“Ah. Hmm.” Rian seemed to be thinking, and for once Tabitha held herself back from saying anything. “Let me talk to a colleague here. I’ll be in touch.”
Then he had to go.
Tabitha flung herself onto a bench under a huge tree with branches and roots sprouting toward the ground all around her. To her, this country struggled to balance a painful past with a delicate but hopeful future. Danger on every side, and potential for so much better all at the same time. Here she was embroiled in a situation that brought South Africa’s challenges down to a personal level. Stretched police officers, suspicious park officials, race tensions, crime of one sort or another.
Tabitha leaned her elbows on her knees, staring at the ground and the ants. As her mind grew still, she heard quiet voices behind her. A woman and a man, and something seemed familiar. She glanced around and realized the shrubbery around her bench hid her presence. The voices came from behind her and she couldn’t look without giving away her presence. She eavesdropped with some effort.
“You must stop skulking about the park. Going on the forbidden roads and sneaking into offices. They’re going to think you are a poacher.” The woman’s voice.
“So what? Especially if they don’t even do anything?” It came to Tabitha that this must be Christopher, the ardent conservationist.
“They’ll get the wrong idea about you and about the group. You don’t want to give us a bad image, do you?”
“You all are too interested in protecting your reputations and not the animals.” Christopher’s angry voice again. Tabitha realized the woman’s voice must be Elizabeth, the Schopenhauer Factor leader.
“Change comes incrementally. We’ve made great strides. You haven’t been around long enough to see the changes.” Her voice became louder as she became more defensive.
“Maybe taking drastic measures would get you faster results. Sometimes you have to suffer to make things change.” She heard footsteps as someone stormed off, and a woman’s sigh. Tabitha was curious but stayed in her hidden alcove. Obviously tensions had not eased among the conservationists either.
Tabitha strengthened her own resolve not to let her trip be wasted. She dug out the cell phone and tried again to make it work. Codes, set up, connections. Seriously? Tabitha gave up after fifteen minutes, feeling her blood pressure rise with every minute. Easy just wasn’t going to happen.
She moved to the phones and called a few editors back in the States, leaving messages. Were they interested in a poaching story? Or a feature on a conservation group? No one actually picked up the phone, so she left messages to email her. With the time difference, it was the easiest way. She decided not to wait for the go-ahead from an editor. What was the name of the ranger she’d interviewed? She’d find him and talk to him about poaching. Would park rangers know about trafficking? With the park PR problems, she doubted she’d get much info. She fetched her notebooks from the truck and flipped the pages as she walked back to the phones. She dialed the office number and got a secretary on the line. Was a Mr. Philemon Mhlongo in? No. Could she leave a message for him to find her at Skukuza camp? She had some more questions. Next she called Mr. Vandenblok. In his line of business, transporting animals, he should have a lot to say about illegal animal activity. He answered his cell phone on the first ring. Tabitha explained who she was.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you on another subject.”
“What would that be?”
“Poaching.”
“I’ve got static on my line. Did you say poaching?”
“Yes, as in stealing animals. I thought in your line of work, you would have strong opinions on the subject.”
“Of course. Yes, yes I do.”
They arranged a meeting for later in the day. She wondered if he’d know about transporting humans too, but it would be delicate to ask if he knew of it.
<><><>
Vandenblok sat across from her in the camp restaurant, sipping a cup of hot tea in spite of the afternoon’s heat. Tabitha had ordered a Sprite, but the definition of that beverage here apparently included anything with a lemon flavor. The light yellow beverage before her was reminiscent of lemonade. She’d been drinking tap water throughout South Africa anyway so, bottoms up.
“You’ve lived here all your life?” Tabitha asked, as a way to explore his background and try to warm up the interview.
He leaned his head back, exposing his lean throat, and a laugh crunched up his wrinkled face. “No, not at all. I’m from The Netherlands and spend a good portion of the year there, after the animal transports. I transport from several countries in Africa, but South Africa is a natural for me, since I picked up the Afrikaans language easily and the amenities,” he picked up his tea cup and smiled, “are so pleasant.”
“How’d you get into exporting animals?”
“I’m in the import/export business in Europe. I was getting requests for larger and larger items. Then a private collector wanted a live animal brought over to Austria. He was on the board of a zoological park and recommended me to them. It grew from there.” He shrugged.
“I would guess that poachers cut into your business a good deal.”
“Ahh, I see where you’re aiming. I suppose they do, by limiting the animals I have to choose from, but the parks select the animals I will transport based on the buyers’ requirements. I move live animals. That is a far different occurrence than smuggling, oh, let us say, illegal ivory out of the country from animals killed outside the law. My business involves elaborate amounts of paperwork and running the labyrinth of bureaucrats and fees. That’s my forte. Not to mention the challenge of keeping the animal safe, as you witnessed at the giraffe roundup. Caring for the animals is a very difficult task. I hire the best people I can to insure they are cared for properly.” He continued to expound the virtues of keeping the animals protected during transport.
Tabitha tried several times to steer him back to poaching, but he seemed reluctant or perhaps ignorant of the subject.
“Did you enjoy watching the giraffe capture we did last week?” he asked.
“I did. I had no idea the of elaborate corral used or that helicopters were used to round up animals in that way. I took some nice pictures.”
Vandenblok sat forward in his chair and asked, “Pictures?”
“Yes, I snapped a few, slides actually, in case I wanted to do a story on captures and transports. I’m hardly the pro photographer.” Tabitha laughed but Vandenblok did not.
“I don’t allow photos. I’m surprised no one stopped you.”
“Oh, I didn’t know or I wouldn’t have…The truck container was terribly interesting. I imagine it’s very challenging work.” Tabitha talked on to dispel the unease that fell between them.
“I’d appreciate the opportunity to see the photographs.” He ran a suntanned hand over his coarse blond hair. “I’m always concerned that something will go wrong and the environmentalists, like those Schopenhauer people, will get hold of the photos to use against me. Especially that young man from the States. They are already opposed to the transports in principle, because of the danger to the animals. It is dangerous, to a degree. We take every precaution to keep animals safe. I mean that’s the point, isn’t it? I need them alive. Overcrowding and underfunding in the national parks are real issues, often driving a relocation, though they receive far less publicity. It’s actually a benefit to the park.”
For some reason, Tabitha didn’t want to tell him she already had the pictures. The attitude shift in him, while subtle, was tangible. “When the processors are done with the film, I’ll let you know. Nothing seemed to go wrong that day, so you’re in no danger from me, I assure you.”
“You’ll show me any photos you intend to publish, I hope.”
Tabitha assured him she would. She felt hesitant but plunged on, “I know it’s not your line of work, but I thought perhaps with your experience here in South Africa, you might know something or someone to talk to about human trafficking going
on here.”
“Trafficking?”
She nodded and watched him looking inside himself. “I know it’s a despicable practice, of course. You’re not implying that I—?” He squinted hard at Tabitha, who suddenly realized you wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of him.
“No, no. I just thought, with moving in and out of the country…you’d hear things.”
He seemed satisfied with this. “I have heard rumors that it occurs in South Africa and even that the park has been used for a gateway, but I’ve never seen anything to substantiate it. Of course I wouldn’t run in the same circles with those people, either. If I knew of someone involved, I’d turn them in in a flash. I mean, human beings? Really, it’s horrid, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed.” Tabitha thought of those haunted eyes. “Can you think of anyone I could talk to?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know. Maybe someone at the Johannesburg Star, the daily.”
They parted amicably enough, but Tabitha couldn’t shake the strange feeling of tension that had inserted itself about her pictures. She wanted to get back to look at those pictures. She marched across the cropped green of the campgrounds. Why would he be uncomfortable with her shooting? She didn’t feel she’d learned much about poaching or trafficking either. Maybe the ranger would tell her more about poaching, anyway.
In her new room in Skukuza, she rummaged through the camera bag. She drew the slides from the case and carefully stacked them on the counter by the sink. She held the loupe to her eye and tried to see what, at the giraffe capture, could make Mr. Vandenblok uneasy. Was there some subtle cruelty that she’d failed to notice? One by one she held them to her eye, but she failed to see anything of significance. The camera was programmed to run three shots each time she triggered the shutter, so she had several shots to review. If something was wrong, Mhlongo would know. Tabitha tapped a slide on her front teeth as she contemplated. While she was at it, she could ask about Phillip’s suspicious park employee slide. What would get her closer to finding out who had killed Phillip? She couldn’t see any revelations in these slides, but perhaps someone with a trained eye could. She was reluctant to show the faces to anyone. They were so disconnected and she didn’t know where Phillip had been. So unexplainable. Rian seemed the only safe person for that.
Tabitha drove around to the offices, thinking perhaps she could catch Mhlongo at the end of his daily duties, and they could talk about poaching. The sun dropped toward the horizon, bathing the bush atmosphere in golden light. She left the bakkie and entered the building. As she reached an intersection of hallways, she ran into Mr. Mpande, who nearly knocked her off her feet.
“Whoa, there, Ms. Cranz. You are okay?” He steadied her by an elbow.
Tabitha laughed. “Sorry about that. Yes, I’m fine.” She straightened her shirt and smoothed the front of her slacks, self-conscious of the rumpled look the day’s activities had given them. “I was just in looking for Mhlongo.”
“What is it you need with him?” Mpande sounded chatty, but his eyes searched down the left hallway.
“I want to learn more about poaching.”
“Are you planning on beginning illegal activities in our park, Miss?” He smiled.
“No, no. I just wondered if I could learn more about why my uncle died.”
“So you think it was poachers? I had a message from your Constable Minnaar but have not yet phoned him. Did you speak with him?” He indicated with a raised arm that she should follow him back toward his office. Tabitha looked down both hallways, hoping to glimpse Mhlongo and excuse herself to chase him, but no one was in sight.
She answered him as they walked. “Constable Minnaar—Rian—and I talked, but not so much about poaching. I thought Mhlongo would be able to tell me about his experiences with poachers as a ranger.” Tabitha thought she saw Mpande’s back stiffen in front of her, but they turned into the office.
Tabitha took the seat in front of his desk that Mpande indicated, debating whether to show him the pictures. It seemed like the ranger would know more what to look for in the giraffe capture, but maybe Mpande could help with Phillip’s slide. She chewed her lip.
“Ms. Cranz, you seem very preoccupied.” Tabitha started to interrupt, but he held up a large hand. “No, it is perfectly understandable under the circumstances, with your uncle’s passing. It is difficult to say if we will ever know who killed him.”
“Surely you have ongoing investigations of some kind, trying to catch poachers? Are there people you suspect?”
Mpande’s eyes darted left, looking out the windows then back to her. “Certainly we are always trying to discourage and punish those who violate the park’s dictates. We try to put a stop to illegal activity whenever we know about it. You must understand we are talking about a huge landmass here. We do our best, but we are like a small country.”
“With a law unto itself?” Tabitha regretted her snippy words immediately.
“No, we have regulations we must follow. It is simply that I cannot say with any certainty that poachers were the cause of your uncle’s death.”
“How does the poaching occur in the park?” Tabitha asked. She pulled a pad and pen from her bag.
Mpande shifted in his chair, hesitated, and cleared his throat. “In the usual way. Someone kills an animal either for meat, or for the products he can resell like the horn on the rhino or the tusks on the elephant.”
Tabitha sat forward in her chair, but the brevity of the description disappointed her. “Individuals or gangs?”
“Both, depending on the animal. We have poor people on the outskirts of the park who simply need food for their table pots who will violate the park laws. They don’t understand the conservation concept when they are hungry.”
“I read that rangers have accused environmental activists of killing animals to make their point about not opening the ivory trade.”
The man rubbed a big hand across his eyes. “Yes, the accusations have flown, but there has been no proof on either side. The activists will accuse the rangers of poor conduct as well. It’s complicated. Why did you think to talk to Mhlongo?”
Tabitha reached into her pocket, fingered the envelope of slides, then said, “I just wanted to get educated about poachers, really. He’s the only staff ranger I’ve spoken to.” It sounded lame. She withdrew the envelope. “I thought he could inform me about poaching.” She tapped the envelope against her palm, then carefully extracted a copy of Phillip’s strange slide. “I wanted him to look at this and tell me what it was.” She passed the slide to Mpande.
He withdrew a magnifying glass from his desk and turned toward the window, holding the slide up to the light. She quickly put the envelope with the other two slides back in her pocket. Mpande’s back was mostly to Tabitha, but she watched as he examined the slide. Two men, a white and a black, struggled to lift a bloody carcass. She watched Mpande’s knuckles tighten their grip on the magnifying glass.
He said, a little too quickly, “It’s hard to tell at the distance of the picture, but it looks like two park employees picking up carrion, probably to run some tests for disease. It seems normal to me, but I could have Mhlongo look at it, if you like.” He squinted and drew the slide closer to his eye, then placed it in the center of the desk blotter. He framed the plastic edge of the slide between his fingers. “Did you think this was poaching?” Mpande asked.
“No. I, uh—I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. This is a slide my uncle took, and I thought perhaps it would point us toward those who killed him or somewhere he was at. I wondered what they were doing.” She nodded toward the slide.
“It’s employees bringing in samples for tests. We do this to see if disease is spreading among the animals. I don’t see what bearing this has on your uncle’s death, though.”
“I’m not sure either. I’m just following some ideas. Can you tell who it is?”
“No, I cannot.” Mpande seemed sincere in this statement.
“That’s too bad. I thought I mi
ght do a story on poaching, if nothing else.”
“I’d rather you not talk to the rangers. Just come to the offices and we’ll be able to keep it official.”
“Oh, I just thought they’d be the ones with information,” Tabitha said.
With a big shrug, Mpande said, “I’m sure we’ll be able to help you. This,” he said, tapping the slide against the desk top, “is nothing to do with poaching, I assure you.”
Mpande didn’t meet Tabitha’s eye while he assured her, and she couldn’t help wondering what he really meant.
He drew an envelope from his desk and started to insert the slide into it. Tabitha reached across. “I’ll still show that to Mhlongo, to see if everything looks right.”
Mpande drew back. “I will make certain he sees it, but it is nothing out of the ordinary.”
“I’m sure you’re right. I’ll just take the slide then, no need to bother him.”
“Still, I’ll see that he takes a look at it,” Mpande said. Tabitha met his eye for a moment. It was a weird power struggle over a slide. Tabitha wasn’t sure what it meant, but she was on his turf and didn’t stand a chance. She shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
“Suit yourself. So, do you have any current investigations into poaching ongoing?” She met his eye, but he looked away to the outside.
“Nothing significant.” She knew he lied.
Chapter 37
“Baas, she is going to interfere with your project. I feel it.” Mhlongo stood shorter than Pieter, but added to his girth by placing his hands on his hips. A breeze kicked up the dust of the campsite. Treks in and out were wearing grooves in the soil.
“Johanne told me you were becoming obsessed with her.”
“He is a stinking Boer, but what I am saying is true.”
“You’re right, of course. He’s stupid and she’s a little too inquisitive for my taste.” Pieter kicked one booted toe in the dirt, but looked off at the horizon.
Killed in Kruger Page 15