The Turn Series Box Set

by Andrew Clawson

  “How did you get my number?”

  “From the police report. I’m surprised you still have this phone.”

  “Phones are not cheap. You have something to say? Talk.”

  “When we met,” Reed said, choosing his words with care, “you called yourself Paraat. Do other people call you that?”

  “Yes. My friends,” he said, each word came slowly.

  “Do you call other people that name?”

  “No.”

  “So if I heard someone use that when they talked about a person, it’s a good chance they’re talking about you?”

  “Why do you ask these questions?” Godfrey’s voice possessed a hard edge.

  Reed took a deep breath. “I spoke with the police today. They’re investigating diamond smuggling, which I’m guessing you know about.”

  “I do not smuggle diamonds.”

  “I’m not accusing you. To be honest, I couldn’t care less about stolen diamonds. I’m trying to make it clear how serious this is.” A glimmer of an idea had taken root in his head, a way to get rid of the men who threatened his livelihood for good. For it to work, he needed help on the inside, a way to get at these gangsters they’d never see coming. And to do that, Godfrey had to trust him. “During their investigation, the police overheard a conversation about someone called Paraat.”

  “Who did they hear?”

  “I have no idea, and I’m not going to ask. I need to know if anyone else could be called that name.”

  “Around Mwanza? I do not think so.”

  “The conversation they overheard said a person called Paraat needed to be eliminated for failing. I thought you’d want to know.”

  Godfrey stuttered, none of it understandable until he switched from stilted Swahili to English. “This is not true. You lie.” His words came out in choppy bursts. “You and the police try to trick me, to make me tell you what I know.”

  Interesting. So Godfrey really was in this, enough to get himself in serious trouble. Enough to help Reed. The glimmer of an idea brightened. “Why would I do that?” Reed asked. “If I wanted you in a tight spot, I’d have let the police stick you with three attempted murder charges.”

  “You planned to let me go,” Godfrey said, spitting the words out like venom. “It is a trick. You want to trap me.”

  “When you shot at us, I had no idea what to think. At first I suspected poaching. But then I saw you had a pistol and an automatic rifle, so poaching didn’t make sense. All I had to do was tell the police what happened, and you’d be locked up.”

  Godfrey protested, but the kid’s heart wasn’t in it, and he quickly fell silent. After a few mumbled curses, he said, “Say you tell the truth, Reed Kimble. You do not know why I came after you, do not know why I shot. I will tell you. It is because I was told to kill you, and I failed. You are alive, and I am now in trouble.”

  “Who’s after you?”

  Godfrey ignored the question. “Today these men want to kill me, not you, and it is because you did not turn me in. If you did, I would be in jail with many other people I know who have failed missions. In my world, if you are caught, you pay the price, but you are often safe. But not with this group. They are killers, and they must think I am working with the police as an informant. You have doomed me.” Despair dripped from every word. “Why did you not turn me in?”

  Faced with the question, Reed ran through his decision again. Why not tell the police? The guy tried to kill them, had damn near succeeded. Reed had looked at him and decided against telling the truth, instead lying to protect this stranger. Maybe because Reed didn’t like to give up on people. Because people needed a chance to make their way in life, to create their own destiny. To not have it decided for them.

  “I guess you didn’t strike me as a killer. More like someone who needed help to carve a path in life.”

  “I do not need your help,” Godfrey said, youthful assurance in every word. “I can make it without you. Go away.”

  “Tough words, friend. Too bad you’re in up to your neck and need a way out. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak. If you really need it, asking makes you smart.” Listen to him, giving advice to a gangster barely old enough to vote. “I ask for help, and that doesn’t mean I’m soft. It’s a tough world. Keeping your head up and making the right choice is hard. Almost as hard as going against what everyone expects and making your own way.”

  For the first time, Godfrey seemed to listen. “What should I do?”

  “As I see it, you have two options.” In truth, only one made sense, and it gave him pause. At least until he considered the guy had tried to kill him. “One, get out of town. You made an enemy who’s out to get you. Clearing out of Mwanza makes sense if you stay away long enough to let this blow over.”

  Harsh laughter met his suggestion. “Where do I go? I am from Mwanza. Everyone I know is here. I have never been anywhere but this city.” For a moment, Godfrey sounded like a man five times his age. “I cannot leave. I have nowhere else to go.”

  “What about other Hadza? I saw the tattoo on your forearm. There must be other Hadza tribal people somewhere who will help you.”

  “My parents are dead. I do not know any other Hadza, and if I did, I would not ask for help.” His words were full of venom. “I would rather die than live like a beast in the wild.”

  “Don’t you have friends or family anywhere else?”

  “I am alone,” Godfrey said. “Mwanza is my home. I have not left for years, and I will not leave now.”

  Pretty much as he’d expected. What else would a kid who’d never left town say? To him, Tanzania’s borders may as well lead to the moon. So, with a twinge of regret in his chest, Reed carried on. “Understandable. Telling the police about this is an option. I’m sure if you’re willing to tell them about illegal activities, they would be able to protect you.”

  “You cannot believe that,” Godfrey said. “If I call the police, I am a dead man. The people I work for do not let traitors live for long.”

  Again, the expected answer. Time to roll the dice. “If you don’t leave, and if you don’t want to involve the police, there is another choice. Take the fight to whoever’s after you.”

  This time Godfrey’s laugh carried no humor. “Fight Pinda? You are crazy.”

  “Pinda?”

  “He is the boss,” Godfrey said. “If anyone wants me to die for failure, it is him.”

  Nixon Ereng had been right about the man named Jakaya Pinda. “Is he some kind of gang leader?”

  “He is a powerful man.” The noise on Godfrey’s end picked up, voices and engines mixing together. “I cannot talk any longer.”

  “I can meet you.” The words tumbled out, unconsidered and in haste.

  The kid didn’t hesitate. “You want to meet? Fine. Tomorrow morning.” He rattled off an address near the town market, a place Reed knew well. “Now tell me why I should trust you.”

  “If I didn’t lie to the cops, you’d be in jail now. And because I know something about going it alone.”

  A grunt met his words. “Then we will speak tomorrow.” The line went dead.

  As Reed stared at the phone, Rico echoed his thoughts with a plaintive yowl. What the hell was he thinking? Going to meet a gangster on his home turf was something dumb people did, and in these kinds of things, the dumb people often died. Well, maybe dumb was a strong word. Risky fit the bill. Considering how easily Godfrey could spook, he needed to do this alone, and call him crazy, but he didn’t see this being a setup.

  “Only one way to find out,” he said to Rico, who barked his agreement.

  Chapter 9

  Mwanza town market

  August 4th

  Reed took a deep breath, savoring the chaos. Noises and smells filled the air. The market was packed and disorderly. Stalls lined the streets with vendors hawking fresh produce, fish from Lake Victoria, spices from India, and steaming lamb skewers. Businessmen with briefcases haggled with housewives lugging bare-bottomed child
ren under their arms.

  Adjusting his baseball cap to block out the harsh sun, Reed dodged drunks stumbling out of a bar in a narrow alley overflowing with rubbish bins and broken boxes. How did they even fit a bar down this narrow lane? As he kept an eye on the alley, lest another booze-addled miscreant should appear, he kept one eye out for Godfrey. May as well wait here. Let the kid come to him.

  “It is busy here.” Reed snapped to attention, turning to see Godfrey with a cigarette dangling from his lips, an anonymous man in the din. “A good place to meet.”

  “Damn, Godfrey. Where’d you come from?”

  “As I said, this is my turf.” With narrow sunglasses on his face, Godfrey never looked directly at Reed. Instead, he studied the crowd. “We will walk and see what there is to see.”

  They set off into the crowd’s noisy embrace, hugging the walls and skirting tightly packed stalls. Out of the main square, they came to a large thoroughfare lined with produce vendors. “So this Pinda guy,” Reed said. “He’s your boss?”

  “Yes. His name is Jakaya Pinda. Tell me, what do you know about our world, the Mwanza of Pinda and Godfrey?”

  “Right now, not much.”

  Godfrey sidestepped a scrawny beggar at his feet who rattled change in a metal cup. “It has only a few leaders. New people join to follow men like Pinda. When a man cannot feed his family, or if a child has no parents and must escape the system, this is where you turn. If you are willing to do whatever you are told, you will have money, food, and a place to live.”

  “So this Pinda guy is some sort of gangster hero?”

  “He helps people who need him, but if Pinda helps you, then you must follow orders, do whatever he says.”

  “Which isn’t always legal.”

  “He is a criminal,” Godfrey said with a smile. “Not all of it is bad.”

  “Stealing diamonds?” At that, Godfrey glanced around, falling silent until they passed a group of men standing on a street corner. “You know those guys?” Reed asked once they passed.

  “No, but in Mwanza, anyone can listen. Me talking to you cannot reach Pinda’s ears.”

  “The man is trying to kill you, Godfrey. What do you care?”

  A grimace flashed across Godfrey’s face. “Get away from me,” he barked as another beggar grasped for his arm. The bedraggled man huddled back against a wall before reaching for the next passerby. “I suppose you are right. I am in big trouble.”

  Reed worried his lip as he searched for the right words. “I think I can help. It’s what I wanted to talk about.” Other than a quick glance over, Godfrey didn’t react. “Leaving Mwanza isn’t a terrible idea, even if you don’t know anyone outside the city. I do. I can help you get out and stay out.”

  “What if I do not want to leave?”

  “Then maybe you’re crazy. If this guy is as bad as you say, getting out of town for a bit is a good idea. Criminals come and go. Who’s to say he’ll be around six months or a year from now?”

  “This is true,” Godfrey said. “He could die, and I could too. Your offer is very generous.” He finally looked Reed’s way. “I cannot accept. This is my city. I will not run.”

  Hardheaded, but what did he expect? “Are there people you can trust?”

  “Yes. Pinda has competition, men who want to take his place. Men who are my friends. If Pinda wants me dead, I can join one of them. It is not unusual to move from one gang to the next.”

  Sounded iffy, but Reed had no idea. “Will they protect you? I can’t imagine Pinda wanting you dead and some other gangster sticking his neck out for you.”

  “You would be surprised,” Godfrey said, flashing a grin. “I know much about what Pinda does, his contacts in the city. How do you think Pinda moves diamonds out of Tanzania? I know men who will do it for a price. It is how I will survive. With your help, if you are interested.”

  His help? The kid had just turned him down. “What can I do other than help you get out of town?”

  “You are a wealthy man, and are friends with the police and other people who matter. With the right information, you can be valuable to Pinda’s enemies. Enemies who are now my friends.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be an informant.”

  “I want to survive.” Steel flashed in his eyes. “The streets are hard, Reed Kimble, more than you know. When Jakaya Pinda falls, a new man will replace him. If I am smart, I can be on the right side when it ends, and that will make my life easy.”

  Turning back toward the main square, Reed gave a low whistle as he dodged a man on a bicycle. This kid wanted to help overthrow the man in charge and make sure an ally replaced him. Gutsy, for sure. The kind of lone-wolf thinking Reed could get behind.

  “Ballsy move, kid. You know what they say when you shoot for the king.”

  “What is that?”

  “You better not miss.” If Godfrey wanted to do this, he needed Reed’s help, though it could easily blow up in both their faces. “You have information the authorities can use to hurt Pinda, mess with his operations?”

  “Yes,” Godfrey said. “Talking directly to them is not safe. Pinda may have men inside the police who tell him things. I do not trust the police. This is why I need you to help. You will do this?”

  “Godfrey, if you can get Pinda to stop harassing my hunting grounds and killing all the game, then I’m in. What do you have on him? A few weapons charges won’t change much.”

  “More than that. There is a problem, though. Without Pinda’s gang I will not have money to live,” Godfrey said, looking toward him with a sidelong glance.

  “Don’t worry,” Reed said. “If you get rid of Pinda and no one else starts bothering me, I’ll make sure you don’t starve. Now, tell me what’s going on with the diamonds.”

  “It is simple. Pinda is not a master criminal. He has a way into the mine, one the police will never discover. He knows people on the inside who bring diamonds to him.”

  Strolling through the market, Reed shook his head, half-impressed. Jakaya Pinda defeated mine security without breaking a sweat.

  “Two of the guards are his cousins,” Godfrey said. He glanced over his shoulder as they moved. “They like to gamble. Pinda has card games around the city, and it does not take long for people to lose too much money, so much they can never repay. When he offered them a deal, they had no choice.”

  “So these guards get into the storage vaults and steal diamonds without anyone noticing?”

  “The guards do not steal stones.”

  That’s interesting. “Then what do they do for Pinda?”

  “They make introductions to the company accountant and the man who gathers stones from the miners. Pinda offered to make them rich and keep them safe, so they joined him. The stones are delivered to our men when enough have been gathered for Pinda to sell.”

  “It’s all a big shakedown. Pinda gets the stones, and those two men get a cut.”

  “They also get to stay alive,” Godfrey said. “It is an important part of the deal.” Another beggar reached out from the dark recesses of an alley, though this time Godfrey ignored the extended hand. “You see what happens to men who do not plan,” he said, nodding to the indigent. “Pinda does what is needed to make himself rich. I understand why.”

  “The problem is, he’s messing with my hunting grounds,” Reed said. “Do you know his pick-up schedule or the routes he takes? I can tell Captain Ereng when to expect him, and if Pinda’s caught, he won’t be our problem any longer.”

  Godfrey looked behind them again, frowning. “Everything okay?” Reed asked.

  “Yes.” A cigarette materialized between his lips, fired to life by what looked for all the world like a solid gold zippo. “There is more. Pinda’s operation is not just about diamonds.”

  “What else is there?”

  “I do not know everything,” Godfrey said, inhaling deeply. “So far, the diamonds are my job. Also, shooting you, which did not go so well.” He exhaled, then lowered his sunglasses and
winked from inside the smoky cloud, eliciting a chuckle from Reed. “Pinda sells drugs, has girls work for him, all the usual items. Anything illegal that men or women will pay a high price to have.”

  “The man we shot had drugs on him,” Reed said. “White powder of some kind, looked like cocaine. This guy and his buddies ran across a group of Maasai warriors and had a battle.”

  “Cocaine out on the savanna?” Godfrey’s head shook back and forth. “That makes no sense. Pinda must be expanding his operation. He is competing with other dealers for the city street corners, so maybe he needs more drugs to sell. Also, there is another way he makes money, a secret way I am not part of. Only his closest men are part of it. For over a full day and night, often longer, they will leave, and when they return their bags are filled with money. American dollars.”

  “Any idea what it’s about? That’s a lot of money to keep secret.”

  “I have heard whispers,” Godfrey said. “It is said he moves people.”

  Before Reed could respond, Godfrey’s hand tightened around his arm. “I think we are being followed.”

  Resisting the instinct to turn, Reed walked in step with Godfrey toward a street corner, his chest tightening. How could Godfrey have seen anyone in this packed crowd? “What did you see?”

  “Two men I think are in Pinda’s crew.”

  “What do you mean, you think? Don’t you know everyone in your gang?”

  “Most of them.” His head whipped around, fast as a snake. “They are still there. I think they are old heads, have been with Pinda for years.”

  Every alley they passed proved narrower than the last. If he wanted to make a break for it, the time was close. “Any chance they’re just keeping an eye on what you’re doing?”

  Godfrey shrugged. “If Pinda orders them to. Until you told me about what the police heard, I believed I should still try to kill you. Now I do not think that is wise. I believe you when you say Pinda betrayed me. Killing you now would be a mistake.”