The Turn Series Box Set

by Andrew Clawson

  “Finding elephants is not an easy—”

  “I know that, but my customers only want results. They got them. It cost me, so now we need to get that money back.”

  “How?”

  “By using your gold mine. You will remove the gold.”

  Juma twisted in his seat, frowning. “How much gold do you need? Only a limited supply is produced each day.”

  “The extra ivory cost me half a million dollars. Far more than I should have paid, but I had little choice. To recoup my losses, I will take twenty-five pounds of gold.”

  A cold hand grabbed Juma’s stomach and squeezed. Twenty-five pounds? They barely had that much in all of the reserves. The mining operation produced gold and sent it out in daily shipments. Removing twenty-five pounds from the operation wasn’t possible.

  As these thoughts buzzed through his mind, Juma kept his expression blank. Wafa watched him through narrow eyes, silent and still. What choice did he have? “I will have it for you when we acquire the rhino horn.”

  Wafa patted Juma’s knee. “Excellent. Now, let’s talk about the rhinos.”

  “My trackers have located the beasts. We are set to move out before dawn. You will be on your way back to Cairo with the horn within twenty-four hours.”

  “Wonderful news.”

  As Wafa poured more of his foul tea, Juma spoke casually. “Wafa, you are a powerful man. Why do you worry about other businessmen?” When Wafa didn’t respond, Juma hurriedly added, “I only wish to understand the process, of course. I do not mean any offense.”

  Wafa set his teacup down. “Omar,” he said, his voice carrying outside. “Close the door.” After it clicked shut, he looked back across the table. “Some things I cannot share with you, Juma. You understand.”

  “Of course.”

  “My buyers come from across the globe. Deliveries of the material you supply go to different countries. There is great demand for ivory and rhino horn.”

  “That is a good thing for us.”

  “Shipments must get through customs, or cross borders undetected in other ways. Distributors must trust me. They make it all happen.”

  “Are these men in Tanzania?”

  “They are based in Spain.”

  “And these are men you do not want to disappoint.”

  Wafa paused, blowing a cloud of smoke at the ceiling. “I’ve heard of men who failed to deliver. Once you disappoint the Spaniards, your business fails. Contacts go away, opportunities disappear. You cannot do business with anyone. Another supplier fills the void, and you fade away.”

  “Do not worry,” Juma said. “There is no doubt we will get the horn. I have a new insurance policy that guarantees it.” A knock sounded on the door. “Open it,” Juma called. Paul and Manny stood outside, and Juma waved them in. “These are my trackers.”

  Wafa studied them. “Your boss and I will be pleased when you deliver the materials I require.”

  “Happy to help,” Paul said.

  “Tell me about your plan,” Wafa said. “Juma says I will be on my way home tomorrow with the product.”

  “The animals are no more than one hour away,” Paul said. “To be certain of success, we are sending out two groups.”

  “Your boss has another matter to handle while we hunt,” Wafa said. Juma opened his mouth, but the older Egyptian kept going. “Omar is an excellent hunter,” Wafa said, nodding toward the door. “He can lead one group, and you the other.”

  Juma cursed inwardly. Wafa watched him through the drifting smoke with hooded eyes. Did Wafa want him away during the hunts? The timing did make sense: visit the mine during the early shift change, get the gold and leave, with no one the wiser. He’d deal with how to replace it later.

  Tendrils of smoke drifted from Wafa’s nose. “Is there a problem, Juma?”

  “Not at all. I do not doubt Omar is capable. Will your men need supplies?”

  “We have our own weapons,” Wafa said, flicking his cigarette out of the open window. “Be ready to leave at first light.” Walking to the door, he looked back over a shoulder. “Have our other transaction handled before the hunt ends. Once we have the rhino horn and ivory, I will leave.”

  “Of course.”

  “We need to use a room to prep our gear.”

  Not waiting for a reply, Wafa headed for a room near the back door, rubbing his thigh as he walked. He’d forced Juma into a corner, taken control of his operation. Juma rubbed his temples, trying to sort through the mess. He needed a beer. A drink would clear his head. Having his authority taken out from under him in front of his men didn’t sit well, not after a lifetime of fighting to gain respect on Mwanza’s streets. He rose from the chair. First, a beer. Then he had to figure out how he could steal twenty-five pounds of gold from his own mine.

  Chapter 19

  Mwanza, Tanzania

  The door to Nixon Ereng’s office whined as it closed, and the police chief’s boots beat across the floor. His chair protested when he sat, while the wall clock sliced time with each tock, a reminder that every passing second gave the two poaching teams an even greater head start.

  At least that’s what it felt like for Reed. Of course Nixon should have questions. He was a cop, after all. That’s what they did. And so Reed sat across from Nixon, waiting. Sarah was seated beside him, doing the same. As he sat, Reed looked out the window at clouds scudding across the moon.

  “So Juma Cheyo is stealing gold from his own mine,” Nixon said. “Or rather, one you tell me he owns, though according to my friends in the city tax department, no paperwork confirms this.”

  Sarah laid a hand on Reed’s arm and leaned forward in her chair. “Chief, you haven’t been able to tie Juma to the warehouse attack or the bomb here, but this is our chance. Even if Juma can show he now owns the mine, you’ll have probable cause to search his property. I’m sure weapons will be found, some of which you can then tie to the murders.”

  The pungent scent of bleach hung in the office air. Strong as it was, the odor of scorched concrete and charred wood still lingered at the edges despite the department’s best efforts. Every breath reminded these officers of what happened, even if they didn’t walk by the holding cells where construction materials had been piled to the ceiling. A reminder strong enough to press Nixon to action.

  “How do I know we can trust this information?” Nixon asked. “You say this inside man told you.”

  “I trust him,” Reed said.

  The clock ticked, and Nixon sat still, looking at them. Reed imagined two teams gathering gear and heading out, loaded for rhino, while they sat here trying to convince the chief to act.

  “You do not mince words, Reed. I appreciate that.” Nixon’s elbows found his desk. “We have nothing tying Juma Cheyo directly to the warehouse killings, the attack on your camp, or the murder here. However,” he raised a lengthy finger, “this does not mean I have more manpower for the task force.”

  “This might be your best shot at Juma,” Sarah said.

  “My men are spread thin now, and pulling them for this is a risk.”

  “We’re confident this will get him,” Sarah said. “If it does turn out to be a false lead, Reed will pay for your men’s time.”

  “He will?” The chief looked to Reed, who sat back in his chair. Sarah hadn’t warned him about this.

  “Tell him, Reed.”

  What did cops even make around here? Reed decided whatever it cost him would be cheaper than incurring Sarah’s wrath. “Of course. If this doesn’t pan out,” his words gathered steam, “I’ll pay for your department’s costs.”

  Was that a smile tugging at the corners of the chief’s mouth? “I will have to check our overtime assignments,” Nixon said, “but in light of your offer, I believe we can do this. When do you suspect Juma will take the gold from the mine?”

  “He’s headed there right now, from what we know,” Sarah said. “I suggest you start moving. Intercept him on his way back from the mine.”

  “And wh
ere will you be?”

  “Another matter,” Reed said. “You can reach me on my phone at any time.”

  “Another matter?” The chief stood, then ushered them toward his still-closed door. “I trust nothing illegal?” Before Reed answered, one of those massive hands cut him off. “Never mind. You are both law-abiding citizens. That is good enough for me.”

  “Be safe,” Reed said, shaking the chief’s hand. “Juma may be skittish. He’s having a streak of bad luck lately.”

  “I intend to extend that streak much further.” Sarah’s hand disappeared in the chief’s; his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I will be in touch.”

  Before Reed took two steps down the hall, a notably different voice emerged from Chief Ereng’s office. Not the friendly, companionable one of a moment ago, but a leader barking orders as he prepared for battle, one he intended to win. Juma Cheyo had no idea what was coming.

  A dim streetlight sputtered outside of Juma Cheyo’s headquarters. Half of the upper floor had been taken over by Wafa Khaled and his men, though Juma still had his own upstairs room. Nobody was to bother him up here unless the place was on fire. Nobody except Leda, that is. Together they stood on his balcony, looking out over Mwanza’s lights shining in the dark.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Leda sipped from a beer. Juma stood beside her with one of his own, studying the city skyline, etching it all into his mind. A city he’d scarcely left since childhood. One that would soon be only a memory.

  “Tomorrow I must take gold from the mine. Wafa demands it as payment for the ivory I did not provide.”

  “And you will do this?” He nodded. “Wafa Khaled is not an enemy you wish to have,” she said. “He is a hard man who is not crossed lightly.”

  “I will pay him. I will also pay myself. For what is to come.”

  Leda looked at him without turning her head. “What is that?”

  “Change.” This time she turned her head and looked at him wordlessly. “I need extra gold from the mine. For starting a new life.”

  Leda reached out and took his hand. “You are serious.”

  “I promise,” Juma said. “This life is hard. No one survives for long. You get to the top, and then others come for you, as I did.”

  “You did that for me.”

  “Yes. And now I have enemies, those I can see and many I cannot. They want what I have – power and control. If I stay, one of them will take it.” He shrugged. “It is the way of this life.”

  “Is that what you truly desire?” Leda asked.

  “No.” He took her other hand. “I have what I desire. Now I must be sure not to lose it.” He turned and walked inside. “Come with me and talk about our future. We must talk now, because it begins tomorrow.”

  Chapter 20

  Mwanza, Tanzania

  The sun had not yet crept over the horizon when Juma closed the door on a sleeping Leda. Tonight, they would be on their way to a new life. But first, he must steal from himself. It was a simple plan. The kind that made him worry.

  Men were moving in every direction inside his headquarters, most headed out to hunt, a few readying to join him. Juma spoke briefly with Wafa, confirming that his men had what they needed. With luck, he would see Wafa again only once, when he handed over twenty-five pounds of gold. After that, the only thing he cared to see was Wafa’s taillights leaving Mwanza. After wishing Wafa good luck, the last thing left was to give Paul and Manny new radios.

  “These have GPS tracking,” he said. “They will let you see where the other groups are.” His two lead trackers each took a cell phone as well. “Anyone with a radio like yours can find you in the field, so use them only when necessary.” Leaving them to get ready, he gave two envelopes to one of his guards with specific delivery instructions. His errands finished, Juma stepped outside and hopped into a waiting vehicle, driven by a man named Zaramo.

  The first hints of dawn climbed over the horizon as the vehicle rumbled through the deserted streets of Mwanza. Sitting in the passenger seat, Juma reminded Zaramo to take it slow. No need to hurry at this hour. Amari Nel, his new accountant, knew they were coming to the mine, and he would have everything ready. Juma’s phone buzzed while they waited at a red light. Manny. “What is your status?” Juma demanded.

  “The men are gathering equipment. We will leave shortly. Omar’s team is also ready.”

  Omar, a man he didn’t know. “What do you think about Omar? I do not want to put our men in danger.”

  “I do not know him,” Manny said. “He seemed to know about tracking and hunting when I told him where to find the rhino, but beyond that, he is a mystery. The men are all armed, so I believe they will be safe.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No,” Manny said. “As we discussed, we will get the rhino horn and bring it to Wafa so he leaves town.”

  Juma laughed. “Mwanza is not to his liking.”

  “More than that,” Manny said. He lowered his voice. “I suspect he is under greater pressure to deliver this rhino horn than we know.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I overheard him on the phone. I do not know who called, but Wafa did not sound happy. In fact,” Juma flattened his ear against the phone, barely catching the words, “he seemed afraid.”

  So Wafa Khaled feared the Spaniards. “What did you hear?”

  “Only that Wafa must deliver the rhino horn to someone very soon.”

  The vehicle slowed as Juma’s driver veered toward an exit, beyond which lay the gold mine. “Be sure he gets what he needs. I will meet you when it is over.”

  As they rumbled onto the mine’s property, Juma took in every detail one final time. Not that he would miss it. Just the gold. Perhaps also his new accountant, who could not believe what his boss needed. When Juma had called to say he wanted twenty-five pounds of gold from the mine he owned, Amari had warned him that the company would collapse, incapable of sustaining cash flow.

  Juma had reminded him that he wasn’t paid to make problems, but to solve them. After all, the mine could possibly survive without this gold. They’d do whatever it took, Juma had told him. He didn’t mention that after today it would become Amari’s problem.

  Amari greeted him with a wide smile when he walked into the office.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cheyo. I secured the material you requested, and in a way that should not disrupt our accounting.”

  “My faith in you is justified.”

  “A business requires capital to function. But we will persevere.” Amari frowned. “I must stress that this cannot happen again. To do so would put the entire mine operation in jeopardy.”

  “I assure you, it will not,” Juma said. “Where is the gold?”

  “Here.” Amari nodded to a briefcase on the floor. “Please initial the receipt for me.”

  Juma scribbled his name and walked out with a half million dollars. “In the car,” he said, and his men scrambled, doors slamming. His vehicle darted out the front gate, gravel flying as they moved.

  Juma clenched the briefcase, his knuckles white on the handle. Now they just needed to get back to headquarters, where they’d wait for Paul and Manny to return with the rhino horn. Then give Wafa the gold, send him back to Egypt. And then on to the next phase of his life. A phase he’d never thought possible until Leda had reminded him that even a man like Juma had options. As he settled back into his seat, color returned to his knuckles; the finish line was in sight.

  Commercial buildings turned to houses around them as Juma’s car headed back into town. He’d only closed his eyes for an instant when Zaramo spoke. “Damn.”

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  “Damn,” Zaramo repeated. “The police are behind us.” Sirens sprang to life, wailing and beating the air in tune with red and blue flashing lights.

  “Are you speeding?”

  “No, sir. I do not know why they are stopping us.”

  He twisted around to look, gripping the briefcase again
st his chest. “Maybe they are not after us. Slow down to let them pass.”

  “I am sure they want us, sir. Look ahead.”

  A string of police cars appeared in front of them, stretching across the roadway and leaving them no choice.

  “Slow down,” Juma said. “We will see what they want.” He took a deep breath. He had done nothing wrong. The gold belonged to him. There wasn’t a law against carrying gold. “Put your guns away.” Metal clicked as the men complied. What’s the worst they could do? Charge Zaramo with transporting unlicensed weapons? A minor nuisance, and he could get another driver.

  Approaching the line of police vehicles, they slowed and pulled to the roadside. “Stay cool,” he said as a policeman approached. “Do not panic and we will be fine.”

  A tall, slender officer with decorations on his shoulders tapped the driver’s window. “Good evening, sir. I am Chief Ereng, and I need to speak with you. Please turn off your vehicle.”

  “Is something the matter?” Zaramo asked.

  “That is what we are trying to determine. Please shut off your engine. I need everyone to exit the vehicle.”

  When Zaramo glanced over, Juma gave him a brief nod. Best to go along. And why was the chief of police conducting a traffic stop? Still holding the golden briefcase, Juma opened his door and stepped outside.

  Curses came from Zaramo’s side as he shoved and kicked at his door, fighting to get it open. The chief stepped back, one hand on his weapon, while another officer started running toward the car.

  Zaramo cursed, struggling harder. “I cannot open—”

  With a bang, the door flew open, just in time to smack the young police officer running toward them. After crashing to the ground he came up with his weapon drawn, and one of Juma’s men fired from the back seat. “Do not shoot!” Juma screamed as he dropped to the pavement.

  Bullets flew everywhere, rounds punching holes in their vehicle. One shot whistled past Juma’s ear and cracked off the road.

  “Boss!” The word seemed far away, distant. Then someone grabbed his leg, pulling him back. “Boss, we have to go!” Zaramo jerked Juma to his knees, both of them shielded between the vehicle’s doors. “Down there. Look.” Juma peered down an alley beside them and saw motorbikes parked in a driveway. “Here,” Zaramo said as he shoved a gun into Juma’s hand.