A Death in the Family
Page 26
“No.”
“Where were you on the night of the twelfth of February?”
“At the mine compound. Alone, I think.”
“Your fingerprints are on the hose that was used to get the gas into Kunene’s car. How do you explain that?”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Our forensic experts have confirmed it!”
Shonhu shrugged and said nothing.
And so it went for over an hour. Mabaku whipped between cases, throwing evidence at Shonhu, asking the same questions different ways, looking for a slip as the trap of tiredness closed. But he got nothing.
Eventually, Davidson intervened. “You’re asking my client the same things, Director Mabaku, and he’s answered all of them. Do you have any witnesses to any of these alleged crimes?” He paused, and when Mabaku said nothing, he continued, “No, I didn’t think so. I think this is enough for today, don’t you?”
Mabaku gave a curt nod and yelled for the guard to take Shonhu back to his cell. He left the interview room angry and frustrated. He’d hoped that Shonhu would break down, and then they’d have enough to go after Mopati, but Shonhu had persisted in denying everything. Not only that, Davidson might well be right: Kubu might indeed have compromised the case. How could a day that had started out so promising end in such a mess?
Mabaku strode back to his office, slamming doors on the way. Nailing Shonhu was something, but he really wanted to get Mopati. Anyone in government who was corrupt deserved to be put behind bars for a very long time.
He went to the window and gazed out, not even seeing the baboons playing on the cars below. After a few minutes, he realized he had only one chance left. Shonhu’s boss, Hong, had lied when giving Shonhu an alibi. They should bring him in and charge him as well. Maybe something would break.
CHAPTER 53
“Commissioner, I have to alert you to the fact that I have just ordered that the manager of the Konshua Mine in Shoshong—a Mr. Hong—be driven to Gaborone to answer questions about the murder of Goodman Kunene, the assistant director of mines.” There was distinct satisfaction in Mabaku’s voice. “He’s lied about where he was and what he was doing on the night Kunene was murdered. We believe that he accompanied Shonhu to Gaborone and helped him in asphyxiating Kunene in his car. He’s on his way to Gaborone, as we speak, and I’ll interview him this afternoon. Perhaps you should let the president’s office and Ambassador Jiu know.”
“Goddammit, Jacob. Are you trying to cause an international incident?”
“No, Commissioner. I think he’s involved, so I need to talk to him on the record.”
Mabaku listened to a prolonged silence. “You really think he’s involved? This isn’t another one of Kubu’s infamous fishing trips.”
“I’m sure he’s involved, Commissioner. And Kubu is no longer on the case. In fact, I have suspended him.” Mabaku went on to explain what happened during the Shonhu interview. “As much as he brings to our investigations, in this case he’s a liability. He thinks everyone and everything is related to the murder of his father. I can’t have him screwing things up. I just hope he hasn’t already done that.”
“All right. Go ahead, but let me know what’s happened before you go home this evening.”
* * *
MABAKU OPENED THE door to the interrogation room and was met with a barrage of Chinese.
“Mr. Hong, please sit down,” Mabaku said. “This is Detective Banda, and you’ve met our interpreter, Liz Linchwe. You can voice any objections in a minute.” He turned to Liz. “Please tell him that this is a formal interview; it will be recorded, and anything he says can be used in a court. Also tell him he can have an attorney present, if he wants one.”
Liz and Hong went back and forth for several minutes. Then Liz turned to Mabaku. “Mr. Hong says he has done nothing wrong, so he does not need an attorney.”
Mabaku nodded and indicated that everyone should sit down. “Please tell Mr. Hong that I’m turning on the recorder.”
Liz did that, and Hong just nodded.
“Mr. Hong, as you know we arrested Mr. Shonhu on Tuesday on a charge of assault.”
Hong nodded, after Liz translated.
“He says it is a terrible thing,” Liz said after Hong’s response.
“Not as terrible as the next charge we’ve laid against him.”
Hong frowned after the translation.
“He is now also charged with the murder of Goodman Kunene…”
Hong jumped to his feet. “Not true! Shonhu with me when Kunene died.”
“Sit down!” Mabaku snapped. “So you understand English! That’s what you told us on Tuesday, but it was a lie.”
Hong opened his mouth to object, but Mabaku told him to shut up and listen.
“We found a hair in Kunene’s car that came from a Chinese head,” Mabaku continued, stretching the truth a little. “After we arrested Mr. Shonhu, we were able to compare one of his hairs with the one we found. They matched. We also found a partial fingerprint—actually a thumbprint—on the hose going into Kunene’s car. Yesterday our forensic experts confirmed that it matched Mr. Shonhu’s right thumb. We also found the same drug in Mr. Shonhu’s home that was used to knock Kunene out. So we have proof that he murdered Kunene. We also have a motive. It turns out that Kunene was being paid for information by a Mr. Newsom, whom I’m sure you know. He represents the other company interested in getting a mining lease. Getting rid of Kunene would greatly help your chances of winning. And we have the word of the director of mines, Mr. Mopati, that Kunene was opposed to you getting the new lease.”
He took a drink of water while Liz translated.
“So, you’re here, Mr. Hong, because I’m going to arrest you too—as an accessory to murder.”
“I don’t understand,” Hong said.
Mobaku turned to the interpreter. “Explain it to him.”
There was a prolonged exchange between the two, with Hong’s voice getting louder and louder.
Eventually, Hong turned back to Mabaku. “Not true.”
“He says he had nothing to do with Kunene’s murder,” Liz said.
“But you lied about playing mah-jongg with Mr. Shonhu on the night Kunene was murdered. So all we can do is assume that you helped him. The two of you drove to Gaborone. You followed Kunene and Mr. Shonhu down near the yacht club. You helped Mr. Shonhu set up the car to look like suicide. Then the two of you drove back to Shoshong. And it was you who lied to the police.” He stood up. “Mr. Hong, I’m arresting you as an accessory in the murder of Mr. Goodman Kunene.” He pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
Hong shot to his feet as Liz translated. “Not true. Not true.” He turned to Liz and spoke.
“He says he didn’t know Mr. Shonhu killed Kunene. That he had nothing to do with it.”
“Tell him I’m going to repeat the question I asked on Tuesday. Where were you on the night Mr. Kunene died?”
Liz translated and Hong replied.
“He says he was in Shoshong.”
“Playing mah-jongg with yourself?” Edison interjected.
Hong spoke to Liz. “He says he was by himself. He didn’t know where Mr. Shonhu was. He says Mr. Shonhu asked him to say he was in Shoshong.”
Mabaku stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
“He says he was reading a book.”
Mabaku sat down and waved at Hong to do the same.
“Mr. Hong, let me tell you your options. If you tell me the truth about what happened on the night Kunene died, we will reconsider charging you as an accessory to murder. If you continue to lie, we will charge you, and we will win, and you will spend many years in a Botswana jail.” He flipped through the pages of his notebook. “But I should also tell you that I had a meeting with Ambassador Jiu yesterday. He wants to send you back to China right away. I assume you will have to answer to somebody there about how you have failed.”
Liz translated, and Hong jumped up again. In an agitated voice, he spoke to Liz.
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“He says you must not send him back. He’s afraid for his life if you do.”
“Then tell us what really happened.”
Hong sat down, shoulders slumped, and admitted that Shonhu had asked him to drive him to Gaborone on the night Kunene died.
“What was Mr. Shonhu doing in Gaborone?” Mabaku asked.
When Liz translated, Hong shook his head. “He doesn’t know,” Liz said. “Shonhu told him that it was important business.”
“Why did you have to go with him?” Mabaku waited for the translation.
“Mr. Hong says Shonhu said he needed Mr. Hong’s help. That he must come.”
“Exactly where did you go?”
Hong shook his head when Liz translated, and then he spoke for some time.
“He says he doesn’t know. Shonhu directed him, and they went into a residential area. Then Shonhu told him to stop, and he got out carrying a bag. Mr. Hong doesn’t know what was in it. Then Shonhu told him how to get back to the main road and told him to drive to Game City shopping mall and wait there until he called.”
“What happened after that?”
Again there was an exchange in Chinese. At last Liz said, “He had a long wait. More than an hour. Then Shonhu phoned and told him to drive south on the main road and meet him at the turnoff to the yacht club. Mr. Hong picked him up there, and they drove back to Shoshong. It was very late when they got back.”
Mabaku thought about it. It added up, but surely Hong knew what was going on?
“When you heard that Kunene had died that night, didn’t you think there could be a connection? Didn’t you ask? After all, you’re his boss.”
Liz translated, and Hong shook his head. After a few moments, he spoke, glancing around fearfully.
“He says he is head of the mine, but Shonhu is the boss. He is with Chinese intelligence. He says when they discovered rare earths, suddenly everything changed. He wasn’t talking to Shanghai anymore; he was getting orders from Beijing. And they sent Shonhu to make sure that they got control of the new prospect—whatever that took. He knew Shonhu may have been involved in Kunene’s death but couldn’t ask.”
“Rare earths?” Mabaku asked. “Nobody has said anything about rare earths. Your application was to mine uranium, not rare earths.”
Liz translated, and Hong looked as though he was going to collapse.
“He says they couldn’t say anything about rare earths. The Chinese government didn’t want anybody to know. Particularly the Americans. Rare earths are very important for Chinese security.”
“And how were you going to get them out of the country?” Edison asked.
“He says Mr. Shonhu has a friend in the Department of Mines. He would certify that what was leaving the country was uranium. Nothing would be said about rare earths. They would just be shipped to China with the uranium. Then they would be sold as Chinese.”
“Another fucking corrupt official! We’ll get him too!” Edison could see that Mabaku was furious. “Mr. Hong, I don’t believe a word you are saying. You’re the manager of the mine. Mr. Shonhu would do nothing without you telling him.” He turned to Edison. “Detective Banda, please go and phone the Chinese ambassador and tell him to come and take this bag of shit away. He must be out of the country by tomorrow night.”
When Liz translated, Hong jumped up. “No, no. Please. I die if I go back.”
“I couldn’t care if they stick a pole through you and roast you over a fire. You lied to me, and now you are going to pay.” Mabaku stood up, while Liz translated.
Hong fell to the floor. “Please. Please. Please. I tell truth.”
“It’s too late!” With that, Mabaku turned and left, followed by Edison and Liz.
When they were outside, Liz said, “Director Mabaku, sir. You won’t really let the ambassador send him back to China, will you? They’ll kill him.”
“Ms. Linchwe,” Mabaku replied with a grin, “of course, I’m not going to send him back. I just want him to think I will. We’ll let him stew for a few hours. Then we’ll talk to him again. I think we’ll get what we need.”
* * *
IT WAS FIVE hours later by the time Mabaku, Edison, and Liz returned to the room in which Hong had been confined.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Hong. I had to make special arrangements with Immigration to let you out of the country.”
“No! No! I tell everything.”
After another twenty minutes of cross-examination, Mabaku was convinced that Hong did not, in fact, know that Shonhu had gone to Gaborone to kill Kunene. Hong had driven the car when Shonhu was spiking Kunene’s drinks, but he wasn’t involved in the killing.
“So, why did Mr. Shonhu want to kill Mr. Kunene anyway?” Mabaku asked.
“Mr. Hong says that Kunene was corrupt,” Liz translated. “He was taking money from the Americans, and he was spying on the director of mines, Mr. Mopati. He was making it difficult for the Chinese to win the new mine.”
“I don’t understand,” Mabaku said. “Are you saying that Kunene was paying Mopati to fix the bidding in favor of the Americans?”
Hong shook his head and spoke rapidly to Liz.
“He says if you promise that the ambassador does not send him back to China, he will tell you the truth.”
“Tell him I know what happened, but I want to hear it from him.”
Hong clutched his head, then spoke rapidly. Liz translated.
“He says that Kunene had found out that the mine was paying Mopati to fix the bidding. They didn’t think anyone would find out because they were very careful…”
“Tell him we know Mopati was paid from Shanghai into a bank account in Nigeria. This is not difficult to find out.”
When Liz translated, Hong’s face was pure astonishment. “You know this? You find out?”
Mabaku nodded. “The Botswana police are very good.”
Hong just shook his head.
“Here’s what I have to offer, Mr. Hong,” Mabaku said. “You will testify that the Konshua Mine bribed the director of mines, Mr. Mopati, to fix the bidding process so that the Konshua Mine would be able to expand. You will provide any evidence that you can to support that. In return, we will drop the charge of accessory to murder and charge you instead with corruption and obstructing justice. You will probably only spend four or five years in a Botswana jail, if convicted. After that, I will ask Immigration to allow you to stay in Botswana.”
When Liz finished translating, Hong blabbered, “Yes, I do. Thank you. Thank you.”
Mabaku nodded at Edison. “Take care of the details. I don’t want him out on bail.”
* * *
WHEN HE RETURNED to his office, Mabaku looked out the window at Kgale Hill. Things have turned out better than I imagined they would, he thought. And best of all, I now can go after the director of mines. Little does he know what’s ahead of him.
He picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number. “Kubu,” he said, “I have some good news for you.”
PART 8
CHAPTER 54
“I’m looking for Lamado Emefiele,” Samantha said as the door to the small house opened.
A shirtless man, wearing shorts and sandals, looked her up and down. “Well now. And who are you?”
“Detective Khama, Botswana Police.” She held out her ID. “Do you know where he is?”
He broke into a smile. “Come in. Would you like a cup of tea—or a beer?”
“No, thank you,” she snapped. “Do you know where I can find Lamado Emefiele?”
“And what do you want with him—if you find him?”
Samantha glared at him. “Tell him I may be able to work out a deal for him.” She pulled out a card and gave it to him. “Ask him to call me, if he’s interested.” She turned to leave.
“Wait a moment.”
She stopped and turned.
“What sort of deal?”
“We know that he’s been importing goods from Nigeria without a permit and then sel
ling them without being registered for tax. The Revenue Service is looking into prosecuting him on various related charges.”
“So what’s the deal? I will give him your message.”
“I can only negotiate with Rra Emefiele in person.”
The man looked around anxiously.
“I am Emefiele! What do you want?”
“Rra Emefiele, you’re in a lot of trouble. I may be able to help you.”
“How?”
Samantha quickly explained that she was looking for the man who had paid the two men to disrupt the kgotla. “They tell us that the man was foreign. You’re Nigerian, right?”
He nodded. “But what does that prove?” he asked.
“I’m not here to prove that you did it,” she said. “I’m here to find out who paid you to do it. If you can tell me that, we’ll ask the revenue service to give you a warning rather than prosecute you.”
“How do I know that you’re not bullshitting me?”
“You’re probably not used to trusting people, but you’re going to have to trust me. If I walk away from here with nothing, I can’t help you. You probably saw that one of your compatriots was recently sent to jail for six years for tax evasion.”
The man stared at her for what seemed like minutes.
“I think you are bullshitting me. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Good-bye.”
He shut the door in Samantha’s face.
* * *
“DID YOU GET a good shot?” Samantha asked Edison when she returned to her car.
Edison nodded. “Good enough for anyone to recognize, anyway,” he said as he took the long lens off the camera body. “That’s the third today. Let’s drop them off and pick up the prints after lunch.”
After a leisurely meal of a hamburger and fries, they returned to their offices at Millennium Park and picked up an envelope at Reception. The prints inside were very sharp—three of Emefiele, and two each of the other two men they’d visited, both from South Africa.
“Okay,” Samantha said. “Let’s see if our men recognize any of these.”
They showed the first suspect the photos, and he immediately pointed to Emefiele. “He’s the guy that paid us,” he said. “Where’s he from?”