by DV Berkom
“Who is this?” the woman asked Derek in Swahili, nodding at Leine. Hostility radiated off of her, her expression practically shredding Leine where she stood.
Leine made a mental note to sleep with the knife from the lifeboat if they stayed.
Derek turned, smiling, and held out his arm in an expansive gesture. “A friend I met on my trip over from Bangkok.” He stepped closer to whisper in the woman’s ear. Whatever he said, it did little to break the tension. “Claire, I’d like you to meet Nia. Nia and I go way back. She’s very special to me.”
Somewhat placated, Nia let her arms fall to her sides and lifted her chin in a defiant gesture.
“It’s good to meet you, Nia. Derek’s told me so much about you,” Leine said.
Derek ignored the sarcastic remark but Nia brightened somewhat, apparently thinking Derek had been talking about her. Although she didn’t smile, judging by her posture she’d relaxed a bit.
“Welcome,” she said, stepping closer to Derek. Though he was easily six feet, Nia was taller than Derek by several inches. “How long will you stay this time?” she asked him.
He cupped her chin in his hand and gave her a longing look. “Only one night, my love.”
Leine had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Nia’s expression softened, and she took him by the hand, leading him across the small apartment toward a door that apparently led to the bedroom.
“First, you need a bath. Then, we can greet each other properly.”
Derek hung back. “Nia, I’m afraid I won’t have nearly enough energy unless I get something to eat. I’m happy to go out, if you’d like.”
Nia sighed dramatically and dropped his hand, obviously annoyed. “There is a tin of fish and some biscuits in the cupboard. You’ll find olives in the icebox.”
Derek gave her a grateful smile and walked over to investigate the contents of the cupboards. In a matter of minutes, he’d created a passable meal for the three of them, and they sat down at the table. Nia ignored the fish and had only one biscuit, but brought out two bottles of lager, one of which she split into two glasses to share with Leine. The other she gave to Derek.
As they were eating, Nia’s gaze trailed down Derek’s torso to the rust-colored bloodstain saturating the left rear section of his pants. She glanced at Derek, concern etching her face.
“Have you been injured?” she asked.
Derek shrugged. “A bit of minor surgery. Nothing to worry about. I might have you take a look at it, though. See if you can do a better job with a bandage.”
Nia leaned back in her chair. “How did the two of you meet?” she asked, nibbling her cookie and sizing up Leine.
“We were on the same ship and ran into a slight problem,” Derek said.
“You have been quite generous under the circumstances, Nia,” Leine added. “Thank you for your hospitality. I will leave if my presence in your home makes you uncomfortable.”
Nia studied her for a moment before she got up and walked to the sink with the dishes. She came back and stood behind Derek, placing her hands on his shoulders and leveling her gaze at Leine.
In a voice reminiscent of a queen, she said, “Your friend may sleep on the futon.”
Derek smiled and nodded, patting her hand. “Thank you, Nia.”
***
The next morning, Leine was awake and ready to go by the time Derek made it out of the bedroom. She’d woken repeatedly during the night due to the rantings of an upstairs neighbor, an apparent insomniac who enjoyed yelling at himself. In contrast, Derek sported a relaxed yet irritating “just had mind-blowing sex” smile. Along with the tousled bed-head, he appeared supremely happy, giving Leine a sharp pang of Santa-longing.
Shrugging it off, she glanced at his bush pants, expecting to see the bloodstain. It wasn’t there.
“Change of clothes?” Leine asked, wishing she had something, as well. The quick shower she took earlier didn’t help much, since she still had to wear the same clothes. She was damned sick of smelling herself.
Derek nodded. “I’d ask Nia if you could borrow something, but I think that might be pushing it.”
“No problem. After the bank there should be time to pick up a change of clothes before we get my passport and head out of town.”
“Sure, sure.”
Derek avoided her eyes and appeared distracted. Leine wondered if he’d changed his mind about helping her find the camp.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked.
“While you’re picking up the money, I’ll check with a couple of contacts, get an idea where Wang’s camp might be.”
“What if Wang’s gotten to your contacts and they know there’s a price on your head?”
“Yeh, that’s the only problem. I’m not sure who I can trust at the moment. Only money speaks here.”
“That’s true everywhere,” Leine said. “May I suggest setting up a meeting with whoever you think you can trust, and wait for me to join you? There’s safety in numbers, and I can act as point.”
Derek studied Leine for a moment before he nodded. “That’s a sound plan. There’s one more thing. We’re going to need tools.”
“You’re talking about guns and gear, I take it?”
“Yeh. Even if we do find the camp, we won’t be able to accomplish much without some kind of serious persuasion.”
“And that means going to your place.”
Derek nodded. “I guarantee Wang will have someone there watching. He doesn’t take kindly to looking the fool.”
“I’ve had some experience in surveillance and can help you check things out before we go in.” Leine walked to the tiny kitchen sink and filled a glass with water. “We’d be better off waiting until dark, although it wastes precious time. Could we purchase the tools we need, rather than risk a trip to your home?”
“I’d rather not. Once word gets out that I’m in the market for weapons, they’ll be on us like jackals.” Derek shook his head. “No, we need to get into my place, grab what we need, and get out. Besides, there’s a Range Rover in the carport. Beats taking the bus.”
“Good point,” Leine conceded. “Do you know how Wang transports his girls once they’re off the ship?” she asked.
“Trucks them out in the containers.”
“How long do you think it will take for them to offload?”
“The ship has to clear customs, but Wang’s got connections so it doesn’t normally take long. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were on the road in the next twenty-four hours. That’s if the ship’s here. The way Kibwe was talking, they’ll be in port by now. Probably last night.”
Nia emerged from the bedroom wearing a short silk robe and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Tea?” she asked.
“None for me, thanks.” Derek grew silent for a moment, thinking. “Would you be willing to do me a favor, Nia? It won’t take long. You can complete it before you go to work.”
“That depends. What is it?”
“I need you to check on a container shipment for me.”
Nia considered Derek for a long, slow moment. Then she turned to Leine. “You are unable to do this because Wang is looking for you, too?”
“Yes.” Surprised Derek had told her that much, Leine didn’t go into detail. The less she knew the better.
“I can pay you.” Derek kept his eyes trained on Nia. That was probably a good thing, since Leine was watching him with a bemused expression. She knew the type. As long as it was someone else’s money, he was more than willing to pay.
Whatever gets me closer to finding Wang’s camp.
Nia glanced at the clock hanging on the wall over the futon. Six thirty. “I can give you two hours,” she said.
“Great. Here’s what I need you to do.”
Chapter 18
An hour and a half later, Nia reported that Wang’s containers had indeed been offloaded from the ship and most had been dispatched by truck. When she asked the security guard if the container with a large white X on the side wa
s one of them, he’d become cagey and told her he wasn’t aware of any with that specific marking.
After a late breakfast paid for with cash from Nia, they set out through an older section of Dar toward the address Lou had given Leine for the passport. The city was an eclectic mix of African, Arabian, Indian, and German architecture, with shiny new high rises dominating the Central District.
“I used to live down here,” Derek said, “but the fucking rents skyrocketed with all the growth. Most of the residential apartments are gone, taken over by businesses. Now you’d be lucky to find something under three thousand a month. It’s like losing the soul of the city.”
Several blocks later, they turned up a quiet side street into a residential neighborhood. An advertisement for a soft drink adorned the top of an open-air market, with cardboard boxes stacked several high in front, creating a backdrop for a half dozen five-gallon bottles of water. Most of the older buildings surrounding it had fallen into disrepair.
Derek double checked the address and stopped three doors down from the market.
“This is it,” he said, and stepped through the darkened doorway. Leine glanced up and down both sides of the street and, satisfied they hadn’t been shadowed, followed him in.
The burning incense didn’t even remotely mask the bizarre odors wafting about the small space. Unable to identify even one scent, Leine took shallow breaths. Where had Lou sent her? As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she had even more reason to wonder.
Glass shelves and cases lined the walls of the shop, most containing vials and plastic bags with mysterious substances. Resting beside several white boxes containing dark, shriveled, unidentifiable objects were hand written cards identifying each item. One read Genitals, lion. A vial next to it read Blood of baboon, male.
Leine glanced at Derek and raised an eyebrow. He checked out a few more of the shelves’ contents and leaned in close.
“Witchdoctor,” he said in a low voice.
At that moment, a tall, imposing man pushed aside a heavy curtain at the back of the store and entered the room. “May I help you?
The dark print dashiki and several gold necklaces set off the man’s luminous eyes. There was something unusual about him, but in the dim light Leine was unable to put her finger on exactly what it was.
“I’m here to pick up a passport for Claire Sanborn,” Leine said.
The man nodded. “Yes. It is almost ready. One moment.” His clipped British accent didn’t match his appearance and surroundings. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving them alone.
Derek continued to peruse the shelves while Leine crossed her arms and leaned against a glass case.
“I take it this is legal?” she said.
“He’s considered a healer by most.” Derek shrugged. “I doubt the police would waste their time harassing him unless someone complained. Your friend Lou certainly knows interesting people.” He pointed to a set of bones behind a glass case. “Leopard. The claws and teeth are supposed to give the wearer the strength and hunting ability of their original owner.”
“And baboon blood?”
“They’re fierce as hell. Bravery and agility, most likely.”
Leine shook her head. “So you’re trying to tell me LA Fitness wouldn’t go over too well here?”
Derek snorted. “Yeh. Africans are an interesting mix of modern beliefs and old superstitions, you know? It’s in their blood to believe in the spirit world and magic. With a continent this massive wide swaths of the country survive without the Internet. The old beliefs are strong, especially in rural communities. In some places they still banish people thought to be witches. All it takes is some fetish priest with a bone to pick, if you’ll excuse the pun, and the person is branded a witch and sent to live among outcasts. At least most of the general population has abandoned the idea of killing them.”
“What is it about him? There’s something I can’t quite put my finger on,” Leine said, nodding toward the curtain where the man had disappeared. They were standing in front of the delicate skull of some luckless animal, killed because someone thought its spirit remained attached to its body at death.
“Did you catch the amount of makeup the guy was wearing?” Derek shook his head. “He makes a transvestite look like a kid playing dress up.”
“That must be it. I wasn’t close enough to see.”
“Could be an albino.” Derek shrugged.
“Why would he feel the need for makeup?”
“Because there’s a good chance he’d be killed.”
“What?”
“Some believe the body parts of an albino are strong medicine and will bring good luck and prosperity,” Derek explained. “Traditional healers have been known to use the arms, legs, genitals, whatever they can whack off with a machete. Lately, though, it’s children who are being targeted.” He crossed his arms. “Children have always been targeted, albino or not. Either they’re sold to the highest bidder, or they’re abducted and hacked to death. It’s believed the body parts of the innocent will bring power and position. Especially during an election cycle.”
“And that sex with a virgin will cure AIDs.”
Derek nodded. “Yeh. And yet there are beautiful homes and fine restaurants here, and some of the better medical services on the continent. Like I said, Africa’s an interesting blend.”
A moment later the shopkeeper reappeared through the curtain. In his hand was a British passport. He gave it to Leine, and she flipped through the pages. Her picture had been secured and stamped, and there were entries to several other countries in the pages that followed. All in all, a superb forgery. Leine closed the passport and slid it into her back pocket.
“Thank you. I trust Lou took care of this?” she asked.
The man nodded. “Yes. There is nothing more you need do, unless you’ve found something you’d like from my cases?”
Leine shook her head. “Not really my cup of tea.”
He shrugged and glanced at Derek. The air in the room stilled and the man’s eyes gleamed in the dim light before they rolled back in his head. Leine tensed, eyeing the exit, and took several steps back.
“You have been the hunter,” the man said, his voice a monotone, “but are now the hunted.”
Startled, Derek said, “Wait a minute, now—”
“Death is no stranger to you,” he continued, his voice growing louder. “You have wielded the power only gods are allowed, and the spirits cry out for justice.” His chest heaved, his breath coming in short bursts. Leine’s fingers closed around the knife in her pocket.
“Death will continue to stalk you.” His voice dropped to a murmur and he gripped the edge of the counter. “The spirits demand atonement. If you do not do as they wish, Death will claim its payment and you will cry for mercy.”
The witchdoctor closed his eyes and drew in a prolonged breath, letting it go with a loud ahhh. Then he opened his eyes and stared at Derek. Leine half expected him to hold out his hand and demand payment, but he remained still. Derek stayed rooted to the spot as the two men stared at each other. Derek broke the spell first by shaking his head as he backed away.
“Time to go, Claire.” He turned and strode toward the door. A muffled expletive escaped him as he clipped the corner of one of the glass cabinets on his way out.
“Thanks for the passport,” Leine said before she stepped through the door and onto the sidewalk, blinking against the blinding sunshine. She found Derek doubled over next to the building taking deep breaths, his hands on his knees.
Leine leaned against the stucco wall next to him.
“You all right?” she asked.
Derek straightened and plastered a weak smile on his face, obviously trying to cover his reaction.
“Never better,” he replied.
Perspiration ran down the side of his face and his upper lip glistened. She didn’t think it was from the heat. A woman walked past them wearing a brilliantly colore
d kitenge, using one hand to balance an immense basket on her head. The ability had always amazed Leine.
“You’re taking what he said seriously.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head.
Leine gave him a sharp look. He avoided her gaze. Leine crossed her arms.
“Okay,” Derek admitted. “Yes. I take what he said seriously.” He stared into the street, not focusing on anything. “I grew up here, remember. The things I’ve seen.” He nodded behind them, apparently indicating the rest of Africa. “Strange goings on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Probably not.” Leine stepped away from the wall. “Either way, we should go. It’s getting late, and I have to get to the bank.”
He squared his shoulders and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “I’ll give you directions. There’s something I need to do in the meantime.”
Chapter 19
Leine slid the money into a grocery bag, thanked the teller, and exited the air conditioned bank. Surrounded by modern office buildings with myriad street-level storefronts, Dar es Salaam’s central business district was a bustling enterprise, choked by too many cars carrying too many people traveling in too many directions. Slightly less humid than Bangkok, nevertheless the two cities were twin sons of a different mother: chaos reigned, albeit in a more laissez faire style, and the energy of the downtown core was palpable.
Derek waited for her at a coffee shop one block over. From there, they would hire a taxi to Derek’s home in the Mikocheni District, about fifteen minutes away. If luck was with them, they’d be able to store whatever weapons and gear they’d need in his Range Rover and leave that evening.
Leine stepped into a narrow alley and quickly pulled a small amount of cash from the stack of bills in her bag, which she placed in her front pocket. Carrying around several thousand dollars in a grocery bag wasn’t ideal, but until she purchased a backpack or bag of some kind it would have to do. She retraced her steps and continued down the boulevard, headed north toward the coffee shop.