The Turn Series Box Set

by Andrew Clawson

  And in the midst of the carnage stood the baby elephants, saved by their lack of tusks. They blinked in the blinding light, their hides glistening with the same sickening reddish sheen. Refusing to leave their parents’ sides, they stood nuzzling their tiny trunks futilely against the corpses of their dead family.

  Chapter 8

  Mwanza, Tanzania

  Visitors to Mwanza’s maze-like inner city can find themselves searching in vain for a street sign or landmark, wondering how they ended up so lost and feeling a tad nervous. In certain parts of town, each dusty building resembles the next, with rows of broken windows, their tar and pitch roofs blending together.

  It was a quirk of Mwanza that Juma Cheyo knew well, and took full advantage of. Which is why, only twenty-four hours after his losses in the warehouse attack, Juma’s operations were up and running again barely a mile from the blood-soaked building. A box truck rumbled by as he walked into his new base; acrid exhaust tickled his throat, the thick black clouds like a curtain hovering in the air.

  Juma didn’t notice the heat, didn’t care about the burning air. Last night’s poaching raid had been a success. Sixteen tusks taken and sent to Cairo, even more than Wafa Khaled had asked for. Juma walked into his office area as overworked engines puttered and screeched on the crowded streets outside. He just smiled and puffed a cigarette. This was his town now. And of course, Leda was with him. He stopped in the doorway, thinking back to their talk. She would come around to his plan. She just needed time.

  “Turn that down.” His men lowered the volume on a soccer match as he pressed a phone to his ear. “Good morning,” Juma said.

  “Did you get them?” Wafa spoke as though gravel caked his throat. Juma confirmed their poaching mission had succeeded. “Excellent. After the police destroyed their ivory stockpiles a few days ago, demand has soared.”

  “Tanzania has more than enough elephants to keep your buyers happy for years to come.” And he needed to keep Wafa happy, because this was his chance to move ahead. Not just in Mwanza, but in Africa. To do that, Wafa needed to understand that Juma wasn’t just another poacher. “I have been thinking about how we can make even more money.”

  A heavy exhale. “Go on.”

  “The ivory delivery route that moves over land from here to Egypt takes much time. The ivory is not sold in Egypt. So then I wonder, where are the buyers?”

  “My deals are made in Cairo. From there, it travels to many places.”

  “But the ivory market, it is in China, no?”

  “Mostly, yes. The buyers come to me, and then take delivery of their product.”

  “So why do we not take the ivory directly to China, and deliver it to their doors? We can deliver our ivory more quickly than others, and for that, we can charge more.”

  Silence filled his ear as a rattling diesel engine clattered past outside. “Have you ever tried to smuggle tusks through customs? Bribed guards? Do you understand how to make this operation work without losing the ivory?”

  Questions he’d expected. “The people I know do not smuggle ivory. They smuggle other things: drugs and women. But it is not so different from smuggling ivory.”

  This time the silence stretched on, punctuated only by breathing. Wafa must have finished an entire cigarette before he replied. “I will look into the matter. But for now, there is other business to discuss. You’re correct. The Chinese and others purchase my product no matter the cost. It is used for gifts, carvings, any manner of things. But there is another product which provides even greater profit. And you,” here Wafa loosed a rattling cough, “are in position to provide it.”

  What do I have?

  “Traditional Chinese medicine prizes rhino horn. They believe it has medicinal benefits, and will pay serious money for small amounts. The rhino’s horn is worth more than gold, more than diamonds, even more than ivory. I need you to get it for me.”

  Rhino horn? When was the last time he’d seen a rhino? “I see. I believe some rhino may be near Mwanza. They will be difficult to find. Most rhino live in protected areas, game preserves, and they are well guarded.”

  “Will that stop you? I thought you were a businessman who can deliver the products his buyer needs.”

  Juma sighed. The Egyptian wanted rhino horn? So be it. “I will deliver what you need, but it will take time. Do you not want more ivory? As you said, the price is very high, and it is the right time to be selling.”

  “Yes, yes. I’ll need more. As much as you can get. I want rhino horn as well. The price of ivory will come back down, but rhino is always in demand. Make it happen.”

  “That is not—”

  The line went dead. It appeared Wafa did not have time to waste. Which meant Juma didn’t either.

  “Turn that off.” His words bounced off the concrete walls, and his men turned off the TV and scrambled over. “We have a new job.” Damn, but he didn’t know half of these fresh recruits.

  “Who is from the city?” Nearly every hand went up. “Who is from outside of Mwanza, the fields and huts and tribal lands?” A few hands stayed up, none belonging to faces he recognized. “Do you know how to find a rhino?” One hand remained. “What’s your name?”

  A young man stared back, his face impassive. “Paul. I grew up near where the rhino lived, and I can find them.”

  “Paul, come sit with me.” Paul followed him in to the office. “Have a seat.” Juma grabbed two beers out of the cooler by his feet, handing one to Paul. “We have much to talk about.”

  Chapter 9

  Mwanza Police Station

  Mwanza, Tanzania

  When Reed walked into the police station this time, he saw that the desk sergeant’s tie had come loose, the top button on his shirt hung open, and no fewer than four empty coffee cups were stacked on the desk. It looked like the officer hadn’t left his post since Reed had been there yesterday. Reed flashed Chief Ereng’s card and was waved through.

  He didn’t have an appointment and doubted one could be had right now. The chief couldn’t possibly have time for Reed. So Reed planned to make his own time.

  “Are you sure they won’t arrest you?” Sarah had asked. “You can’t just walk into his office uninvited.”

  “We’re partners in this,” he’d assured her. “Nixon said so himself. Don’t you think eight dead elephants constitutes an emergency?”

  She did, so he went to do something about it.

  The chief’s door stood open. Reed walked past a man slumped on a bench in the hallway, eyes closed and wrists lashed together with a leather cord. A strange way to restrain someone, he thought, but upon closer inspection, he saw a stump where the man’s left hand should have been.

  “Please excuse the intrusion.” He sat down before Nixon could respond. “This is an emergency.”

  Nixon peered over top of the file in his hands. The wall clock ticked, and the chair underneath him creaked, but Nixon simply sat there.

  “Is that so, Reed?” He flipped the file shut and clasped his two massive hands together. “Tell me, what is more of an emergency than my graveyard of bodies?”

  “Eight dead elephants, Chief. Slaughtered last night. All the adults in a herd. It’s one I’ve seen almost every day since I started my business.” It still didn’t seem real.

  Nixon frowned. “You have seen them?” Reed nodded. “Where, and how?”

  Describing the location, he watched empathy and support flash across the chief’s face as he scribbled on a notepad.

  “Did your contact Manny make you aware of the killings?”

  “He did, but he didn’t know about them until after the fact.”

  “Where can I find this man? I would like to speak with him.”

  “I don’t know where he is. We talk, but I doubt he trusts me that much.” The chief seemed to accept this. “I’m going to guide the young elephants toward another herd, which should take them in. Once I learn more about who did this, we can organize a response, get the task force mobilized. I’m sure
you—”

  A meaty hand came up, stopping him short. “Reed, I do understand how you feel. And I appreciate what you want to do. But right now I cannot help you. My department is small. Our first duty is to protect the people of Mwanza, and the poaching task force must come second.”

  “But you know who attacked the warehouse. I told you.”

  “I must have evidence,” Nixon said, stabbing at the air. “And I must follow the process of investigating. Right now we are not even sure who all of the dead men are. Talk to your contact,” the police chief said. “If you can get information on when and where they will be poaching next, I will mobilize our team. Until that happens,” he stood and walked around the desk, “I need to focus on the murders. I hope you can understand.”

  Reed frowned as he stood. “I can. Thanks for your time. If I hear anything, I’ll be in touch.” They shook hands, but Reed was already planning. If Nixon couldn’t help him, he needed to help himself. Use the tools at his disposal for information, which right now began and ended with Manny. He needed a name. One man who knew where Juma Cheyo’s group planned to poach. Someone who’d been there longer than Manny. One name, and then Reed could handle the rest.

  Back outside, he jumped in his car and darted into Mwanza’s twisting streets. When he called Manny, the kid answered on the first ring.

  “Manny, it’s Reed Kimble. You have a minute?”

  “Only a moment,” Manny said. “Things are happening around here.”

  Interesting. “Can you talk freely?”

  “Yes. I am in the market now,” Manny said. “Alone. Go ahead.”

  “I need a name. I don’t know who I’m asking about, but I’m hoping you do.”

  “A strange question, Reed. What do you mean?”

  “I don’t even know if he exists.” Enough with the riddles. “Is there a person in the gang who can tell me where Juma intends to poach next, someone who was at the attack last night?”

  “There is one man, a man close to Juma who also went out last night. There are others who were there, but they are gone to deliver the ivory. Only one of his old gang came back last night and is still here.”

  Manny gave him the name, also offering a description of the fellow and his likely hangouts. “Manny, is this guy a friend of yours?”

  “I have no friends in this business.”

  A grim outlook, and an accurate one. Manny might have been a teenager, but he’d seen more of life’s bad side than many career criminals. A mindset like that kept him alive. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you if you need it,” Reed told him. The kid may have grunted, maybe not; it was hard to tell with all the background noise. “Are other things happening I should know about?”

  “Yes. It is about the elephants.”

  Reed’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Is Juma looking for another ivory score?”

  “That and more. Juma received a call today. During it, I watched his face. He smiled the whole time, but it was not a happy smile. I believe the big boss called him, and he wants something more from Juma.”

  Gaining the open road, Reed hit the gas, accelerating away from the congested city and back toward his base. “Any idea who the real boss is?”

  “Not yet, but I am working on it. When Juma finished his call, he asked us if we knew where to find any rhino. One person raised his hand.”

  Reed took a deep breath, then another. “You raised your hand.” Damn, the kid was good. “Let me guess. You’re part of the poaching team now.”

  Manny hesitated. “I am. Though I am not the leader. I could not convince Juma that I can find a rhino on my own.”

  Reed veered around a slow-moving box truck. “Who’s the leader?”

  “Paul.”

  Rubber smoked as Reed slammed on the brakes. A horn blared as the box truck swerved around him, narrowly missing his stopped vehicle. That meant Paul had joined the gang. “That’s not possible. Paul wouldn’t do that without telling me.”

  “He knew you would not be happy,” Manny said. “Paul decided to do this on his own. He wants the same thing as you, to protect the animals. You will not change his mind.”

  No, he wouldn’t. “If it’s already done, I won’t fight him on it. But you watch out for him.”

  “We will protect each other, no matter what.” Reed didn’t doubt it. Anyone who’d survived what those two had growing up knew how to watch their back. “But you know that,” Manny continued. “Paul agrees that I will take over the gang when Juma is dead. Do we still have a deal?”

  “The animals are to be left alone.”

  Manny agreed. “Yes, and the sooner Juma is out of the picture, the better.”

  “When does he want you guys to go out and look for a rhinoceros?”

  “Very soon. His boss wants rhino horn immediately, and Juma said we must deliver it to Cairo quickly. It is not a short journey from Mwanza to Egypt.”

  Cairo? That was new. So Juma’s boss was Egyptian. “Paul knows how to scout locations to figure out where the ranges are. Still, it will take a few days. I’ll check with Paul and map out a plan.”

  Reed clicked off as the compound lights came into view, and smiled when he pulled in to find Sarah sitting on the porch, a hat tilted over her eyes, book in hand. He stopped and stepped out into hot, dry air. “Reading anything interesting?”

  “Yes. A veterinary journal.” She flipped the book shut and stood, stretching her arms overhead. “I’m ready for a break. How’d it go with the chief?”

  “Not well. He’s a busy man, and murdered people take precedence over poached animals.”

  “If this keeps up, there won’t be any animals left to protect.”

  She didn’t have to tell him. “For now we’re on our own.” Reed rubbed his scruffy chin. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I called Manny on the drive home.” He relayed the story of Paul’s rogue infiltration, and Sarah didn’t say anything until the end.

  “It’s our chance to take them down.”

  Reed leaned back. “You’re not concerned that he’s making a rash decision?”

  She glared at him. “Paul wants to help, and he’s doing this for you. For the wildlife, yes, but also you.” She aimed a finger his way. “Don’t belittle the risk he’s taking by questioning it.”

  That took him aback. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Personally, I wish he wouldn’t do it.” Sarah crossed her arms. “But we’re not Paul. He decided to put himself in danger. He needs support, not criticism.”

  Reed sat on the porch and looked to the darkening sky, considering her words. He didn’t consider long. “You’re right. We need to have his back.”

  “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  “There’s something else. I have a name from Manny. A man who worked for Juma Cheyo before, and who helped kill the Stones.”

  “Now it sounds like you’re the one planning a rogue mission.”

  He smiled. “Maybe. I need to know more about Juma and his operation.”

  “And dish out payback for the Stones.” Sarah moved toward the cabin, the screen door squeaking as it opened. “I’m coming with you.” Reed started to speak, but she cut him off. “Don’t bother arguing. You don’t tell Paul what to do, and you don’t tell me. I’ll let you make the plan, but I’m part of it.” She turned and walked into the cabin without another word, the door swinging shut behind her.

  Mwanza

  Light glinted on broken glass littering the dark alley, the moon a thin crescent scar on the dark sky overhead. Few vehicles braved the streets at this late hour. In this neighborhood, one sputtering streetlight lengthened the shadows of the few pedestrians. Dirt-choked and littered with refuse, narrow alleys cut through the ramshackle buildings, missing teeth in the city’s cruel maw.

  Crouched hard against a bulging brick wall, two shadows darker than the rest kept motionless. Reed watched a doorway across the street as Sarah knelt quietly by his side. As solitary pedestrians
crossed the alley mouth mere feet in front of them, not a single one so much as turned their way. Reed and Sarah kept watch on a partially open doorway across the street from which dingy light fell to paint the asphalt a pale yellow. Dissonant bass thumped from the working men’s bar. Their target sat inside, the man whose name Manny had passed on to Reed earlier in the day.

  Sarah edged even closer to him. “Do these places ever shut down?”

  “Not so long as the drunks keep buying. My only worry is he comes out too loaded to be of any use.”

  “We can’t go in there and drag him out,” she said. Anyone who laid eyes on them would remember a white couple coming in late at night and leaving with a known associate of Juma Cheyo. “The front door is the only way in or out of that deathtrap of a bar. He has to come through it eventually.”

  So they settled in, their vigil stretching on through the night. Earlier in the evening, he and Sarah had found the man’s apartment, little more than a shack alongside the road, and had stood watch outside. Eventually Manju Raymond, known as Ray, emerged and sauntered toward a seedier part of town. Stopping at one bar after another, the slender man moved easily, bobbing his head and whistling tunelessly all the while. As Ray went from bar to bar his steps became erratic, and his conversations louder, until he’d reached this bar, into which he’d disappeared nearly two hours earlier.

  “Keep an eye on the street when Ray comes outside. The rear of this alley will be fine for our conversation.”

  “What if someone comes? It’s a dead end,” she said, pointing down the alley behind them.

  “The wall’s six feet high,” Reed said. “We can get over it if we have to. I only need a minute with him.”

  A warm breeze rustled the trash around their feet. Several minutes later, the bar door whisked open, showing a single reveler. “There he is.” Reed tapped her shoulder as Ray appeared, looking only slightly unsteady on his feet. “Wait here.”

  When Ray turned to light a cigarette, Reed darted across the street and wrapped a forearm across the man’s throat. “Hello, Ray. I’ve been looking for you.” Faint gurgling came from Ray’s lips, and he thrashed about to no avail. “We need to have a chat.”