“If I don’t fly out of this place, I promise you, a coffin will leap from behind the door and gobble me up. One of those Invasion of the Body Snatchers deals.”
We all laughed as Natembo covered his face and shook his head.
“I promise you. Can’t you hear that banging in the background?” He knocked his knuckles on the edge of his dinner tray, slow and methodically, like the hammering of a nail.
I refocused my attention on the ambient noise and looked out the louvered window at the gray sand littered with garbage and goats. There was indeed the banging of a hammer emanating from the back of the hardware store.
“It’s Caprivi’s Tell-Tale Heart, banging out fresh coffins every morning.” He knocked, knocked, knocked, and then used both hands to knock just out of sync. “Somebody had their thinking cap on, placing the hardware store so close to the customer. This place is a death trap and the only way out is to claw your own exit plan.” Jon clawed at the air and burst out laughing. “In fact, you’d better hide that stitch of yours, or they’ll try to admit you for observation,” he teased. “The white ward is a boon for the doctoring business around here.”
“You’re going to sneak out, aren’t you?” I whispered.
Jon smiled.
I laughed as I looked beyond the hardware store to the bank and remembered the sign COFFINS WITH WREATHS posted at the ATM machine when I was getting money just before the elephant census. It seemed like so long ago when Jon had been joking to Nigel and me about some of the misconceptions about HIV. I remembered Nigel laughing and readjusting his cap. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen him at Sianga’s funeral. Why hadn’t he gone? Something else started surfacing in my subconscious. That cap. Not too many people in the region wore a cap like that.
“You look kilometers away.” Jon touched my arm. “Do you not want me at your place?”
I snapped out of my fog. “Gidean, would you mind accompanying me on an errand?”
Gidean got up.
“I hope you’re not going out to Susuwe to make your place livable.” Jon smiled. “Please, no curtains on my account.”
My mind was racing. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? It might already have been too late. “Not to worry, Jon, we’ll be back in the afternoon.” I nodded a good-bye.
“And no curtains, right?” Jon called out after me.
“Right,” I called back, my mind halfway to Singalamwe, wondering what I was going to say when I got there.
Chapter 48
As we turned the corner of the modest whitewashed brick-and-thatch home to the backyard, I couldn’t help feeling that the place was like any other well-maintained home along Hout Bay in Cape Town, but was certainly out of place in the Caprivi. Never having been to Nigel’s house, I hadn’t thought about what it might look like. All I knew was that he lived across the river from the ranger station, up toward the border of Zambia, in the village of Singalamwe. I had just assumed it would be a simple reed-and-thatch rondavel surrounded by an unkempt mix of dust and weeds, like most village houses.
With his back to us, Nigel was trimming an impeccable line of rosebushes next to a bird feeder. The roses grew over a trellis and around a small fountain that trickled down a wall of rocks and into a koi pond. This garden would have taken some years to establish.
Nigel turned, as if surprised by our presence. “Oh, mutozi, Gidean.” He nodded the Lozi afternoon salutation as if he were meeting us for the very first time. “Catherine.” He bowed looking right through me, wearing that same cap, slightly curved more on one side than the other, similar to the one the man was wearing in the boat with Geldenhuis the night before.
I was unnerved by his behavior and yet furious that I was unnerved, as I suspected that that was exactly his intention. “Impressive gardening,” I said, looking around for more clues to peg him as the man I had seen in the boat with Geldenhuis the previous night.
“It is, isn’t it.” He continued with his pruning. “I took it over from the Baptist minister. Shame, when his wife died of cerebral malaria, he couldn’t face coming back here.” He snipped a branch. “I arrived just in time to inherit the place.”
I noticed that Nigel had orange mud on his boots and slashes of mud up his ankles.
“The funny thing about roses,” Nigel calmly explained while delicately snipping off a rose hip and holding it up to us, “is that people underestimate just how hardy they really are.”
Nigel turned his back again and heavily pruned back several branches. “The further you cut them back, the more they thrive. That doesn’t seem like the quality of a delicate flower, does it?”
My eyes adjusted past the roses to see some luggage sitting on the back step. “We missed you at the funeral.” I probed for a reaction.
“Shame to have had to miss it. I would have liked to have given the induna my condolences.”
I nodded toward his muddy legs and boots. “Have another run-in with hippos?”
Nigel snipped at a branch and stabbed himself with a thorn. “Bugger.” He grabbed his hand and replied, “Yes, the hippos are an ongoing problem in these waters.”
“Perhaps Mr. Lin also had a run-in with a hippo.” I waited for a reaction, but when I didn’t get any, I continued. “He was found in the Zambezi this morning.”
Nigel clucked his tongue. “The Chinese aren’t very good swimmers,” he replied, seemingly unmoved, as he stepped onto an area of loose dirt and tamped it down with his feet. “I just had my gardeners turn over the plot. It was high time I try sunflowers instead of mealies. If planted closely enough, they have a certain elegance to them, while mealie fields always look so bloody scrappy.”
“Sunflowers?” Gidean asked as he walked across an area of freshly overturned soil.
“That’s right,” Nigel replied. “Funny thing is, you can actually make a bloody decent wage from sunflower oil.” He shrugged. “I was just gardening for the aesthetic. I had thought about rice, but it’s just so messy. And you have to be careful of mosquitoes, what with cerebral malaria being so common.”
I walked to his back stoop and stood next to his luggage. “Going on another trip?”
Nigel strolled back over to his bird feeder, removed a bag from his pocket, and poured the contents—a mix of seed and something larger—into the feeder. “Yes, in fact. Thought I’d leave a little extra for the birds this time. Shame, they’ve grown so dependent.”
I walked over to the bird feeder. Would he really take the time to feed the birds and trim the garden before leaving? I casually poked my finger into the bird feeder.
“I hand select the seeds myself.” Nigel’s tone wavered.
I picked out a sunflower seed, cracked the shell with my fingers, and dropped it. “Fresh,” I said, impressed.
“Yes.” He smiled, his eyes focused on my fingers.
I poked my finger to the bottom, hitting what felt like jagged stones. I picked out another sunflower seed and put it in my mouth. “I was never a fan of the aftertaste.” I sucked. “But I do like the salt.” I spat out the whole seed.
We both said the word at the same time. “Unsalted.”
While I dipped my finger into the seed again, Nigel looked as if I had poked at an exposed tooth nerve. “Surprised you’d be taking off so soon again,” I said.
“Again?” Nigel asked as he casually put his hand over the seed, flattening the surface.
“After what must have been a very brief sojourn in the delta?” I poked a finger in between his, inspired by how uncomfortable he had become. “Gidean,” I called, “come have a taste of one of these sunflower seeds.” I glared at a man whose stare now chilled to the core—a man whom I had somehow never seen before now.
Gidean dug his hand down to the bottom of the feeder, grabbed a fistful of seed, and pulled it out. When he opened his palm, it was filled with large uncut diamonds speckled with seed.
Chapter 49
I sat on a stool, staring Nigel in the face through steel bars. With Gidean’s pisto
l held on him, we were able to get the police from the border station to come to Nigel’s house pretty quickly. Nigel was arrested and charged with personal possession of raw diamonds. I remembered all the money that he’d kept stashed in his office, so we stopped there on the way to the prison to see if we could pull in any more evidence, but it had already been cleared out.
After Nigel was put in prison, I put a call in to Craig to inform him of what had happened. By the next morning, the WIA office in Hong Kong was able to link Nigel with the Sun Kwon Muk triad. Their relationship went back five years, starting with a black market auction of national treasures from the Forbidden City.
“I just want to understand why.” I was so angry, I didn’t know where to begin. “No, actually, I don’t care why. I just want to know how you thought you could get away with it.”
Nigel sat unmoved.
In trying to make sense of everything, I recalled our first conversation about our pasts. “So, your father lost your inheritance, and now you’re going to take it back in elephant blood?”
Nigel turned away, bored. “The righteous are so tedious.”
“I see how this goes.” I seethed. “Your arrogance protects you from us simple people, trying to do the right thing, does it?” I grabbed the bars. “We’ll see how tedious it becomes for you, sitting here in this prison.”
Nigel stared at me with an aloof smile. He stood up and approached me. Placing his cool dry hands around mine, he whispered, “By the weekend, I’ll be dining on the best Peking duck Hong Kong has to offer.”
I pulled my hands away. “You’re in jail, Nigel. It’s over!”
“Along with my favorite Montrachet. Nineteen seventy-eight is the most expensive drinkable vintage. Well, I suppose it’s my fault it’s the most expensive, as I can’t resist a good bidding war. It just irritates me when someone thinks they can outbid me.” He waved his hand in the air. “No matter, it’s a lovely wine. Comes from Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. The lot of seven cost me $23,929 per bottle. The owner of Hang Cheng Bank is chilling down the sixth for me at this very moment. He’s one of my biggest clients.”
“Your delusions of grandeur are astounding. How did I miss all this?”
He looked away dreamily, fondling his neck. “And his wife will put on her favorite ivory necklace for the occasion—the finest Congolese ivory rivals the density of Asian ivory, you know—exquisitely detailed carving. Oh, and on such a gorgeous neck.”
“Yes, I’ve heard all about your fake antique ivory!” I hissed.
WIA was able to identify and interview several key witnesses in Hong Kong connecting Nigel to the smuggling of rare artifacts and faked “antique” ivory treasures that originated from freshly poached elephants in Africa. They were able to drive the price of ivory up, and when the Sun Kwon Muk felt threatened by African crime syndicates extending their networks into southern Africa, they wanted to have more control over their supply of ivory to China. They sent Mr. Lin to the Caprivi to start the Dollar Store to accommodate their supply and shipping needs. Their colleague Nigel Lofty came to oversee the operation, posing as a conservation worker.
Nigel’s eyes turned back and looked right through me. “Of course, he will arrange for some of his finest escorts. Though, I must admit, I’ll miss the Caprivian women. They’re not as inhibited by decorum.”
“Didn’t you tell me you used to do theater?”
“Indeed. I must say I developed a taste for Shakespearian tragedy. And I so enjoy sketching a solid character. It’s the gullible people around me that help me stay in that character.” He looked at me mockingly. “You do-gooders need to see the good in people and so you do. You really did make it easy.”
“You smug bastard,” I spat. “You’re a fucking murderer and a coward.”
Nigel sighed. “Oh, don’t give me your moral rubbish, living in your cushy little world of neutrality. I bet there’s a lot of folks out there that think you’re killing elephants by not being political.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Afraid to alienate either side by taking a stand for or against the legal trade? That’s the definition of cowardice.”
I stood up, furious. “How dare you! Countless elephants and who knows how many people have died at your hand, and you have the nerve to point a finger at me?”
Nigel smiled. “Just thought your pretty face could use a reality check.”
“I’m trying to bring the two sides together, while you’re out there slaughtering elephants.” His expression told me that he had me where he wanted me, so I left furious, yelling out behind me, “See you in court.”
“Perhaps we’ll meet in Hong Kong,” he whispered knowingly. “I could open up the seventh bottle.”
Chapter 50
Jon lay on a cot that Natembo had brought over from their barracks and put on my porch. His leg was bandaged and raised. I sat on the edge of the cot, allowing Jon to comfort me. Although I’d felt responsible for another person’s death on two occasions before, this was the first time I had actually killed someone. With Nigel in prison, my mind was free to process the last few days, and Geldenhuis’s death weighed heavily on my mind.
“Catherine, you did the right thing.”
“I never thought I’d get to a place where I’d believe that killing someone could ever be considered the right thing.”
He gently held up my fallen face. “Listen to me.” He smiled. “Kill or be killed—that’s the rule of this land. He would have taken both of us out. You know that.”
“I told you, I’m not good at killing.”
“Well, you’re racking up quite a reputation now with two of the hardest things to nail, a wounded elephant and a cunning smuggler.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He winced and dropped his hands, squeezing his thigh.
“Are you all right?” I squeezed my hand over his.
Jon gasped. “Just another cramp. It’ll pass.”
“More tea?”
“Cheers, thanks.” He exhaled noisily. “That would be great.”
I went inside and made some tea and came back out to the porch with a tray of tea and a brand of ginger cookies I had seen on his shelf.
Jon saw the cookies and smiled. “It doesn’t make it any easier to pull the trigger, I know.”
“I just don’t get it. He was a doctor. What drove him?”
“He was a flawed human first, doctor second. And from the seamy underbelly, a criminal is always born. I’ve seen it again and again in the Caprivi. It’s the nature of the beast.”
“Well, I’m focusing on Dr. Geldenhuis because I’m in denial about Nigel. I just can’t believe I missed every clue he gave me. I feel so stupid—so betrayed.”
“One learns the language of disguise pretty quickly around here, but with Nigel, not soon enough.”
“You knew, didn’t you?” I searched his eyes. “It was that night when he asked about Chastity, wasn’t it?”
“The two of them had been having an affair.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help remembering Nigel’s crass words in prison about local women.
“Seeing her involvement connected the two in my mind.”
“But you kept spending time with him?”
“Keep your enemies close, Catherine, you should know that adage by now.”
“How safe is the Katima prison?” Nigel had succeeded in getting under my skin, despite Craig trying to talk me down after my visit yesterday. “He was completely certain he’d be in Hong Kong by the weekend.”
“We’re not taking any chances. He’ll be transferred to Windhoek tomorrow. Shame you unseeded his retirement package. He’ll have no reason to want to return.”
“You mean an Angolan-diamond retirement?”
Jon nodded and held my hand out, admiring it. “But let’s not spoil the mood.”
I could tell that he noticed my ring was gone. I had taken it off in the night for some reason, another bad dream, pro
bably. I had returned it to the basket on my nightstand, and when I reached for it in the morning, it didn’t feel right to put it back on. I held the closed basket in my hands and put it back without opening it. I was surprised he’d noticed so quickly.
“Something’s different.” He caressed my hand and looked up at me quizzically. “Missing.”
I pulled my hand away, embarrassed, not ready to talk about the feelings that prompted me to leave it off. I hadn’t expected to have to explain myself so quickly, so I took the easy way out. “I guess my ghost has moved on.”
“What haunts you is yourself, you know. Not a ghost.” He drew a circle around my ring finger and searched my expression. “Who am I kidding?” He looked away. “I don’t know a bloody thing about harnessing the wind.”
I hesitated. “Jon, I can finally look forward to something for the right reasons again. You gave me that.”
He looked at me with hopeful eyes. “So you’ll stay?”
I looked out at the empty floodplain. “What’s going to make the difference? Seems like there are always going to be poachers.”
“There will always be villains. But I’m not sure there will always be land. I vote for a policy that ensures the blighters have a home.”
We watched as a large herd of buffalo emerged onto the floodplain.
Jon played with my ring finger. “Do you think about him often?” he asked.
“I did—I do. Well, actually I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot these days.”
“Is he still among the living?”
“Very much so.”
Jon looked out at the buffalo. “Must be a fine upstanding citizen, producing a jewel such as yourself.” He hesitated, as if he was afraid to broach a new subject. “You know, Catherine, we could sure use a census pilot around here.”
I stared out at the buffalo and thought about Nandi and the women farmers who were desperate for a solution to their plight. Maybe I could help them keep elephants away from the farms. That thought gave me hope. I could stay here to help the elephants and the farmers. That gave me license to explore a relationship with Jon.
Ivory Ghosts Page 28
