Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01

by Predators

  Real estate? Leo said he wanted a piece of it to build his lodge and casino and maybe a few other projects. Well, why not? The old guy could not last much longer. Why not give him a hobby? And the way this country was progressing, a tourist spot on the Chobe River could pay. He’d have a conversation with Greshenko about that. Perhaps the company could hold its retreats here.

  Overall, it had been a stupendous night. He flopped on the bed and dozed. Meeting with Leo and the Russian—when? Leo hadn’t said. Soon.

  ***

  Sanderson awoke early. She’d had a dream that frightened her. Something about death. She couldn’t recall exactly what, but it felt close. She crept to Michael’s room and listened to his ragged breathing. Not Michael. Who? Who was going to die? She could not get back to sleep, so she dressed and prepared coffee and porridge. Today she would have to stop the hunt. She could not justify the time any more. Mr. Pako would be leaving in the afternoon and that would settle it at last. The game drivers had reported that a new male lion had assumed the rule over the Natanga pride. That made her sad. She would miss old Sekoa.

  Mpitle stirred and asked if something was wrong.

  “No, nothing’s wrong, girl. You go and sleep some more, then you must get yourself ready for school. Your breakfast is on the burner. Make sure Michael eats something. I must go and see about this hunting we have been doing.”

  She stepped out into the dawn, took a deep breath and climbed into her truck. The anxiety she’d felt earlier would not go away. What could it be, all this thinking of death? Rra Kaleke approached her.

  “Dumela, Mma, will we be hunting today?”

  “Dumela, Rra, no, no hunting today or any more, I think.”

  Rra Kaleke nodded. “That lion is gone far from here. But I thank you, Sanderson, for the opportunity to hunt again. You are a good woman.”

  With that he turned on his heel and strode away. She recognized that he’d paid her a high compliment. He reminded her of old Sekoa, and she wondered how many months or years either had left on this earth.

  ***

  Brenda spent the early dawn staring at the bare back of her sleeping husband. It had been too easy. Bobby was up to something. What had he meant when he said he’d fixed it? Why so confident all of a sudden? She wished she knew. She’d go through his stuff and find out, but first she needed a shower. She slipped out of bed and into bathroom. She inspected herself in the mirror. Her mascara had run and she looked like a raccoon. Her hair could have served as a nest for a pair of storks. She was a mess, and really hungry.

  ***

  The gray monkey sat on his haunches and studied the lion and the man. He had no fear of either. He knew they no longer posed a threat. The sun warmed the ground, and that woke up the flies. They began to arrive, first just a few, and then they came in swarms. The vultures would be next and then the rest of the carrion eaters. A dead lion, a dead man. The inevitable sequelae of scavengers soon to come frightened him more than either the man or the lion would, if alive. He galloped away.

  A kilometer to the west, the hyenas began yipping and chortling. The pack waited. They had tested the air and knew their enemy lay dead nearby. There would be food, but did they dare go so close to the humans? They’d found the gap in the fence and had even made a protracted sortie in the direction he’d gone, but caution quickly overcame hunger, and they’d retreated. But now?

  The pack circled, barking and yipping, awaiting a decision from their leader. The pack’s matriarch lifted her head and turned eastward, toward the scent. She snapped her jaws, made a noise that sounded like a cross between a gargle and a bark, and then turned and trotted west. Some of the pack milled about, reluctant to follow, and yapped their frustration at having to pass on this easy feed.

  CHAPTER 34

  Leo Painter’s morning started slowly. He’d slept fitfully at first, until the four extra-strength Tylenols and the nitro finally kicked in, easing his chest pain. Bright sunshine and singing birds finally pulled him back to consciousness. He arose, splashed water on his face and confronted the day. He didn’t like what he saw. A shower and shave only marginally improved his mood. He dressed and contemplated an early breakfast. His sour stomach vetoed the idea. He brewed a pot of hotel room coffee and nibbled at a mango, the only item left from the basket of monkey-purloined fruit. It had apparently rolled under the bed during the simian rampage and been found by the cleaners sent to restore order. The coffee was bad, the mango stringy, and his disposition elevated only slightly from this attempt at nutritional discipline. He looked at his watch. Both Greshenko and Travis were late. He could forgive Travis. He had neglected to specify a time when they spoke the previous night, but Greshenko knew better.

  A noise at the sliding glass door momentarily drew him away from his annoyance. A gray monkey sat in what could pass as a slovenly lotus position on the deck, contemplating Leo. Leo stared back. He’d once tried staring down a cat and lost. In the absence of anything better to do he took on the monkey. The latter, evidently satisfied he had Leo’s complete attention gravely pointed with its right arm and long fingers toward the path that led to the Sedudu bar. He rolled his head clockwise, grinned and gamboled away on all fours.

  “Thank you for the suggestion, friend, but it’s a bit early for a drink.”

  The monkey did not respond. A knock at the door. Leo swiveled around.

  “It’s open.”

  “I am sorry I’m late,” Yuri Greshenko looked hot and sweaty. “But on my way over here I had a flat tire. Actually, I had two.”

  “Two? How’d you manage that?”

  “I don’t know. The tires were fully inflated when I left the Mowana Lodge, and just after I pulled around the corner by the golf course, the left front tire just went flat. I didn’t see an obstruction, no pothole, nails, nothing. I went to get out the jack and spare. The jack was missing and the spare was flat as well. And I found this.” He held up a dark leathery thing. “I called the rental company and they are sending someone to fix it. I didn’t think I should wait, but I had to walk the last kilometer and a half.”

  “What’s that?” Leo pointed at the thing dangling from Greshenko’s hand.

  “I don’t think I want to know. The last time I was here, I heard tales about witches and magic and ritual sacrifice of prepubescent girls and boys, and I’m afraid this might have something to do with that.”

  “They killed kids?”

  “It was said so. I don’t know. I never had it confirmed or authenticated. It’s just what people said.”

  “You don’t think someone wanted to cast a spell on you, do you?”

  “Not me, I don’t think. On you. Remember the old lady and the goats? She was yelling at me when we stopped. We were driving a left-hand steering car and I was seated in the passenger seat, which would have been the driver’s side in the right-handed variety. She is used to seeing right-handed cars, so she probably thought I was the driver. I think she may have spent some of your money with an ngaka and this is a bit of boloi, witchcraft.”

  “So you believe that piece of whatever caused your flat tire?”

  “No, I don’t, but it is not important what I believe. It only matters what the person who put this thing in the car believes. Judging from the look on that old woman’s face, we got off lucky. She wanted you dead.”

  “Take more than a piece of hairy leather to pull that off. I’d offer you some of my coffee, but it’s really awful. As soon as Travis gets here, we’ll go for breakfast at the lodge.”

  “The young man knows what you want to do up here?”

  “Not all of it, but enough. Also, he is unclear why you’re here. I suspect he had some intel on you and suspects the worst.”

  “No doubt. He must think you’re off your rocking chair. Is that how you say it?”

  “Close enough.”

  “You are a very trusting man, Mr. Painter. Most people would not have had the, what do you say…the stomach—”

  “Guts.”


  “The guts to engage my services. I have a reputation, you know. I am guessing, but I think that policeman who has been on my tail since the day we arrived has a dossier on me and is waiting to see who I contact. Approaching Rra Botlhokwa could easily be misinterpreted.”

  “As long as you don’t break any laws…”

  “It is not a matter of breaking a law. This country is very proud of the fact it is considered one of the least corrupt countries in the world. It ranks above most European nations and a long way above the United States. They will react to even their suspicions.”

  There was a commotion outside followed by a knock at the door. Again Leo invited the caller in. Travis entered followed by another man. Greshenko sat a little straighter at the sight of the second.

  “Leo, I was held up, sorry. This is Mr. Modise. He wishes to have a word with Mr. Greshenko and with you.”

  Modise stepped into the room and surveyed it like a man about to repossess the furniture. Nothing seemed to escape his notice.

  “Inspector, what can I do for you?” Leo would be polite and careful. Greshenko could very well become a problem, and if he were to leave town it could certainly put a hair in the soup.

  “I must ask you a few questions. But first let me say that we are honored with your presence, Mr. Painter. I am told of the many things you have done, and we, in this country, hope you can teach us much about minerals.”

  Leo nodded and wondered if polite pleasantries were always part of the drill in Botswana, or if this man was treading lightly because someone higher up told him to be careful.

  “But I must also put a question to you as it respects the man they call Rra Botlhokwa.”

  Here it comes, Leo thought. Greshenko edged forward in his chair. Travis lifted one eyebrow.

  “You see, it is thought that this man may be dealing in matters that would attract the attention of my police department. That is the truth of it. And then there is Mr. Greshenko here, whose most interesting file is sent to us by Interpol. So, we must ask if there is anything that you are about that will cause me to suspect you of some behavior that might possibly embarrass our two governments?”

  Very neatly put. It was just the right combination of circumlocution to stay within the boundaries of diplomacy and just a little steel at the end to make us sit up and take notice.

  Leo pondered how to frame an answer when someone else knocked at his door.

  CHAPTER 35

  Brenda wanted breakfast. Bobby was dead to the world. She thought it would be neat if she gave him a poke with her assegai to get him moving . Serve him right, too. He couldn’t be the only one doing the poking. She smiled at her joke—good one. Rummaging through the pile of parcels, discarded clothes, and underwear that had accumulated on the bench at the foot of the bed produced nothing. She scratched her head and tried to remember where she’d seen it last. She attacked the pile a second time. She did find the paper bag it had been in and the sales slip, but no spear point.

  She found a ball point pen, a poor substitute for an assegai, and used it to give Bobby the poke in the ribs. He moaned and called her a name. Maybe she should, like, go to breakfast without him. And maybe she’d take some pills and poison Travis’ coffee, the rat bastard. She wondered idly how many Percocets it would take to snuff him. She went back to the heap on the bench and pulled out her safari shorts. She put them on. Added the blouse and tucked it in. The belt was on the floor. She found one glove but not the other and the scarf was missing. She wondered if she’d left them in Travis’ room. Probably, but that didn’t explain the spear point going missing. She frowned. She knew she wasn’t exactly a neatnik, but also she always knew where things were in the piles and messes she made, and that assegai should have been in the bag on the bench. So what happened to it?

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Bobby had woken and was watching her with one eye.

  “Breakfast. You know how I am after. I could eat a whole, whatever that thing was they served last night. Kubu? No that’s not right. That’s what I called it and the waiter laughed at me. He said kubu meant hippopotamus and they didn’t serve hippo. But it sounded like that.”

  “Kudu.”

  “What?”

  “The meat was kudu, not kubu. Kudu is like a big deer thing only with different horns. I saw a picture.”

  “Big whoop, Bobby, you know, like, big freaking deal. So you know your animals. I knew it wasn’t a hippo steak. Look, if you want to eat breakfast with me, you’ll get your lazy ass out of bed.”

  Bobby rolled off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. His back was crisscrossed with red scratch marks where she’d clawed at him the night before.

  “Hey, it’s all steamy in here. What have you been doing?”

  “Taking a shower, stupid. You could use one, too, but hurry up. I’m starving. Hey, you haven’t seen my spear thing anywhere have you? I can’t find it.”

  “I didn’t take it. What makes you think I had anything to do with it? What did you do with it, is the question. I think you better be thinking about that.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I just asked you if you’d seen it anywhere, that’s all. What’s with the third degree? Jesus, you sound like a cop or something.”

  “Maybe you ought to get used to that.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean? Bobby, what have you been up to? I know you, there’s something.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Listen you better hope I find out in time so I can square it with whoever, or whatever, is going to be, like, after you.”

  “You’re on the wrong cart path there, sweetie. You’re the one who…”

  “I’m the one who what?”

  “Nothing. Are we going to breakfast or do you need an appetizer first?”

  “Don’t need an appetizer. And if you want any more of me anytime soon, you’ll tell me what you did that has you so, you know, defensive.”

  Bobby, she noted, dummied up. Something had happened lately, and he didn’t want her to know what. Pretty typical. They left for the lodge, Brenda plotting how she’d wangle the thing out of him and then how she could sneak into Travis’ room without him knowing so she could get her glove and scarf and, oh yeah, her red thong. Who needed Travis anyway.

  As they stepped from the room, the housekeeping staff, which had been loitering a few steps away, picked up their equipment and moved toward them.

  “Great, give it a going over only don’t screw around with my crap.” Brenda stepped aside to let them enter. “Sheets, towels. Lots of towels. Like, we’re always running out of them, and stuff. The bed is a mess, too. You might need rubber gloves to change it. Junior, here, isn’t exactly Mr. Sanitary.”

  The staff showed some more of those amazingly white teeth. How do they do that? Their dentist bills must be out of this world. They hadn’t a clue what she was saying.

  “Hey, babe, while you’re at it, look around under the bed, and here and there, and see if you can find my other glove. I lost it in there somewhere.”

  Bobby surfaced from his morning stupor.

  “What are they doing?”

  “Cleaning the room and all. Where you at, Bobby? It’s nearly nine-thirty. They have a job to do.”

  “I don’t want the room cleaned.” He gestured at the women and raised his voice. “No cleanee the roomo, you understandee?”

  “You jerk. They, like, speak English and they ain’t deaf. They gotta clean the room. It’s their job. Even if it wasn’t, I want them to. They should, like, fumigate the place. It stinks from too much bed wrestling.” She turned back to the crew. “Clean it. He’s still drunk, you know?” She mimed tilting a bottle to her mouth and pointed at Bobby. The women laughed.

  “No, no, not now, later.” Bobby sounded desperate. What was up with him?

  “Okay, hot shot, they can do it later. But if you have any ideas about getting back in that bed anytime soon, you can forget it, for sure.”

  Bobby seemed m
ollified and turned back toward the lodge. Brenda made a shooing sign to the crew indicating they should go on in the room and clean it anyway. Bobby was an idiot. She really needed to get a better deal somewhere. She almost had it with Travis until Leo stepped in and ruined it. Leo and idiot boy. But there was something else in the wind. She was sure of it and her antennae were up. Bobby couldn’t fool a two-year-old. He’d done something, and if she could just find out what it was, she might have the upper hand again. That would be good.

  All she knew was there was something in the room he needed intact, and there was something about her and…who? Not Travis. He’d dropped that. Leo? She’d find out and then, ladies, hold on to your panties.

  CHAPTER 36

  This time Leo stood and answered the door. Two anxious looking men waited on the doorstep.

  “Mr. Painter, sir, can you help us?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it depends on what you want?”

  “Your friend, Mr. Farrah, is missing. We are concerned, and thought he might be with you.”

  “Oh, excuse me. Come in.” The men sidled into the room. “This is Mr. Greshenko and Mr. Parrizi, my associates. Perhaps they can help, and police inspector…”

  “Kgabo Modise, from Gabz. What happened?”

  The two men exchanged worried glances and one, probably the more senior of the two, said, “We are the management. We are concerned about Mr. Farrah?”

  “Henry? No, he’s not with me. Why? Is something wrong?” Leo tried to remember if Farrah said anything the night before.