“Better you don’t know, Captain. I’ve made friends over the past few days who want the same thing I do.”
“To have your business left alone,” Nixon said, and Reed nodded. “You understand I cannot help if I do not know what you are doing.”
“Appreciate it, but we’re fine. There’s one more thing. Remember when you mentioned Jakaya Pinda?”
One of the captain’s eyebrows shot up. “This is Pinda’s money?”
“Yes. Without this capital, I can’t imagine he’ll stay in business long.”
The captain picked up a stack of bills. “When he learns this is missing, he will come for it. Is it possible for him to connect you to this money?”
“It’s possible.”
“If he does,” Nixon said, “you have made a powerful enemy. Pinda’s gang is one we monitor. They are known to be involved in many criminal acts, and his enemies have disappeared before.”
“We’ll watch our backs,” Reed said. “There’s also a note in the bag, a list of some kind.”
Lines creased Nixon’s forehead as he read it. “These are names I have not heard in years.”
“Most are tribal,” Paul said, and Nixon nodded. “In Swahili, the language of the tribesmen.”
Nixon studied the sheet for some time. Reed opened his mouth, but at that moment, the captain began tapping his keyboard. “I will share this with you. Do not speak of it to anyone. It is an ongoing investigation.” Looking at his computer screen, Ereng cleared his throat before continuing. “A woman came to our station this week. Unidentified assailants murdered her husband and others who lived close to her. She escaped, and as of yesterday, we still do not know what happened to her children.”
Reed didn’t see the connection. “What’s that have to do with this satchel?”
“The names on this list remind me of the people who are dead or missing. They are old-fashioned.”
Paul leaned forward in his chair. “You are talking about Maasai?”
The captain nodded.
“But I did not think natives came to the police.”
Reed held up a hand. “A Maasai woman comes here to report a crime, and you think it’s related because of some old names?”
“I do not know,” Nixon said. “I can tell you these names are uncommon. The list makes me think of this woman. It suggests that Maasai may be involved with Jakaya Pinda.”
“Do you think he’s working with natives to steal the diamonds or kill Maasai people?”
“I doubt it. The only native I have ever arrested is one man for murder. He killed a poacher on his tribe’s land.”
“That fits with what I know about them,” Reed said. “I’ve never heard of any crimes committed by the native tribes. They keep their distance from modern society in most ways, but aren’t hostile or aggressive. I can’t see them working with Pinda.”
“I cannot either,” Nixon said. “I will speak with the woman about this list. Perhaps it is only a coincidence.”
“Appreciate it,” Reed said.
“There is more. If it is related to Pinda, I do not know.” Nixon leaned toward them. “We have reports of kidnappings. Maasai children have gone missing.”
“How did you hear about it?” Reed asked. “I thought Maasai didn’t talk to you.”
“These are not official reports. Many are secondhand, talk picked up from the streets. Mwanza is not entirely disconnected from the natives.”
“What if I told you a guy I know says Pinda’s gang trafficks people? Young people, like babies.”
“I would say you should have told me this sooner.” His eyes narrowed. “I would also say this does not surprise me. Gangsters will do anything to make money. However, the reports have one detail in common. A woman is stealing the children.” Nixon’s chair creaked as he leaned back. “There are no women gangsters I know in this city. Crime is a man’s world.”
“Is it possible there’s a female gangster you don’t know?”
“It is unlikely, but possible. The criminals of Mwanza are not as many as one would suspect.”
“If there is a woman, who could it be?” Paul asked.
Nixon looked at the ceiling fan, whirring even this early in the morning. “If one truly exists, it is a mystery. For now, though, we must focus on what we know.”
Reed nodded to the cash. “In that case, I hope you have a big safe.”
“We do. You will need to sign a receipt for the evidence and leave it here.”
“No problem. As long as Pinda doesn’t have it, I’m happy.” Reed and Paul thanked Nixon for the information before heading home, clouds of sleep edging into Reed’s consciousness as the first hint of light touched the sky. When they arrived at his compound, all his other employees were asleep and the only creature awake to greet them was Rico, he was on his hind legs inside the building, two paws pressed against the front door’s window.
“How’s my buddy?” he said, scratching Rico’s brindle coat. Reed trudged over to his desk and grabbed a treat, which Rico sat for and then devoured in a single gulp. Replacing the lid on the treat can, a piece of yellow notepaper on the desk caught his eye. That wasn’t there when I left.
It was a handwritten note from Wallace Palmer inviting Reed to join him the next day to scout for game. Well, today actually, now that he’d been out all night and part of the morning. It seemed a group Wallace had booked for this week backed out, and he wanted Reed to use his grounds to avoid any further gangster run-ins.
I might have to do this. Considering Reed had a group coming and no idea where to find the lions, Wallace offered a much-needed lifeline. If too many hunters came and went without trophies to take home, Kimble Safaris wouldn’t be in business much longer. He needed game to hunt, and he needed it now.
All problems which could wait a few hours. Rico settled in at the foot of his bed as Reed kicked his boots off and fell onto the mattress. As sleep overtook him, thoughts of diamonds and piles of cash followed him into a deep slumber.
At the same time Reed was falling asleep, across the savanna another man kicked his boots off before sitting at a table with his wife and her brother. Wallace Palmer had returned from his visit to Kimble Safaris, where he’d hoped to speak with Reed, but had to leave a note about tomorrow’s scouting expedition. After learning Reed wasn’t in, Wallace headed off, taking a wide loop well out of sight and parking on top of a nearby hill with a view of Kimble’s grounds. Peering through binoculars, he waited until Reed returned before he left for home.
Jakaya Pinda arrived right after Wallace, so he faced Effie and her brother without so much as a minute of warning.
“Kimble returned without any packages or bags?” Pinda asked repeatedly, his fingers drumming on the table.
“Yes,” Wallace said for the fifth time. “Reed and his companion carried guns and nothing else. They went into their cabins and, after the lights turned out, I came straight here.”
“Reed Kimble was out all night,” his wife said. “We do not know where. He returns very early in the morning with only his guns. Why would he go out in the dark?”
“Some people scout at night, though it’s more trouble than it’s worth.” Wallace rubbed his eyes and leaned back, the chair protesting under his frame. “If he comes out with me tomorrow, I can ask him.”
“Will he be suspicious of the message you left?” his wife asked.
Pinda smacked the table. “If he took my money, it does not matter. Without it, I cannot continue. The cash is a down payment, and if I do not have it to pay my men or to pay bribes, I cannot deliver the children promised.” Pinda stuck a finger in Wallace’s face, sending him back in his chair. “You say that he will stand up to me.”
Wallace nodded. “He won’t back down from whoever’s messing with his hunting grounds. I don’t have any idea if he knows you’re the one doing it. You’re not the only person in this line of work in Mwanza, and how would he know where to find your men tonight? That’s what I’d focus on.”
&
nbsp; Pinda’s hand fell back, and Wallace straightened slightly.
“Nobody just chanced across your men and happened to have tranquilizer darts with them. Only a planned attack makes sense.”
“An ambush,” Effie said, and her brother nodded.
“Who knew about the drop?” Wallace asked. “Start there. Narrow down the suspects. It can’t be a long list.”
“True,” Pinda said. Silence descended for a beat, and then he snapped his fingers. “You will help me do that.” Wallace’s back straightened, though he remained quiet. “Will Reed Kimble call you?”
Wallace shrugged and adjusted his glasses. “Probably. With a group coming in and no game for them to hunt, he’s running out of options.”
“Good,” Pinda said. “You will tell him to meet you here, at your camp. My men will set a trap that will cross Reed Kimble off my list.”
Wallace shot out of his chair. “You’re not ambushing him here. If you kill him at my camp, how do I explain it to the police?”
“The trap will not be at your camp. It will happen before he arrives, on the road. None of this will tie to you. You should not worry.”
“Don’t worry? When the police find my note asking him to come here, they’ll know I was involved.”
“Not true,” Effie said in an even tone. “I will tell the same story. You offered to let Reed hunt our land after his trouble with criminals. Nothing will connect us to his death.”
Wallace studied the floor, tapping his knee in a rapid-fire beat. With Effie’s backing, the police couldn’t do more than suspect him, and even then he would have a solid alibi. But how could he help ambush Reed? The man was a fellow businessman who posed no threat to him. In fact, his presence increased Mwanza’s reputation as a big-game hunting spot, which brought in more tourists, which made them both richer. Killing Reed Kimble could hurt that reputation. However, it could also mean all those tourists now came to Wallace’s camp. “How are you going to do it?”
“Are you certain you wish to know?”
“If I’m going to be involved, I want to know.”
Pinda shrugged. “As you wish. One of my men will wait near Kimble’s camp. When Kimble leaves, he will radio ahead to the others. As Kimble drives past, they will kill him. I already have the weapons for such a job, as we purchased them to use for our next collection trip from the Maasai.” A grim smile creased his face. “We will test them on Kimble.”
“Why kill Reed? You don’t even know if he’s involved with the diamonds and cash. How would he know about it? It’s not like you have a shortage of enemies.”
“This must be done,” Pinda said without emotion. “Reed Kimble is a respected man. He told you he will not back down, and if he stands up to me, my enemies in Mwanza will likely hear this. If a safari guide does not fear me, why should any other man?” He shook his head. “Even if Reed Kimble is not stealing from me, it is about reputation.” He smacked his chest. “Jakaya Pinda is a name to be respected and feared. Allowing Reed Kimble to live after he stands up to me shows weakness.”
“It is also about what we do,” Effie said, pointing out the window. “Rescuing the children from Maasai and giving them a better life means everything. What Jakaya says must be done so we can continue our efforts, for without us there is no hope. If it is even possible Reed Kimble is involved with stealing from you or destroying our network, then the choice is clear.”
“He brought this trouble to himself,” Pinda said. “I do not care about his hunting or his lands. I need to move my product to the buyers.” He looked to his sister. “To bring them new families for a better future. Reed Kimble is searching for new hunting grounds, and is getting close to where we find the children. I did not make him do this. He chose to make it a problem for me. His decision, not mine.”
“Whatever you do,” Wallace said, “make sure you send enough men. If you’re wrong and Reed isn’t involved, he’ll never see it coming. If you’re right, however, and Reed is involved, then he may be ready for an attack. In that case, you’ll see how resourceful he can be.”
“I will tell no one except those who must know. I cannot risk the plan getting out.” Pinda’s chair creaked as he stood, casting his gaze toward a window where the sky now hinted at the coming day. “Wait for him here. When he does not arrive, search for him. Eventually you will become worried and call his camp, and then the police. This will keep their resources involved while I deliver the children tonight. Effie and I will see you after we take new ones from the tribal people today.”
Pinda strode out the door to his vehicle, and the engine roared to life. As he left and the sound faded into the distance, Effie stood and marched to bed. Wallace took a glass and bottle from the bar and let the bourbon splash down his throat. Reed Kimble would die today, no matter what Wallace did.
Chapter 11
Kimble Safaris
August 5th
Another beautiful day was taking shape at Kimble Safaris, and Reed stood on the front porch, soaking in a fragrant breeze that carried hints of the earth and grass. With the morning sunlight warming his face, he swallowed the last of his coffee and pressed his phone to one ear, listening to Wallace Palmer speak. Across the yard, Paul loaded a bag into one of the company Land Rovers before flashing his boss a thumbs-up.
“You have to let me pay you,” Reed said. “Considering I haven’t seen a single lion all week, I’m really imposing on you for the favor.”
“Nonsense,” Wallace Palmer said. “With the trouble you’ve had, it’s the least I can do. And since my group for this week canceled, there’s no reason not to. Satisfied guests at either of our places is good for both of us.”
The guy had a point. “True. I owe you one. When do you want to go out?”
“Come over to my place now,” Wallace said. “I’ll be ready when you get here.”
Reed thanked him and clicked off as Paul fired up the Land Rover.
“Time to move,” Paul said, “the lions will not wait.”
“You got that right,” he said. “We’re meeting Wallace at his place.”
As Paul drove the Land Rover along the main road and picked up speed, Reed opened his iPad. He browsed through the notes he’d taken on the land Wallace proposed for his hunt, looking for the most likely areas to find game. Wallace may have had a better handle on the area, but Reed often found the best hunting locations were in the most unexpected places.
With the sun beating down the dry landscape, the Land Rover bumped and bounced over the road connecting Kimble Safaris with WP Safari Company. As they cut across the savanna, a familiar golden landscape stretched on either side of the road with the occasional copse of trees or cluster of bushes. Several times Reed spotted zebra herds grazing in the far distance.
“Is everything set for the next group’s arrival?” he asked Paul.
“Yes, boss. The cabins are prepared, and all the food and beverages will be delivered tomorrow. All we need are lions to hunt.”
“Good man. Wallace knows what he’s doing, so I’m not worried about the game.” As they crested a small rise in the road, Reed’s eyes narrowed against the sun. What’s flashing up there? It came from trees just off the road. There weren’t any streams around here to reflect sunlight, and he’d never seen anyone hunt here. “Do you see—”
The windshield shattered, and rocks pounded the Land Rover, their impact like a massive fist crashing into the doors over and over. Gunfire. Automatic weapons chattered outside and bullets slammed into their vehicle. Amid the din, a red geyser exploded from Paul’s shoulder.
“On the right!” Reed shouted, clamping a hand over Paul’s wound. “Shooters on that side!”
The medical kit. Twisting, he scrambled to find the green metal box. He needs a bandage.
“Get down!” Paul shouted, and Reed slammed against the doorframe as the Land Rover whipped back across the road, toward the gunfire. “They are on both sides.”
An instant later, tires screeched as the car lurched to
a halt, and Reed nearly choked on the seatbelt. Shoving the car into reverse, Paul punched the gas, and they shot backward, the deathtrap ahead receding as the engine roared.
A deep boom filled the air, and the Land Rover jerked violently to one side. “Hang on,” Paul shouted. He fought the wheel as two tires slipped off the road. Stones and dirt flew when Paul muscled them back onto the road and into the line of fire with more thuds pounding the vehicle. With the windows broken, dust filled the cabin and lined Reed’s throat. The gritty film burned his eyes.
The dust. “Get back off the road,” he yelled to Paul. One tire had already burst and the bullets were still coming in heavy. They didn’t have time to run. “Into the dirt and spin in circles fast as you can.” To his credit, Paul didn’t argue, and they bounced off the road, whipping around in ever-tightening circles, each twist punctuated by gunfire.
With fear gripping tight in his chest, Reed looked through the broken windshield at hazy sunshine. “Hit the brakes,” he said, and they skidded to a halt. If his internal compass wasn’t entirely fried, the closest gunmen would now stand to their right. “Get out on your side.”
Paul disappeared through his door, and Reed followed, landing next to him in a heap. “Here.” He handed Paul one of the rifles he’d grabbed from the cargo area right before leaping out. “With all this dust, they won’t see us when we circle around. Stay in the high grass and move after every shot. There can’t be more than five on each side.”
“I like the odds,” Paul said, grimacing when he leaned against the car door with his wounded arm. The dust cloud swallowed him whole an instant later.
Crawling over the hot dirt on his hands and knees, Reed moved clear of the Land Rover’s protective bulk, the sunlight diffusing into a million tiny bursts of fire as he scurried on his hands and knees parallel to the vehicle, aiming to circle around it. One pocket of enemies waited there, hidden by the tree line. There were no trees on the other side where Paul was moving toward, and the attackers had hidden in the grass or behind boulders not far from the road’s edge. Men that Paul, wounded as he was, would have to fight alone.
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