The Turn Series Box Set

by Andrew Clawson

  He crawled toward the wall. When the shots stopped for a moment, he inched out until he could see the shooter above. The man’s head darted back and forth as he scanned the room below. Paul took aim and pulled the trigger. The man twisted around, flipping up and over the railing before tumbling to the floor below with a thud. He did not move.

  Gunshots boomed from the office again, the Kalashnikov winging bullets at a wide pillar across from Paul. Manny was the target, stuck behind the metal beam with Berko firing directly at him. Paul caught his friend’s attention and held up a hand, palm out. Wait. Manny raised a thumb. And they waited.

  It didn’t take long. As Paul expected, a different noise quickly sounded – Berko’s gun on empty.

  “Now,” Paul shouted. He darted into the open toward one side of the office, while Manny did the same on the other side. Both fired as they ran. Berko dropped his empty rifle and fell from sight. Paul reached the open office window. Where was Berko hiding?

  He never expected the mine owner to dive out of the open door parallel to the ground, a pistol in his hand. One shot whizzed by Paul’s head so close he could hear the metal buzz. Paul instinctively dodged, hitting a fallen chair and tumbling over it, now rolling right at Berko and a sure death. The last thing he saw before a gunshot cracked was Berko aiming for his chest.

  A sharp pain pierced Paul’s shoulder. He stopped mid-roll, reaching for the wound. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as he expected, and when he grabbed his shoulder, there was no blood.

  Then Paul realized. He’d rolled into the corner of a metal post. He scrambled to his feet and faced Juma, who now stood behind Berko holding a pistol. Berko had a hole in his chest. Juma lowered the weapon.

  “You saved my life,” Paul said. Juma merely nodded. “I would be dead if you did not shoot him.”

  Manny came running around the office. “I think we are safe in here now,” Manny said. “All three are down.”

  Paul sucked in a long breath, the sweetest he could recall. Then he remembered the first burst of gunshots. “What about outside?”

  “I hear nothing,” Manny said.

  “Come on,” Juma said. “We will be trapped in here if more of Berko’s men arrive.” Juma stepped to the door and pressed his ear to the metal. “Nothing,” he said. “I will go first. Low. If someone starts shooting, one of you go around and attack from behind. The other will fire from here, keep them occupied.”

  “I will be behind you,” Paul said. Manny said he would take the back, then Juma took a deep breath and opened the door. Which slid two inches and stuck. A sliver of night sky looked down on them, the mine’s dull and hazy light slicing into the warehouse along with the sharp, biting scent of gunpowder.

  Juma waited. He glanced back toward Paul.

  Paul shrugged. “If anyone is out there, they heard it open. There is no reason to wait.” Juma turned back and shoved the door open wide, a banshee-like wail accompanying the damaged door as it slammed against the outside wall. Juma ran out and ducked behind the base of a light pole. Silence.

  A hesitant voice cut through the darkness. “Mr. Cheyo, is that you?”

  Juma didn’t move. “Who is there?”

  “Do not shoot,” the voice said. “I am coming out.”

  There was a sound of feet shuffling through dirt, and Juma lowered his weapon. Paul moved outside, staying close to the wall. It could be an ambush.

  “Paul, is that you?” But this was no ambush. Instead of more armed mine guards, one of their own men made his way toward them, limping slightly as he moved, an automatic rifle in one hand. “I thought you all died.”

  John. The man’s name was John. “What happened out here?” Paul asked. “Where is the other man who came with us?”

  John pointed to a body, obscured by a shadow. “A guard shot him. He must have been behind the building when we arrived. He came up on us from behind. I was able to get him before he killed me too.”

  “I am glad you are alive,” Juma said. “Did you see any—”

  John turned at the sound of footsteps, rifle at the ready, but lowered it when Manny appeared under a shaft of light. “Was anyone back there?”

  “I found someone,” Manny said. “Wait here.” He vanished once more, only to return leading a man, one hand holding tightly to the guy’s suit collar. And from the look of it, the man didn’t want anything to do with running away. “He says he is a lawyer for the mine. He does not have a gun.”

  Slight of build, with the glasses on his face hanging askew, the man couldn’t have looked less like a threat. Blood stained his white shirt, likely from the mess that used to be his nose. “Don’t kill me.”

  Juma stuck his rifle under the man’s chin and lifted, so he had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Do I need to kill you?”

  To his credit, the man didn’t flinch. “No.”

  “What is your name? And why are you here?”

  “My name is Amari Nel. I came here to play poker.” As he spoke, the gun stayed under his chin. “I am an attorney, and I manage the accounting division.”

  Juma lowered the gun from Amari’s neck. “You must have known those men were gangsters. You are an accountant. Why would you work for them?”

  “The line between a gangster and a businessman can be very thin in this city.”

  The lawyer had guts, that much was certain. Paul stepped forward, reaching for Juma’s shoulder. This man meant more to them alive than dead. But before he could touch Juma, the gangster stepped out of reach, sticking his nose right in Amari Nel’s face.

  Juma laughed. “You speak the truth. I like that. Tell me, Amari. If I wanted to buy this mine now from the dead men inside, could you make that happen?”

  “I could do that.”

  “Then we have a deal. You are hired, Amari Nel. A businessman such as myself needs an attorney, and my new mine needs an accountant. You will do both.”

  Chapter 16

  Mwanza, Tanzania

  Heat shimmered in the sunlight, even at this early hour of the morning. The ground never really cooled, going from baking hot to lukewarm during the night, with dawn bringing another day of brutal heat. If there was hard, physical work to be done, best to start early and hope you finished by noon. At Kimble Safaris, Reed’s shirt was already dark with sweat. He dropped a load of charred wood and debris onto the growing pile, then wiped an arm across his face.

  “Hey Paul,” he said. “Toss that water jug over here.” Paul Mwashinga handed it over. “Find anything worth saving yet?” Reed asked before drinking deeply.

  Paul shook his head. “No. The fire was too hot in these buildings. There is nothing left.”

  “Same here.” After the utility companies had confirmed the gas lines were shut off, Reed didn’t want to sit around and wait for the insurance company to cut a check. Every hour he spent cleaning the mess was an hour sooner that Kimble Safaris re-opened. They’d pushed a number of groups back, rescheduling them for later dates. Surprisingly, not a single person had asked for a refund; Reed told them a lightly edited version of what happened and everyone still seemed enthused about seeing Tanzania with Reed at the helm.

  “I am happy your cabin did not burn,” Paul said. “The dogs would have been trapped inside.” He looked to Reed’s front porch, where all three of the camp hounds watched their master. Not that they seemed inclined to help, but at least they supported the effort. If you could call sleeping an act of support.

  “I wouldn’t have let that happen,” Reed said. “Only way I’m leaving them behind is if I’m dead. But we’re putting in a dog door today. Better safe than sorry.” Not that Reed planned on letting anyone get close enough to ambush him again. Along with the brand-new buildings and a fire suppression system, Kimble Safaris would have the best security money could buy.

  Paul’s phone buzzed, and he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “It is Manny,” he said. “I will meet you in your cabin.”

  Reed nodded and walked back to his place; Rico an
d Cinder scarcely stirred as he passed, but Doc followed him and curled up on the floor by his feet at the table.

  “Sarah, you awake yet?” She didn’t answer, so he called out again. He started when she came through the front door.

  “Easy. It’s just me. Are you done already?” she asked. “I was just getting ready to come help.”

  Reed tilted his head. “Not even close. Where did you go?”

  “The archery range.” Sarah set the bow and arrow belt Paul had given her on the table. “Tell you what – I’m not half bad now. Feel up to a friendly competition?” Her lips curled into a smile. “Maybe place a wager on it?”

  Reed laughed. “Any day. I’m a bit rusty, though, so you better take it easy on me.” The front door creaked again, and this time Paul stepped through. “You still all in one piece?”

  “For today,” Paul said. He pointed at Sarah’s colorful belt. “Have you been practicing?”

  “I have,” she said. “It’s growing on me. I hit the target with most shots.”

  “Soon you will shoot like a Maasai. Last night it would have been nice to have you along shooting arrows.”

  “What happened?” she asked, then looked to Reed. “What didn’t you tell me?”

  “I left out the boring parts.” He’d shared a condensed version with most of the shooting removed. “Paul can tell you the rest.”

  Paul did. When he finished, Sarah came over and punched Reed in the shoulder. Hard.

  “That’s for lying to me,” she said.

  “I didn’t – stop it.” Forced to dodge another blow, he stepped out of range. “I didn’t tell you everything because I knew you’d be upset.”

  She glared, her hands balled into fists. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He stifled a grin. “You actually like Paul. You don’t like me one bit. I didn’t want you to worry about him.”

  “You’re right, I don’t like you. But next time, the truth. All of it.”

  Reed raised his hands in surrender. “You asked for it.”

  Sarah wrapped Paul in an embrace. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He didn’t say anything, looking partly uncomfortable and yet completely thrilled. “Next time, have us come along. We’ll watch your back.”

  “I would never put you in danger,” Paul said. “Manny was with me. We were fine, and now we have a plan for the next poaching attacks.”

  Reed’s ears perked up. “You said attacks. Plural. How many are planned to get elephants?”

  “It is more than ivory now,” Paul said. “Juma is worried because Wafa Khaled is coming. He is paying for the ivory Juma sent him so far, but it is not enough. We stopped Juma from getting more ivory, sent his men to jail.”

  “And I was nearly blown up by a grenade,” Reed said.

  “Yes, that too. It is fortunate for us they did not kill the elephants.” Reed couldn’t tell if Paul was kidding, even a bit. “Without the extra ivory money, Juma wants to go after rhino horn more quickly.”

  “Why the change?” Sarah asked.

  Paul picked up a glass of water and drank from it. “In the time I have been inside his crew, I have heard things from the other men.”

  “What?” Reed asked. If Juma had a weakness, something that worried him or made him think twice, they needed to know. Weaknesses were pressure points, a way to knock him off-balance. Getting inside Juma’s head could push him to do something stupid.

  “There is a woman.” Paul detailed how Leda had come from the dead man’s crew after the warehouse battle. How Manny had said there was a past between the dead man, Leda and Juma, though no one talked about it openly. How some of the men thought Juma went after his rival for Leda.

  “He’s not just after money?” Sarah asked. “I can’t believe it.”

  “But Juma Cheyo is also a killer,” Paul said. “Do not forget that.”

  “Back to your point,” Reed said. “So Juma may have changed since Leda came around. You think that’s why he’s pushing for the rhino hunt so soon?”

  Paul shrugged. “It is hard to know why he would do this. Leda is a possibility.”

  “See what else Manny knows about this, what he’s heard. Maybe Juma is looking to the future. Trying to build up a reserve of cash for when things go south. Because they will. It’s a question of when, not if. When it happens, then he and Leda can vanish.”

  “Leaving his men and power behind?” Sarah asked. “Would he do that?”

  Reed lifted his shoulders. “Better to have a plan than be caught off guard.”

  “That makes Juma even more unpredictable,” Paul said. “I must be twice as careful.” Paul yawned, then glanced at his watch. “It is time to get some sleep. Save some of the cleanup work for me.”

  The guy was serious. “Not a chance,” Reed said. “Go hit the sack. Who knows how long Juma plans on keeping you up tonight? Before you leave, we’ll talk about how many men we need from Nixon Ereng. Like you said earlier, splitting the poachers will make it easier to arrest them without killing anyone.”

  Paul agreed, then reached into a jar on the table and grabbed dog treats. As he walked out, he tossed one to each dog before the door creaked shut behind him. Reed sat, watching the dogs watch him until Rico and Cinder realized long rays of sunlight were now slanting across the floor. That put him out of their minds, and he watched as the two furry mutts squeezed blissfully into the warm rays. Doc chose to keep his post by Reed’s feet.

  “I should get back to work,” Reed said. He headed outside, Sarah falling into step beside him. “The more cleanup we do before the professionals get here, the fewer things get tossed in the trash. Insurance company restoration teams don’t salvage anything.”

  “Won’t it be easier to start fresh?” Sarah shielded her eyes against the sun. “Most of these buildings look to be beyond repair. Either burnt or smoke-damaged. The insurance should replace everything.”

  He didn’t stop walking. “It’s not the same.”

  Sarah hurried to catch up. “What’s not?”

  He stopped in front of one damaged building. Every window was broken; scorched wood covered the exterior. Somehow, though, the door remained unscathed. “Look at this door. It’s perfectly fine.” He walked over and opened it. “Better than fine, even. It survived a grenade. Damn thing must be sturdy. All I need is this, He pulled a screwdriver from his back pocket. “Unscrew it, and we can reuse it. If I don’t save it, this door goes to the dump. That’s not right.”

  “I guess so.”

  She helped steady the door as he worked. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Almost done.” A few more twists and the door came loose. “See?” He stepped back, taking it from her. “That’s one less door wasted. It’s getting hot out here. Help me carry this back and we’ll grab my power tools.”

  They walked to the mess hall with the door between them. Only once it rested under cover alongside other salvaged items did she speak. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Reed asked.

  She pointed to the door they’d just saved. “It’s not about the door.”

  He stopped walking, looked at her. “Not entirely.” Reed sighed. “All you ever wanted to be was a vet. A person who helps animals, who makes the world a better place for all the creatures out here.” She nodded. “Becoming a veterinarian was a long journey. College, vet school, residencies, then your own practice. Those things show what you did and how hard you worked. They’re symbols of who you are and what you value.” He pointed to the salvaged door. “That’s what this compound is to me. It’s everything I worked for, what I built on my own. No one is going to take that away with bullets or grenades. I’ll rebuild and keep part of the damage to remind me of what happened along the way.”

  Sarah looked at him closely. “You aren’t competing with anyone. You know that. And nobody will judge you for how you handle this. Including your family.”

  Reed laughed. “I should never have told you about my father.”

  “He’s proud of you, Reed. Look at what y
ou built.” Now it was her turn to look around. “You left a family business in Montana and came here to follow your dreams. And you succeeded. Don’t let your father make decisions for you.”

  “What if I just like these doors?” he quipped, then grew sober again. “No, you’re not far off. I like the idea of keeping these old parts around so I can tell him about it if he ever visits. They’ll make a hell of a story.”

  Sarah touched his forearm, running her finger along one of the myriad red scars lining his flesh like tiny lightning bolts. “You have plenty of stories, Reed. Maybe it’s time to let go of the ones you don’t like.”

  “It keeps me motivated when I’m tired,” Reed said. “And these?” He looked at the jagged lines on his arms. “These are just from bad luck.”

  She smiled and ran a hand through her hair. “Come on. Let’s find another door to save.”

  Chapter 17

  Mwanza Police Station

  Maneuvering through the congested streets, Chief Nixon Ereng rubbed his eyes after another restless night. They’d just finished the warehouse massacre paperwork when gunmen had invaded Kimble Safaris. In all his years on the force, Nixon had never experienced anything like these past few days.

  Making a grim morning even worse, an officer stood by his parking spot. “This better be good,” Nixon said as he stepped out of his vehicle. “I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

  “I am sorry, Chief Ereng.” He held out a sheet of paper, which Nixon accepted.

  “No problem. Walk with me.”

  Matching him stride for stride through the bustling station, the young officer offered his update. “Early this morning a man was arrested for fighting in a bar. He is a repeat offender. After he realized the serious nature of his situation, he claimed to have information about the attack at Kimble Safaris. I thought you should know.”

  “What information?”

  “He claims to know who ordered the attack.”