Killed in Kruger

by Denise M. Hartman

  Mpande called out to Kindness, who got on the telephone.

  “So, what is Mhlongo all about?” Tabitha asked as they waited. “Trafficking? Poaching?”

  Mpande looked at her, then shrugged.

  “No, really.” Tabitha persisted.

  “I think he is interested in preserving himself.”

  “But he had Daniel drop off papers for ivory—certifying it. What’s with that?”

  “Off the record?” Mpande asked. Tabitha nodded. Maybe the answer to this could stay out of her story. She just needed to know at this point. “He may have been involved in poaching.” Mpande exhaled loudly. “We’d been following him to see if we could learn if he had partners. The animal parts in question have not appeared in the local black markets where we normally can track the poachers’ activities. Are you sure you don’t know anything?” He addressed this remark to Daniel.

  He shook his head. “I was leaving the certificates for someone else at Satara Camp; someone called Johanne. I assure you I didn’t do anything illegal. I just transported the package for him. I kept one of the papers.”

  Mpande leaned so far forward Tabitha thought he would jump across the desk. “Do you still have it?”

  “No, when I awoke it was gone from my pocket.”

  “But it was definitely Mhlongo who stopped you on the road?”

  “Yes, yes. I have no doubt. It would not have been wise to stop and help a stranger in a borrowed bakkie.”

  “And you’re sure the package said Johanne?”

  “Yes. Who is that?”

  “It may be an employee in the north of the park. We will pick him up and speak with him.”

  Mpande nodded and stared at the ceiling. In the quiet, they could hear Kindness talking on the phone behind them, and a monkey screech from outside. Tabitha noticed Daniel’s eyelids drooping.

  “Daniel, you’re tired. Is moving to another camp going to be too much for you?”

  “No, no. It is a good idea. We will come back tomorrow and see how the search goes.”

  Mpande strode from the room, but came back in a moment with a piece of paper. “There are rooms at Berg-en-dal but you will have to hurry to get there. Daniel, please get your rest.” Tabitha saw a side of Mpande she had not witnessed before, in his compassion for one of his employees. He urged again, “Please, hurry. It’s best for you to get away from here. Don’t stop for anything on the way.”

  The move to the other camp took on more urgency for Tabitha. Mhlongo was nearby and on the hunt. She and Daniel would have to collect their things and rush to Berg-en-dal before the gates were locked for the night. It was good to take action. Tabitha wondered, would it be enough to keep them safe one more night?

  Chapter 57

  Mhlongo rammed the park jeep as far into the thicket as he could until it got stuck. It wasn’t like he needed to worry about coming back for it. How had the park authorities got onto him? It was that American woman, asking about the cursed photographer. If he had never helped Sy, maybe the shades would have left him alone. He swore again. He should feel better now with Sy gone, but strangely he didn’t. Surely the shades could see he had done right to kill Sy.

  He slid out the door of the jeep and picked his way carefully through the thicket. It was twilight, but he would still choose his way across the park for seclusion. He’d make his way east toward Pieter’s camp and figure out something from there.

  Where had things gone wrong? It had taken him years of work to become the best ranger in Kruger. Now the rangers hunted him. It was stupid to have risked it. He couldn’t exactly walk into a park in Kenya and say he was a former head ranger and ask for a job. Now he had an investigation over him and he’d be leaving the country on the sly. It wasn’t fair.

  Mhlongo had to cross one tar road to get to the relocation camp. Then he could cut cross-country from there. He lay still in the dust and veldt grasses, listening to the bush for signs of life. Searchers, cars, predators active at sundown. Stillness was something he was good at. He regretted leaving the park radio behind in the Jeep, but it was built-in, and useless if torn out. He felt a vibration, and then heard a vehicle on the road. He shimmied lower in the grass.

  After a seemingly long approach, the vehicle slid past. Mhlongo broke into a grin. A bloody yellow bakkie. The American girl must be heading for one of two camps on this road at this time of day. Berg-en-dal or Pretoriuskop. That Christopher kid must have scared her pretty bad at Skukuza. When the road quieted, Mhlongo rose and crossed over with an easy trot, into the deepening bush.

  Easy enough to get a vehicle from Pieter’s camp and finish what he’d started. Maybe the shades would let the curses rest if a cycle of destruction were complete. Maybe then a new life would go well in Kenya.

  Chapter 58

  Tabitha and Daniel gathered their things as quickly as possible and started out on the tar road to cover the sixty-five kilometers to Berg-en-dal. On a regular highway, no problem, but in the park, limits on speed and the narrow, curvy, rough roads precluded going too fast. Tabitha drummed her right hand on the steering wheel; her left gripped the gear shift.

  “I can’t believe they haven’t found Mhlongo,” she said.

  “These things take time.”

  “They’ve had all day, almost twenty-four hours. C’mon. There’s a park vehicle out there somewhere they should be able to spot.”

  “Oh, oh, oh.” The deep laugh. “I think that perhaps you are forgetting how large the park is. It is big even by American standards, like a small country.”

  “I suppose. I just think if a cold-blooded killer is on the loose, you should aggressively go after him.” As if in answer to her complaints, the sounds of a helicopter tore at the bush as it whirred past.

  Daniel looked up into the sky with such a sober look on his face, Tabitha was ashamed of her remonstrations.

  “They are trying to find him. I’m not so sure he is a cold-blooded killer,” he said.

  “How can you say that?”

  Daniel paused to think through his words. “He is a difficult man and he aspires to something great. If he was smuggling…well, he would be desperate to finish his task. He probably wants his payout.”

  “How can you even try to understand him?”

  “It simply makes sense. And I have known Mhlongo for a long time.”

  “I still feel bad about you getting mixed up in all this. Good grief, you were nearly killed.” She glanced at Daniel’s quiet profile. “What can I do to make this up to you, Daniel?”

  “Oh, there is nothing you need to do. Life will happen. Mhlongo might have eventually felt I was a threat. I talked to him often about God, and he resented the reminder about another kind of life. He prefers the advice of isangomas, and that is not an easy way.”

  “I still wish they had him safely in custody. Seeing the blood all over my rondavel porch and you all cut up last night, I guess I’m just plain scared.”

  “That is wise. Better to be aware than have our guard down.”

  They reached Berg-en-dal and got registered for the night under their assumed identities. Tabitha insisted on carrying Daniel’s overnight bag into his cabin. “Your poor arms need all their energy to heal. Now I’m planning on taking you to supper, too, as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Actually, I am very tired and would prefer to go to bed.”

  His shoulders slumped and his eyes drooped. He’d been through so much in the last twenty-four hours. Tabitha ran to the snack shop to see what they had left before closing, and brought him a venison pastie. The golden pastry looked good, but Tabitha had decided to eat at the restaurant and see if she could interview a few tourists for her next article. She would keep working and not let a crazy man stop her progress. Phillip’s contracts would be honored.

  Poor Daniel. She burned with frustration over what had happened to him, even though he took it all with a laissez-faire attitude. It just wasn’t right. For herself, she just blocked out the unpleasantness that had been ai
med at her. Don’t let them see you blink, she told herself.

  The trees overshadowing the path to the restaurant rattled in the breeze. In the dark, Tabitha imagined leopards looming over her, in spite of the high fencing protecting the camp. She straightened her shoulders and held her head up higher.

  The dinner was fine. Without Daniel, and with the scariness of the day and the previous night, her heart wasn’t into the meal. She picked her way through the five courses. At the end, the server explained that coffee was available in the lounge. She decided this would be a good time to meet some other tourists to interview and keep her mind off the situation for a few minutes.

  Only five people milled about the lounge area. Tabitha fixed a cup of coffee, stirring in cream. She approached one couple, but they didn’t speak English. The others let her take notes on their observations and experiences in the park. Nothing exciting, but it would fill in some holes in her story. The final person in the room sat facing an unlit fireplace, with his back to her and a Panama hat tilted precariously far back on the head. Something about him looked familiar, but that didn’t seem likely. How many people did she know on the great continent?

  Tabitha approached the lone gentleman to get his comments. In profile, she realized it was the strange man from the restaurant in Nelspruit. He saw her and smiled, extending a hand. Too late to back out. Note to self: avoid jaunty Panama hat guys in future.

  “We meet again, Miss.” He paused. “Cranz, isn’t it?”

  “How’d you know that?” Make that creepy guy in a Panama hat.

  “The police officer who came in called you that.”

  “You’ve got a very good memory. I’m afraid I don’t recall your name.”

  “Alonzo. Chuck Alonzo. We met at the bar in Nelspruit.”

  “That’s right. What brings you out to the park? I thought you were,” she searched for a polite way to say broke, “ah, firmly rooted in Nelspruit.”

  “My addiction to the parks and to mother’s brew,” he tipped a tiny flask into his coffee with a wink, “keep me in Africa without enough bus fare to go back to the US of A, but I get out to the game reserves whenever possible.” He winked again.

  “So did you get any good game viewing in today?” she asked, to be polite.

  “Spotted one of the few black rhinos in the park. Very pleased about that one. I haven’t seen many of those in my years here. Are you still tagging along on the animal captures with Monsieur Vandenblok?”

  “Actually, no, that was a one-time thing.” Tabitha let that hang.

  “Sounds as though you’re holding something back on me. Did you see something spectacular, a rare breed? Or are you smuggling drugs through the park?” He sipped his coffee audibly.

  Odd that he would use the word smuggling. Tabitha decided to be vague. “No, actually. I got caught up in something going on in the park, and I’ve been visiting with park officials.”

  “Park officials? Maybe you have been smuggling. They think you’re involved in something illegal?”

  “No, no. It’s a long story, but my rental truck got entangled in things without me. The park people were trying to keep it from me, so I wouldn’t blab it all over the press.”

  Alonzo sat forward and adjusted his hat. “Press? You’re with the press?”

  “I’m just freelance, actually. A few travel stories. Nothing of danger to them, but they didn’t perceive it that way. They’re very self-conscious of bad press.”

  “Yeah, they live and die by tourism, and the park system needs more money rather badly. Anyone who sullies them probably gets a hand slapped.” He swished a mouthful of his spiked coffee around in his mouth. A few more people came in and a gentle purr of conversation began to fill the room.

  “Did they catch his connections?”

  “Sorry?” Tabitha said.

  “It’s gotta be smuggling, right? So the smugglers have to have connections in order to sell or move the stuff to the next level. I mean you don’t sell ivory tusks or what have you in Soweto. It’s got to move into the bigger underground market or it’s not worth much. So the next person in the chain is terribly important. I’d like to know that next one, so I could blackmail them.” He laughed.

  Tabitha gave this some thought. It had sounded like Mhlongo might not be working alone as Daniel implied. He had a full-time job and lived in the park, after all. Mpande had said something about figuring out if he was working alone too. “Wouldn’t this next level of people be out of the country, or anonymous to the actual poachers?”

  “I suppose that’s possible, but the little guys just grabbing a stray animal skin here or there have got to move it up through a chain. Mind you, I don’t know how it works exactly, but you just don’t get the money for this stuff if you try to unload it on the open market, plus you could likely get arrested.”

  “You seem to know a lot about all this. Are you sure you haven’t been involved before?”

  Chuck laughed. “I know a little about everything, but I’m not fast enough to get involved in the smuggling trade, unfortunately. Jack of all trades and all that.” The lines around his eyes deepened with his smirk.

  “So who would be a good smuggler?”

  “Someone who has a legitimate reason to go in and out of the country a lot. Someone with a real business besides the smuggling. Mmm. Someone who was ruthless. You can’t be squeamish about killing endangered species or soft on your employees. They could rob you blind on one run, I imagine. Or turn you in if they got caught. You’d want to make sure they were never in that position.”

  They sipped their coffee without speaking. Tabitha thought through the course of events that had brought her to this place. Dead uncle, missing film, strange slides, befriending Daniel, warnings about shadows, Mhlongo. Now she was hiding at a camp, wondering where Mhlongo was, and now about his connections. Too weird.

  Chuck interrupted her thoughts. “I wonder.” Chuck looked off into space and she wondered if he was getting tipsy. “I was, ah, shall we say, visiting a lady of the evening recently.”

  Tabitha involuntarily cringed. She didn’t want to know this.

  “She was from Swaziland, and said her boss had disappeared in the park in the last week. His second-in-command apparently is meaner than the original devil. Maybe the pimps are moving the skins of animals too?” He slugged back the rest of his beverage. “Well, I want to hear the whole story one day. Maybe you’ll be like Aladdin’s tales, and spin me the full yarn tomorrow night. I need to toddle off to bed if I’m going to make my early morning safari run. Cheers,” he said, tipping the rest of the coffee mixture into his mouth.

  Tabitha sat for a few minutes more. How could a man go to these women who are trafficked? It seemed like insanity to her. Poor woman, having to confide in Chuck of all people.

  She thought of that slide of the giraffe enclosure Mhlongo had absconded with. Had Rian ever gotten any feedback on that? She would ask Mpande about it in the morning when they drove back over to Skukuza. If something was amiss at the giraffe capture, it pointed an accusing finger at Vandenblok more than Mhlongo. She wasn’t sure what that would mean. Vandenblok was such a smooth businessman, but Tabitha thought, you never really know people. If that were the case, could they be hunting the wrong man? But it was clearly Mhlongo who attacked Daniel. What if people weren’t what they seemed?

  Chapter 59

  The giraffes snorted and shifted restlessly in the corral. Johanne listened to the night noises in the bush. Stupid kafir, Mhlongo. He’d get Pieter angry again with his stunts. Always has to hurt someone. Johanne muttered to himself as he worked by lamplight.

  He was carefully shifting dirt and sand into the base of the transport pen, getting it ready. Once it was full, the ivory and dried pelts inside would be protected during the ride and hidden from prying eyes that might examine the truck too closely. He listened to the rhythmic sounds of his shovel in the earth. When they reached Kenya, he would have his pay and leave the hassle of hard work behind for a tim
e.

  A crack in the underbrush made him stop. He looked out into the darkness. Johanne leaned his shovel against the corral and reached for a weapon. He chambered a round into the rifle with a loud chink of metal on metal. He listened intently. The bush made him nervous. He glanced up at the tree, making sure no leopards had decided to take up occupancy.

  He jumped at a stealthy footstep behind him, spinning and aiming in one smooth movement. Johanne shot off a round into the darkness. Then saw the dark face of Mhlongo smiling and coming out of the veldt.

  “You are a terrible marksman.” His yellow eyes glinted in the lamplight, but the grin held.

  “Die duiwel sal jou haal. Can’t you just arrive like a normal person? You’re like a ghost stepping up out of the night like that.” He relaxed the muzzle of the gun toward the ground.

  “Don’t call me that.” Mhlongo spoke with such force that spittle flew out on to his lip. “Don’t say that.”

  “What?”

  “Ghost. Do not call me that. I am here now. I have not crossed over. You will bring bad ju-ju.”

  Johanne shook his head. “Superstitious, stupid…”

  “Are you imbeciles trying to draw the authorities, firing shots off like that?” They both jumped as Pieter came out from around the parked truck.

  “How’d you get here?” Johanne asked, disturbed.

  “Same as him.” He pointed at Mhlongo with a handgun.

  Mhlongo looked unhappy about this new confrontation, but pulled himself up to his full height, still several inches shorter than Pieter.

  “Get in the Jeep, Mhlongo.”

  “Why, baas?”

  In a split second, Pieter had a hold of Mhlongo’s shirt and propelled him toward the vehicle. “I have a park radio too. You know? Get in.”

  Johanne stood open–mouthed, looking after them, but neither looked back.

  Chapter 60