9 Murder Mysteries

by Don Potter

“Coffee will be fine.”

  “Good. We’ll talk while I eat. How many men do you have?”

  “Fifteen laborers, plus three equipment operators, not including the ones that drove the trucks down here.” Luzi pointed out the window of the restaurant in the front of the hotel. The crew was sitting on the ground alongside the trucks ready to go to work when the foreman told them to do so.

  “The dig site is about thirty kilometers to the east, halfway between here and the Mozambique border.”

  “Lowveld? Nothing except African bush country - thorn trees and grasslands. Not the kind of place for a dig. But what would I know? Luzi is just your foreman.”

  “That’s where we’re going. The people paying for this picked the place and we do the digging. I like it this way. Don’t have to worry about what we find or when to stop. They call the shots and pay the bills.”

  “And make the money too.” Luzi offered a knowing grin.

  “Guess you understand how this business works,” Kurt said and finished his coffee. “Get the men into the trucks; we’ve got some digging to do.”

  Just outside of town, the convoy turned onto a dirt road. It was a bumpy ride until they reached a broad, dry plain. Kurt followed the map and read his compass until the appointed spot was reached.

  “Like I said, Mr. Kurt, this does not look like the kind of place to dig, ‘cause I don’t think you’ll be finding anything.”

  “We were told to dig so we’ll dig. Each night when we go back, I’ll contact the sponsor and he’ll tell me what to do next.”

  For the first time in the past few years, Kurt was not on the hook financially. He would get paid for his work and have the chance of making a bonus if the results pleased the benefactor. Luzi did not need to know about the bonus but Kurt thought he might share his reward if the foreman did a good job.

  A half-day of digging was all that they accomplished after setting up the tents and surveying the site. Darkness was closing in as the men secured the camp for the night and several guards were stationed at the perimeter of the site. The trip back to Mbabane was much faster, since the equipment was left behind. Luzi dropped Kurt off at the hotel and promised to be there at seven the next day.

  “Good morning, Mr. Kurt,” Luzi said with a smile. “How are you on this glorious day?”

  “I’ll let you know after I have some coffee. Why are you so happy this early in the morning?”

  “Ah, it’s what happened last night that makes me feel so good.”

  “For me that would mean I had a long sleep in a comfortable bed for a change.” Kurt rubbed his back as if to indicate pain. “Or maybe a roll on the bed with a beautiful woman, and then a long sleep would make me look like the cat that just ate the canary. The look on your face is a dead giveaway.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s just an expression.”

  “You are right, Mr. Kurt,” Luzi said after thinking for a moment. “I made love with a beautiful woman last night and it shows this morning. Do you want a woman?”

  “Not now. We have work to do.”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Yeah, maybe later.”

  The air had a chill in it when the tiny caravan arrived at the site. Fall in southern Africa was not like the wet spring weather Kurt experienced just days before on the plains of England. The temperatures were temperate throughout Swaziland, but the Lowveld area had the highest highs and the lowest lows of this little country that was about the size of Wales.

  “Get the men working where they left off yesterday, Luzi. I’m going to look around a bit,” Kurt said.

  He walked in an ever-widening circle through the tall brown grass until the dig area was a mile away. Then Kurt noticed a low-lying patch of fog in the middle of a sweeping dry plain. The patch of grass was green and the mist dissipated when he walked onto it. After turning over the ground in a couple of spots, Kurt called Luzi on the walkie-talkie and asked his foreman to bring a jeep along with some shovels to the coordinates where he was standing.

  “What do you think, Mr. Kurt?”

  “There’s nothing else like it anyplace around here.”

  “For sure. The condition of the soil is moist and very rich. If Swaziland had more of it the country would be a garden. Of course, this could mean we discovered nothing more than an underground spring.”

  “Or there is something other than water that accounts for this oasis in the middle of a sea of grasslands.”

  “We can find out quick enough,” Luzi grabbed a shovel and stated to dig. Kurt joined in.

  “Careful not to dig too hard. We don’t want to disturb any treasure waiting here for us.”

  “Here’s something,” Luzi said after a few more minutes of working the responsive, dark soil. Together, the men used their hands to extract the object from the ground.

  “I know how to open this. If it is what I think it is, you and I are going to celebrate tonight.” Kurt recognized the shape of the rock-like container to be a larger version of what he uncovered near the Salisbury Plain only days ago.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you believe in angels, Luzi?”

  “My momma was a devout Christian woman. She made me go to Sunday school and Church every week. After I became a teenager, my attendance was only occasional. Now I don’t go at all. But, I’m still a Christian.”

  “Sounds like my story,” Kurt said. “Accept for that last part. Guess I really don’t have any religion at all. So much for theology, let’s get this sucker opened.”

  The outer casing swung open and inside was an angel exactly like the one that nearly cost Kurt his life. The piece measured three feet in length with details exactly like the smaller version. It was alluring, the most beautiful thing Kurt had ever seen.

  “I must get this to a safe place. Get a truck with a driver to pick me up and you go back and continue digging at the original site. Don’t come back here until we do it together in the morning. After you shut down the dig today, go home and get cleaned up. You and I are going to have some drinks and a special dinner tonight.”

  “Come on. Have a drink,” he called to Luzi as the man entered the hotel bar. It was obvious that Kurt had already consumed several drinks. Soon a scotch and water appeared in front of Luzi while another Jack Daniels on the rocks was placed in front of Kurt.

  “Here’s to buried treasure.” Kurt raised his glass in a toast to the day’s success.

  “Where is the treasure?”

  “Behind locked doors in the manager’s office. And tonight, my lovely angel will sleep in my room so no one will disturb her.”

  “And after that? She’ll go to the bank with me and be kept in a special safe until I take her back to the States and deliver the lovely specimen to the man paying the bills. By the way, there could be a bonus in this for you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Kurt. And I have a surprise for you.”

  “What could that be?”

  “I want you to meet Tilda. She may be the most beautiful woman in Swaziland – maybe all of Africa.” He motioned to the woman who had been waiting by the door. Before Kurt could object she was at the table. Luzi pulled out a chair and the lovely creature sat down next to Kurt.

  “If I had known there was someone as stunning as you in Swaziland, I would have come here sooner,” Kurt stated, realizing this was the second alluring thing he had seen today, only she was alive.

  “Well you’re here now and so am I,” Tilda replied.

  Dinner with more drinks and two bottles of wine was over. Luzi said he had some things to do and excused himself. Kurt was pleased to be alone with Tilda. And, while her demeanor was reserved, she seemed to be fine with the arrangement as well.

  “Time to go to bed.” Kurt rose and tried to catch his balance on wobbly legs.

  “Is that an invitation?” Tilda said in an obvious effort to be as demure as possible.

  “Sure. Come on.” Kurt beckoned to her to join him. “Just have one stop to make on the
way upstairs.”

  They stopped by the front desk, the night clerk made a phone call and soon the couple was headed to Kurt’s room accompanied by a three-foot angel in a case, which he carefully carried with both hands.

  Once inside the room, Kurt laid his precious package on the couch. Tilda excused herself and went to the bathroom. When she returned a few minutes later, Kurt was asleep on the couch with one hand resting on the angel. Tilda kissed him on the forehead and left.

  “What happened? Why did you leave so soon? Is the package with him?” Luzi asked as he escorted Tilda through the hotel lobby and onto the street.

  “He passed out. The only love making he will do tonight is in his dreams. I left him with the package on the couch. They made a lovely couple.”

  “This does not change things. You have a job to do. It must be completed to my satisfaction if your family hopes to get the money.”

  “How cruel can one be? Why would you want to give a man the death sentence that goes with AIDS?” Tilda wept.

  “That’s none of your affair. No one asked you to run off to Johannesburg to pursue a modeling career and leave your womanizing husband behind so he could catch the HIV virus from a common street prostitute and pass it on to you.”

  “Asking me to expose this poor man to the disease makes me no better than a street prostitute. How could you ask me to do such a thing?”

  “I didn’t ask you to do it; I’m paying you to do it.”

  “You have me in an impossible position. My husband is dead. My mother and daughter won’t be able to support themselves when I die. But I never thought I would end up being a murderer.”

  “Stop the drama. Take care of Mr. Kurt and I’ll take care of your mother and daughter. If you don’t, I’ll take care of you and they’ll get nothing. Tomorrow night you will do your job. There will be no excuses. Understood?”

  “Yes,” she said. Tilda’s head dropped and her normally erect posture gave way to that of a woman who was older, shorter and physically ill. She left Luzi and got into a waiting cab.

  Kurt woke at daybreak. He had not moved all night. The first thing he was aware of was the pounding in his head from too much to drink the night before. Still groggy, Kurt noticed he shared the couch with the case containing the angel. He vaguely remembered the evening and taking the package back to the room for safe keeping. Kurt also recalled that Tilda had come to the room with him. She apparently left without anything happening. This was not nearly as important as the realization that his precious angel was beside him, safe and sound.

  The ring of the phone was the signal for Kurt to start moving. “Give me a couple of minutes, Luzi. I’m running a little late this morning.”

  “Oh you are, are you,” the caller with a Texas accent said. Too much celebrating after yesterday’s find?”

  “A little. But not to worry. I’ve got that beautiful angel right here next to me. Plan to put her in the vault at the bank before going back to the dig site to see what else Swaziland has waiting for us.”

  “Forget about that. I want you to hightail it out of there for Johannesburg. When you arrive at Tambo Airport, go to FedEX and send the angel in her case to me. The paperwork will be prepared and waiting so you can ship our prize possession to her new home.”

  “But there must be other artifacts waiting to be extracted right here.”

  “Leave it. I need you to hop a plane to Niger.”

  “What in the world do you want me to do in Niger?”

  “Nothing. You’ll fly South African Airways to the capital city of Niamey. Than connect with a flight to Arlit, where a chartered plane will take you to an Algerian town in the middle of the Sahara Desert. After that it’s a chopper ride to your dig site. All the information and maps will be waiting for you at the FedEx office in Johannesburg. You can study everything on the plane.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it. Get going right away. Don’t tell the hotel manager or anyone else where are you’re headed. The fewer people who know about this the better off you’ll be.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Can’t be too careful, ya know. By the way, did your foreman bring you a woman to sleep with last night?”

  “I don’t know if she was going to go to bed with me, but an amazingly beautiful woman joined us for dinner and came to my room afterward. But I was so tired, I fell asleep.”

  “That angel must have been watching out for you, because Swaziland is a hotspot for AIDS. Sex with one of the locals could be like signing your own death warrant. You sure you didn’t partake just a little?”

  “No, I’m clean. But that damn Luzi must have it in for me. I don’t know why. Did you hook him up with me?”

  “As I said before forget about him and everything else in Swaziland. You’re off on a new and exciting adventure. Call me when you land in Niger. Have a good trip.”

  “Okay, but things don’t add up.”

  “Don’t over think things. Just go to where I’m paying you to go, and then start digging.” The caller hung up.

  Kurt dressed as if he were going to the site and went to the dining room to wait for Luzi.

  “Have a nice night?” Luzi asked as he sat down at the table.

  “Yeah, but I had too much to drink. So I didn’t accomplish my objective for the evening.”

  “No Tilda?”

  “Nope, but I hope to get another chance. Can that be arranged?”

  “Tonight?”

  “That would be fine.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You do that. By the way, I have some reports to prepare and some business to handle at the bank. Why don’t you go in the truck and leave the Land Rover for me. I should be at the site in time for lunch. Then we can see what other treasures you found.”

  “Okay, Mr. Kurt. I’ll see you a little later. By lunch I should have tonight’s date lined up for you.”

  Kurt watched Luzi get in the cab of the lead truck as the convoy drove away. He then rushed to his room, changed to traveling clothes, quickly packed and had his belongings brought to the vehicle. He was careful to strap the case with the three-foot angel nestled inside into the back seat as if it were a child in an infant carrier. Kurt looked in the rearview mirror for a moment, as if to say ‘goodbye’ to the town, and was on his way to Johannesburg hoping the next part of his adventure would prove successful and be without incident.

  The journey to Niger provided little rest for Kurt. It started with the drive from Mbabane to Johannesburg. The plane ride to Niger’s capital city, Niamey, was the best part of the trip. Then after sitting in the airport for hours, a plane took him on a rough ride to Agadez. There Kurt took a chartered plane over barren terrain to the city of Arlit.

  Exhausted, in need of decent food and a hot bath, Kurt Mason flopped on the bed of his room at the Marriott Courtyard hotel and did not stir until morning when he was awakened by the telephone.

  “Mason,” the man said. Hearing only one word spoken, Kurt knew it was his money-line in Texas. “How was the trip?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “I’ll take that to mean it wasn’t very enjoyable.”

  “To say the least.”

  “Well, I hope you slept well last night.”

  “I could have slept on a rock and not move once.”

  “Good. You’ll be jumping on another chartered plane in two hours and fly to Algeria. The final destination is the last outpost in the desert, Tamanrasset. That’s assuming there are no sand storm warnings. That Sahara is always a challenge.

  “Any more info before I leave?”

  “The driver who picks you up will have a packet for you when he takes you to the airport. The final leg of your journey will be a chopper ride to the site.”

  “That’s it?”

  “This ain’t rocket science, my boy. We’ve identified the coordinates. Your foreman, the workers and the equipment are at the site. The camp will be set up by the time you arrive. Al
l you have to do is start digging. Call me if you have anything to discuss when the satellite is overhead. There’s a schedule in your packet showing the times when it will pass. I hope to have some good news from you soon.”

  The last few hours of the journey were uneventful but busy. It was only when Kurt felt the helicopter lift off its pad in the oasis city of Tamanrasset that his mind shifted from thinking about traveling and onto the task of digging for treasure. He liked the excitement of facing the unknown and winning. If the sponsor’s information was correct, this could be a profitable project, indeed.

  Kurt had been to the Sahara before, but not in the middle of the most uninhabited part of this wasteland. Yet, from the chopper, the sea of sand was strangely beautiful.

  There was nowhere to go to escape the blazing sun. The only shadows were cast by the sand itself on the hills and valleys, plateaus and terraces - all with shifting designs arranged and rearranged by the winds as if the land was controlled by a giant etch-a-sketch.

  When the chopper landed, the whirling blades caused the sand to scatter and form clouds that blew over the site before dissipating somewhere into the endless desert. Kurt had the sense that he had been dropped into the most inhospitable place in the world.

  “Welcome, Boss,” said the large black foreman. He was dressed in military fatigues with paratrooper boots polished to a mirror-like shine beneath the coat of sand that covered them and everything else in the camp. Atop his huge head was a French Foreign Legion type of hat worn by the one-time occupiers of Algeria.

  “So this is it,” was the best Kurt could muster as he surveyed the sad-looking camp. “Can we go somewhere to talk? While we’re at it did someone bring the Jack Daniels or is this a dry camp?”

  “The liquor is here, Boss. But you will be the only one drinking. Everyone here is Muslim,” the foreman said as Kurt followed him to a tent at the far end of the camp.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Dabaga. My family fled from Niger many years ago. I live here but my name is from there. Everyone calls me Daby.”

  “Okay, Daby it is.” Kurt realized that things must have been pretty bad if people would flee from somewhere to come to this God-forsaken place.