Danger Woman (20 page)

Chapter Forty

For the last hour Lenka had been pacing and screaming at the people who still counted themselves as part of his group. Not only had the two he'd sent to Mwambe's house disappeared, but three more were seen taking a Botswana Air flight to Gaborone and presumably back to where they'd come from. His face acquired a shade of red new even for him. Emotionally, he stood on the cusp, the downward side of which led to near insanity. Irena recognized the symptoms and thanked Saint Nickolai, the patron saint of whores, that she'd had the foresight to unload his gun. Otherwise she would have been in a panic. If Oleg lost it, slipped over the line, he'd have to load and cock his weapon. That should give her enough time to escape or draw the nickel-plated pistol she kept in her purse and shoot him first.

Lenka pulled up short in front of her. “Somebody please tell me how a stupid fat black cop can put two trained men in jail. Is he a fat Superman, maybe? Under his uniform is big S? He is a wizard? What do they call them here,
moloi
? Cszepanski, tell me how this happens.”

Irena lit a cigarette and released the snap on her purse. Her hand dropped in and felt the oily smoothness of the .038 automatic nestled in with her facial tissues, lipstick, pillbox, and passport. “It happens,” she cut in, “when you underestimate your enemy. We have had this conversation before and still we ask the same questions. ‘How do they do it?' and then make the same answers. Are we so stupid? They are not super men or super anythings. They are just making moves we don't expect them to make. We are used to police who can be persuaded to look the other way. We keep forgetting that here they don't look away. Is complex game, Oleg, and they are making the rules. Look, first these Ukrainians show up and we think they are Bratva and belonging to Greshenko. Next thing, they are gone to Okavango. Now they are with police ransacking our goods and speaking English like Americans. You see?”

“What's to see? Greshenko, do you think he is the one who has bought police, maybe? How can he do that and we can't? How is it they are searching our headquarters? Who does this to me? We think we will take out the old man who built the casino and all of sudden he goes home to America and gives the hotel away. To who? To Greshenko. What is this? So then what? The army comes and goes. They own the army? Our people disappear.”

“They don't own the army or police. I keep telling you, it is police who are doing this, not Greshenko. He is a pawn, not a king.”

“You say so, but I don't know. It doesn't sound right. These are African police. How is that possible? So, Cszepanski, do they find anything in our building? No? You are lucky they find nothing. How is that possible?”

Cszepanski shrugged. “We had a boy on the inside who is worried about his mother's health. He told us the police were coming to raid so we hid the stuff someplace else. They will be coming back, they said. One of those guys we thought were Ukrainians tells them he smelled gun oil. They will come back and tear the place apart looking for guns.”

“They will not come back,” Irena said as she lit a new cigarette from the stub of one she'd just smoked.

“No? Who says so? You, Irena? You have a boy on the inside, too?” Lenka waved a dismissive hand at her.

“They will not come back because they are not dense. You keep thinking they are, but you are wrong. They know there will be no guns. They are playing with us, don't you see? They are ahead of us every step of the way. Once that policeman was killed last month, they have been stalking us. They come from a long line of hunters. They will stalk their prey for days, weeks, if they have to. Before roads and buildings and civilization, they lived here and survived with wild animals in their backyards. Do you think you could step out of this hotel and live with the lions and hyenas and crocodiles? How long will you last out there, hey? You dismiss these people too quickly, Oleg. You make the mistake…okay, we make the mistake, we are thinking they would be easy marks for big tough Russian Bratva
.
Oleg, they are not afraid of us. Now, they are waiting for us.”

“Waiting for us how?”

“Waiting for us to make the big mistake, to do another stupid thing. They are better chess players than we have been so far. Always one jump ahead of us, see? They are calling the moves. Each time we think we are going to be in charge, they do another thing, they move their bishop or maybe a pawn to a place we don't expect.”

“I don't believe that. Yesterday I decided to go to the casino on the spur of the moment. I tell no one except us. We arrive and in a minute, army truck arrives. How is that done if they are calling all the moves? You are mistaken. Come on, think a minute. They are what, one, two generations from savages creeping about in nothing but a loin cloth and killing their animals with a spear? They can't know. Okay, let's say you are even halfway right, then we must do the same thing.”

“Which same thing? Creep about with a spear or take over the game?”

“We will do something they don't expect.”

“Like what?”

“Kill them all, the police, those men, Greshenko, the army, the whole town if we have to. We are Bratva and
We Yield to No Man!
Is that not right? It's what we say. So, we make it true. When the smoke clears, they will know what they are up against and they will fall in line, you will see.”

“With respect, Chief,” Cszepanski said, “that is crazy. It can't be done, and if we try, we will all find ourselves in graves in this godforsaken country. You know that. They are waiting for us to do something just like that so they can round us up, that is the ones who will have survived and are not taking a dirt nap. They slap felony arrests on us and put us in jail forever. Even if we manage to hop the border, every police agency in Africa and the world will be after us.”

“So, you say quit?”

“I say, wait.”

“Maybe for you. Not for Lenka. Who has an idea? Irena, dig into that brain of yours and tell us. Cszepanski, search your memory for a plan that can work here. If I don't have one soon, I swear, I will just march over to that police post with automatic pistol and just start shooting. I will keep shooting until they are all dead or I am. I will find out if I am right or I am dead. So, talk to me.”

Irena and Cszepanski looked at one another. Decision time, stay or go, before Lenka kicked over the tent pole and everything collapsed and it was too late. Buy some time. That is what they understood they needed to do.

“We go after the woman,” Irena said.

“What woman? There are woman police?”

“Not a woman police. We talked of this before. We put that game ranger who is policeman's woman in a bad spot and they do one of two things, okay? Either they cave in and we work out an arrangement where they leave us alone to run hotels and businesses and in return, we secure the area for them from any other problems like always. Or, this is worst case, we don't get that, but they give us a pass to leave the country clean. It is best plan.”

“We tried a snatch and what happens? Our man is dead. So how do we get this woman when we missed on the daughter?”

“This time, I go get the woman. I don't fail. It is a woman thing.”

“And you think this will work?”

“Look at where we are. We came to do a simple thing. Instead we are chasing our tails because these people have been able to confuse us. We go back to original plan. It works or it doesn't. That is what we came to see. So, let's see. Having a hostage will help one way and if plan fails, it buys us a safe passage out.”

“Cszepanski, what do you think?”

“I think this makes sense. To do what the Davidova says is within our power. It does not require many men. We grab the right people and, like she says, it works one way or the other. Even if we have to leave, we know the ground and can come back later with better idea how to succeed. So, I say we try that.”

Lenka scowled as he turned the idea over in his mind. “Okay, we go tonight. Now, Cszepanski, round up whoever we have left and get ready. Irena and me have to plan and get ready, too.”

Irena knew what “getting ready” meant. She sighed and tried to conjure up an afternoon that didn't require her acquiring more bruises in uncomfortable places. She remembered the French diplomat who'd taught her a few tricks. Perhaps a little help from some vodka and those tricks will keep Oleg happy. She hoped it would. She wasn't sure she could take another round of the “usual” with Lenka.

Cszepanski had made it halfway out the door when his phone vibrated. He paused and took the call. Anyone listening would have heard was, “No? Okay, keep me in touch and call me when you're sure.” Nothing more.

“Something?” Lenka asked.

“Not sure. Probably just a big mistake. I will call you if anything turns up you need to worry about.”

“I am never worrying, Cszepanski. Remember that.”

Chapter Forty-one

It had been a busy night. A successful one at that. Most importantly, no one had died. No one fired a shot. Only Mwambe had to exercise a modicum of force. The alert and the night had done what he could not do alone. Yet, Kgabo Modise worried. He turned to Sanderson and said, “The fat lady hasn't sung.”

“What fat lady would that be? There is a large person we should be hearing? I missed something between waking up and finding you missing and lunch. What are you saying?”

“It is an expression. It means we are not done with this Lenka, that there is more to come. It is an expression from those operas written by Rra Wagner where the person singing the part of the heroine often reported for work much overweight and people who were not particularly liking operas would ask, ‘When is this business over?' and their acquaintance would say, ‘It's not over until—'”

“—the fat lady sings. Okay, I get it. It is not nice to dismiss women who are fighting the pounds as ‘fat ladies.' Superintendent Mwambe is a fat man. If I were to say, ‘It is not over until the fat man dances' what would you think?”

“I would think you were improving your sense of humor.”

“Men. Always the double standard. So, Kgabo Modise, the thin policeman, who or what is your ‘fat lady' today? What will constitute the singing? Lenka? That woman? She is not fat, by the way. She is very slim, like one of those snakes in Kazangula.”

“It is an expression and my ‘fat lady' only means I don't think we are done with these people yet. They have been badly beaten. Some of them, the police in Gaborone tell me, have been trying to leave the country. I do not think they will take this beating they are experiencing lying down.”

“These men who are trying to leave the country, they think the ‘fat lady' has sung?”

“Probably. So, now forget fat ladies. I am worried about what the ones who are still here will try next. I do not think they are finished with us. That Lenka, he is like an animal. If he thinks he is forced into a corner, he could be very dangerous, you see? He could go crazy mad and start shooting. There is no defense against a crazy man with a gun and lots of ammunition. By the time we would get to him, many would be dead or dying.”

“And you think he would do such a crazy thing?”

“I think he could.”

“What will you do?”

“Go back to work. I have people in the Mowana Lodge. I will call them in and ask if they have any ideas, if they heard anything, if they can guess.”

***

Patience Botshabelo, her brother Andrew, Lois Moeti, and Tiki Nguyn sat in a semicircle, their notebooks open and ready. Modise had placed them in service at the lodge as soon as he'd heard that Lenka had reserved a suite. Besides Patience, who worked the bar, Andrew had been assigned to food service and in that capacity brought the endless bottles of vodka and snacks to Lenka's room. Lois did maid service. She had a great deal to report, if asked. She hoped she would not be. What she knew of this Lenka and his
nyatse
would make her stammer and blush. Tiki worked the motor pool and kept track of the comings and goings of Lenka, his woman, and others who dropped in.

None of them would admit it to the others, but they were relieved that Inspector Modise had pulled them off their duty at the lodge. Every day they feared could be their last. The Russians had seemed increasingly angry and desperate and looked at everyone with suspicion. Rumors of the Russian gangs' brutality and violence had been a daily part of their training.

“What can you tell me?” Modise asked. “Any hints as to what this man and the woman will do next?”

Patience started. “Nothing new since my last report, Inspector. In the last few days, they have avoided the bar. I think they do their drinking somewhere else now.”

“In their rooms,” Andrew said. “They have gone through nearly a case of expensive vodka and liters of mixes. I can only tell you, from the peek I get into the room when I take up the tray, that something is going on now. They are planning something.”

“Any ideas?”

“It is risky standing outside their door. They are paranoid and will frequently jerk it open to see if anyone is listening outside.”

“You did that?”

“Oh, yes. I nearly got caught, but I heard the footsteps and managed to duck into a room the cleaner, that's Lois, was working in. Most of their conversation is in Russian, of course, and mine is not so good. Anyway this last time, all I could hear was the Russian saying something about if he didn't get something—I don't know what, help, maybe. Then I am hearing he planned to shoot up the police post.”

“The police post. No, he wouldn't do anything that rash. That's everything?”

“Best I could do. This man Lenka, he is very hot in the head and I think he could do almost anything. After he said what he might or would do, I can't tell which, it got too quiet. I beat a path down the corridor and out of sight.”

“Lois?”

“Inspector, Modise, I can tell you that the man and the woman make great messes in their bed. It is not every night. I think the messes are the biggest when something has gone wrong.”

“This morning?”

“Worst ever. The sheets were…well, there was some blood where I suppose she had…you know.”

“I don't know and don't want to know. Tiki, anything?”

“Only that the SUVs is always gassed and ready. They could go at any moment. Where? Who knows? Gaborone, Harare, the airport? You can never tell with this lot.”

“Okay, you four. You are not to go back to those jobs anymore. As you are describing him, Lenka seems ready to explode. The woman and the others, who knows? I don't want you there if, or when, their heads crack open. Good work.”

***

“That you, Yuri?”

“Sorry, Leo, I forgot the time difference between here and Chicago. Did I get you up?”

“No problem. I don't sleep much anymore.”

“How is Mrs. Painter?

“Getting better. She'll live. How about you? Things going along okay? What's Modise up to?”

“It's like a Hollywood western here, Leo.
Святейший Престол в прошлом месяце
, these cops are unreal.”

“Did you just say, ‘holy crap,' Yuri?”

“Something close to it. You've been studying Russian?”

“Just the cussing. I've found you can get along fine in most countries if you can cuss in their language. So, what are you saying, blasphemy aside?”

“Funny business here, Leo, that's all. Just when you think they are about to blow the whole operation, they manage to do something completely unexpected. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if they march on Lenka with armor-plated elephants with machine guns mounted on their backs. Lenka is down to about three or four guys. The amazing thing is only one person is dead. One of their guys tried to snatch a daughter of a local woman. You remember the game ranger, Sanderson? Anyway, all that happened in Gaborone, not here. Somehow these guys are getting it done. I just hope they can last long enough to put Lenka away forever.”

“I told you. Stick with the little cop. He's good. So how are you doing?”

“Good, I guess. I wonder, when all this ends, what happens to me.”

“The government cut you a deal. They will keep their end of it. I suggested to Modise's boss that he ought to give you a new identity. I thought with the moniker you now have, there'd be no end to people looking for you for one reason or another, mostly bad. How does the name, Adam Neve strike you? It ought to do the trick.”

“Adam Neve? You are joking with me, right?”

“Nope. New beginnings for you, Genesis and all that. So, settle in and run your hotel and casino.”

“Not mine, yours.”

“Nope. I won't be coming back to Botswana anymore, Yuri. I'm on a short string, they say.”

“They say? Who is they and what string?”

“Doctors. Listen, I changed my will and all my interests in the casino go to you. Finish the Lenka thing and settle down. Hell, get married and have a family. Live long and prosper. Isn't that what the guy on
Star Trek
says? I can't remember who, though. Maybe the one with the pointy ears”

“Leo?”

“Cancer, Yuri. If you live long enough, it will find you. Good luck.”

The line went dead. Yuri stared at the phone in his hand. Leo Painter would forever be a mystery to him. If Yuri were the crying kind, he would have shed a tear. He wasn't and so he didn't, but had he been, he would have.

It would be dark soon. He called the Americans and told them to be on the alert. Lenka might be wounded, but he still had some men. Until the cops had him in custody, no one would be safe. And everyone knew how dangerous a wounded animal could be. Yuri had lived in the dark most of his adult life, but real darkness worried him. He had not yet come to appreciate Botswana nights. In this strange land where wild animals shared your space, darkness for him was not a welcome thing. Because he worried, he stayed alert. Because he stayed alert, he survived.