Ivory Ghosts (25 page)

His sincerity made me feel guilty for doubting him again. And I felt terrible about the mounting things that I'd had to keep from him. The secrets were building faster than I had control over.

Jon squeezed my shoulders. “What we need to do is to get you to Windhoek as soon as possible.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” Even though I knew that the best thing would be to put some distance between myself and everything that had just happened, that was the last thing I wanted.

“At least till this is all figured out.”

“I refuse to go on the run. Can't you see? That's exactly what they want. I can help on this end, Jon.”

Jon shook his head. “Catherine, this isn't a game.”

“I won't do anything stupid.”

Jon brushed my hair behind my ear and smiled. “Your obstinate nature is growing on me.”

I turned away and got up to break the intimate moment. “Tea?” I quickly went inside to boil water so that Jon wouldn't see me blushing. I wanted nothing more but to have his attention, but I held back. How could I be feeling romantic at such a desperate time for elephants? And when my boss was telling me that this guy might have something to do with what had been going on. I couldn't afford for Jon to be a distraction at this critical time. I needed to figure out whose side he was on. And if I was right and Craig was wrong, we needed to combine our efforts and not lose sight of the goal. I kept trying to convince myself that romance was off the table, but I sensed that he was feeling the opposite. It would have been so much easier if we had been able to be honest with each other.

I stopped by my postbox on the way into Katima and the crazy man with the ax approached me again. His eyes were a little less wild than they had been when we first met and Nandi had steered him away from me. This time he confronted me with a piece of crumpled dirty paper. He pressed it into my hand and stumbled away, reeking of alcohol and the smoke of a cooking fire. I put the paper in my pocket, proceeded to my box with my key, and retrieved a postcard from my dad from Yosemite, telling me that he had found a job for me there. I smiled. He had scribbled something at the bottom. LR was trying to contact me.

It took me a second to realize he must have been referring to my old housemate from grad school, Ling-Ru. Before I left South Africa, we had spoken briefly on the phone. She was being interviewed for a customs job in Hong Kong. I had encouraged her to take it. I wondered if this meant that she had. I put the card in my pocket and hurried back to the car to open the piece of paper.

Ms. Catarin Sohon,

Please come to my office at Dollar Store. Very quickly please. Urgent matter.

Your kindly friend,

Mr. Lin

I drove to the Dollar Store, going through all the possible scenarios of why this man would reach out to me. And why now? Maybe he had learned through the underground that Sianga had gotten out on bail and escaped, and now he was scared he would be found out. Or perhaps the roadblock was a botched job and he intended to kill me—if he was indeed the one behind the roadblock. If so, maybe it wasn't safe to go alone.

My mind was swimming with questions. I wanted to tell Jon what had happened to Sianga and that we were planning for him to be our key witness. I desperately wanted his take on things, and it felt more and more dishonest to be holding so much from him. But I had no choice but to trust Craig.

I had a meeting scheduled with the rangers to overlay the waypoints of elephant carcasses we collected from the GPS during the aerial census onto their foot patrol map. They were planning to investigate each scene from the ground in some of the more remote areas of the park. And then I was meeting Jon and Nigel for dinner. I had plenty of time to pay Mr. Lin a visit before then. But I'd make sure there were people around.

When I arrived at the manager's office of the Dollar Store, Mr. Lin's door was open and I walked in before realizing I was interrupting a pointed conversation between Mr. Lin and Nigel. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. I will wait outside.”

Mr. Lin stood up. “If you have complaint, please speak to cashier.”

I shook my head, but then realized that he might not want anyone to know he had asked me there. “Yes, of course.” I nodded.

As I backed away, Nigel nodded a hello to me and then held up a uniform shirt to Lin. “This is the third time you sold me this cheap Chinese
kak
.” He pulled at the holes where the buttons had pulled through the material.

“Chinese bargain. Bound to be flaw in every batch.”

“The whole lot is flawed!” He picked up a few more shirts from a box on the ground next to him and threw them at Lin.

I stepped farther away as if to leave but kept watching the interaction.

Mr. Lin picked up one of the shirts and pulled at a button. “Perhaps local soap too harsh?”

“Perhaps you should stop importing such garbage and ripping off the entire continent.”

As Nigel marched out, I ducked down the hall and into an aisle of the store. If I started a conversation with Nigel, that would delay my meeting with Mr. Lin.

I waited for Nigel to leave and then returned to Mr. Lin's door. He waved me in, shut the door behind me, and bowed his head. “Please accept my apology. I am terribly sorry. Mr. Lofty can be quite colonial sometimes.” He held out a hand to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, have seat.”

I smiled and sat down, nervous of his angle.

“You are new to the region?”

I nodded. “Relatively, yes.”

“My associates tell me you assist the ministry with elephant counting?”

“That's right.” I couldn't help noticing that Mr. Lin was floundering.

“It might interest you to know I have colleagues willing to help your efforts,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“To help counting elephants, yes?”

“I appreciate the offer, but we can't work outside the ministry.”

“But you work with Community Care? Nigel is your colleague, no?”

“He is. The game guards help with counts outside the park borders.”

“And you work with Induna Munali.”

“Where is this going, Mr. Lin?”

“Ms. Sohon, please, as a responsible businessman, it is in my best interest to keep track of activities in this town. There is much prejudice against me and my people—against the assistance we are trying to give to rural areas of this country. You see, we try to bring affordable goods to people with no access to goods unless they travel to cities. Most cannot do this. In fact, as special service, we even drive goods out to elders on pension day every month. We offer credit and loans to these people. It is very valuable service. But our successes make people very jealous. And some people try to sabotage our efforts.”

“Are you the one offering life insurance as well?”

“Sometimes we offer insurances, yes.”

I remembered the fraudulent life insurance policy sold to a San elder that Jon had showed me and thought we might as well skip the pleasantries. “I have seen one of your life insurance policies, and it's criminal what you are doing.”

Mr. Lin calmly opened a drawer, pulling out a Dictaphone. “You think you are very clever working with local women to get information. You should know locals don't trust the whites. Since independence, they try to remove them from every branch of government. Perhaps Jon hasn't told you his position is threatened, or has he?”

“Why did you ask me to come here?”

“I hoped you ask me that very question.” Mr. Lin pressed the play button on the recorder and I froze as I listened to the conversation that I had had with Sianga at the prison. It sounded so clear, as if Sianga was taping the conversation. No one else had been close enough to get such a recording.

“They will kill him, you know.”

“Who will kill him? Who recorded this?”

“That is of little consequence. I am offering my help.”

“If you are offering me help, then help me understand your relationship to Dr. Geldenhuis.”

“He is an excellent doctor.”

“I see. That's very informative. And your relationship to the witch doctor?”

“He is dead. Murdered most likely. Most unfortunate.”

“Okay, this is not very helpful information.” I knew I couldn't expect a confession, so it seemed safer to leave at this point than to hear any more lies. I got up. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Mr. Lin. I'll take this up with my boss.”

“We know about your activities in Hong Kong. We've been watching WIA. Craig Phipps runs an impressive operation. I would like to assist you in your efforts.”

I walked to the door. “How?”

Mr. Lin followed me to the door. “I have information on powerful organization.”

“The Sun Kwon Muk?”

Mr. Lin shook my hand and whispered, “How will you protect Mr. Sianga?”

“What do you mean?”

“What is your plan?”

I whispered, “Are you saying that you need protection?”

Mr. Lin let go of my hand and spoke loudly. “Thank you for your visit. I do hope you stop in again soon.”

Jon was preoccupied with anointing another leg of lamb with garlic on top of his oven, while Nigel and I looked on, the air somber since we'd received the news that Nandi had slipped into a coma and her prognosis was tenuous.

What I really wanted was another night at Susuwe on my porch alone with Jon. Just us and the moonlit floodplain full of elephants. Not that I minded Nigel's company, as he always seemed to be able to lighten Jon's mood.

Nigel took a swig of his Tafel. “Your neighbor's dog is uncharacteristically quiet this evening.”

Jon's shoulders perked up, and he turned around positively beaming. “You won't believe it, hey?”

I could tell a story was coming. One of
those
kinds of stories. The kind that he told when he wanted to hide.

Nigel smiled slyly. “Jon, don't tell me—”

“Eli was here last night, and little Fifi had gone top off again—yapping the kind of yap that gnarls off the ankle.” Jon laughed. “It was roundup night. Everyone had fair warning to get their dogs off the street before Eli and the guys went out for a cleanup. They had twenty-four hours.” He turned to me in explanation. “You've heard how bad it can get at night. The street pack was getting bigger and bigger.” He shrugged. “Anyway, they were making a pretty clean sweep of it until they got to Fifi.”

“She got left outside?” I knew where this was heading.

“She got out onto the street just in front of the house with her yapping, yapping like there was no tomorrow, and
dooche
.” Jon slapped his fists together.

“What did he do?”

“He filled a dart full of water, loaded his dart gun, and
chupse
.” He giggled. “The dart went right through.”

“No!” Nigel clapped and laughed heartily.

I put my hand over my mouth. “You're joking!” As much as having Fifi as Jon's neighbor was a living hell at night, she was still someone's pet.

“Best night of sleep I've had in months.”

“What did your neighbor do?” I couldn't help feeling badly for the neighbor.

“Fortunately, the missus was away in South Africa.” He went back to his garlic rub and spoke with his back to us. “Sure, her husband put on a show and swore a lot, but I can't imagine that he wasn't secretly pleased. He yelled at the little ratter all the time. Probably beat it senseless, given its horrible disposition.”

Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the front door.

Jon dropped the garlic, wiped his hands, and left the room.

Nigel and I strained to decipher the whispers we heard at the door. We looked at each other awkwardly, neither of us able to figure out what was being said. I could hear both Eli and Gidean.

After a few minutes, Jon slammed the door and cursed. He returned with an ashen face.

Nigel sat up. “What's happened?”

“The induna's son was found dead in the forestry plot outside Kongola. Bloody garroted.”

I stood up, and it felt like I had just lost a hundred-foot elevation. “Will you excuse me?”

As I walked back to Jon's guest room, I could hear him putting the lamb in the oven and slamming the door. I collapsed onto his guest bed and heard them mutter a few words before Nigel left the house.

I desperately wanted to tell Jon what had happened. I had told the induna's son that I would be able to protect him. How naïve I had been. I should have trusted my instincts that our plan had the potential to go wrong in so many ways. And if Mr. Lin had meant what he said about giving information in exchange for protection, there's no way he'd follow through now, knowing that we really couldn't protect anybody.

I lay there getting more and more angry at Craig for putting me—and everyone involved—in this position. I hadn't been able to get through on the satellite phone, so I had sent him a text message about the meeting with Mr. Lin, and I still hadn't heard back. I texted the latest news and got more and more tired and nervous about the inevitable conversation I expected to have with Jon. It was going to be a fight. I knew I had to get some sleep, and thinking about it wasn't going to help.

I lay there for a long time staring at the ceiling. I don't even remember drifting off.

He came at me with no warning. Suddenly I was crushed up against the fence with the wind knocked out of me, the angry buffalo smashing my ribs. There was no place to aim but the thick neck, and my .357 was plastered against it as he pressed in for the killing blow.

I squeezed the trigger four times before I felt a release from the pressure. The buffalo snorted and shook his head, his eyes black with rage as he ran off with my four pieces of lead seemingly having no effect on his will to survive.

I stood, holding my damaged ribs, ears ringing, numb to my surroundings and far, far away from my vehicle.

I woke to a noisy bunch of francolin birds bickering in the garden. My ribs ached and my eye was still sore. I looked at my watch. It was six thirty in the morning.

I sat up stiffly, stretched, and noticed Jon standing in the doorway staring at me. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

“What happened to the lamb?”

“I didn't want to wake you. Saved you some.”

I combed my fingers through my hair. “Thanks. But not for breakfast, I hope.”

“Whenever you're up for it. But listen, something's come up. I've got to get to the office early. Can you meet me there around ten?”

“Sure. What's going on?”

“A lead on our Chinese friend Mr. Lin. Just need to follow up first thing this morning, as it could be important for the case.”

I had to bite my tongue. “Really? What's up?” I was hoping Craig would have responded to my texts by now, letting me know whether the Hong Kong office could help Mr. Lin if he was prepared to come forward. But I had no messages.

“Shhh. Don't worry about it.” Jon sat down on the bed and put his arm around me. “You okay?”

I shrugged.

He drew a delicate finger across the back of my neck. “Do you think we could have a date?”

“A date?” I looked at him quizzically, trying not to seem too excited while wondering what exactly a date would entail in this environment.

“You know, a proper date when all this blows over? Like a weekend in Victoria Falls?”

I laughed incredulously. “A weekend in Victoria Falls?” I couldn't help thinking that this seemed so out of context with the current events. And that it would remind me too much of my last date in Victoria Falls.

“Yes. You know, soon. Maybe even next week?”

I smiled, pretending to be unfazed by the thought. “That would be nice. But how about the desert? Or the coast?”

Jon's eyes lit up. “Name the place and we'll go. Maybe Maputo? Some giant prawns? You like prawns? I make a mean prawn dish. Of course it involves lots of butter.”

“What about
Vera
?”

“We could go down to the delta. Go tiger fishing. I have a killer recipe I've been contemplating.”

I nodded and grabbed his hands and held them tightly. He got the message and stopped.

“Sorry, I can't stop myself sometimes. You know how I am about recipes. I've started to write them down. The name of the restaurant was just the beginning.”

I let his hands go. “I can believe it.” There was so much that I needed to tell him, but couldn't. Meanwhile, my thoughts were on Sianga's death and Mr. Lin's request, and what I could possibly do next. Mr. Lin's information would tie the doctor, the witch doctor, Ernest, the triad, and apparently some other unknown player into the equation. Now, all we had to go on was my testimony about flying over the border illegally, taking photos of the ivory exchange, and witnessing the witch doctor's murder. But Jon must have known all this by now, regardless of which side he was on. I had convinced myself that his sources would have told him. Not that it mattered now; Jon and I would talk about it in his office later. If Craig gave me the go-ahead.