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Authors: Michael Stanley

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The two men went in, and Mopati backed into a corner so that
Haake wouldn’t be too close. “Do it!” he said waving the automatic
towards the urinal.

Haake shuffled over and lifted his gown.

“Shit! There’s blood in my pee!”

When he’d finished, and they were going back to the room, Haake
told the nurse about the blood.

“Anything else that feels bad?”

“Well, I’ve thrown up a few times and have a splitting
headache.”

The nurse frowned. “Go and lie down. I’ll call the doctor and
let him know.”


The doctor was alarmed when the nurse told him about Haake’s
symptoms. The operation had been simple and straightforward. And it
was highly unlikely that Haake was allergic to the anaesthetic.

“Oh, shit!” he said to himself. “Maybe the arrow
was
poisoned as the detective from Gaborone suggested.” He didn’t know
anything about Bushman poisons, and of course there were all sorts
– from bushes, from snakes, from beetles. All different. All
fatal.

He dressed again and rushed to the hospital. On the way, he
phoned the emergency room at the Princess Marina Hospital in
Gaborone for help. They took his number and said a doctor would
phone back.

He hurried to Haake’s bedside and unbandaged the wound. It
looked healthy. But Haake told him the headache was intensifying,
as was the nausea. And his muscles felt listless. Just as the
doctor was about to take Haake’s pulse and blood pressure, his
phone rang. He walked outside the door and described to the doctor
in Gaborone what had happened.

“You’d better get him here as quickly as possible,” was the
response. “Can you get an ambulance at this time of night?”


Mopati was now in over his head. His responsibility was simple
enough – don’t let Haake leave the room. He’d already used his
initiative to let him go to the toilet. Now the doctor wanted to
take him to Gaborone and had sent the nurse to arrange an
ambulance. Mopati had no idea how to react. Quickly he phoned Tau.
Tau was horrified and decided he needed direction from Tsabong, so
he phoned Lerako again.

“Yes?” Lerako was obviously fast asleep when the phone rang.

“Detective Sergeant Lerako, this is Tau. They want to take Haake
to Gaborone. They think the arrow was poisoned.”

“Who wants to?”

“The doctor. He phoned Princess Marina and that’s what they told
him to do. I’m not sure what to do.”

Lerako thought for a moment. “How are they taking him? In an
ambulance?”

“I think so.”

“Well, send Mopati with the ambulance. Just make sure Haake
can’t escape. He may have a plan.”

“Okay. What do they do when they get to Princess Marina?”

“I’ll arrange to have someone there.”


After he hung up, Lerako called Kubu again, who was not pleased.
But after Lerako explained what had happened, Kubu was wide
awake.

“So the doctor thinks the arrow could be poisoned. That’s what I
was afraid of. When will they get here?”

“Don’t know. Depends when they can get the ambulance organised.
But it won’t be before eight Or nine in the morning.”

“I’ll interview him as soon as I can. Thanks for letting me
know. I would have headed for Hukuntsi early and passed Haake going
in the opposite direction. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve spoken to
him.”


It was just after three a.m. when the ambulance eventually left
Hukuntsi hospital. It had taken some time to locate the driver.
Eventually he’d been found and awakened at a girlfriend’s house.
Then he had to go home and find the keys to the ambulance.
Constable Mopati was seated very uncomfortably next to Haake in the
back, and Haake, now even more heavily sedated, lay on the gurney
breathing roughly.

Even to Mopati’s untrained eye, Haake looked very ill. Mopati
wondered whether he would be alive when they arrived.


The Death of the Mantis

Twenty-Eight

T
he ambulance driver
managed to stay on the road the whole way from Hukuntsi, missing
all the animals that wandered into his way – quite a large number,
in fact. About the only benefit he derived by having the siren on
was that an occasional cow would turn and look at the noise coming
down the road. This allowed him to see the headlights reflected in
its eyes.

This road had always puzzled him. He had originally been very
impressed by the fences that ran down each side of the
Trans-Kalahari Highway. That will keep animals off the road, he had
thought. Tonight, as he drove down the highway for the umpteenth
time since it had been paved, he decided that the fences were to
keep the animals
on
the road so they couldn’t stray too far.
They liked it there anyway, because the run-off of what little rain
the area received collected next to the road, causing the grass to
be green and lush.

While the animals liked the new fences, drivers didn’t, and
there were frequent confrontations between vehicles and animals.
The number of carcasses on the side of the road was a testimony to
how often accidents happened.


Kubu was not in a good mood. He’d been waiting at the emergency
centre at Princess Marina Hospital since eight a.m. He’d discovered
which doctor had advised the Hukuntsi hospital, and had managed to
talk to him for a few minutes. But the conversation had been
discouraging.

“We don’t really have much useful information about Bushman
poisons,” the doctor told him. “The best we can do is to find out
what type of poison it is – neurotoxin, haemotoxin or cytotoxin.
The Bushmen use all three. Once we know that, we can do our best to
get the victim through this.”

“Is it likely he’ll die?” Kubu asked.

The doctor frowned. “Impossible to say at this point. We’ll get
help from a toxicologist at the university. But you must understand
it takes time. I’m not at all optimistic that she’ll be able to
provide feedback in time to be of real help.”

“What about antidotes or antivenoms?”

The doctor shrugged. “We don’t know what the poison is. Anyway,
many of the known toxins have no antidote. It really depends on the
man’s natural defences and on how much has got into his system.
Given what they’ve told us about his reactions so far, my guess is
that the poison used is haemotoxic.” He noticed Kubu’s frown. “That
means it attacks the blood in a variety of different ways;
sometimes it impairs its oxygen-carrying capability, resulting in
hypoxia – oxygen starvation – or sometimes it acts as an
anticoagulant, causing bleeding. More often than not, it does
both.”

Kubu had other questions, but a nurse interrupted to tell them
that the patient had arrived. The doctor nodded to Kubu and hurried
off with her.

Tau had sent the arrow with Constable Mopati in the ambulance,
so Kubu was able to examine it before it was sent to the
laboratory. He extracted it carefully from its evidence bag and
photographed it, including several close-ups of the tip and the
paste around it. He thought it looked a little different from the
ones Khumanego had shown him many years, ago, but the small head,
slender shaft and lack of fletching were typical. It was amazing,
he thought, how the Bushmen had been able to isolate such lethal
poisons and use them so effectively – poisons that killed animals,
yet did not cause problems for those who ate the meat.


About half an hour later, the doctor came to where Kubu was
sitting impatiently.

“He’s not doing well. In addition to the headaches, nausea and
small traces of blood in his urine, he’s now having some difficulty
breathing. It’s almost certainly a haemotoxin that’s been used.
They act slower than most neurotoxins, which go after the nervous
system.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Yes, but not for long. He needs rest, and we’re considering
some blood transfusions. My colleague has contacted the Poison
Information Centre in Cape Town for help.”

Kubu accompanied the doctor to Haake’s ward, where a policeman
sat inside the door. Haake was sitting up with a glass of water.
He’s turning yellow, thought Kubu, surprised at the man’s
colour.

“Mr Haake, we meet again,” he said, not offering to shake
hands.

Haake nodded and said in no more than a whisper, “Why did your
man in Hukuntsi arrest me? I’ve done nothing wrong. He said I’d
murdered that Krige guy I found in the desert. What’s going
on?”

Kubu frowned. He’d not expected Haake to raise the issue of
Krige’s death. Rather, he thought Haake would avoid it.

“Mr Haake, we spoke to your previous employer, Mr Muller of the
Namib Mining Company. He said you stole some documents or data from
the company, and he hired Mr Krige to follow you. You phoned him
when you got back to Windhoek and indicated that you knew about
Krige.”

Haake hesitated. “I found out Krige was a private investigator
and guessed Muller had hired him to follow me. I wanted Muller off
my back. He had no right to pry into what I was doing. No
right!”

“It’s an unlikely coincidence that you just happened to find a
man dead in the desert – someone who was specifically following
you. Especially as there was no evidence whatsoever that anyone
else had been anywhere near.”

“I didn’t kill him! There
was
someone else there. He shot
at me!”

“You had motive and opportunity. And we can’t find anyone else
who would want to get rid of Krige.”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t kill him.” Haake’s voice was no more
than a croak.

Kubu sat down and pulled out his notebook. “I need some
information from you, Mr Haake. First, what do you do when you come
into Botswana? It seems you go into the same area of the Kalahari
each time.”

“I’m going to die, aren’t I? Those fucking Bushmen have poisoned
me.”

“The doctors are trying to find out what’s happened to you. It’s
going to take a few hours.”

“Even if they do, I’ll die. Nobody survives those poisons.” He
leant forward and grabbed a blanket from the bottom of the bed. He
wrapped it around his shoulders. “I’m so fucking cold!”

“What have you been doing in Botswana, Mr Haake?” Kubu repeated
sharply.

“I’ve been prospecting.”

“For what?”

“This and that. Anything I could find.”

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing much. A few gemstones – amethysts mainly.”

Kubu pulled his chair closer – Haake was becoming difficult to
hear.

“Are you sure that’s all?”

“I took some samples here and there. Wanted to have them looked
at in Windhoek.”

“Where are they?”

“In my four-by-four. I expect you know that already. Been
through it while I was in hospital, I suppose.”

“No, we haven’t been through it. But we’d like to. Do we have
your permission?”

“Why not? There’s nothing there but a few rocks.”

“Mr Haake, I need your help if we are to find the person who
shot you. I need more information about what you’ve been doing and
where you’ve been.”

“I’ve just been looking around.” He was breathing rapidly, as
though there wasn’t enough air in the room.

“You’ve been following a map. Where is it? I’d like to see
it.”

Haake frowned.

“Assistant Superintendent! Please.” The doctor stepped forward.
“He needs rest. You’ll have to come back later.”

“I’ve just one more question. Have you received any threats or
warnings?”

Haake frowned. “No,” he gasped.

“Come on, Detective. That’s all.” The doctor took Kubu by the
arm and led him into the passage outside.

“Doctor, you don’t understand. We have several murders we think
he is responsible for. I need to talk to him.”

“You can do that later. He needs all the rest he can get if he
wants a chance to pull through this. Come back at two this
afternoon, and we’ll see how he’s doing.”

Having no option, Kubu left the ward, and then phoned Tau in
Tshane.

“Tau! This is Kubu. Get your forensics person and go through
Haake’s vehicle very carefully. Get his GPS – make sure you don’t
turn it on. Check for anything unusual – rocks, papers, anything
like that. Also see if you can find a hand-drawn map. Check for
fingerprints on all the door handles.”

“Okay. I’ll have to drive it up to Kang first.”

“No, no. Get the forensics person to come down. I don’t want
anything disturbed any more than it has been already.”

“Okay. It looks as though he never got the glass at the back of
the vehicle fixed. It’s covered by a piece of cardboard taped to
the car. Half of it has come loose, as though it was pulled away.
He used duct tape, so it shouldn’t have come loose by itself.”

“Make sure they dust around that too, then. I’m not sure what
we’re looking for, but I’ve a hunch there will be something there.
Some sort of clue as to where he’s been or what he’s been up
to.”

After ending the call, Kubu went back to the CID offices at
Millennium Park to phone Lerako and debrief Mabaku.


Kubu was frustrated. He had a man suspected of being a murderer,
but couldn’t interrogate him properly. And to make things worse,
there was a chance the man would die before he could get the
information he needed. Back at his office, he paced and paced,
accomplishing nothing. The solutions to one and perhaps two murders
lay tantalisingly close, but were just out of reach.

At half past twelve Kubu couldn’t stand it any longer. He drove
to the Wimpy at Game City. Normally he would prefer to go to the
Mugg and Bean upstairs, but he was impatient and didn’t want
leisurely service. He wanted food right away. Steak and eggs!

When he finished, he headed back to the Princess Marina
Hospital, arriving there at quarter to two. He went in at once,
hoping that he could talk to Haake earlier than the doctor had
indicated.

BOOK: The Death of the Mantis
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