“Why did you go with him?” Juma said through clenched teeth. “You could have waited for me.”
She poked a finger into his chest. “You know my mother was sick. She would have died.” Again her finger jabbed at his chest. “She lived longer with the medicine I could buy, the cancer drugs that cost so much. I did what I had to for her and for me.”
Every word was a knife to his heart. The man she’d gone with, to be treated like a prize.
“You do not understand how hard it was to see you with him,” Juma said. “Every day I tried to come up with a way. This life is the only way to make money. And I did it, and then I took care of him too.” He reached for her hand and grasped it. She didn’t pull away. “It took too long. I cannot change that, but you will never have to worry again. You are with me now.”
“Where I always wanted to be,” she said. “And you are right – there is nothing else here for us, only this life.” She waved a hand around the dingy room. “But what if we go away, start again? You have money now. Take it and leave.”
What? “Leda, I cannot leave yet. I have new friends, powerful men in high places. My crew is growing every day. Soon a new line of business will open for us, customers for the ivory and horns.”
Leda’s shoulders dropped, and her gaze fell to the floor. “This isn’t a small operation anymore, Juma. It will soon attract attention you do not want. I am worried.”
“Do you want to go?” he asked.
“I want us to leave.”
“Then we will.” He stepped closer, wrapped his arms around her. “You go first, and I will follow as soon as the ivory deal is complete.”
Leda shoved him, hard. “Not again.” Now she came at him, poking his chest for all she was worth. “Years ago you said we would be together. You have money now, enough to get out of Tanzania. We can start a new life.”
“We will,” he said. “You go, and I will be close behind.”
“No.” She stopped moving, the air seeming to go out of her all at once. “No, we must stay together. Here, until you are ready to leave.” With that, she slowly turned toward the door, then looked back, one foot in the hallway. “I hope we do not make the same mistake again.”
Inwardly, Juma fumed. Could she not see what he was doing, how much progress he had made? Juma Cheyo was now a man to be feared. In a few days he would find more elephants and have money to hire new men, for even more influence on the streets. From there, it would only get better. Even though he knew this to be the right plan, a small voice in the back of his mind asked a question: What if she’s right? They could leave now and never come back. There was enough money to start a new life with Leda. Juma frowned. He needed to think about it.
Juma made it down the stairs before one of his lieutenants appeared. “Mr. Cheyo. There has been a call. You are to return it at once.” The lieutenant held out a satellite phone.
Juma stared at the device. Only one person would call and make such a demand. Wafa Khaled. A man to whom Juma had promised ivory. Ivory he could not deliver.
Chapter 14
Mwanza Police Station
A dust-covered Land Rover circled the police station, blending in with every other vehicle on the streets. Tinted windows hid the occupants, the vehicle moving a touch too quickly through the crowded streets, pedestrians and drivers alike forced to make way. After two loops the driver parked in a spot directly outside the entrance.
Behind the wheel, Reed Kimble reached for Sarah’s bandaged forearm. Hasty stitches kept a nasty gash closed under the dressing. “Are you okay to come inside?” he asked her.
“It’s a cut, Reed.” Her door swung open. “And don’t bring your gun inside. Police frown on that kind of thing.”
Reed slid his pistol under the driver’s seat, then locked the doors and followed her into the station. An officer manned the front desk, watching them approach.
“Hello,” Reed said, giving the man his best grin. “I’m Reed Kimble, and I need to speak with Chief Ereng.” Nixon’s car was parked in the lot, so Reed knew the chief was here.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but if you could let him know we’re here, I’d appreciate it.”
The officer picked up a phone and mumbled into it. “He will be out in a few minutes,” the officer said, jamming the receiver back into its cradle. “Have a seat.”
Reed studied everyone in the room as they waited, acutely aware of the empty spot on his back where a pistol should have been. Several long minutes later Nixon Ereng appeared and led them into his office. Reed noted the dark half-moons under Nixon’s eyes as he folded himself into his chair.
“Reed,” he said. “What may I do for you?”
“I need to report a break-in.”
Nixon didn’t even blink. “A break-in.”
“Yes. At least five men invaded the grounds of my business last night.”
“That is an interesting choice of words.” Nixon cocked an eyebrow. “Any idea who these men are?”
“No, but maybe the coroner can identify them.”
That got his attention. “Are they all dead?”
“Along with one of my men. Can you come to my place and see?”
The chief grabbed his jacket and stormed off towards his vehicle, shouting at officers as he passed them. Reed and Sarah hurried to the Land Rover and followed as Nixon raced through the city and out of town toward Kimble Safari’s. Before they were on the highway, Reed’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the number and connected the call on speaker phone. “Paul, where are you?”
“I am near Juma Cheyo’s building,” Paul said. “Manny and I were just inside, and I saw an injured man. A man with one arm.”
Reed nearly ran off the road. “The guy who tried to kill us last night?”
“I am sure it is him. Manny said several of Juma’s crew went out last night and only this one-armed man returned. Manny also spoke with Juma about the gold mine. We are visiting the mine today to make an offer to the union leaders.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a friendly offer,” Sarah said. “There’s no telling what will happen when Juma shows up and tries to muscle in on their operation.”
“Manny is going,” Paul said. “That means I must go too. I will watch his back. He is risking a great deal for me to be here.”
“We’re headed out to the compound with Chief Ereng now,” Reed said.
Paul nodded. “The sooner the police get the bodies out of there, the sooner we can rebuild and get back in business.”
“Juma needs to be stopped,” Reed said. “I’m not looking over my shoulder for the next ten years, watching for him.”
“Did you learn anything about why he wanted us dead?” Sarah asked.
“One of Juma’s lieutenants told me the one-armed man overhead you talking to Chief Ereng at the police station,” Paul said. “Just as you suspected.”
Reed shook his head. “I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it gets our guy killed.” Reed’s knuckles grew white on the steering wheel. “We owe Juma for that.”
“There is more,” Paul said. “The Egyptian is coming to Mwanza.”
Reed braked for a pair of zebras crossing the road. “If this guy wants ivory, Juma doesn’t have it. Can’t imagine that will go over well.”
Paul agreed. “From what I can see, Juma is nervous.”
“Nervous people can make bad decisions,” Sarah said. “He’ll send men out quickly to find more elephants.”
“Yes,” Paul said. “When I learn details, I will be in touch.”
The darkened buildings of his camp rose on the horizon, coming into full view as Reed slowed and turned off the main road. Reed spoke into the phone, giving Paul instructions he doubted his employee would take. “If things get hairy at the gold mine, run.”
“Will you tell Chief Ereng about the meeting at the mine?” Paul asked.
“No, for two reasons. One, our goal is to keep the elephants and rhinos alive. Messing with Juma’
s gold mine plans won’t do that in any direct fashion. Two, sending the cops in will blow your cover.”
“Agreed.” Paul promised to call when he knew more, then clicked off.
Sarah reached for her door handle as Reed drove around the billowing dust cloud trailing Chief Ereng’s vehicle before slowing to a stop. “Chief Ereng won’t be happy we’re keeping Paul’s situation to ourselves.”
“He knows about Manny. That’s enough.” Reed killed the engine. “Once I tell him about the one-armed man and that Juma Cheyo is behind this, maybe he’ll give us more resources for the anti-poaching unit. That’s what we really need right now.” Reed opened his door. “To stop fighting this battle on our own.”
Chief Ereng surveyed the grounds, several officers waiting beside him. Reed stood to one said and waited for him to speak. “No perpetrators survived?” the chief asked.
“One man.” Reed relayed the tale of a one-armed man at the assault, crediting Manny for the information on the man’s survival and subsequent return to Juma’s headquarters.
Nixon listened, hands clasped behind his back. “We will find this man. You have my word on it. Now,” he started walking toward the closest smoking building. “Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”
An hour later, after recounting their story and walking the chief through the fight, Reed and Sarah went into his cabin. Rico and Cinder encircled them both as soon as they walked in, while Doc kept watch over the door until Chief Ereng knocked a short while later.
“A few more questions before I leave.” The chief stepped inside. “We found five bodies. One man who worked here and four intruders. When can the other employees be available to give statements?”
“I’ll send them to the station once they get back. Right now they’re with their families.”
The chief nodded, then looked closely at Reed. “Do you intend to rebuild?”
“Bet your life on it,” Reed said.
“Glad to hear it.”
“One more thing,” Reed said. “We know who did this, and why. These guys are after ivory. I can’t stop them without help.”
Nixon rested a hand briefly on Reed’s shoulder. “I will do what I can.”
Really the best he could hope for. “Thanks.”
“Mwanza is a decent town, and it can get better. You and I will see that it does.” Shaking Sarah’s hand, he nodded to them both before stepping outside. His voice floated through the door. “I do not want to find your bodies lying under the sun. Be safe.”
Chapter 15
Geita Gold Mine
West of Mwanza
A soft gray sky faded into inky darkness at the horizon. Outside of the city, the mine’s glaring yellow lights reached high into this nighttime tapestry as two vehicles moved down the access road, headlights switched off well before they reached the mine’s perimeter. Turning past a massive yellow backhoe, the cars passed mining equipment three and four stories tall. Pulling in front of a main two-story building, Paul stepped from behind the wheel of one vehicle, peering into the darkness at a rusted sign over the glass doors – Central Administration. A helicopter sat motionless across the road, resting atop a lighted helipad.
“We are not here to fight.” Juma pointed to Paul and Manny. “You two come with me.” He looked to the other two men. “You, wait here.”
One of the waiting men spoke. “What should we do if guards arrive?”
“Tell them you are my personal security, and I am here on business.” He grinned without humor. “This meeting should not take long once those inside hear my offer.”
Juma turned for the door, Paul and Manny right behind him. Though Juma made it sound simple, Paul knew better. Gaining control of one of Mwanza’s most reliably profitable businesses wouldn’t be easy. Chances are it would involve a fight.
The weathered front door opened on squeaky hinges, and goosebumps rose on Paul’s arms as he followed Juma inside. A large air conditioning unit mounted on the wall hummed loudly. The corrugated steel structure contained little furniture: a smattering of tables, one partitioned office in the center. Several open metal staircases leading to a maze of catwalks above.
Three men sat playing cards around a felt-covered table, cigar smoke billowing from their mouths. A considerable pile of money was among them. And something else. Squinting, Paul caught a glint of reflected metal. Was that a gold watch in with the cash?
“Who the hell are you?” One of the seated men pointed at Juma, setting his cards on the lone empty chair.
“Good evening.” As he strode toward the table, Juma’s voice bounced off the walls. “I am glad to have found you. My name is Juma Cheyo, and we need to talk.”
The man took his cigar out of his mouth and waved it toward the door. “If you want to speak with us, make an appointment. We are not open for business now.”
Juma walked close to the speaker, ignoring the others. “You will want to hear what I have to say. I see you are gambling men.” He indicated the card game in progress. “That is a nice sum of money.”
“Are you a gambler?” As he spoke, the man’s eyes stayed on Paul, who had walked up to the table with a briefcase clasped in both hands.
“In everything I do.” Juma’s hand shot out. “You know my name, but I do not know yours.”
After a long pause, the man shook Juma’s hand. “Call me Ben.”
“Ben?” Juma grinned. “I have heard you go by another name. Berko.” Berko scowled, and Paul gripped the briefcase tighter.
“I am also known by that name,” Berko said. “Why are you interested in me, Juma Cheyo?” He glanced across the table, where one of his playing partners flipped his cell phone face down.
Juma waved his hands, encompassing the building’s interior. “This is a beautiful building, and a desirable mine. I like it so much, I think I will buy it.”
“It is not for sale.”
“You have not heard my offer,” Juma said, the smile never leaving his face. “This is a down payment, a token of good faith.” Paul laid the briefcase on the table, flipping it open to reveal stacks of U.S. hundred-dollar bills.
“One hundred thousand dollars,” Juma said. “In total, I offer you one million dollars for this mine.”
All eyes fixated on the cash, an unbelievable fortune. It was every single dollar Juma had been able to lay his hands on. If the mine owners accepted, Juma’s operation was bankrupt. Which meant Juma’s crew would be paid in gold, beer, or not at all.
Berko finally looked up from the money. “I have heard of you, but I did not realize you to be such a big man in Mwanza. And I admire you for bringing this offer. However, I cannot accept.” He reached out and closed the briefcase, sliding it toward Paul. “The mine is not for sale.”
Anger flashed across Juma’s face. A twitch of the eye, gone in an instant. A twitch that sent Paul’s hand inching toward his gun. Across the table, the man with the cell phone kept a ghost of a smile on his face, seemingly unconcerned with the intruders.
Juma’s voice cut through the air. “I am here to purchase the mine. You will accept this offer.”
Berko glanced at his friend with the cell phone again, who dipped his chin ever so slightly. “You are new to this game, and it is clear no one told you the rules. You see,” he said, chewing on his cigar, “this is my turf. I stay here, I run the mine, and I leave everyone else alone. Do you think you are the first man to try and take my mine? So far, no one has succeeded. If you leave now, we will forget this happened, and then we can be friends.”
“And if I do not leave?”
“Then you will die.”
Juma snarled as the sound of automatic weapons exploded outside the building.
Money and playing cards flew everywhere as the gamblers dove behind the table, upending it to create a shield. An instant later all three began firing their pistols wildly. Paul pulled his gun out, blasting at the table, wood shrapnel filling the air as it splintered but didn’t break.
Cover. Paul need
ed cover, a commodity in short supply in this room. The only solid thing around was the massive air conditioner behind them, so he ducked and raced to it. As he dropped behind the unit, shots rang out from behind the overturned table, though not in his direction. Manny was huddled behind a steel support pillar no wider than a man, unable to move even enough to shoot back under the barrage of bullets.
Until Juma opened fire from across the room, pinning the trio down behind the table. He fired and moved forward, stopping just feet from having a clear shot at the mine owners, who had nowhere to go.
Then two of the men stood and blasted in either direction, sending everyone diving for cover. Bullets ricocheted off metal and the concrete floor as Berko jumped up and ran to the enclosed office. Which gave Paul a clear shot.
Paul leaned against the air conditioner and sighted in, his pistol held in both hands. He closed one eye, and the air conditioner exploded, sparks blinding him as the gun fired. Berko twisted and nearly lost his footing as he stumbled into the office, falling through the door and out of sight.
Damn. He’d only winged him. But why had Berko run for the office? The walls were thin and only served to trap him. Berko now had nowhere to run. Aiming on either side of the office door, Paul ripped off a series of shots, each one punching through the office walls.
A moment later he found out why Berko had run there. One second Paul was peppering the cell-like office with bullets, and the next Berko popped up holding a Kalashnikov. Paul dropped down as the office window disintegrated to nothing under a torrent of gunfire.
Back pressed to the air conditioner, Paul tallied the odds. One mine owner down, courtesy of Manny’s pistol. Berko had the Kalashnikov blazing, though he didn’t seem to have any specific targets. Where had the other mine owner gone, the one with the cell phone?
Concrete splintered by Paul’s feet, the blasts coming from a catwalk high above. Cell phone guy was upstairs firing from that elevated position. Paul crouched under the air conditioning unit. “That was too close,” he said to himself.
The Turn Series Box Set Page 46