Danger Woman (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-four

Irena let Lenka pace and yell for fifteen minutes, then twenty. She sat in the corner chain-smoking one of Cszepanski's American cigarettes. Finally, Lenka paused in his ranting and searched the room. No one moved or spoke.

“Where are those two useless Boers? Why haven't you shot them? Why does everybody suddenly think they can ignore me, hey?”

Cszepanski waved a hand and studied his shoes. “It's not like that, Chief. Think a minute—”

“What? You think I don't think? I am thinking all the time. We are rich and powerful because I am always thinking. You are what? You are the one doing this thinking? You are not. You are working for me. I can have you eliminated anytime I wish, yes? Are you complaining about what we have, what you have? You can always go home to that place where you came from. Croatia isn't it?”

“Chief, that's not what this is all about and you know it. I am the loyal one, remember? How did you manage the Mirogoj Cemetery business except for what I knew about Zoltan Tsipsis? Okay? So listen. This is all I am saying. This Greshenko is not following the way we do things and still he is old Bratva. Why is that? He is Moscow Bratva
,
sure, but not so much difference, no? Something is all wrong here. You are told to vacate your room, but that is not the case. Somebody pretends to be the hotel management. Two men in suits that would usually mean they are security guard provided by Bratva, appear at hotel door. Then they are gone. Okay. Next, two and now two more of our people are snatched from us but, we don't know how. Also, they are in the wind. Nobody can find them. Not in the jail, not on the road south. Nowhere. Who can manage such a thing? And they say Greshenko is out of town. It makes no sense, is all I'm saying.”

Lenka sat and accepted a chilled beer from Irena. It wasn't her time yet. She uncapped another for herself. No one else dared to risk being singled out and they sat as still as statues. They would get water, go to the bathroom later. Not now. Not with an angry Lenka in the room. Cszepanski needed to talk some sense into Oleg before Irena dared say anything.

“Except he could be dropping them in the river or the park like we do, no? Maybe he is just following the leader,” Lenka said.

“Maybe, but I don't think so. Our Game Park gate operator would know and tell us.”

“You trust him?”

“We have his daughter in a place. She only lives if he behaves. So, it's not a matter of trust. No, something is all wrong here.”

“Okay, so what do you think is going on?”

“I don't know exactly, but I am guessing he is not the person calling the shots.”

“Not Greshenko? Who then?”

“I don't know. Look, there were army trucks in play at one time. Is the army after us? How would that work? And who were the men in the suits, the so-called missionaries? They are a lot of things, I think, but being missionaries isn't one of them.”

Irena judged that Lenka had calmed enough for her to risk inserting herself in the discussion. “The police,” she said. “All the time it is the police. They are playing this game. We were right the first time. Greshenko is nothing. Greshenko is and always has been their stooge. They must have got to him before we did and they have set this up. So, while we think we are competing for territory and possessions with another Bratva gang, it is the police who are trying to destroy us. That is what they want, don't you see? They want us destroyed.”

“You think?” Cszepanski hadn't quite thought of it that way but it made sense. More sense than any of Lenka's ideas anyway. Of course, that was nothing new, either.

“There is no other explanation for all this. Men do not disappear and we don't know where. A fake manager at hotel. What else?” Irena flicked a speck of lint from her skirt.

“So, if this were in St. Petersburg or any normal place, we would have a few important people in our pocket and the police would not be in play. But in this country, police are not available.”

“Not yet,” Lenka said.

“Not yet is right,” Irena said. “And that is why we must change our plans. Forget Greshenko and his fake gang members. They are not important to us anymore. We need to break the police.”

“How?”

“Ah. That is the question. Where is their weak point? What about that fat superintendent? What if we brought him here and demonstrated what happens to police if they do not cooperate and then show him some money to let him know what happens if they do.”

Cszepanski shook his head and fumbled for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. “I don't think so, Irena Davidova. His name is Mwambe and what I am hearing is, he is not involved. The word from the people who joined us after we removed Botlhokwa, he is nothing but a bag of wind. Anyway he is busy with some inspector from the capitol and…
Иисуса Христа
! I just remembered something. I knew I'd seen the little shrimp before.”

“What little shrimp?”

“You weren't there, Irena. When we went to the casino this morning a man who said he was an auditor gave us a lot of crap about Greshenko. Anyway I saw him before but forgot. He's a policeman from Gaborone. He's been seen here and there with the fat one.”

Lanka's fist hit the table. “I knew we should have shot him. Why did you stop me?”

“I just now remembered. Actually, it's a good thing you didn't. Now we know who and what he is, we can use him. We will tell him things that are false and lead them on the same roller coaster they put us on.”

Irena swirled the beer in her glass and studied the floor. “Only if they are foolish enough to use him again. I don't think they will.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because, Oleg, whether you are ready to admit it or not, they are not stupid. No, I think we must act more directly. The policeman we want is that man who meets with the woman game ranger. The one whose phone we cloned. Of course that didn't help much. He must have figured it out.” Lenka started to object. “It doesn't matter if he did or didn't. Those two are close. Very close, I am betting. We snatch her and—”

Cszepanski cleared his throat and frowned. Disagreeing with either of these two included a measure of risk. “Too obvious. She is a very public person, always popping in and out of the police headquarters, driving around the town and the park. We need something subtler.”

“Something or somebody?”

Cszepanski sat back and smiled. “Don't forget she has a daughter. I think that one is in university in Gaborone or thereabouts. Send someone to grab her. Put her with the other daughter. Then we take pictures. If that doesn't work, we strip her and take pictures. If that doesn't—”

“If that doesn't work, we start removing body parts.” Lenka finished for her. “I like it. Make the call.”

Irena shook her head. “Okay, we do that, but not just yet. We need to set the whole thing up. We need to put somebody on the policeman and the woman. We need to know where they meet and what they do. If we move too soon, they will split the operation”

“Split what?”

“They will pull this man off the effort to get us and bring in someone new. Then they will put a different group together just to find the kidnappers.”

“But that will be us. So it is the same.” Lenka sometimes had a hard time following Irena, especially when she talked fast.

“No, you miss the point. Yes, it is us in both cases and yes, they will overlap but, two units operating separately means twice as much to keep track of for us. Twice as many police poking around, you see? No we move slow.”

“We do nothing?”

“Not nothing. We put car in neutral. Maybe low gear. Go slow. No matter what they do to try to goad us, we smile and just roll along, yes? That will make them angry.”

“And?”

“And then two things. First we put eyes on the daughter and when they are busy with other things, we snatch her.”

“Other things? What other things?”

“That is the second point. They will have to put Greshenko and his choir boys back in play and this time we will be the ones playing the game. Yes?”

“Yes.”

Chapter Thirty-five

“Did I tell you I had a bad dream last night?”

“A bad dream? What could make Sanderson, who faces fierce wild beasts every day, have a bad dream?”

“You are poking at me, Kgabo. Anyway, it wasn't a dream, really. It was only that I woke up frightened and worried like you do when you have a bad dream, only I didn't. My
Nkuku
says that the crocodile is eating my
mowa
.”

“What? Your Gran says crocodile ate your soul? What does that mean anyway?”

“It is a mystery. I think it is about a premonition that something bad is about to happen. Like that.”

“And do you think that is so? Something bad will happen to you.”

“Or to someone close to me, maybe. Yes. I worry about Mpitle and Michael since this business with the Russians began.”

“But I told you I have them both under close surveillance. What is to worry about?”

“Mpitle says she sees no policeman anywhere. She thinks you are fooling just to make me feel better.”

“That is the whole point of the surveillance. She should not see the cover. If someone is looking to do a bad thing with her, they will be caught because they don't see the person covering her.”

“So there is someone around all the time?”

“She has a new roommate, yes?”

“Her roommate? Kopano Lekgwamolelo is a police constable?”

“She is that and more. She is also a student of criminal psychology at the university.”

“And she can keep my daughter safe?”

“She has a black belt in karate and can shoot the eye out of a mosquito at twenty yards. Of course she can keep Mpitle safe.”

“And Michael?”

“Covered.”

“And me?”

“I am here.”

“Ah, so that is how it is. Did you also know I can shoot the eye out of a mosquito?”

“At twenty yards?”

“Close enough. Twenty inches. But the end is the same, a blind mosquito.”

***

Irena and Lenka returned to their rooms at the lodge. A few buttons and some lovemaking that more nearly approximated calisthenics than romance and Lenka lay sprawled on the bed snoring. Irena studied her project. That had been the nature of their relation at first. He was her project. He needed to be refitted and re-imagined. Not that Lenka would have agreed. He had in mind that he'd moved her to heights of passion that she'd found irresistible. But for Irena, he was “the project.” Now, the time approached when she would have to decide what to do with her project. Should she abandon it, reconstruct it, or play out the string and see where it all led? She sat and smoked and pondered. To do it now or later? Soon? She totted up the plusses and the minuses. Plus, she would leave now; minus, leave later. In either case, not if but when. A decision like that usually required a precipitating incident or event and so far, there had been none.

She stood and began her routine, checking his pockets, unloading his gun, securing money, and checking the notebook. She also opened his cellphone and read his e-mail, calendar, and deleted the pictures he'd taken of her earlier. He didn't see enough of her skin, he had to take pictures, too? For what, to show off to his friends? Idiot men. It is always about the conquest. She shook her head.

***

Danger Woman had only a few more days until she and her offspring would leave the lair and rejoin the pack. It would be larger now with the addition of her cubs and those of the other females. How long that growth would last would depend on her success as a leader and the ability to protect the very young and the very old. The latter were the least of her concern. When you could no longer hunt, your usefulness diminished and your place in the pack became tenuous. Unlike Irena Davidova, Kotsi Mosadi did not have the gift of logic, the ability to assign a weight to potential decisions. A graceful retirement to a comfortable
dacha
in the suburbs surrounded by friends and family would not be her future. When the time came, it would be because she had lost a step, had been careless, or had been caught completely unaware. Then she would fall to the crushing jaws of a big cat, a lion more than likely, or the slashing jaws of one of her own.

She began her routine. She tested the air, listened, and stared into the bush. She started one way and stopped. Nothing moved. She started in another direction and stopped again. Nothing. Assured, she trotted off to seek nourishment.

All of this was duly noted by Ole Andersen. His brows furrowed briefly. Something was not right. Alone, Danger Woman usually took more time to assess her surroundings. In the past, she would make at least four, sometimes a dozen feints to one path or another. She would be absolutely sure of her safety before starting off. He swung the camera on its pivot and tracked her into the bush. Since he felt sure the river was not her destination, he had no idea where she might be headed. He would wait for her return. But something didn't feel right about this day.

He wondered how much of his anxiety stemmed from his concern about Kotsi Mosadi and how much from his daughter's news. Michael Sanderson was a good boy, but where could this end? How could it possibly work? He wanted his daughter to be happy, yes. He also wanted her to marry and have babies. He harbored a picture in his mind of grandchildren, many grandchildren. But, that would never happen if Sekgele married this man. Did Michael's mother know? Was it his place to say anything? Raising a daughter alone had been difficult enough. Now this. His wife would have known what to do. He missed her more now than when she'd first passed away, strange as that might seem. He supposed it had to do with seeing how much his daughter had grown to resemble her mother. He sighed. What to do?

***

Mpitle saw the man standing at the corner. “Kopano, do you see that man over at the corner?”

“Yes, so what?”

“I think he must be the constable my mother says is watching me. He is there all the time and he is looking at me every time I come out of the building.”

“And you see him all the time?”

Yes, well, I think so.”

“And you find this suspicious? You are very pretty. I should think men will stare at you a lot. So, what is different here?”

“For one thing, he is pretending to read that newspaper but he never turns the pages. How long does it take to read a page? Then he is an older white man, defiantly not Motswana, who is reading
Mmegi?
And then why always on that corner?”

“Really, I think you have taken up the wrong major field of study, Mpitle. You are very observant. You should be studying art, not engineering.”

“I would like to but, my mother would kill me if I did. She says I can't make a place in the world drawing pictures.”

“Well, we must listen to our mothers, but I think she is mistaken. Excuse me but, I have to make a call. You keep walking. I don't want you to be late for your classes. I will catch up with you in a minute.”

She turned aside and made a series of calls

Fifteen minutes later a van pulled up to the corner and another member of Lenka's group of thieves and criminals disappeared without a trace.

***

This news made its way to the warehouse and to Cszepanski. He thought about what it meant, what Lenka would do if he knew, and decided the best course would be to not mention it until after he had a chance to talk in greater detail with the people in Gaborone. After all, Nicolai Zoran had never demonstrated any measure of brilliance and his disappearance might just as easily be due to his stupidity as police acuity. He ordered another man put on “Daughter Watch” and specified that this time it be someone with subtlety. He had to explain what he meant by “subtlety.” He rolled back in the swivel chair behind his desk and watched as the Boers played some card game which seemed to consist of slapping the cards down hard on the table while barking “Ha!” and then laughing uproariously. Something had to be done about these morons.

His thoughts turned back to the missing Nikolai. That made five men who'd disappeared into thin air. He wondered at that. Obviously this had nothing to do with Greshenko, at least not directly. It supported Davidova's notion that it must be the government calling the shots, not Greshenko. Someone observing him had once noted that Cszepanski's greatest strength resided in that part of his brain which monitored his self awareness. Cszepanski knew his limitations. That same person once told him that a wise man wasn't measured by what he knew but by what he knew he didn't know. In that equation Lenka did not qualify as wise. Davidova…Cszepanski wasn't sure whether she knew her weaknesses or not, or cared. But he knew when a noose began to tightened on his neck and when it did, he'd need to work up some alternatives. He thought the noose had begun to squeeze a bit lately.

In truth, he felt completely lost in this strange nation which valued the future of its wild animals nearly as much as it did its people. A country which shipped in rhinos at huge expense, and then committed its army to prevent poaching of those animals and all the other denizens of their game parks. A country that seemed incorruptible. He found that phenomenon the most puzzling. How could a person like Lenka or him possibly make their way in a place like that?

He pocketed the keys to one of the trucks, told one of the Boers to gas it up. He wanted to have a guaranteed exit from the Chobe if, and when, the need arose. He was beginning to sense that there was no
if.