The Death of the Mantis (28 page)

“It says ‘I have found it’ in German,” Kubu said. “I think the
shadings may have something to do with geology.”

Mabaku grunted. “People were killed for this? It seems unlikely.
I drew better treasure maps when I was a child. And we used to
singe the corners in the cooking fire to make them look older and
give them character.”

Kubu chuckled.

“Well, get someone who knows about geology to look at it. Maybe
we’re missing something, but I doubt it.” Mabaku shook his head in
frustration.

Kubu had one further piece of confusion. “We searched Haake’s
vehicle. They found some interesting gemstones as well as rock
samples in the glove compartment. Haake told me they were
amethysts, but we’ll check that. But they also found something much
more interesting that he didn’t tell me about. A revolver. We
checked the serial number with Detective Sergeant Helu in Windhoek.
It belonged to Krige.”

Mabaku rested his elbow on the desk and held his chin in his
hand. He was obviously digesting this new fact, but he said
nothing.

“It’s a Smith and Wesson .38 special. Would fit with the damage
to Haake’s vehicle. And there are three live bullets in the
cylinder and three fired.”

“So that would fit your theory that Haake murdered Krige, stole
his gun and shot at his vehicle himself. And also explain why there
were no cartridge cases at the scene. But where was the revolver
when Tau’s men looked through Haake’s vehicle after he reported the
murder?”

Kubu shrugged. “They weren’t looking for a gun; they were
looking for spent bullets. For that matter, Haake might have hidden
it somewhere outside Tshane and picked it up on his way back to
Namibia.” He hesitated. “Of course there’s another possibility. If
Haake’s telling the truth about the GPS, then the gun could’ve been
planted in his vehicle when the GPS was stolen.”

“But what would be the point?”

“Maybe just to confuse us. Misdirection.”

Mabaku snorted again. He was quite confused enough as it
was.

“Any fingerprints? Where was the gun hidden?”

“There were a variety of prints on the vehicle and one partial
on the cylinder. Obviously Haake’s are all over the vehicle, but
there are also a few we can’t identify. And the partial on the gun
matches one of those. There are also partials on the back casings
of the cartridges. Those belong to Krige. So it looks like no one
reloaded the revolver. It was shoved in the springs under the back
seat. Obvious if you looked. But they never do at the border
posts.”

“And not easy to get at if you’re attacked. That’s odd.”

“He wasn’t expecting to be attacked. He was probably worrying
about someone following him from Namibia again.”

“But he saw motorbike tracks at the
koppies
!”

Kubu shrugged. “He didn’t know who made those tracks, and he
didn’t know he was being followed by a motorbike. It was all a very
big, very unpleasant surprise.”

Mabaku nodded, but said nothing. Kubu waited, wanting to give
the director a chance to arrange all the new pieces of the
puzzle.

“We’ll try a little subterfuge, Kubu,” he said at last. “Maybe
we can turn this to our advantage. We’ll pretend we’re completely
taken in by the whole Bushman story. Say nothing to the press about
the arrow or the footprints. Let the murderer think we’ve fallen
for his ploy. We’ll tell them about the gun, though. That should
shake them up a bit.”

Kubu nodded, but he realised that Mabaku had an ulterior motive.
If the murderer turned out to be one of the Bushmen after all, then
face would be saved by not mentioning the red herrings to the
press. He was making a bet each way.

“Director, I think we should get the Namibian police to follow
up with Muller of the Namib Mining Company again. He may know more
than he’s letting on. Perhaps they know about the
koppies
and are keeping it to themselves. If Haake was right about it, it
could be worth a huge fortune.”

Mabaku nodded. “Good idea.”

“And you’re not going to find anyone from the air. Forget about
the Bushmen. You could walk right past them and not see them if
they wanted it that way. And the others – whoever they are – are
going to be keeping their heads down at the moment. We’re going to
have to go out there ourselves and look.”

Mabaku frowned. “That could just be a wild goose chase. How many
men would we need? And we don’t know where to start!”

“We know it’s a group of
koppies
. The Kalahari is pretty
big, but it’s pretty flat. And we know where Haake went before, so
that should give us the general area. I’ll try and narrow it
down.”

Mabaku looked dubious. “Do that. See if anything turns up.” He
looked at his watch. “Press conference at two. And don’t forget our
strategy – nothing about the arrow or the footprints.”

Clearly the discussion was at an end for the time being.

♦

Kubu returned to his office deep in thought. Mabaku wasn’t the
only one confused by what was going on. Haake had had a motive to
kill Krige, and the mining company might have had a motive to kill
Haake. Haake knew Monzo, but they hadn’t established any motive why
he would want to kill him. And as far as they knew, no one else had
a motive to kill Monzo. Yet he was sure the murders were all
related somehow. He flopped into his office chair and pulled a
survey map of the Hukuntsi area towards him. It showed no hills. In
fact it showed very little other than a few dirt roads and gradual
elevation changes. Three murders, he thought. Was it all about
Haake’s dream of treasure? Had that dream finally led to his
death?

His musings were interrupted by a gentle knock on his door. When
he looked up, Cindy Robinson was there.

“Cindy!” he said enthusiastically. “What brings you…” He let the
sentence trail off. He knew what had brought her to his office.

“Hello, Kubu. I’m coming to the press conference later on. I
thought you might want lunch. I can see you’ve lost weight. Been
starving yourself?”

Kubu laughed. “Hardly. But I’m afraid I’m tied up for lunch.” He
thought of the salad and tasteless low-fat cheese in his briefcase.
But this wasn’t the moment for a relaxed lunch with a reporter, let
alone an attractive female one. “Some other time, perhaps.”

By this time Cindy had settled herself in a chair. She looked at
him intently. “Were we wrong, Kubu? Were the Bushmen the killers
after all? I feel so guilty. I pushed your boss, and he pushed you,
and now I’m wondering about that poor man dying horribly from a
poisoned arrow.”

Kubu shrugged. “We don’t know whether we were wrong or not. The
point is that Lerako didn’t have enough evidence. He’d have been
forced to release them eventually in any case.” He hesitated.
“Anyway, even if it is a Bushman, it could be a different one.”

“You still think it may not be a Bushman?”

“Well, the poisoned arrow is pretty convincing,” said Kubu, a
little too quickly.

At that moment Edison came in, interrupting them.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you were busy,” he said. “I just wanted to
tell you I took a call for you while you were with Mabaku. From an
Use Burger in Windhoek. It’s about Haake. She said it was urgent.
Here’s the number.”

“Thanks. I’ll call her now.” He turned to Cindy. “I’m sorry.
Will you excuse me? It’s pretty hectic here at the moment.” He was
relieved when she just nodded, said goodbye and left. Edison
watched her with appreciation.

“Who’s she?”

“A reporter from the US after a story,” Kubu replied curtly.
“I’d better make that call.” Edison got the message and left him
alone.

What is she actually after? Kubu wondered. She always left him
feeling uncomfortable.

He picked up the handset and hesitated, collecting his thoughts.
One of the doctors had spoken to Use late the previous night, after
Haake died. Why did she want to talk to him? He sighed and dialled
the number.

“Yes, hello?”

“Ms Burger? It’s Assistant Superintendent Bengu from the
Botswana CID. I’m very sorry about your friend Mr Haake. I wouldn’t
have disturbed you today, but I understand you wanted to talk to
me.”

There was a brief silence. When Use spoke, Kubu could hear the
strain in her voice. “Thank you. I wanted to ask you something.
When you spoke to me, you said that Wolfie might be in danger.
That’s why I tried to help. So do you know what happened? Who was
responsible for this?”

Kubu hesitated. “There had been two murders in the area, and Mr
Haake was heading there alone. I think that’s what I meant.”

There was another pause. “I thought you meant someone might
attack him. He was worried about the Namib Mining Company. I think
they were after him. Is it possible they were behind this?”

Kubu turned it around. “But why would they kill the private
investigator they sent to follow Mr Haake? What sense would that
make?”

Use hesitated. “When I saw Wolfie after the trip, he knew he’d
been followed. He said it was sorted out. I didn’t know what he
meant. But now I wonder about it.”

Yes, indeed, Kubu thought. “Well, what would they gain by
killing him?”

“Maybe they wanted the map. That could be it. Did you find
it?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t say anything about the location. As you
told us, it only has drawings of some
koppies
and geological
structures. It’s useless for finding anything.”

There was a silence on the line.

“Ms Burger, we will get to the bottom of this, whoever did it. I
promise.”

“What will happen to his things?”

“At the moment everything here is evidence. Eventually it will
go into his estate. Do you know if he had a will? Who his next of
kin is?”

“No. It doesn’t matter to me. I just want a few keepsakes.
Nothing else.”

Kubu found he had nothing more to say. It seemed that Use didn’t
either, and soon the conversation was over.

Kubu thought about Use’s new information. It seemed to
strengthen the theory that Haake had discovered that he was being
followed by Krige and had murdered him. Had that led to the Namib
Mining Company deciding to hit Haake – using the elaborate Bushman
ruse as cover? Or was there another group involved?

Kubu wished he could get Henk Muller into an interrogation room.
He would need to have a discussion with Detective Sergeant Helu in
Windhoek very soon.

Kubu pulled the topographic map towards him again. Spotting
Edison walking past, he gave a shout and signalled him into the
office.

“Take a look at this map, Edison. The murders seem to cluster in
this area.” Kubu had carefully plotted the locations of the three
murders; they made a small triangle in the southern desert between
Mabuasehube and Hukuntsi. “Maybe there’s a group of bandits
operating in the area. But maybe the murders are taking place
because of something
in
the area – maybe Haake’s
koppies
are full of diamonds.” He stabbed the triangle with
his finger. “The first murder – Monzo’s – was made to look like an
accident. Once the murderers realised we’d seen through that, they
tried a misdirection. Krige’s murder was made to look like a
copycat killing, and Haake’s like a Bushman killing. But suppose
the murders aren’t related to each other, but rather to the
location? Do you see?”

Edison nodded firmly. A sure sign that he didn’t see at all.

Kubu drew a big circle on the map, roughly centred on the place
Monzo had died. “What I want you to do is to check this general
area for deaths – supposedly natural deaths that could be something
different. Say over the last five years.”

“You think there may have been earlier murders? Ones that were
made to look like accidents?” This Edison could understand.

Kubu nodded. He had another thought. “The lady at the Berrybush
BandB outside Tsabong told Lerako about another prospector who died
– a German called Koch. I think that was more than ten years ago.
But maybe it’s related somehow. See if you can find out more about
that. And where he died.”

Now it was time for lunch. With a sigh, he lifted his briefcase
on to his desk and opened it to reveal a Tupperware container of
salad. It seemed very cruel to be forced to face the press on an
essentially empty stomach.

∨
The Death of the Mantis
∧

O
n Sunday morning
Cindy was relaxing after a run, a cool shower and a breakfast of
fruit. She preferred to jog early in the morning when it was cool,
although she didn’t mind the dry heat of Gaborone. She disliked the
humid summers of her home in the southern USA, which left her
drenched and sticky after a run. She poured herself a cup of strong
coffee and walked out on to the small veranda.

Her piece had been written and emailed to the news agency, but
she wasn’t entirely happy with it. It combined the nastiness of the
murder with reactions from various individuals. What came through
very strongly was the ambivalence with which people regarded the
Bushmen. Interesting people living in difficult circumstances,
she’d been told repeatedly. But there was always the sense that
they were regarded as inferior and uncivilised. She wondered if
she’d overdone that angle.

She also wondered if she’d overdone things with respect to Kubu
and the press conference. She’d included several quotes from him,
but none from Director Mabaku. She liked Kubu. He was so huggable.
And she enjoyed his sense of humour. She smiled, thinking of his
reaction to her full name.

“Stop it,” she said aloud. “You’ve been alone so long that every
man looks attractive.” Travelling around the world as a freelance
reporter was fun and exciting, but it didn’t lend itself to lasting
relationships. Not that she usually had trouble finding male
companions. “Now I have a crush on an overweight married
policeman!” She laughed at herself.