The End of a Lie (The Amy Mohr Chronicles Book 1)

by M A Moore

  Toomey acknowledged Amy's presence. “I see you’ve brought your pretty lady friend with you.”

  “You remember Amy Mohr from the tour group at Vic Falls.”

  “They were very generous tippers as I recall.” Amy refused to let his lecherous stare intimidate her, and Toomey looked back at Mike.

  “Has our mutual friend from Namibia mentioned her to you lately?” Mike asked casually.

  “Hmm. I assume you mean Bonner. He did not call her by name. I had not made the connection until this moment.” Toomey scanned Amy from her feet to the top of her head, as if he saw her for the first time. He wasn’t quite leering, but he was trying to scare her. “Come sit. I will get us some beers and we will talk.”

  When Toomey left Amy turned to Mike, “Charming,” she whispered between clenched teeth. Her face feigned a tolerant indifference on his return carrying a pitcher of yellow liquid and three plastic cups. One sniff of the concoction convinced Amy she would pass.

  Toomey's leer reminded her of a hyena, “It is an acquired taste.”

  “So what have you heard?” Mike asked after a couple of sips of the foul smelling brew.

  “Many walls have ears. This place has none, except for mine." His manner was abrupt to the point of rudeness. "The children are at school and I sent my wives to the village to visit their families and check on the cattle. They are due back in less than an hour, and I want you both gone by then.”

  Toomey turned his head and looked at Amy. No fallacious smile graced his features this time.

  Mike got to the point. “Robert Widdon, he might be going by a different name. Blond, blue eyes, six feet tall. Last seen landing at Kasane Airport three months ago. Heard anything about him?” Mike took another sip of the beer. Amy kept silent.

  “I know who you mean. He and I have had business before. I was to be his contact at Kasane, but the plane was early, and I was unavoidably late. He wasn’t there when I arrived.”

  Mike asked, “What happened to him?”

  Toomey was slow in answering. “A couple of safari drivers from Chobe Lodge saw him get into a black SUV with Zimbabwe government plates and head out.”

  “Do you know where he is now?” Mike asked.

  “Only rumors. He was in the Bikita district a few days ago. A man fitting his description went through emigration at the Musina checkpoint. The name on the passport was different but it might have been him.”

  “Any idea what he’s up to?” Mike inquired.

  “Same as always. Money -big money. Something to do with lithium mining is what we heard.”

  “Lithium?” Mike responded. Toomey shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of beer.

  Amy spoke up for the first time in Toomey’s presence. “Lithium -not a particularly rare metal, but never found in concentrations greater than one percent. It’s a critical element in making high tech re-chargeable batteries. They last longer than traditional power cells because they don't exhibit a memory effect."

  She sounded like a professor giving a lecture in a chemistry class.

  Toomey looked at her as if she had horns growing out of her head. The look was one that Amy had experienced many times in her career.

  “And what does that mean?” he asked sarcastically.

  “First generation rechargeable batteries have to be drained completely before you recharge them. If you don't, they hold less and less energy each time. This is inconvenient at best. Lithium batteries don’t have that problem. If electric cars are to become economically feasible, lithium batteries will be in high demand.”

  Both Mike and Toomey were staring at her. She shrugged them off with an air of self-confidence that made Toomey almost shudder and left Mike nodding in appreciation. She continued.

  “Demand for the metal is expected to outstrip supply in the near future. Plenty of it exists in the earth's crust, getting it out and purifying it with a decent profit margin is the challenge.”

  Mike returned his gaze to Toomey. Toomey looked at Amy as if the horns she had growing out of her head just grew a half a foot longer.

  She stared back at him without blinking, “I’m a physicist. I know these kinds of things.”

  Toomey sneered. He didn’t like women with too much education. They got uppity. “AZZA Enterprises in the Bikita region is a name that has come up. I now suggest you leave before number two wife returns and requires my personal attention.” He leered at Amy. Her cool unblinking gaze disarmed him.

  It was a dismissal. Mike and Amy rose from the table. “Thanks, old friend.” Mike shook his hand. Amy put hers in her pockets, her unblinking eyes focused on Toomey’s face. She did not read deceit in it, but there was more to him than she was able to ascertain at the moment. Mike and Amy headed back through the banana grove to their jeep. They saw a very pretty young woman walking towards them with a bundle balanced carefully on her head.

  Chapter 23

  The 2007 UNAIDS report estimated that 5,700,000 South Africans had HIV/AIDS. This is just under 12% of South Africa's population of 48 million. In the adult population the rate is 18.10%. The number of infected is larger than in any other single country in the world. The other top five countries with the highest HIV/AIDS prevalence are all neighbors of South Africa.

  Reynolds, Jeffrey and Paul spent three long days on an unrewarded revenge mission. They hoped Mavis would lead them to the terrorist’s camp where the large scale poachers hid between raids. Earlier in the week a kettle of white-backed vultures circling the bush led them to the butchered remains of a small herd of mutilated elephants. The raptors would feast for a day or two, competing with a pride of lions for their grisly meal. But it was too late to do anything for the elephants.

  Reynolds was livid. “They’ll need trucks to get this many tusks out of here,” he shouted at Jeffrey and Paul, unable to contain his ire. “I’m sending Mavis up to scout the area.”

  No official roads crossed the kill site but the vehicles left behind trails of matted long grass that were easy to follow from the air. Mavis led them as far as a remote track leading north into Zimbabwe. But the trail ended there. Mavis powered off her cameras when her battery ran low and Reynolds did not want to lose her.

  Reynolds stomped back to the jeep with Mavis packaged up.

  “Did you get a hold of David Como?” Jeffrey asked.

  Reynolds scowled in return. Paul disappeared under the hood of the jeep. “Claims his hands are tied. He has no jurisdiction in Zimbabwe.”

  Any hope that he or his people could find the bastards and confiscate the contraband was dashed.

  David's hands were tied. He had no jurisdiction once the poachers left the country. Both he and Reynolds would risk a lot to locate the terrorist' enclave, but officials were not as willing to risk border disputes on account of a few mutilated elephants. Como encouraged Reynolds to stick to nabbing small time poachers. Government policies were clear cut in that regard. A poacher caught in the act could be shot on sight.

  Earlier in the season Reynolds’ team located one such pair. Even though he had no official authority, he arrested the two poachers rather than shoot them where they stood. He believed a man deserved a trial before any death sentence of was carried out. The poachers were barely out of their teens and skinny as rails. Their ribs stuck out making them look like skeletons with brown paper wrappers wound around them. What clothes they had hung on them as if they were already marked for an early death. Reynolds knew this could very well be the case. AIDS was common among the people of this area, and medicine was expensive, if it was available at all. He confiscated their weapons -an old rifle, a couple of nets and a machete- and tried to instill the fear of God in them, or at least the fear of Reynolds.

  Reynolds refused to give up their search for poachers. Jeffrey and Paul didn’t try to persuade him when he was in one of those moods. Mavis did find other wonders. The herds of impala were plentiful and that meant the larger meat-eating predators had ample game to hunt. Baby elephants were numerous and
extended families ruled at the water holes. As the dry season progressed many of these would be gone and the matriarchs would lead the herds south to the river. A few solitary male elephants roamed the bush with their fifth leg seeking out impregnable females. The gestation period for an elephant was twenty-two months. Reynolds could only hope the calves born would live long enough to grow up. Poachers favored the older elephants with larger tusks - more ivory per kill. Recent data showed that tusk size among the seized contraband was getting smaller. This meant that there was a deficit of mature, more experienced matriarchs who had amassed survival wisdom over their forty-year lifetimes.

  Reynolds’s temper was at a breaking point. Paul and Jeffrey left him and Mavis alone in their second jeep to cool off. He needed time to reconcile himself to what for him was irreconcilable.

  At least the herds weren’t massing together as they did occasionally, Reynolds mused as he drove on without paying much attention to his direction. He remembered the feeling of awe as two hundred elephants surrounded his base camp a couple of seasons back. They seemed to be convening for a conference. The elephants were as curious about him as he was about them. The matriarchs kept the children away from the men, but after checking out the tents and the tarps, the elephants moved on without damaging a thing. Perhaps they were just on a fact finding mission.

  Reynolds decided to head back to base camp. Supplies were low, and Mavis was acting a little twitchy. Some technical TLC was in order, but Jeffrey would need to see her in action to diagnose the exact trouble.

  He gave her one last run before calling it quits. No herds of animals roamed the area, but there was evidence of a large tract of trampled long grass near a grove of brush and acacia trees. The scan also showed the path of a vehicle leaving the area. A small detour would take the team near the spot. Reynolds wanted to check it out.

  This particular area of the park wasn't on the tourist trails and no official roads led to it. The region was flat and they had no trouble finding the spot. Mavis’ GPS chip gave them the exact coordinates. Hidden from view overhead and camouflaged from most eyes they found wooden crates covered with plastic tarps.

  Jeffrey got the crowbar from the back of the jeep and opened one. It contained more than two dozen AK-47s and ammunition to last for months. Automatic handguns and grenades filled others. There was enough C-4 and detonators to wipe out a small town.

  Paul checked Mavis’ scans of the area from the week before.

  “These crates can’t be here more than a week. Look at this,” he said showing both Jeffrey and Reynolds his computer monitor. “There’s no evidence of the trampled grass.”

  “What do you want to do, Nathan?” Jeffrey asked.

  They debated among themselves whether they should destroy the cache of weapons. If they did, it would keep them out of the hands of the terrorists, but it would not tell them who the supplier was or where the munitions were headed. Was their destination north into Zimbabwe or the opposite direction towards South Africa?

  After consultation with David Como they put things as they had found them. Reynolds sacrificed a spare GPS chip and left the tracer in the crate with the grenades. Then they exited the site as quickly as possible following the path of bent grass out of the area. The only sure thing was that the weapons would not go unclaimed for long and it would be the height of folly to be anywhere near the place when those collecting them arrived.

  Chapter 24

  Bikita is a district in the Masvingo Province of eastern Zimbabwe. Its name probably derives from the Shona word 'Dikita', antbear, which describes the shape of a nearby hill. Previously known as Denga, translated as ‘up in the clouds’, it has moved several times to different locations. The surrounding area has extensive lithium mines. They are reputed to have the largest reserve of petalite, a lithium clay, in the world.

  Mike and Amy consulted on their next move. They were partners in this now. They kept secrets from each other. They both knew that, but they were allies none the less. Amy suggested they check out AZZA Industries. Mike had no better idea. When they got closer to Bikita Mike used his cell phone to get the location.

  "AZZA Enterprises -not far off the A9 highway. Maybe a half hour from here."

  “We want the mine itself rather than the offices.” Amy was sure that any important information would be at the mining site rather than in an administrative office.

  Mike spent a few more minutes perusing the Internet. "According to their website they’re at the same location."

  When they arrived at the indicated GPS coordinates, the place seemed deserted. There was no sign for AZZA Industries, but evidence of a small mining operation let them know they were at the right spot. A rusted dump truck sat behind a Quonset hut and excavating machinery littered the area. A thick layer of dust covered every surface. It looked as though no one had been here for a long time.

  Amy reached beneath her seat and handed Mike the clips of ammunition she hid from him earlier. He reloaded the gun reclaimed from Sister Gertrude’s sick room, and stuck it in his belt under his shirt. Amy put her pack over her shoulder and followed him over to the building scanning the area to make sure they were alone. A hasp with a lock secured the entrance. Mike retrieved the tire iron from the back of the jeep to break it open. Before he could act, Amy already had the lock picked. He dropped the tire iron on the ground and slid the door open. The two of them entered the building. The interior was hot and eerily silent. The small office showed no evidence of recent use. In the rear was a storage area half filled with crates.

  “You take the front. I’ll search the back room,” suggested Mike. Amy nodded consent.

  Amy went through the drawers of the desk while Mike investigated the storeroom. She found an official looking envelope with a return address of the South African Geologic Survey, Cape Town. She was about to tear it open when Mike called her to the back.

  “Amy, you need to see this.” He had pried the top off a crate and found bags of white powder wrapped up in plastic. He tore open a corner of one and tasted the contents with the tip of his tongue, spitting out the residue.

  “Not drugs,” he told her.

  She didn’t need to ask him how he could tell. She was no longer surprised at his hidden talents. Amy reached into the crate and moved some of the parcels aside. A layer of cardboard concealed something packed underneath. She found a loose edge and pulled it up with Mike's help. She looked up at him with an expression that said they were in trouble. A cache of automatic weapons filled the bottom two thirds of the crate.

  “We need to get out of here,” Mike told her with conviction.

  Amy stuffed a bag of the unidentified powder along with the envelope into her purple sack. They put things back in order the best they could, re-nailed the crate and headed towards the door and the jeep.

  Shots sprayed sand in their faces and pinged off the sides of the corrugated metal. Mike pushed Amy back into the office area and ducked behind the door. He struggled to slide it closed to give them more cover. He pulled out his weapon. They were trapped -their escape route and transportation cut off by the gunfire.

  Mike fired only once. The spare ammo was still in the jeep and he wasn’t sure where the shots were coming from. He wanted them to know he had a gun, but he wouldn’t waste bullets on vague targets. Amy disappeared from his side and returned a minute later.

  “The firing pins are missing from the weapons in the crate. But there’s a way out a window in the back. We might be able to get to the dump truck.”

  Mike nodded. He followed her to the back room grateful she had the peace of mind to look for an alternative escape. Together they pushed a crate under the window. It would be a tight fit for Mike. The gunfire had stopped, but neither of them knew how long the gunmen would wait before they came in for a closer look.

  Mike passed Amy the gun and squeezed through. She handed back the weapon, tossed him her backpack and wriggled out head first. Mike dragged her the rest of the way, and they made for the truc
k. The building shielded them from view -at least for the time being.

  The key wasn't in the ignition switch, behind the visor or beneath the seat. As Mike searched frantically, Amy reached under the dash and prepared to hot wire the engine, praying the battery still had enough juice to start the motor.

  Mike looked at her with renewed appreciation. “You’re a physicist and you know these kinds of things.”

  Amy nodded at him when she was ready. Once the engine started, if it started, their attackers would figure out what they were up to.

  The engine sputtered to life. Mike slammed the truck into gear and pushed Amy's head down onto the seat with his left arm. As they cleared the cover of the building, the shooting started again. Mike floored the gas pedal and they raced out the dirt road toward the main highway spewing sand and gravel behind them.

  A body lay in the dust along the narrow route that was their only hope for escape. Mike slowed down to pass around it. He saw the face of his friend Ralph Toomey -fresh blood stains on his chest. Mike kept Amy’s head below the windshield so she wouldn’t see Toomey's empty eyes staring blankly up to the sky.

  They were almost to the main highway when a dust-covered figure came out to the center of the road blocking their way. He waved his arms overhead signaling them to stop. Mike put the gun out the side window ready to fire. Amy lifted her head and grabbed the wheel.

  “Don't shoot. It’s Robert.”

  Mike hit the brakes. Robert shoved Amy closer to Mike as he climbed in with them.

  Amy looked him over. If they hadn't met at the cabin in Chobe, she wouldn't have recognized him. Robert was dirtier and more ragged than ever, but he was alive.

  “There’s an airstrip not far from here," he shouted over the engine noise. “I have a plane waiting.”

  Mike looked in the side view mirror. He saw a black SUV not far behind. He floored the gas pedal again. The wheels spun in the dry sand before getting traction. After reaching the main road he followed Robert’s directions.