“Good to know. If those men report you’re walking around with me, Pinda’s going to have questions you can’t answer. Remember, as far as he knows you have no idea he wants you dead.”
“We must get out of here,” Godfrey said.
“Let’s go back to the main square,” Reed said. A drop of sweat rolled down his face, the liquid salty when he licked his lips.
Godfrey looked back as they moved. “Damn. I cannot see them.”
People surrounded them on all sides, jostling and pushing past each other on the narrow side street as Reed pushed forward. In the confusion, it was hard to pick out anyone. “What do they look like?”
“One has a shaved head, and both have sunglasses.”
Which described eighty percent of the crowd. “Go this way,” Reed said, pointing as a larger thoroughfare came into view. A line of people cut him off, so Reed put his shoulder down and muscled through, one hand on Godfrey’s wrist to pull him along. “Pushing through this alley will slow them long enough for us to clear out. We can go to my—”
“Behind us,” Godfrey said. “Across the street. A man in a white shirt.”
Sure enough, a bald man in a loose-fitting white shirt watched their movements. “Where’s the other one?” Reed asked, picking up the pace.
“I do not know.” Godfrey searched the crowd, looking back and forth. “The bald one is getting closer.”
“This way.” Reed turned right onto the still crowded larger street and away from their pursuer. They had less cover here, but less risk the other one could sneak up on them. “Is he still coming?”
“Yes. He can see me, but the crowd is in his way.”
“Get moving.” Jogging down the street, they put more ground between them and the trailing gangster. “There’s a dump on the other side of the fence,” Reed said, pointing across the street. “If we follow it, we’ll eventually get back to my car.” They turned and walked alongside the town dump, a natural barrier that funneled traffic back toward the square. Birds circled above the expansive grounds. Fewer people walked here, with most of the crowds back nearer the marketplace.
Glancing behind them, Reed found the man who pursued them matching their pace. “He’s not making up any ground. Maybe he’s only supposed to watch you.”
“I do not want to find out,” Godfrey said. He turned a corner onto a one-way street ahead of Reed. “It looks like we lost one of them. It is time to leave this one behind as well.”
This didn’t make sense. With his partner gone, the gangster wasn’t in a hurry to stay on Godfrey’s tail. Pinda would be pissed if his men lost their mark, so why was he keeping his distance, risking losing them altogether? Breaking into a run, Reed turned the corner only a few steps behind Godfrey and gained with every stride. Their footsteps echoed off the surrounding buildings on this nearly empty road. In the distance, people milled about, though this street’s exit was blocked by a line of stalls they’d passed earlier on their walk.
Then it hit him. The gangster didn’t want to catch them. He wanted to drive them. Just like Reed used to do in Montana, working with others to drive deer past waiting hunters for an easy shot. He looked ahead and found an alley looming ahead.
Metal flashed from the darkness.
Reed dove straight into Godfrey just before the knife struck. Godfrey and Reed tumbled across the pavement as Reed pulled the 9mm from his belt and took aim. His gun was kicked from his hand and skittered under a parked car.
Godfrey bounced up, and the man who’d attacked from the dark alley stabbed at him again.
Reed nearly got to his feet as he reached out and caught the man’s shoe, and Godfrey slipped past the flashing blade. The assailant tumbled to the ground in front of Reed as footsteps sounded behind them. Reed dropped to his stomach, and a heavy body tripped over him. Godfrey’s eyes were wide.
“Get out of here,” Reed shouted. Godfrey ran, skinny arms pumping, toward the stalls as Reed leaped up and bolted in the opposite direction. Reed looked back and saw both attackers hesitate in the street, the one in khaki pants running after Godfrey while the other in a white shirt looked Reed’s way. He could split the two assailants up and give Godfrey a chance to get away. The kid could outrun either of these guys.
Except when Reed started running, white shirt didn’t follow. He turned and chased Godfrey.
Damnit.
Reed took off after them. The car under which his gun lay was at his side, but he had no time to duck under the car and grab the weapon. Legs churning, he did the only thing he could think of to buy Godfrey time. He started screaming.
“Hey, over here,” he yelled, each word filling the street. A moment later, the trailing thug in the white shirt turned, his head tilted to one side as Reed ran. Hesitating, white shirt glanced back at his partner. It bought Reed the split-second he needed.
White shirt turned back, and Reed lowered his shoulder, aiming straight for the man’s chest. White shirt’s teeth flashed as he raised the knife up, ready to stab as Reed screamed.
Then Reed hit the brakes right as white shirt swung, the blade flashing past Reed’s face close enough to shave his chin hair. White shirt’s momentum made him stumble forward, spinning around and offering Reed an opening. Reed kicked white shirt’s knee, which sent the man down to the ground. Reed grabbed the man’s wrist with both hands and twisted. Delicate wrist bones cracked and white shirt howled, crumpling down and dropping his knife. Reed grabbed the blade and looked up to see Godfrey stumble.
Godfrey fell to the ground, with khaki pants only steps away. The man lifted his blade and aimed for Godfrey’s chest as Godfrey scrambled to gain his feet. Godfrey raised a hand, a desperate attempt to ward off the blow.
The man lifted the blade and kept it there, motionless in the air. As he stood still, khaki pants wasn’t looking down at Godfrey, but instead he twisted around, confusion on his face as he reached for the knife now protruding from his back. When he looked at Reed, disbelief swam across his face.
The moment passed as khaki pants folded into a heap, his lifeblood spreading on the street. Sweat poured down Reed’s face as he ran to Godfrey.
“Did you,” Godfrey said between gulps of air. “Did you throw the knife?” Reed nodded. “Did he cut you?” Godfrey asked.
Reed shook his head. “I’m fine. Good thing you can run.”
“Why did you stay?” Godfrey asked.
“We’re in this together,” Reed said. “No way I’m leaving you to fight two against one.”
Reed looked toward the stalls parked at the street’s end, which blocked them from the view of any passing pedestrians. “We need to get out of here.” White shirt and his broken wrist had disappeared. “Sooner or later someone’s going to show up, and we don’t want to be around when they do.”
“Thank you, Reed Kimble.” As Reed hopped to his feet, Godfrey’s hand came out and Reed grasped it. “I will never forget this.”
“We’re partners now,” he said, jogging back the way they’d come. “You and I want the same thing. To be rid of this Pinda punk and move on with our lives.”
Godfrey nodded, his head turning as he searched the city streets.
A thought forced its way through the commotion in Reed’s mind. “Earlier you mentioned Pinda moves people,” Reed said. “Do you mean human trafficking?”
“A special kind. He moves children only. He sells them. Some to new families, some to other people.”
Stealing kids? It didn’t get much lower than that. “Where does he get them?”
Godfrey shrugged. “I was not part of it. He used others I never met. They are not part of his gang.”
“Outsiders. Could be someone with easy access to the kids.”
“Not kids,” Godfrey said. “Small children. Babies.”
Heat welled in Reed’s chest. Jakaya Pinda was worse than he thought. Only one way to deal with a man like that. “You up for taking the fight to Pinda?”
Godfrey offered his palm in response, and Reed slapped it.
<
br /> “We start now,” Godfrey said, racing ahead of Reed with an effortless stride. “Jakaya Pinda has many secrets. We will use these to hurt him, beginning tonight.”
Reed grinned and picked up the pace, the thought of finally getting a step ahead of Jakaya Pinda flushing his fatigue away.
Chapter 10
Savanna outside of Mwanza
August 4th
Reed and Paul squatted beside a thick tree trunk far beyond the reach of Mwanza’s lights. Waving grass spread out around them like a dark purple sea in the moonlight. The two men waited in silence, night vision goggles hanging around each man’s neck. Every minute or so they peered through the devices, always looking in the same direction, careful not to let any light reflect off their rifles.
For the second time that night, Paul spoke up. “I have decided I agree. Godfrey is not using this to set us up. It is a horrible place to ambush anyone.”
Godfrey assured them that this location lay directly on the diamond smugglers’ path this evening. One of the last things Godfrey had taken part in before Pinda’s crew turned on him was setting the next smuggling run, and according to Godfrey, once the route was set it couldn’t be altered, as the inside men had no way to contact Pinda. “The smugglers walk most of the way,” Reed said. “If they move all night, they can make it to the rendezvous point and back to Mwanza before dawn.”
The savanna surrounded Mwanza, penning in humanity’s temporary incursions of concrete and steel. No matter how ambitious man’s effort, the savanna always won, reclaiming its lost ground bit by bit. Even now, only a handful of miles from civilization, complete wilderness reigned.
“They need lights,” Paul said. “There are few clouds, still a man cannot see in this darkness.”
“Be nice to have Rico’s nose right now,” Reed said. “His nose is better than any binoculars.” The dog’s name elicited a grin from Paul, whom Rico seemed to count as his second master. “We’ll have to make do.” Reed would never put the goofy mutt in harm’s way for a few diamonds. Marriages had survived on lesser bonds than he and Rico shared.
“Did you see that?” Paul asked. “Movement near the top of the hill.”
Reed looked at a shape bobbing in the darkness. Not a shape, really, more like a darker part of the night flickering against the black landscape. The darkness morphed as he watched, and gained definition when a cloud stopped blocking the moon. Three men, moving single file crossed the savanna.
“Heading right for us,” Reed said. “Just as Godfrey promised. You see any weapons?”
“Rifles. Not automatic, but I may be wrong. I am sure they have handguns.”
“We’ll keep this fight long-range. You take the front one; I take the back. We both go for the middle guy.”
“If you think you can shoot that far.” Paul’s teeth flashed in the moonlight.
“You’ll need all the help I can give,” Reed whispered back. “I didn’t hire you for your marksmanship.”
Paul nodded at that, reaching into a shirt pocket and removing a custom magazine for his dart gun. Reed loaded his own rifle and, avoiding the tranquilizer dart needles, checked the feathers before locking the magazine in place. The last thing he needed was an accidental needle-stick.
“I’ll get live ammo ready in case they get a bead on us,” Reed said. Not that the gangsters had any chance of spotting them. Their darts didn’t give off a muzzle flash, and he and Paul were practically buried in the foliage. Pinda’s men didn’t look like they expected trouble. The front man had his weapon ready, though the trailing pair had theirs strapped across their shoulders. The man in the middle also carried a square object. Whatever it was, it better not be fragile or it was toast. “My scope says three hundred yards,” Reed whispered.
“On your count,” Paul said.
Once the approaching men were well within range, Reed counted down. The rifles barked, darts flew, and Paul squeezed off a second shot, which landed in the middle man’s chest. A handful of gunshots boomed in the night, though the men who fired them dropped to the ground before the echoes faded. For five minutes, nothing moved but birds spooked by the blasts cawed as their wings rustled overhead.
Reed tapped the glowing orange dial of his watch. “That’s long enough. You circle around the left side, and I’ll take the right. If they put up a fight, shoot. They aren’t worth dying for.” Paul nodded and faded into the night. Following suit, Reed walked on silent feet toward the downed men.
A moment after Reed stopped by the fallen thugs, a voice whispered in his ear. “You sound like an elephant.”
“Damn, Paul.” He hadn’t seen him standing a few feet away. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”
“You would not shoot me. Good help is hard to find.” Flashing that ever-present grin, he nodded toward the fallen men. “All three are down. None appear to be injured.”
“They’ll survive,” he said after checking each man’s pulse. “Let’s see what brought them out at this time of night.”
Reaching toward whatever the middle man had dropped, Reed found that the object the man carried wasn’t a box, but a satchel hanging from a single strap looped over his back. Grabbing the satchel, Reed heaved and nearly fell over. “Damn thing’s heavy.” He pulled on the latches but couldn’t open it. “And locked. Hope he brought the key.” A search of the man’s pockets failed to turn up any.
“Check his neck,” Paul said.
Fishing inside the man’s shirt, Reed’s fingers brushed metal. Sure enough, a key hung from a strand of leather. “Stand back.” Every one of Reed’s muscles tensed as he eased the top flap of the satchel open away from his body. Nothing happened. He flipped the bag around and looked inside.
“What is it?” Paul asked.
“Envelopes. Big ones.” He upended the bag. “What are these, mine records? Maybe they’re covering their tracks.”
Reed opened one of the envelopes and pulled out a thick stack of green paper held together by a pair of rubber bands. He leafed through the stack. “This makes more sense,” he said. “Hundred dollar bills. All of them.”
“Every envelope is filled?” Paul asked.
“Looks like it.” Opening each one in turn, he confirmed it. “There must be a couple hundred thousand dollars.”
“Do you think they stole this money from the diamond mine? They have been stealing diamonds, not money. It does not make sense.”
“No,” Reed said. “None of it does. Look at this.” Stuffed in one of the satchel’s inside pockets was a small velvet bag. “Diamonds.” Dozens of stones fell into his hand when he tipped it over. “Cash and diamonds.”
“Perhaps these men did not travel together all night. The money and diamonds may be from different places.”
“One of them could have gone to the mine and met the other two later. Or they all could have come from somewhere else and met in the savanna.” Reed ran a hand through his three-day-old beard chin hair, trying to fit the jigsaw pieces together.
“The gangsters do anything that makes money.”
“Which means this money could be from anywhere,” Reed said. “Still, it’s a hell of a lot. Hold on a second.” He flipped the satchel around and spotted a zipper. It opened to reveal a single piece of folded paper. “It’s a list of names written in Swahili.”
Paul grabbed the paper, studying it under a flashlight. “Yes, these are the names of people. Only they are strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“These names are not seen often. Many are traditional names used for very old people. There are non-African names too.”
Crouched over the pile of cash, Reed whistled softly as the sporadic savanna noises returned. While Paul stood patiently, Reed tried and failed to come up with a plausible scenario for all this cash and the diamonds. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Reed scooped the money into the satchel and tossed it to Paul. “Whatever’s going on here, we just took a huge pile of Pinda’s operating capital. This will get his attention
.”
“Do you want Pinda’s attention?”
“Damn right I do.” Rifling through each man’s pockets, he found a cell phone and several pistols. “Let’s get to the police station,” he said, motioning for Paul to follow. “Nixon is going to recruit us for the academy if we keep this up.”
After trekking back to their vehicle, Reed called the captain as they bounced over the sloping hills, telling him they’d be in shortly and they weren’t coming empty-handed. He may be working outside of the law with Godfrey, but he didn’t want to cut off all contact with the police, not when they were also working to stop Pinda. After telling the captain to send men out to pick up three unconscious criminals, he avoided Nixon’s stern follow-up questions and hung up before leaning back in his seat. He wanted to see the captain’s reaction first-hand.
Now he had an inside man in Mwanza’s underworld, a guy who knew many of these shadowy figures. Now Reed was finally ready to take this fight to Pinda and get their lives back. Hopefully Pinda owed this money to someone, and that someone would come calling when he didn’t deliver and there was no one else to blame. A nice thought, but if no vengeful debt collectors did it for him, he would carry on. If he was right and this money did belong to Godfrey’s former boss, Reed had finally taken a concrete step toward putting Pinda out of business.
Darkness still dominated the horizon as Reed parked outside the Mwanza police station. Unsurprisingly, Captain Nixon Ereng was waiting by the front door, where he greeted them without a smile, looking more alert than any man awake at this hour had a right to.
“What have you found?” he asked, nodding toward the satchel.
“Let’s talk in your office,” Reed said. Only once he and Paul were seated in front of the captain’s desk did he open the bag. “Each of these is stuffed with cash.” Laying the envelopes on Ereng’s desk, he waited as the captain opened them, his eyes growing wide. “We also found these.” Reed upended the black velvet bag, spilling its contents into Ereng’s oversized palm.
“Did these come from the three men we just found?” Ereng asked, dumping the diamonds back in the bag. Reed confirmed they did. “How did you know where to find them?”
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