Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 02 (22 page)

Chapter Forty-five

Rra Botlhokwa tossed and turned in his bed. Scented satin sheets did not produce the expected effect of easing him into unconsciousness. He’d had a bad day. His man Cunningham had been killed in cold blood and it wasn’t like he could call the police and report it. Quite the contrary. He had the body taken out to the park through the new entry through the fence he’d ordered placed a few days previously. His men, who’d looked decidedly ill at ease, had dumped Cunningham in the river. The crocodiles and tiger fish would take care of the evidence, or most of it. They’d all heard the whispers but now they must realize the threats by the gangsters from South Africa were real and at this moment Botlhokwa had no answers for them. He could only play along until this nonsense with the attorney general’s indictment had been dealt with. He would need to make a call to his contact in Gaborone, the man he referred to as Minister, although he’d not yet served in that capacity.

Losing forty percent of his take would hurt. Still, he had his accounts in the bank in Mauritius and his place in Cape Town. Perhaps he should simply slip away and let them scramble for the leftovers. Perhaps the AG would quash the indictment in exchange for these gangsters. But could he deliver them?

Sleep would not come. He rose and put on a robe. The bottle of single malt and a glass had been set out for him. He shuffled over to the credenza and poured a substantial portion, light on the spritz, and eased out through a pair of French doors to the terrace. The air seemed particularly hot and humid, the night unusually quiet. He sipped his drink and contemplated the options available to him. Standing there in the dim moonlight these thoughts running through his mind, the last thing he expected was the bag thrown over his head and the rough arms around his waist that lifted him in the air. He started to cry out when a sharp pain on his temple and sudden blackness ended it.

He woke up, he couldn’t say how much later, lying on a concrete floor, the bag still over his head. He tried to move but his legs and hands were fastened. Duct tape. He shouted only to receive what he assumed was a kick in the stomach. Voices, indistinct, the chirp of a mobile phone. A conversation, he thought he heard his name mentioned. Then silence, the sound of footsteps moving away. Botlhokwa felt the vomit rise in his throat. He dared not throw up in the confines of the bag. He swallowed repeatedly and managed to gain control of his gag reflex. What next?

***

Someone tore the sack from his head. The rough burlap scratched his cheek as it pulled away. He stared up into a bright light. He could see nothing except the trouser cuffs and shoes of someone standing in front of him.

“Rra, you are with us, I see. We thought you might have dozed off for a minute.”

“Who are you and what do you want? I insist you untie me. Otherwise it will go very hard on you.” His voice sounded harsh and ragged from the acid reflux he’d managed to contain earlier. His response only produced laughter. There seemed to be more than one person in the room. Did he recognize one of those laughing?

“Put him in a chair.”

He was lifted and plopped down hard in a wooden chair. Botlhokwa did not usually sit in wooden chairs. Cushioned leather, damask, soft.

“What do you want from me? I have already conceded a large share of my earnings to you. You want more? How much more?”

“We have decided we want it all. It appears having you as a partner has become a liability. You are poison, Rra.”

“All? That’s absurd. Do you think I will work for you for nothing?”

“Work for nothing? No, no of course not. We are replacing you completely, you see?”

“Replace? How? I know too many things and only I can make this group function properly.”

“Certainly the first part is correct, unfortunately for you. You do know too much. You might just spill that to the attorney general. Yes? Did that thought cross your mind? I will take a stab and say it did. No matter. Not going to happen. As to the second, we have your replacement.”

“My replacement? Who?”

“We have had a wide ranging conversation with your man, Noga. We were going to do you a favor and dispose of him as you asked, but before we could do that we received disturbing news from Gaborone—the indictment, but you know all about that—and then he persuaded us he knew enough about your business to run it until sometime later when we reorganize our affairs in this part of the country.”

“Noga told you that? What indictment?” His mind whirled. What had happened? Where were his men? How had they penetrated his grounds? Noga?

“Come, come, do not play the fool with us, Botlhokwa, you know what indictment. And now I suppose you wish to know everything else. Professional courtesy you would say. Ordinarily we wouldn’t bother, but tonight we are being kind to you. By the way, your family has been given until nine this morning to clear out of your place in Cape Town. We have need of it. Thank you for signing it over to us.”

“I never did anything of the sort.”

“Oh, but you did. That and many other papers are even now being collected for your signature.”

“I won’t sign them”

“No? Well, no matter. I hope your family does not resist. It could become very messy. Your wife has relatives in Swaziland, does she not? She and your daughter will be cared for there, I assume. I cannot make similar arrangements or promises to your mistress, I am afraid. Now, about the indictment and the attorney general. Placing an explosive device in the car park outside the presidential office was a very stupid thing for you to do.”

“Bomb! What bomb? What are you—?”

“Your man in Gaborone mentioned to us that you’d called. He said you were under the impression you had enough on him to keep him in line. We assured him that it no longer needed to be the case, and so he mentioned the trouble with the attorney general and so on. Too bad about that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…a bomb?”

“Very foolish of you, Rra. Planting a bomb and trying to assassinate the attorney general. Very foolish.”

“I never did any such thing.”

“There is a rumor, which your former associate insists must be true, that you ordered the device to be placed in the car park. One man, whom the police know often works for you, has already been arrested in connection with the case. He denies it, of course, but when they search his home and find the blocks of C-4 and detonators, his denial will not be taken too seriously. But you know how that works.”

Botlhokwa felt the gorge in his throat rise again. He gulped for air, and fought off his panic.

“Noga?”

“Yes, Rra, I am here.”

“Noga, what have you done to me?”

“Following those good Christian principles you rammed down my throat all those years. You know, ‘do unto others as they would do unto you.’ You were going to have me killed. I just did unto you first.”

“You can’t kill me.”

“No? Well, perhaps not. We will think of something. Are you fond of animals, Rra?”

Chapter Forty-six

The cameras Charles Tlalelo placed opposite the newest entry through the fence clicked to life just after three-thirty in the morning. They recorded the entry into the park of a battered Volkswagen beetle and a pick-up truck with markings on its doors. Only one man exited the car and managed opening and closing the fence. At four forty-five the car returned alone. The same man managed the mechanics of opening and reclosing. Farther east, nothing would be recorded at the first, original opening.

***

Minutes before dawn two men approached the Marina Lodge and took up posts to watch the entrance to Kgabo Modise’s room. A half hour later two of Superintendant Mwambe’s constables arrested them for loitering. Their attempts to call their employer went unanswered. At seven in the morning a fire sprang up in the home of Rra Botlhokwa. It caused no real damage to the main structure but the flames gutted his office destroying all his records and files. Curiously, the filing cabinets, which were labeled fireproof, had been left unlocked and open. Of their contents only ashes remained. The firemen thought they detected the odor of petrol and suspected arson. They reported that finding to the police who said they would investigate.

Rra Botlhokwa could not be located. Calls to his family in Cape Town were not returned. His associate, Mr. Noga, stated he did not know where Botlhokwa could be reached, but noted the last few weeks he’d seemed depressed. Police at the scene noticed that Noga seemed to be in pain and showed indications of severe trauma to his face and neck. He claimed he’d been in a motor accident.

***

Kgabo Modise heard about an attempted bombing at the president’s office complex in Gaborone while at breakfast. The DG called him with the news. As H. E., the President, was traveling abroad at the time he did not appear to be the target. The DG also mentioned that a rumor circulating around the halls at headquarters and probably elsewhere attributed the act to Botlhokwa and an attempt by him to kill the attorney general. The word of his impending indictment had evidently been leaked. The DG did not place much credence on the rumor, however. The AG could not be reached for comment,

The DG also requested Modise to wind up his business in the north, get back to Gabz, and take over the investigation. Modise replied he would need the rest of the day and would return the following morning. The DG said sooner would be better. It was not a suggestion. Modise looked at his watch and began to organize his day. Sanderson, and the Boers, not necessarily in that order. If he could clear those two items from his list he could catch a late flight out to the capital.

***

As soon as Noga felt certain his new masters were safely out of sight and the police had taken their investigation into the fire away from the main house, he slipped in through the same French doors Botlhokwa had passed out the night before. He moved silently across to the dining room. He paused, listened, and walked to the heavy mahogany table in the center of the room. No one needed a table this big just to eat dinner. He lifted one end and wrestled it to one side. There was a reason it was so hard to move. He rolled back the Aubusson carpet beneath it and ran his hand across the floor tiles. He found the depression he sought. With the blade of a dinner knife conveniently left on the table, he pried open the lid of the space built in between the floor joists and removed a satchel.

All those hours of spying on his former boss had finally paid off. Botlhokwa had become careless about his secrets lately. Noga knew there could be more money for him if he lingered, a great deal more. He also knew the risks that went with it. His new associates would kill him the instant he ceased being useful. That he knew with certainty, and he had no desire to find out when it might occur. By evening he reckoned he’d be in Harare in possession of Botlhokwa’s money, jewelry, and what looked like some negotiable securities. He considered the contents in the bag his severance pay. He replaced the lid, rug, and table, and quietly slipped away.

Two other men, also former employees, saw Noga leave with the satchel and decided they might as well help themselves to whatever might have value remaining in the house that they’d help furnish, as well. Others joined them. Before the police realized what was happening, nearly half of Botlhokwa’s belongings had been spirited away.

The police only shrugged. After all, what could they do?

Chapter Forty-seven

Charles Tlalelo checked both surveillance set-ups on his way to work from his village. This morning he had prepared for this new duty, and had fresh video cassettes on the seat of his government Land Rover. Sanderson had instituted a policy as soon as she was confirmed in her new position that the rangers could drive the vehicles to and from their homes after work and on the way back in to their shift. As there were more rangers than SUVs, a schedule had to be arranged. Charles had one assigned to him this week. He liked this vehicle. It had cup holders and he’d filled both with fresh coffee from one of the lodges before he set out down the road. Coffee, its aroma, and the sweet taste he’d created with three sugars and extra cream made his morning that much brighter.

At the westernmost camera at the newest opening, he alit and walked to the camera set-up. He checked the counter positioned on the camera body. It no longer showed 000. There had been activity at this station the previous night. He swapped out the cassette and drove to the next. The counter on the second camera indicated nothing had moved through the fence at this point. He proceeded to the office and set up the monitor for Sanderson to see the results. Then he finished his restaurant coffee, made tea for Sanderson, and waited.

She arrived twenty minutes later than her usual time. Charles wondered about that. This made two days in a row she had come to work late. It was not his place to comment, but he had no control over his eyebrows, which scaled up his forehead when she breezed into the office.

“Do not give me that look, Charles. It is not what you think. I could not sleep thinking about that rubbish in the park.”

“What is your worry? If orgonite is all that the men who believe in it say it is, well, then it will be a good thing. If it is rubbish, as you believe, it cannot hurt. So what is there to worry about? What is it composed of anyway?”

Sanderson placed several of the cone-like objects on her desk and sipped the tea Charles brought her.

“I have no idea. It looks solid enough but when I drove over some of them yesterday, I stopped and looked to see the source of this wonderful power.”

“And?”

“There is nothing in them at all. Just sand, and gravel, and bits and bobs of
matlhakala
.”

“Then there is nothing to worry about.”

“No, I suppose not. Let me pose for you a question, Charles. This is my worry. I know Operation Paradise is not a thing you subscribe to or know about but, if you were putting down these things in the park which are supposed to have such marvelous powers, how would you do it? How would you go about it?”

“How?” Charles stirred his tea and thought. “You are asking me this seriously?”

“Yes. I think it is important, but I don’t know why. It is the question that kept me awake and so, I am late this morning.”

“I think if I were the one arranging these things, I would put them at certain points or places that I would believe were important, like the river, or a high point, or near something that possibly would affect, somehow, something else. I am not making myself clear, I think.”

“No, I understand. I was thinking the same way. Or they would be in a pattern like a grid or a geometrical arrangement. I don’t know why I think that, but it struck me that others would, you see?”

“Yes, of course. Are you telling me they were not in any order?”

“None that I could see. It looked like they were just dropped in series out of the truck here and there and all over the place. The only thing that seemed consistent was they were easy to drive up to if someone wanted to collect them later. But they were scattered widely in the park. It makes no sense to me.”

“It is a puzzle, surely.” Charles refilled their tea cups. “We had another illegal entry last night. This time at the new entrance we found.”

“Really? That is interesting. It is a good thing we went searching. Show me the tape.”

***

Jack took the call a little after nine. There’d been no more alarms regarding the strangers in black suits and he and Harvey had even managed to slip out for a meal after dark.

“Here we go, mate. Time to pick up the cash and do our disappearing act.”

“You’re sure? This isn’t a trap?”

“Harvey, Harvey. Your caution is most of the time a very good thing. I tend to be rash, I know, but I’ve just had a chat with the buyers and I am sure it’s the same Johnnies I worked with before. They want the goods. They will pay for the GPS. We will collect the cash, pay our lenders, and cut away. We’ll be home free and have Euros to spend in exotic places. Now grab the magic box and keep it out of sight ’til it’s time to deliver.”

“We haven’t made a back-up GPS.”

“No need. These are the chaps I spoke to and they want the lot. We get the cash, they get the box.”

“Where are we going?”

“Very public place so there can’t be any messing about. There’s a pull-off opposite the place where they are building that new hotel. It’s within view of the police station. We’re safe enough, I reckon.”

“I’ll be glad when this is over.”

***

Kgabo Modise packed and checked out of the lodge. He headed his rental toward the police station. He wanted to see if there had been any news of the two men involved in the shooting. He had just pulled onto the main road when his phone beeped. He pulled off the road to respond, as he’d been trained. Too many wrecks were caused by phoning and texting while driving. And it was the law.

“Modise,” Sanderson’s voice sounded excited. “You must come right away. There has been another entry into the park, but this one is different.”

“Yes? It is important?”

“Very important. Two vehicles went in, only one came out.”

“There is still an intruder in the park.”

“Yes, a
bakkie
with markings on the doors.”

“White?”

“Probably. The night vision does not give color but it looked very light, certainly.”

“I must stop and have a talk with Superintendent Mwambe first. Then I will be on my way to your office. By the way, Sanderson, do you have any leave time accrued?”

“What? Leave time? I don’t know. I have not used leave for years. What would I do? Why is this important?”

“Just asking. I’ll see you soon.”