necessary, Victor eschewed diplomacy and got down to business.

  “Do you have what I requested?”r />
  Assad threw back half of his scotch before replying. “Eighteen hundred kilos.”

  Wang gave him a sharp look. “I asked for twice that.”

  He shrugged. “You will get it. The drones are becoming a problem. We were lucky to find what we have.”

  “Where is it?” Wang asked, scanning the pickups. Transporting that much ivory in open pickup beds would arouse suspicion. The shipment required a larger, enclosed truck.

  “The load is on its way to Dar. I don’t feel comfortable having so much with me.”

  Heat rose in Wang’s face. “We had a deal,” he said, his voice flat.

  Assad waved his concerns away. “It is much safer this way. Now, it is only two of my men who are at risk. And, when you call your people at the port, there will be no problem.”

  Victor Wang swallowed his anger and raised the glass to his lips. He took another sip and set it back on the table.

  “That is not what we planned.” The words exited his mouth like sparks from a welding torch.

  Assad leveled his gaze at his business partner and smiled, reminding Wang of a snarling tiger.

  “The plan needed to change. It was not safe.” He raised his eyes skyward. “They have drones everywhere now. Even at night they can see you.”

  “My source tells me they have not yet reached this area.” Wang struggled to reassure the paranoid militant. “The organizations who spearheaded the campaign are working on funding, but they haven’t yet saturated our section of Africa with their foul machines. Besides,” Wang swept his arm in front of him, “we are surrounded by many kilometers of wilderness here. I doubt you need to worry.”

  Assad slammed his glass on the table. Wang’s drink danced, sloshing whiskey over the sides.

  “You do NOT argue with me. It is done.”

  Wang took a deep breath to calm himself. “Then I have no choice but to withhold payment until your portion of the bargain is complete.”

  Assad’s face split into a wicked grin, revealing two pronounced canines, one gold, the other gleaming white. A small diamond, embedded in the gold one, glinted in the sunlight. He lifted his hand and the men near the trucks raised their guns, aiming them at Wang.

  “This is unacceptable,” Doctor Death said.

  Victor Wang assessed his situation, not at all happy with the probable outcome. He thought allowing Assad and his men to train nearby would give him an extra measure of protection, not extra headaches. He pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead, giving his guest a placatory smile.

  “Of course, we can renegotiate terms,” he managed, his earlier belief in his indestructibility having now evaporated.

  Assad leaned back and gestured to his men, who stood down.

  “Good choice. Renegotiation includes receipt of all monies up front, with final delivery of the merchandise once evidence of drone activity is demonstrated to be nonexistent.”

  Wang refrained from rolling his eyes. “And how do you think I can manage that? The drones are deployed at several thousand feet. Far higher than I am able to monitor.”

  “You have friends. Use them.”

  “I do not have friends in these organizations. My ‘friends,’ as you refer to them, hold government positions and are not aware of our partnership.”

  “The drones must be cleared to fly, yes?”

  “I suppose.” Wang wondered where he was going with his line of questioning.

  “Then, it should be easy,” Assad said, spreading his hands wide. “Tell your friends that you need the information because you believe the drones are disturbing your precious animals. Demand to receive the information in writing, and then forward the response to me.” He poured himself another drink and took a long swallow. “I will view this as evidence that you are right in your assumption there is no drone activity here. Then, and only then, will I fulfill our agreement with the rest of the ivory.” He finished off the scotch and poured another.

  Wang did the same, resigned to the onerous task of asking his contact in the Tanzanian government to forge a signed missive on letterhead stating the absence of drones over this part of the country. Actually requesting the letter would signal to the ruling party that there was possible poaching in his territory, thereby bringing unwanted attention. Wang tended to keep a low profile, at least with officials, bribing those that could be bought, and seeking favors only when absolutely necessary.

  The little boy who had accompanied Sapphire in the shipment from Bangkok walked around the corner of the tent carrying a tray filled with sweets and savory bites. He hesitated at the bottom of the steps, waiting for permission. Victor motioned him forward and the child climbed the stairs, careful not to drop the tray. He set it on top of the table and took a step back, keeping his eyes downcast.

  “Well, now, who have we here?” Assad said as he leaned forward and smiled, a calculating look on his face. He turned to Wang. “Where have you been hiding this one, eh?”

  “He belongs to the whore,” Wang said, nodding toward the tent. Jaidee peeked at Assad, his attention riveted to the gleaming diamond in his gold tooth. Assad laughed and motioned the boy closer.

  “Do you want to see my diamond, boy?”

  Jaidee nodded and stepped forward, peering into the man’s mouth. After he’d gotten a good, long look, he backed away, consternation clear on his face.

  “What’s the matter, boy? Have you never seen a rich man’s teeth before?” Assad’s laughter exploded around them. He leaned toward Wang and said in a low voice, “Give me the boy, and I will reconsider my demand for full payment.”

  The curtain fluttered near the entrance to the tent, and Wang caught a glimpse of Sapphire standing in the shadows, her position concealed from the rest of the men. She shook her head, silently pleading with him to refuse.

  “Take him,” he said with a shrug. “I have no need of one so young.”

  Assad nodded and threw back his drink. He stood and walked over to Jaidee, who backed away, his eyes like saucers. Just before the terrorist reached the boy, Sapphire stepped through the curtain toward him. Jaidee cried out as Assad grabbed him and lifted him onto his shoulders.

  “Stay where you are,” Assad said, his voice dripping menace, “or you will be my men’s entertainment for the evening.”

  Sapphire stilled, her face drained of color. Assad walked down the steps to a pickup and handed Jaidee off to one of his men before climbing into the front seat.

  “We will meet again soon, my bruthah.” Assad saluted Wang and the group roared off.

  Sapphire rushed across the wooden deck and clutched Wang’s arm. “You know what they do. He just a boy—” she pleaded, panic filling her voice.

  Wang shrugged her off. His closed fist connected to her jaw with a resounding crack. Hand to her face, Sapphire careened backward and stumbled to the floor. She was on her feet in an instant, a grimace of pain on her face as though she expected more. Wang ignored her and picked up one of the sweets.

  At least I’m not out the cash.

  Chapter 31

  “Where the heck is my buddy Victor?” The tall, barrel-chested man with the florid complexion and booming voice scanned the camp in search of Wang.

  Ghanima bowed low in front of the camp’s new guests, as did the few trusted staff that joined her.

  “Mistah Wang is come soon. He has been delayed.”

  “Well, then. My wife and I are gonna need a li’l somethin’ to wet our whistles.” The man grinned at the tan, Botoxed blonde with the big hair standing behind him. “Ain’t that right, Bobbi Jo?”

  “It sure is, Clarence. Come to think of it, I’m mighty parched.”

  Ghanima turned to the man guarding the couple’s seven suitcases.

  “You hear what the man say,” she demanded.

  The porter’s eyes grew wide as Ghanima’s expression told him she meant to throw him under the bus if he didn’t deliver drinks to the couple, pronto.

  “And make mine
some of that Tasmanian scotch.” Clarence drew out the word Tasmanian.

  “I’ll have an old fashioned,” Bobbi Jo added.

  “Go on, then. Get the man and his lady a drink.” Ghanima rolled her eyes in frustration as the ersatz bellhop scurried to the kitchen to fetch them their drinks.

  Kylie watched the little drama play out through a gap between the tent walls as she peeled potatoes and carrots in the kitchen. With the exception of the women Wang kidnapped in Bangkok, most of the other “employees” at the camp had been lured into service by the promise of better jobs in another country. Once they landed in Africa, the amount they owed increased by an insurmountable percentage, essentially enslaving them in a country with no money and no passport where they didn’t understand the language. Either way, neither they nor Kylie had any hope of escape. The heavy chain around Kylie’s ankles made sure of that.

  On rare occasions she’d catch a glimpse of Sapphire, noticing several new bruises on her arms and legs. Obsessed with making contact, Kylie had been caught twice when she tried to slip past Lek in an attempt to see her. Luckily, she’d established a kind of rapport with him by slipping him scraps from the kitchen, and would only receive a warning. Ghanima had been too busy with new arrivals to the camp to be concerned with where Kylie was sleeping, and Lek had conveniently forgotten to chain her to the post.

  The man acting as bellhop rushed into the kitchen, panic written on his face. Kylie continued peeling carrots, ignoring his discomfort. When he realized she was the only person in the kitchen other than the guard he let loose, speaking rapid-fire Thai, his hands gesticulating wildly.

  She calmly put the carrot and the peeler down and remained silent as he ranted, waiting for him to realize she didn’t understand. He ran out of steam soon enough, and Kylie slid off her chair and clanked to the pantry. Lek joined her and produced a key to open the door, revealing a fully stocked liquor cabinet.

  The bellhop audibly sighed as Kylie brought out a bottle of the Tasmanian scotch, bourbon, sugar, and a small bottle of bitters. She found two highball glasses and poured the scotch, then mixed the old fashioned, adding a twist of lemon. Then she handed them both to the bellhop. The relief on his face as he took the glasses was palpable, and he gave her a grateful smile. Kylie replaced the bottles and Lek locked the cabinet.