The Turn Series Box Set

by Andrew Clawson

  “I hope it was old, whatever it was. My team will want to see it.”

  Reed grimaced. Only a group of veterinarians would be excited about decomposing corpses. His gut turned sour as he veered toward the circling vultures. It had to be more than one dead animal. He gripped the steering wheel harder. More than a few dead animals. What could have done this? It might be a pride of lions at work. If so, they had not only killed a number of zebras or gazelles, they’d also left a feast behind. Maybe it was an old elephant, its time finally come.

  All of them hopeful thoughts, and all likely wrong. Nature didn’t waste, didn’t kill for fun, and didn’t leave a feast for scavengers. Only one animal did that.

  Reed crested one final rise and his fears crystallized in vivid color. Two adult elephants appeared to be kneeling, their knees buckled, heads resting on the ground. Raw flesh hung in strings from their heads, dangling from beneath glazed eyes. Blood leaked from the hairy, gray hides, a row of bullet holes slicing across them both. No trunks or tusks remained; the lower parts of both faces had been sliced off with chainsaws.

  “Stay in the car,” Reed said, eyes everywhere but on the elephants. “It’s likely the poachers are gone, but let me check.” He motioned to Paul, who was driving the other Jeep. “Keep an eye on our guests while I look around.”

  Paul nodded, then got out of the vehicle cradling a shotgun.

  “Let me help,” Sarah said, then jumped out before he could argue.

  Reed frowned resignedly. “Stay close to me. Listen for engines. The poachers didn’t come out here on foot, and judging from these wounds, this happened less than twelve hours ago.”

  “You’re right.” She jogged past him and knelt beside one of the slain beasts. Reed stood on alert while Sarah studied the carcass. “This happened last night or early this morning.”

  “Which means they’re long gone,” Reed said. “Along with any chance of finding them.” Dusty grass and the occasional tree stretched all around. “They’re not coming back.” Reed stepped away and examined the killing grounds, searching for any clues. “I don’t see any tracks to indicate they left survivors,” he called to her. “There are tire tracks in the grass over there, but no chance of following them far enough to learn anything.” He spat in the dirt and kicked up a cloud of dust. Two beautiful creatures cut down for their incisors to feed mankind’s lust for ivory. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  “Should we contact the authorities?” Sarah asked.

  “I’ll report this to the police, but there’s not much they can do. A team of rangers patrol this area.” Conservation out here could be a Sisyphean task. Reed and Paul’s cooperative effort with local authorities had seen them all out here a week ago, though they were few and the amount of ground they’d had to cover large. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this day short,” he said. “I hope your colleagues understand.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “We can go out tomorrow. There are still plenty of animals to enjoy.”

  Reed shook his head, eyes on the ground. “For now.”

  Three days later, the group of veterinary scientists gathered outside Kimble Safaris’ main cabin, bags packed. As the sun crept over the horizon, Reed made the rounds, shaking hands and posing for selfies.

  “Thank you all for coming,” he said as they piled into a van. “We hope to see you again.” Paul started the engine and they all headed off, the first step on a long journey home. All of them save one.

  “You don’t mind if I stick around?” Sarah asked.

  “No. I just hope you’re ready to work.”

  “And I thought safaris were a vacation,” she said, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for letting me join the anti-poaching team as a consultant.” Sarah lifted her hands when he looked over. “I know – expertise only. It can be dangerous.”

  “You saw what poachers can do.” After their gruesome discovery three days earlier, Reed had called Nixon Ereng, the Mwanza chief of police who’d set up their anti-poaching task force. Funded by a grant from the National and Transnational Serious Crimes Investigation Unit, or NTSCIU, their team brought together personnel from multiple law enforcement agencies to combat the poaching epidemic.

  As expected, an initial investigation had found nothing of use, other than a renewed energy to beat the bushes and see what came out. In a town like Mwanza, the line between cop and criminal was sometimes razor-thin, with relationships crossing lines. Most cops knew a few bad guys and vice versa, an inevitable consequence of life in the city.

  “Are you positive Nixon is okay with me on the team?” Sarah asked.

  “No,” Reed said, as they walked back to his cabin. “Nixon trusts me, though. If I vouch for you, he’ll agree. Your expertise could come in handy.” He stepped onto the front porch and stopped, turning to her. “Have a second? I want to talk about how we’ll handle this.”

  “Sure.”

  Reed headed for his small refrigerator. “Beer?” She accepted wordlessly, then sat down at the table. He took two beers from the fridge, opened them, and sat down across from her. He slid one of the bottles across to her. “It’s about my involvement with the task force.” He took a sip of his beer. “Our team has the same goals, but like any group, we don’t all think the same way.”

  “Different viewpoints are important,” she offered.

  “Mwanza is a small town,” he said. “All of my employees are from here. They know a lot of the people in town, people they grew up with, have known their entire lives. Some of those people took different paths in life than others.”

  Sarah got it. “Your men have old friends who aren’t exactly model citizens.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “Do they know who’s poaching elephants?” Reed shook his head. “But you know people who might?”

  He grinned through a three-day beard. “You’d be surprised who I know.”

  “So what are you waiting for?”

  “It’s not that easy,” Reed said. “My men know some people who are plugged into the Mwanza underworld. Drugs, guns, things like that. Still, there’s no guarantee any of those people can tell them about the poaching. These may be out-of-town criminals, here for a quick score before disappearing. Or they could be seriously bad dudes and no one wants to talk.”

  Sarah began peeling her bottle label away. “If that’s true, you’re out of luck.”

  Reed took a long pull from his beer. “Not necessarily. The tusks they took weighed at least a hundred and forty kilograms. That’s a quarter million dollars. In a place like Mwanza, a haul like that won’t stay secret for long. I’ll call around, see what I can learn.”

  Sarah’s face hardened. “The sooner we find them, the fewer animals die.”

  “Don’t worry, I plan to take a few poachers off the savanna.” He didn’t need to tell her that any criminals they caught would be replaced the next day.

  “This time will be easier than last,” Sarah said. “These aren’t genetically enhanced animals. Just run-of-the-mill human criminals. Your team can handle them.”

  Reed smiled grimly. Of course she’d found the bright side in this, even if she was only half-serious. “I hope so,” he said as he grabbed a radio from atop the table. “Paul, it’s Reed. You out there?”

  Static, then Paul’s voice. “Yes, boss.”

  “Come over to my cabin. I need a favor.”

  “Be right there.” More static, and a minute later footsteps sounded on the porch as Paul walked up to the screen door. “Hello again, Dr. Hall.” Paul touched his forehead. “I am glad to see you are still here.” His eyes went wide. “And you have my present. It looks good on you.”

  She ran a finger along the black device Reed called her new scarf. “I love it,” she said.

  “She’s worn it every day,” Reed said. “I think it looks good.”

  Paul beamed. “What can I do?”

  “Do you want a drink?” Paul declined, joining
them at the table. “We’ve run into a problem with the task force investigation.”

  Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Those poachers will be caught. Anything I can do to help, it will happen.”

  “You have friends in the city?”

  Now Paul smiled. “Many friends. It is not so big a place.”

  Reed twisted the beer bottle in his hands. “Some more upstanding than others.”

  “They didn’t start life as bad people,” Paul said. “Growing up as we did was not easy. Some made the right decisions, some did not.”

  “And the ones who chose the wrong path – do you still keep in touch with any of them?”

  “I know what has happened to them,” Paul said. “Nothing can erase the past we share. Today I am not close with those men. That does not mean we are enemies.”

  “Can you ask around, see if anyone knows about the poaching?”

  Paul let his teeth show. “I like the way you think, boss. It is possible I had the same thoughts.”

  Sarah leaned over the table. “You already called around?”

  “Yes. I spoke with a man I have known for many years. His name is Manny. He is friends with people you would call criminals.” Paul wagged a finger in the air. “These are not poachers. I would never deal with them. These men will know a little about the poachers, at least who they are.”

  “And some of what they do,” Reed said. “What did your friend say?”

  “That if I need to know things, I only have to ask. Manny will tell me what whispers he hears on the street.”

  “You can trust him?” Reed asked.

  “Very much. I helped his brother when he was in trouble. He owed a man money, and I paid the debt. Manny will always remember that.”

  An inside man. The kind of break they needed to find out who had killed the elephants, and how to stop them from killing again. Except a tiny alarm sounded in the depths of Reed’s head. Could they trust this Manny? “If you say so. It’s not as though we have other options at this point.”

  “He will tell the truth.” Paul tapped the table. “I am sure of it.”

  “Did you ask him about the poaching?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes. He will call me back after he talks to people.”

  An invisible weight that had settled on Reed’s shoulders when they’d first seen the shredded gray corpses lifted ever so slightly. His relief was slight, based as it was on whisperings from a crook Paul knew from the old neighborhood. Still, it was their best option, and he’d take it. Reed’s jaw tightened. “We start after he calls you.”

  Sarah seemed to shrink back a fraction from his gaze. “Start what?”

  “Fighting back.”

  Chapter 5

  Mwanza, Tanzania

  Sunlight spilled through a narrow open window as the acrid scent of diesel fumes wafted through. A handgun spun in circles on a desk. Seated behind the beat-up office furniture, the gun’s owner watched it twirl as sweat dripped down his forehead. Not that he even noticed it anymore, just like he didn’t notice each breath that came weighted with heat, sticky and warm. Right now he had bigger problems, starting with the two men standing across from him.

  “You have nothing for me,” he said. Not a question; a statement. Neither man responded. They couldn’t even look at him. “It has been three days. In this time, you have not found more elephants?” Again, no response. Juma took a deep breath. His conversation from days earlier with these same men replayed in his head.

  “Only two elephants?” he’d asked the men when they’d returned from a poaching mission. “You told me at least six. That is what I told my buyer. And now I must tell him we have only four tusks instead of twelve. Do you know how much money you have cost me?”

  Juma blinked, grinding his teeth at the memory. The gun spun again, scattering reflected sunlight onto the walls. The floorboards groaned as one of Juma’s guards entered the room and leaned against a wall.

  “There are usually many more where we found them,” one of the poachers said, his eyes wide. “We will go back. We will get you more.” His friend nodded, droplets of sweat flying as his head whipped up and down.

  “No. How stupid are you?” He picked up the gun, pointing it their way as he spoke. “You killed two elephants. If they have not been found yet, they will be soon. Which means more patrols, more rangers, and more attention from the police. So tell me again how you will get me more ivory and not get caught?”

  They didn’t meet his eyes. Juma took a deep breath. There was nothing to be done about their failure now. “You must hope the buyer is not too upset. If he is, I will need new men to supply my ivory. Men I can count on.”

  With a wave he dismissed them. Their footsteps quickly faded outside as they disappeared into Mwanza’s maze of ramshackle buildings and blind alleys. “I need privacy,” he said, and the guard left the room. A short while ago, the four tusks his men had procured had been delivered to his contacts, and by now were on their way to Cairo. He’d lied and said more were coming, hoping his men would deliver. They had failed. Nothing could be done about it now.

  Juma spun the pistol again. What he needed were soldiers. War required an army, and with a looming battle, he couldn’t afford to make an example out of anyone, not even those two poor excuses for poachers. He needed them, almost as much as he’d needed the twelve tusks they’d promised. Ivory brought him money to pay his soldiers and buy their weapons. Without enough money, he couldn’t take over Mwanza’s criminal underworld, and couldn’t fulfill his promise to the man in Cairo. He knew if you disappointed that man, you never got a second chance.

  Then there was the real reason for his ambition. A reason named Lediana. Or Leda, as he called her.

  “My time is here,” he said to the air. For years, he had lived in the shadow of another man, the one with the money and power to draw Leda in. Life had forced her to make the decision to do what was best for her family. Her choice had not been Juma, but now he could change that. His connection in Cairo changed everything.

  Money meant power in his world. Power commanded fear, and with the criminal community plunged into disarray a few months ago when the long-standing gangland leader had died, power was there for the taking. That said leader had also been a crooked government minister had left an even greater vacuum.

  Born in a Tanzanian slum, Juma had stolen everything he’d ever needed, connecting with a gang before his eighth birthday. Armed robbery, assault, even murder – he’d handled it all. He’d stayed alive, and when this opportunity had come up, he’d grabbed it. A corrupt government minister had died, leaving her fractured alliance of thugs and gangsters grasping for power. Juma had cobbled together a group of like-minded men and made his plans to topple the only other man with a following to rival his. But until he secured an agreement with the man in Cairo to re-open the smuggling routes from Tanzania to Egypt, he had as little chance of winning power as ever. With Wafa Khaled on his side, now he could offer a chance at wealth that brought the starving and destitute criminals to him in droves.

  Dust motes sparkled in the still air. “I have enough to take him down.” More than twenty men followed him, about the same size as his rival’s group. The rival who had made Leda his. This man had been a top lieutenant for the government minister until his boss, a woman named Deka Conteh, had been killed.

  After Deka Conteh had died, her lieutenant had taken control of the organization and its resources. Weapons, drugs, prostitutes and cash. Everything a man needed to control the lucrative criminal underground in Mwanza. Their headquarters were in a solid building on the outskirts of town, fenced off with surveillance cameras, operating under the guise of a warehouse.

  “I will take him down. Then Leda will be safe with me.” The satellite phone on his desk rattled. A gift from Wafa Khaled, the phone delivered secure communication anywhere, a crucial advantage in a city where service blackouts were the norm.

  Juma watched it rattle. Wetting his dry lips, he picked it up. “Hello.”


  “I understand the shipment is not as promised.”

  Wafa Khaled always went straight to business. So Juma would do the same. “The number of elephants was lower than expected. The groups did not stay together, but we will get the rest of the ivory soon.”

  “Do you have enough money for weapons and ammunition against your enemy?”

  “I have enough men; all are armed and ready. I have just finished the plans now.”

  “Tell me.”

  Damn. At least he knew the city better than Wafa Khaled. “Of course. They are based in an old building away from the city.” He outlined the fortifications, the razor wire-topped fences and cameras. “We know where to find weak spots. We will surprise them. Soon I will be in charge of this town.”

  “Do you have anyone inside his operation?”

  He did. Though how he wished it weren’t her. He did not want to put Leda in danger. But he had little choice, and she would not have agreed if she did not care for him as he cared for her. “I do. Someone who told us everything we need to know about the inside. How many men, where they are stationed, and when the guard who drinks his pay is watching the security cameras.”

  “I hope your informant is reliable. If your information is bad, I’ll need a new partner in Mwanza.”

  Juma ground his teeth. “She can be trusted.”

  “When are you moving on the warehouse?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Call me once the site is secure,” Wafa said. “When you have the situation under control, our route will re-open for business and provide enough money to ramp up operations.”

  “It will be as we plan,” Juma said. “Mwanza will be my city, and we will both be rich. The ivory shipments will only increase.”

  “Ivory and other items, yes, but that’s not the final goal. I am building an enterprise,” Wafa said. “Tonight is the first opportunity of many. Be sure it is not missed.”

  The line went dead.

  “He will see,” Juma said. “I will run this town.” He shouted for his guards, and the men returned, taking the chairs in front of his desk. “Get everyone together and meet me at the storehouse.” All the weapons and ammunition he’d gathered for their assault were kept in a building outside of town. Broken windows and cracked walls kept the curious and inquisitive away, with the building’s true strength buried underground. A solid basement guarded round the clock by Juma’s men served as their armory, and it would be the launching point of their attack.