The Turn Series Box Set

by Andrew Clawson

  Reed dragged his captive into the darkness of the alley. “If you yell, you die. Understand?” Ray didn’t seem to fully comprehend what was happening. “Blink if you understand.”

  The feeble escape attempts ceased, and Ray blinked like a strobe light. “Good.” Reed let the pressure off Ray’s throat and the man fell to his knees, gasping for air.

  “You killed eight elephants.” Heat flared in his chest, pushing him to do something unwise. “You sent the tusks to Cairo.”

  Ray looked up into a ray of moonlight, his bloodshot eyes stretched to their limits. “How you know?”

  “I know you work for Juma Cheyo, and he ordered you to kill those elephants.”

  Ray jerked his head up and down, drops of sweat flying through the air. “He the one make me do it. He say he kill me if I don’t.”

  Cast the blame elsewhere. It didn’t matter.

  “Is that so?” Ray nodded, eager to please. “When did Juma tell you to go poach the elephants?”

  “That night, man, that same night. We go out and get the ivory. Right after the fight.”

  “The battle at the warehouse, right?”

  “That the one. We kill those boys good, then I go out on the savanna. Others go north to deliver the ivory. I stay here, help Juma. He need my help with our guys dead.”

  It jibed with what Manny had said. Orders to kill the Rolling Stones had come down right after the battle, before the first meeting between Manny and his new boss. Which made Ray the only person still in town who’d helped kill the Stones.

  Any concern he’d had about Paul’s faith in Manny evaporated. The kid had been straight with them. It seemed Paul’s childhood bond was still strong. Reed leaned close, whispering in Ray’s ear. “Are there any other poaching operations planned?”

  More rapid nodding. “Two going down soon. A new guy doing one; don’t know him. Hunting rhinos. Then elephants again. We go out tomorrow, to the river by where the hippos be.”

  Reed glanced up to the alley’s mouth, where Sarah stood guard. She flashed a thumbs up – all clear. “You mean the preserve?”

  “Not the park. Too many rangers. South more, by the gnarly trees, and the bushy ones.”

  “The baobab forest.” It wasn’t a forest really, more like a large copse, but a well-known landmark.

  “They head out tomorrow at midnight, but I not gonna go. Not now. You let me free, I tell no one.”

  Reed tightened his grip and Ray stopped talking. As long as what Ray said matched what Paul and Manny had been told, things looked good. Even if Chief Ereng couldn’t spare men to stop the planned poaching mission, Reed would handle it. One way or another.

  “You’re right about that.” Reed hauled Ray to his feet, then lashed the man’s wrists together with a zip tie. “You’re not poaching tomorrow night. I want you to meet someone.” He shoved Ray toward the street. “A friend of mine at the police station.”

  Chapter 10

  The warm reddish light of sunset painted the savanna, dry and dusty after another day baking in the heat. A narrow, winding river cut through the landscape, its waters easing their way downstream toward the horizon. A small herd of elephants kept watch beside the riverbank; two youngsters rolled in the mud, spraying themselves and anything else in range.

  Nearby, a cluster of baobab trees offered shade, the massive trunks sending pillars of shadow nearly to the water’s edge. Other solitary trees, baobab and acacia, ran along the river, but this grouping stood out for its size and proximity to the riverbank. Reed and Sarah crouched between roots larger than their vehicle, invisible to anyone approaching from afar. Three police members of the task force waited with them, the few men Captain Ereng could spare on short notice.

  “Will poachers really come with the sun still up?” A soft breeze carried Sarah’s words to Reed as he studied the terrain for movement. All was still beyond the frolicking elephants.

  “They didn’t used to, but with the authorities stretched so thin they’ve begun attacking during the day. These elephants are truly on their own right now, miles from anyone who can help them.”

  “Except us.”

  “Yes.” He frowned. “Today nearly a hundred elephants will die in Africa, the same number as yesterday, and the same as tomorrow. If we can keep these three adults alive, it might be ninety-seven. But it’s a war we’re losing.”

  “I had no idea,” Sarah said. Dozens of birds took flight together, only to circle back and settle on the branches above them.

  A soft rumble at the edge of hearing tickled Reed’s ears. “Hear that?” One of the task force policemen nodded. “An engine,” Reed said. “No, wait – two of them.” A minute later, two dots appeared over the horizon, smudges on the landscape. Reed lifted his binoculars. “Two vehicles. I see three people in the first one, and two in the rear one. Pickup trucks. I don’t see heavy weaponry.”

  In over a decade on the savanna, he’d only seen poachers wielding high-caliber machine guns one time. They’d never survive against one of those in a fight. “Okay, keep your heads down. Looks like they’re coming straight for the herd.” He pointed to a pair of policemen. “The two of you come from the north. I’ll go with you,” he nodded to the other officer, “and we’ll circle around and come from the south. That’ll keep their attention off the elephants.” The policemen said they understood. “Sarah, stay here.” One condition of her coming was that Sarah didn’t get involved. An extra set of eyes was welcome. Her being injured was not.

  “Shoot to take out the vehicles,” Reed said. “Don’t aim for the poachers. We need information from them. Agreed?” The task force did, so Reed and the cop hunched low as they ran to a spot south of the elephants, dropping to lie flat on the dirt. As he peered through the scope on his rifle, his hunting experience came back, along with the cool focus he knew so well. Steady hands and a clear mind. As long as you had that down, the shooting was easy.

  But now, instead of a lion or leopard, his crosshairs centered on an animal far more dangerous. Poachers.

  The elephants stirred, one trumpeting at the approaching vehicles. Wary, but not yet frightened enough to leave. Not that it mattered now. Against armed men in vehicles on this flat terrain, the elephants stood no chance of survival.

  The vehicles rumbled closer now, almost directly in front of him. The lead truck began slowing, and a magnified view of the driver filled his scope: a young man whose beard was scarcely an idea, curly strands of hair on smooth skin.

  Before the driver brought his truck to a halt, Reed sighted in on a front tire and fired. The first shot flew true, as did the second. Both front tires blew and the truck accelerated toward the river, veering wildly as the driver fought the steering wheel. A shotgun boomed, and metal shrieked as pellets gashed holes in the engine. A moment later the vehicle slid down the bank and into the river, the front end coming to rest under water.

  A poacher bolted from the wrecked truck, firing a Kalashnikov wildly as he ran directly toward the elephants, in full-on panic mode now after the gunfire. Reed dropped his rifle and grabbed a different gun strapped on his back. Aim, breathe, fire. The gun barked, sending two rubber bullets at the running man. An instant later he stopped dead, feet flying up as the bullets caught him full in the chest. Down he went, and another rubber shot to the head made sure he was out cold.

  A bullet whistled past Reed’s head. Back down he went, elbows digging into the warm dirt. Both men in the trailing pickup had ducked down in the truck’s cab, one now firing out the window. Their front tires were shredded, torn apart by task force bullets.

  Reed planted his face in the dirt, grabbing again for his rifle. No rubber bullets now. More shots echoed as the poachers kept firing, two different weapons from the sound of it. The northern task force team members kept their attention, so Reed went against his better judgment and picked up the non-lethal rifle again. He’d shoot them if necessary, but not in the back. A rubber bullet should do the trick. Sighting in, he pulled on the trigger. Two
more shots and this should be over.

  Then the ground exploded beside him. The blast knocked him sideways, sky and ground twisting in a circle as he rolled. He bounced to a stop and scraped dirt from his eyes. Damn, that was serious firepower. He knew a grenade blast when he heard it. Where had it come from? The northern part of their team had the two men pinned down; neither was even looking as they fired at random from the besieged truck.

  It was the other passenger from the first truck. Reed turned and saw him now. Dripping wet, the man crouched near his half-submerged vehicle, shielded from the north, with a clear shot at Reed’s team to the south. The man stood, his arm whipping forward to send another green ball flying. Reed grabbed the policeman next to him, all thoughts of stealth gone as he pulled the cop up and raced through the waving grass, bent at the waist. Orange flame erupted in the air, the blast pushing him off-balance, feet skidding on the dirt as he struggled for purchase.

  He’s cooking them. The damn fool. Pulling the pin to run time off before he threw them. Which gave the man less margin for error once they landed, but the blast would trigger before it even hit the ground. Deadly. Maybe he’d mistime his throw and blow himself up. Reed turned back as another ball flashed through the air, headed directly toward them.

  Forget hiding. Reed stopped short and let the grenade fly overhead; his friend dodged it as well, and the grenade only blew up dirt and grass. Reed lifted his gun, aimed and fired just as the poacher was ready to throw another grenade. Two rubber bullets took the man down. One, two, three. The dropped grenade went off and a plume of water exploded skyward. So much for that guy.

  The ground shook beneath his feet. Reed turned as one of the elephants started running, spooked by the last grenade explosion. The bull rumbled directly toward the pickup truck. Sparks flew off the vehicle as the northern task force team rained fire on the remaining two poachers. At that moment, one of the poachers stood up and took aim at Reed, only to be dropped by a non-lethal round. A second later the last poacher stood and ran away from the truck’s protection, looking backward as he fired wildly in their direction.

  He should have looked ahead.

  The poacher never saw the elephant lumbering toward him – at least until he ran directly into its tusk. The bull ducked low and speared him, a pointed ivory tooth shooting out of the man’s back. Up and down he went, until the bull stopped and shook his massive head, ears flopping around as the man’s body slid to the ground.

  Reed lowered his rifle and wiped grime from his eyes.

  Chapter 11

  Kimble Safaris

  Outside of Mwanza, Tanzania

  A hot shower rinsed off the dirt of the day’s task force operation. Reed stood in his bedroom, a towel around his waist and the phone pressed to an ear. Time to have a serious talk with his friend and employee. “Sounds good, Paul. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Sarah walked through the door, a towel wrapped around her body complementing the one covering her hair like some sort of Egyptian headdress. “Is he coming over?”

  “Right now,” Reed said, throwing on clean clothes.

  “Don’t be too hard on him.” Sarah toweled her hair. “The only thing better than having a man on the inside is having two of them.” He opened his mouth, but she raised one hand. “Yes, it’s dangerous. He knows that. Accept his help. And be clear that next time he checks with you before making any crazy moves.”

  Reed closed his mouth. She was right. “Fair enough.”

  The front door to Reed’s cabin creaked open before Paul’s voice rang out. “Hello?”

  “Glad to see you’re okay,” Reed said as he walked into the main room. “Come here.” Before Paul could protest, Reed wrapped his favorite employee in a quick bear hug. “Don’t do anything stupid before we get Juma.” As he released the smaller man, Paul stepped back, uncertainty in his narrowed eyes. “Yes, I’m mad at you,” Reed said. “No, I can’t do anything about it. So next time, talk to me first.”

  Paul blinked a few times. “I…I will do that.”

  “Then that’s settled.” Reed smacked Paul’s shoulder. “Want a beer?”

  As usual, Paul declined. “I do not want to stay long,” he said. “After today, Juma is on edge.”

  “Having five men go out and not come back will do that,” Sarah said. “Especially when this Egyptian fellow is breathing down his neck.”

  Paul nodded. “Juma is nervous. First Ray’s arrest, then the failed elephant poaching. Also, the boss man called again about rhino horn. Now I must look for a black rhino. This horn is even more valued than the regular horn.”

  Reed frowned. “Black rhino? Only five thousand black rhinos are still alive in Africa, and most of them are in protected areas. White rhinos are more prevalent.”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Which is why people pay more for black rhino horn.”

  “Rhino horn sells for sixty thousand dollars a pound, or roughly one hundred twenty thousand per kilo. A single horn can weigh up to three kilos.”

  Her eyes widened. “One horn can be worth three hundred fifty thousand dollars?”

  “Enough to set you up for life. Or get you killed.”

  “Where do you find them?” Sarah asked.

  “You know they’re solitary by nature, but not territorial. As adults they don’t live together or seek out companionship other than for mating, but they also don’t actively avoid other rhinos. Their ranges depend on access to food and water, which is how I plan to find what few black rhinos remain around Mwanza.” He grabbed a tablet and tapped the screen. “As part of our task force, I keep records of everything I see on patrols.”

  “How many have you seen?” Paul asked. “I only remember one or two, and none recently.”

  “Six in the past month, four with viable horns. Based on their tracks and droppings, I’d guess at least ten frequent the larger area.”

  Silence, during which he could almost hear the calculator whirring in Sarah’s mind. “If seven of them have horns that can be sold, that’s roughly two and a half million dollars.”

  “Enough money to tempt Juma out of his headquarters where we can arrest him.”

  “Where did you see the rhino?” Sarah asked. Reed detailed their foraging spot, a remote location along the riverbanks with plenty of scrub and woodland. “You think this is a good place to draw Juma to the task force?”

  “I do.” Reed turned to Paul. “Learn anything else about your rhino poaching team? How many people will be on it, and can you get Juma to come along?”

  “The money will get him there,” Paul said. “I am certain of that. The number of men will be as small as I can make it.”

  The three of them sketched out a plan as best they could, though they needed to wait until the size of the poaching team was confirmed to nail down the final details. “I will speak with Juma tomorrow,” Paul said. “There is talk among the men that Juma has more immediate plans that involve the gold mine. I believe the rhino hunt will not happen for two or three days.”

  Enough time for Reed to scout the location and get Nixon Ereng on board. “Sounds good. We’ll head out now and see if the rhinos are around.” Reed headed outside toward the armory to collect night-vision gear for their surveillance. Paul followed him. “Now, what did you say about the gold mine?” Reed asked.

  “The gold mine is where the money can be made safely. And yesterday Juma talked about sending men to the mine. Not the underground tunnels, but to the union offices and the men who control it. They must be told that a new man is in town, one who will make the mine safer.”

  Reed barked a laugh. “And this new man needs to be paid for his services.”

  “Of course,” Paul said. “If Juma can control the union, he controls the mine.”

  Trading one bad guy for another. “Offer to help Juma with the gold mine. Try to make sure Manny goes along.” Securing a steady revenue stream for Manny to keep his men in line would ultimately help keep the elephants and rhinos alive.

&nb
sp; Paul smiled. “It is already arranged.”

  Reed laughed, a real one this time. This kid’s good. “Let’s take these out to the car,” Reed said. He grabbed a pair of rifles and handguns from the armory, all of which went into the duffel along with spare ammunition. Reed walked outside and found Sarah playing with the dogs, who took up a mournful pose when the group headed to the vehicles. All except Doc, of course. For a tracking mission like tonight’s, he got to come along.

  Juma Cheyo sat behind the battered desk in his office, his face turned toward a whirring fan, letting the cool breeze whisk the hot air away. Even as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, the intense heat remained. Just one more pressure in a day filled with them.

  The phone call with Wafa Khaled a few hours ago weighed on his mind, a reminder of how easily the power he’d gained could disappear. The man wanted to come visit, to see what had been done on gathering rhino horns. Just days ago Juma had sent a shipment of ivory back to Cairo, enough to make Wafa a rich man. All that had done was stoke Wafa’s desire for more product, black rhino horns most of all.

  Right now Wafa was traveling from Cairo to Mwanza, arriving tomorrow. He wanted to see the operation, hear first-hand the plans for obtaining rhino horns. At least the man had no interest in Juma’s plans for the gold mine. Their relationship remained dealer and supplier, though Wafa’s financial backing in this uprising made Juma beholden to the man. A price, but better to pay it than never have the opportunity.

  “Boss.” A bodyguard appeared beside him, hooded eyes downcast as he spoke. “A man to see you.”

  “Who?” He had enough going on right now preparing for Wafa’s arrival. “And what about?”

  “One of the men. Police picked him up today, let him go a few hours ago. Said he heard something.”

  An odd request, strange enough to get his attention. “Is he one of the new men?” The guard nodded. “Send him in.” When the guard turned away, Juma set a pistol on the table, drumming his fingers beside it. A subtle reminder of who held the power.