Nigel chuckled nervously. “Has great potential.”
I wondered if he’d try to stop Jon, knowing that I was sitting right outside the office.
“Bloated with potential! Bloated. The Monty Python folks would be proud. Wait till I get my hands on a plane ticket. I’m going to go over to America to save Americans! Watch out, Uncle Sam, here I come!”
Jon stopped short, as if seeing that Nigel wasn’t completely on board with his plan. “Hopefully you haven’t been contaminated by her good-deed seeking as well.” Jon must have been affected by the look on his face. “Oh Jesus, you, too? She really does know how to work the local stock!”
“Actually, I think she’s great. And she’s sitting right in the other room, waiting to speak to you.” Nigel asked tentatively, “Should I ask her to come in?”
I was grateful for the rescue.
Jon hissed. “The bush will eat her alive!”
Nigel opened the door with an apologetic expression on his face and nodded for me to come in. He mouthed the word sorry.
I rolled my eyes at him conspiratorially, and then stood in the doorway feeling like I was in front of a firing squad. “Hello, Jon.” I nodded to Gidean and Eli. “Gidean, Eli.” I shook their hands.
Jon sat down, not allowing me to shake his hand, unaffected by the possibility that I could have heard any of his theatrics. He looked the other way as he spoke. “Good day, Ms. Sohon. Now, listen, I had a good talk with the permanent secretary. We’ve decided that it’s not bloody WIA’s business to dabble in matters that should be left to our ministry.” He finally seemed to gain enough composure to look at me directly, his eyes burning a hole through mine. “We hardly need to sleep with a nonprofit to get anything done. We can handle this investigation on our own.”
“I see.” I tried to remain calm. “But, surely there’s some misunderstanding. Didn’t you receive clearance for me to work with this ministry?”
“Work, yes. Investigate, no.” He hesitated, furrowed his brow, and then pounded his fist on his desk. “But clearly WIA has the ear of the minister on this, as I couldn’t remove you from Susuwe.” Jon looked down at his watch. “Hell, I have a meeting with the governor just now. Apparently, he’s willing to go one-on-one with the witch doctor with regard to the issue of human body parts. Doesn’t give a hoot about ivory, but at least we found common ground in fresh young scrotums.” Jon pointed at Gidean again. “Trust me, Gidean. Hmm? Am I not a visionary?”
Gidean nodded.
Jon stood abruptly. “I will be vindicated, I promise you. Mixing NGOs with ministry affairs will be a disaster.”
I quickly interjected. “Before you leave, could I speak to you for a minute?”
Jon waved his hand at me in command. “Speak!”
“In private?” I said hesitantly.
Before Jon could say anything, the others bowed out.
Nigel tapped me on the shoulder as he left, giving me apologetic eyes again. “See you in town before you go back to Susuwe?”
“Sounds good,” I said, not sure where this meeting would take place.
He whispered, “The bank.”
I nodded and then waited until everyone left before placing the grainy photos on Jon’s desk. I had uploaded them from my camera to my printer and had selected only the photos that had Geldenhuis in them. Craig said it was important to hold back the information about the murder. He had other channels he needed to run through before we could talk about witnessing a murder, particularly considering my illegal presence in the country and lack of the victim’s body as evidence.
Jon squinted at the photos and then grabbed them, looking at each one carefully in silence. “Fok my,” he whispered as he drew a finger across the doctor’s face. “Bloody hell, where did these come from?”
I shrugged. “WIA sent them up.”
He shuffled through the images of Geldenhuis loading the airplane with ivory and quickly became agitated. “How the hell would WIA get hold of something like this?”
I was struggling to look Jon in the eye. “Not sure exactly. I don’t ask. They don’t tell me anything.”
Jon took a closer look. “Since when does he have a souped-up 207 with clamshell doors?”
I remembered the tusks being loaded into the plane through doors that swung up. “Probably keeps it for larger volumes.”
“WIA is a bloody conservation organization, not the bloody Major Crimes Directorate.”
I tried to come across as casual as possible, despite the lie. “They have a guy taking photos from the Joburg office.” I was extremely uncomfortable having to lie like this, watching Jon inspect the images, but I had no choice.
Jon flipped through the images again. “There must have been someone else there. Are there any other photos?”
As I shook my head, I suddenly realized that Jon might have known who was with the witch doctor on the airstrip—the doctor’s newly designated partner. I needed to ask Craig about showing Jon a photo of the other person.
“Do you know what this means?” He shook the photos at me, wild-eyed. “We could take him down with this!” He started pacing.
Seeing his reaction made the jangled nerves worth it. The initial doubt, the sheer terror of being almost face-to-face with Geldenhuis conducting a deal, the shock of the murder, and then the doubt about the impact the photos might have—it all disappeared. Except for the fact that, after seeing his reaction to the images, I wanted to tell him so badly that I had taken the photos.
I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to impress this guy since all he did thus far was insult me, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was all an act. I didn’t know exactly why I had this feeling, but it was partly from his initial hesitation to look me in the eye every time we met.
“Question is, why haven’t the MCD jumped on it?”
“Maybe they were waiting for this.”
“What?” he exclaimed. “Major Crimes doesn’t need information from WIA to know what’s going on. They must have known. They must have been waiting for the right time.”
I couldn’t help a slight dig. “Maybe WIA is not as feeble as you think.”
“Bloody hell!” Jon grabbed the photos and marched out of the office. “Draadie! Get me 63131!”
“She’s not in.”
“Bloody hell!” He marched around the other room. “Where the hell is she?”
I couldn’t help staring at the pile of tusks next to his desk.
He ducked his head back in, clutching the photos and flashing me the conspiring eyes that I’d seen him only use with his rangers. “I’ll go straight over to the courthouse.”
“Jon,” I asked guardedly, “would it be okay to send samples of these tusks to Craig?”
He hesitated and then smiled. “Asseblief,” he said in Afrikaans, sweeping his hand in an open gesture, welcoming me to help myself. “I’ll see you into town just now,” he said warmly.
Chapter 21
As I waited in line at the ATM, my eyes were drawn to a scrappy handwritten sign posted on the wall next to the machine: “Coffins with wreaths. Special price at the hardware. Post office will deliver.”
I heard Jon’s voice right behind me. “Enjoying the many perks of our bustling metropolis?”
I turned around to see Jon and Nigel approaching. “How did it go?” I asked Jon.
“Good.” He pushed air down from his waist with his hands, trying to calm himself down. He spoke with a hushed voice. “Judge says I can file the case next week.” He beamed. “I think we’ve actually got him by the bloody bollocks.”
“What happens after the case gets filed?” I asked, wondering how many questions would get asked about the origin of the photos, knowing that they were taken under illegal circumstances.
“They set a date for the trial and set bail.”
“That’s great to hear.” I maintained a cool air, while inside, I was thrilled by the news. “Hello, Nigel. How’s it going?”
“Right.” He nodded and tippe
d his cap. “Better now with the thought of leaving town tonight.”
“Oh?” I was surprised he hadn’t mentioned that the day before.
“Heading to Vic Falls. Flying over just now. Back on Sunday.”
“Sounds nice.” I tried to think back to any possible mention of a trip that I might have missed.
Jon’s eyes lit up. “It’s that pigeon, isn’t it?”
“Nope. Just needed some time away.”
Jon pointed to the sign next to the ATM and nudged me. “Booming new business, these coffins. Geldenhuis reckons three a day minimum, and the toll is rising. Some say HIV is witchcraft. Others say it’s ‘white man’s magic.’ ”
I suddenly realized why the hardware store was making so many coffins.
“Some powers that be say a shower and a bar of soap would protect you from it. Or better yet, try beetroot and garlic. Wonderful! The witch doctors are raking it in while some still don’t believe it’s real.”
“They don’t?”
“When the grim reaper could knock on your door tomorrow because of a failed crop, two years of illness seems like a lifetime. And the hospital will finish you. Katima Hospital is a place one is admitted to but never leaves.”
“Any news on Bernie?”
Jon shook his head. “One or two more days, tops.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that. Dr. Geldenhuis told me how bad the problem was. So did Father Sebuku.”
“This place will break your heart if you let it get to you,” Jon said.
“You mean if you’re human?” I asked.
“One could look at it that way, I suppose.”
Nigel looked at his watch. “Hey, listen, Jon. I have another meeting with Induna Munali on Monday and meant to ask: Did you pick a date for the elephant count? I was hoping to get the game guards involved as spotters outside the protected areas.”
“Didn’t you hear that we’re out a plane? Bloody learner pilot forgot to put the landing gear down on Mpacha this morning. We’re fresh out of wings. And Geldenhuis’s plane is tied up. Pretty ironic, hey? The only airplane we can find to count elephants may be owned by the bloody elephant tooth fairy from hell.”
Nigel scratched his forehead. “Will you come right with another plane?”
I was next in line and stepped up to punch in my PIN. “When do you need the wings?”
I turned around to Jon’s suspicious stare, then shrugged and went back to my transaction.
“Best before month’s end,” said Jon.
I turned and put a roll of bills in my pocket. “I’m sure we could use the WIA 182 at a good rate. You have funding to cover fuel, right?”
He squinted. “If you’ve got the wings, I’ve got the fuel.”
I nodded. “It’s at Mpacha.”
“Is it?” Jon’s eyes were spinning with excitement. “Let’s talk dates on Monday. Month’s end is going to be crazy in town this weekend. Hope you plan to avoid coming in.”
I nodded. “Looking forward to the weekend at Susuwe.”
“Maybe I’ll pop around,” Jon offered. “Have business up along the Singalamwe border. Always good to see what the lumbering sentient pachyderms have to offer on that side of the river.”
“You should.” I was surprised that I felt like I was almost blushing at the thought of Jon paying me a visit.
He leaned toward Nigel. “I should have some news when you return. Gidean, Natembo, and I have another bust planned just this side of the Zambian border. Up near your place, in fact.”
“Sorry to miss the action. Could have lent a hand.”
“Cheers, hey. We’ve got it sorted.”
As I watched Jon, I couldn’t help wanting to have a role on this secret team. There was something about his energy that pulled these guys together and gave them purpose. They had something that I hadn’t had for a very long time. I was getting tired of operating in isolation and having to hide what I knew, but I hoped it wouldn’t last too much longer. I had just pulled off a major coup and I needed to feel good about that, even if I wasn’t able to share my information yet.
Nigel smiled and tipped his cap as he said his good-byes.
Jon nodded. “See you Monday.”
I smiled, said my good-byes quickly, and left.
Chapter 22
Standing in a depression at the shooting range, I faced a line of sandbags about twenty meters away. The place was littered with broken beer bottles. A large elephant skull sat off to the left on a rise, as if somehow presiding over the scene. I aimed at a row of Tafel Lager bottles that I had been saving for the occasion.
Bang. The neck blew off one of the bottles, and it fell over.
I squinted, aimed, shot again, and missed. I wiped my hands on my jeans and repositioned.
I was feeling much better after reaching Craig on the phone this morning. He seemed to have forgiven me for my rogue behavior and was pleased with my progress. His team would have results on the DNA obtained from the ivory I sent soon. In the meantime, he was going to confer with his contact in the local MCD about the other man in the photos. He was still wary of telling too many too much at this stage. It was easy for this kind of information to quickly fall into the wrong hands. But since Jon had filed the photos of Geldenhuis with the courthouse, we felt safe asking questions more broadly. And he was okay with me showing Jon the picture of the witch doctor’s accomplice.
Craig didn’t want me to talk yet about what I had heard on the airstrip in Zambia, or about the poacher’s camp in Angola. He needed to see how the MCD wanted to handle it first, and let them decide the level of involvement of the local ministry staff. Even though I knew he was right about the need for secrecy, I still hoped that he’d say differently.
After our call, I fought the urge to call my dad. Craig had asked me to keep personal contact to a minimum, so I texted from my satellite phone instead. I got an automated message stating that he and Kelly were hiking in Yosemite for a month. That knowledge was all I needed to know he was doing well.
I heard a vehicle approaching from some distance away. It finally pulled up, and when I saw it was Jon, my stomach tightened. He had mentioned that he might stop by Susuwe, and although I had hoped he would show up, I hadn’t thought that he actually would. And I certainly hadn’t thought that he’d catch me at the shooting range. After his mocking impersonation of me in his office, I didn’t want him to see me with a pistol in my hands.
“Natembo told me I could find you here.” Jon got out. “Need any help?”
He looked tidier than usual, including a bad haircut that he combed his hand through self-consciously. If he had gone through the effort for me, it did make a difference. The guy was more handsome than I wanted to admit. But, interacting with him on my own, outside the office, made me feel all the more exposed. I was haunted by his implication that he knew something about my past—about what had happened to Sean. The last thing I needed was for this guy to hold something over me emotionally.
I turned, aimed, and shot again, this time breaking a bottle. I turned back casually. “Does it look like I need help?”
He laughed. “Just trying to be supportive of our new pilot.”
I spotted a bird book and binoculars on the seat of his vehicle. “Doing some bird-watching?”
“Heard the woodland kingfisher on my way in. Hell, it’s nice out here.”
“Roberts number four thirty-three.”
“Excellent! A Roberts fan!”
“Hard not to be with the birdlife around here.”
Jon reached behind his seat and pulled out a padded rifle case. He unzipped it and removed a long-barreled bolt-action rifle with a deep reddish-brown polished stock. Then he grabbed a box of ammunition and pulled out six five-inch-long rounds.
Looking at the rifle, I smiled. “An elephant gun.”
Jon handed it to me. “Have you shot a .458?”
“A couple of times. It’s similar to the 45-70 we kept in Yellowstone for grizzlies.” I put my revolver bac
k in its holster and took the rifle. “But it’s got more kick.” I was nervous. I never learned to get comfortable with a large-caliber rifle like this, but I was determined to impress him. I took two rounds out of Jon’s hand. I moved the bolt, loaded the rounds, and closed the chamber. “This would be a lot more effective in this environment than my revolver.” I locked my knees and raised the rifle, trying to prepare myself for the cannon blast.
“It would indeed.”
“Always figured that if the plane goes down, I’d have a lot easier time carrying a revolver than a rifle.” I pressed the butt of the rifle hard against my shoulder.
“True, but with the density of elephant and buffalo around here, you’re better off committing to the big stuff. The smaller caliber won’t penetrate.”
The explosion as I squeezed the trigger was deafening. I took a step back to regain my balance. The bullet just missed a bottle way to the right.
“I hope you fly better than you can shoot.”
I gave him a dirty look as my ears rang. “The first shot’s always hard for me.” I slid the bolt back and the second round popped up. I slammed the bolt forward, forcing the round into the chamber. “Mind if I have another go?”
Jon held out his hand. “Please.”
I repositioned, gluing my feet to the ground, and hesitated. I tensed every muscle in my body, closed my eyes, and squeezed the trigger. Bang! The bullet hit a sandbag way to the right of my beer bottle target. “Damn it!”
“Hold yourself a little more square.” Jon handed me two more rounds, and I reloaded and aimed.
I moved the barrel up and down and left and right, shifting my focus between the two sights. I could see that the rear sight needed to be shifted to the right to align with the right barrel. Front-left-rear-right was the mantra. “The rear sight is off.”
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