by Diane Capri
Mosquito sampling wasn’t illegal. Lots of companies did it. Which made him a little curious because he never got paid for work without danger. But then he remembered the money, and his curiosity was silenced.
He guided the HiLux around a tree stump in the middle of the rough track.
“Stop,” Kago said.
Tebogo eased the Toyota to a halt. “Are we there?”
Kago shook his head and pointed through the windshield. A plume of dust in the distance from a vehicle traveling fast enough to leave a trail. A rookie mistake Tebogo was careful to avoid.
Kago pointed to a small patch of undergrowth. Tebogo engaged first gear and crawled off the track to put the bushes between them and the speeding vehicle.
He stepped out and used his binoculars. “Land Rover Defender. Unmarked.”
The speeding vehicle slowed and turned in his direction.
“We should go,” Kago said.
Tebogo shook his head. “Thirty miles to the next village, and we’d be in the only pickup in town.”
Tebogo grabbed the camera from between the front seats. “Tell them we’re taking pictures for a tourist website.”
Kago grunted. “Or we could just shoot them.”
Tebogo waved the camera. “Pictures.”
They walked away from the truck and began snapping pictures in the moonlight.
The Land Rover Defender bounced over the rough ground, traveling in a straight line until it stopped beside the HiLux. Two men climbed out.
The first man was tall and thin. He wore thick glasses with black plastic rims. The second man was shorter. His biceps bulged from his short-sleeved shirt.
Both men had pistols on their belts. The small badges embroidered on their shirts identified them as Luiwa Plain National Park wardens.
Tebogo knew the type. They walked with an exaggerated authority, but their uncertain footsteps told him they were more comfortable in their vehicle.
Tebogo smiled and greeted them in Zambian. “Bwanji!”
The men nodded and shook hands in the traditional style, pressing thumbs.
The tall man spoke. “I’m Chola, and this is Ephraim.”
Tebogo tapped his chest, and nodded to the warden badges. “You’re a bit far from home.”
“Been for supplies.” Chola shrugged. “Saw you and got curious.”
Tebogo held up the camera. “Pictures. Advertising. Tourists.”
Chola eyeballed him. “Hunters?”
Tebogo shook his head. “Photo safaris.”
Chola grunted. “There’s nothing much to see here.”
“The website wants pictures. The real Africa they call it. Not just the glossy stuff.”
Chola gestured to the HiLux. “What’s in the truck?”
“Camera gear. Stuff.”
“You hunting?”
Tebogo shook his head. “More money in pictures.”
Chola stared a moment as if the idea were preposterous. “Okay.”
The wardens detoured around the HiLux on the way back to the Land Rover.
Tebogo knelt, steadying himself to take a picture.
Kago tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.
Chola leaned into the rear of the Toyota. He flipped the tarpaulin back.
Kago grunted.
“It’s nothing. We’ll explain it away,” Tebogo said.
“My AK-47 is there.”
“Why not inside!” Tebogo hissed.
The wardens exchanged a comment, and Chola flipped the tarp back into place. He smiled and waved. The pair walked to their Land Rover.
Kago stepped forward. Tebogo grabbed his arm.
The wardens turned. Four pairs of eyes made contact. Instantly, both sides knew what had happened. The wardens had seen the equipment.
They had seen the gun, too. Not a hunting rifle. A soldier’s weapon. In this case, a soldier of fortune.
Both wardens dived into the Land Rover. Its engine roared.
Tebogo and Kago ran for the HiLux. The Defender raced away, bouncing wildly over the rough ground.
Tebogo rammed the Toyota into gear and banged in the clutch. The truck bounded forward. It lurched erratically, the HiLux being built more for paved surfaces than off-road.
Kago wrestled a Daewoo K7 submachine gun from under his seat. It was a mid-length weapon with an integral suppressor and a thirty-round magazine. The suppressor did little to hide the sound of the gun being discharged, but its design threw the noise in all directions, making it difficult for an opponent to identify the shooter’s location.
He set the gun for three-round bursts and loosed a couple of blasts. The shots went wide. The Land Rover accelerated.
Tebogo mashed the accelerator into the floor. “Wait till we’re closer.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tuesday, August 16
3:00 p.m. CDT
Chatham, Iowa
After Jess was on the road, Mandy called back and rushed through her news.
“Claire Winter is finally giving a press conference at the plant in fifteen minutes. It’s her first public statement since the explosion, probably because the FBI asked her not to speak before now. Can you make it?”
“On my way.” Jess glanced around for traffic cops and pressed the accelerator. The plant was ten minutes away. “Let them know I’m coming. If I need a badge, ask them to have it ready.”
“Way ahead of you.”
“Excellent. You’re a genius.”
“I’ll remind you of that at my next salary review.”
Jess grinned. “I’m sure you will.”
Mandy laughed. “Gotta go.”
Jess increased her speed and made it to the Kelso Products parking lot in double quick time. The police cruiser was still stationed at the driveway, but it was unoccupied, and no officer was checking IDs.
Large sections of the lot were deserted, but a knot of cars surrounded the silver and glass front entrance. Rentals, she figured. Belonged to the temporary press contingent.
Jess parked in the first open spot and raced to the building.
She dashed into the revolving door at the entrance. The glass had been replaced after the explosion, but the mechanism needed adjustment or something. She put her whole body into the effort, but the door was heavy and slow and seemed to barely move.
An attractive, well-dressed woman was seated behind a large counter checking press credentials. Three armed security guards patrolled the foyer.
One of the guards stepped in front of her as the door finally rotated into the small room.
“Press?” he said.
Jess held out her credentials. “Jessica Kimball. Taboo Magazine.”
“I have her badge, Charlie,” the woman called out.
Charlie collected the badge and handed it to Jess. “Wear this at all times. The badge allows you to attend the press conference. Only. Stay with the group. Got it?”
Jess nodded.
“You’re late.” Charlie ordered, “Follow me.”
Without waiting for her reply, he waved a white and red proximity card in front of a card reader. The security device clicked, and he stepped through the door into the main building at a fast clip.
Jess glanced around briefly as she hurried to follow.
The decor beyond the security point was far from high-end. The wallpaper was brown tinged with age, and the carpet was so faded it could have been in place for at least a couple of decades.
Charlie continued his brisk pace and stopped abruptly at a double door. “The meeting started a couple of minutes ago.”
He peered in through a porthole above her eye level. He pushed the door open for her. “Follow the crowd back when it’s over. We keep track of all the badges. Don’t wander off.”
“Okay.” Jess walked into a large room. At the far end was a temporary stage with a raised podium. To the left of the stage was a door.
Reporters mingled, speaking softly among themselves. Camera crews were lined up along the walls w
ith long lenses that seemed out of place indoors.
Rows of folding chairs faced the stage. The front row was already filled with reporters, mostly men, mostly dressed in dark jackets that would film well for television, paired with light colored chinos that would never be revealed on screen.
A few women were sprinkled here and there dressed in stylish suits in similarly muted colors. A woman beckoned Jess to sit in an empty seat beside her.
She extended her hand. “Sally Meecham. Human Resources. Call me Sally. Everyone does.”
“Jess Kimball, Taboo Magazine.”
Sally nodded. “I talked to your assistant. Mandy. She’s delightful.”
Jess smiled. “Everybody says that.”
A hush fell over the room when the door at the far end of the stage opened. A woman entered first.
“Claire Winter, our CEO,” Sally whispered.
Jess nodded. She recognized Winter from her photographs. She was every bit as perfect as her pictures.
Jess didn’t recognize the man trailing her. “Who’s that with her?”
“Her assistant.”
Winter stepped behind the podium. “Thank you for coming.” Winter’s smile was flat.
Video was rolling, and a few still cameras clicked furiously. She waited for the clicking to fade before she spoke again.
“At the request of the FBI, we’ve waited until now to talk to you directly, although we wanted to speak to you long ago. Like everyone in the country, all of us here at Kelso Products are devastated by the horrific events that have taken place. I want to express my profound sadness and the condolences of everyone at Kelso Products to all those who have lost loved ones, friends, and colleagues. Please know that my grief and heart are with you.”
Sally Meecham sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue.
Winter shifted her weight. She took a deep breath. “I am saddened to tell you that as a result of injuries sustained in the explosion, we lost a fourth member of the Kelso Products family this morning. At the request of their families, we are not identifying the victims on camera today. We ask for your discretion in honoring their wishes as well.”
Sally moaned softly.
Winter closed her eyes briefly and took another deep breath. She turned away from the reporters to wipe tears from her eyes. She pushed the tissue back into her pocket.
She looked out at the audience again and cleared her throat. “There are no words that will alleviate the pain our community continues to suffer. Kelso Products will use our full resources to provide whatever assistance we can to support the victims of this tragedy. We will release details of our plans as appropriate once we have them in place.”
She cleared her throat again and sipped from a paper cup on the podium. “You’ve no doubt heard that the authorities have acted swiftly and made an arrest of the man they believe is responsible.”
She took a deep breath to steady the quiver in her voice. “We are all trying to make sense of the events that unfolded here. I ask you to join me in offering support to the Kelso Products employees and their families who have been so devastated by these horrific events.”
She paused and bowed her head as if to pray. When she looked up again, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Thank you.”
Silence descended on the room for a moment then several hands rose seeking permission to ask questions.
Winter dealt simple answers, deferring to the FBI until the room grew quiet again.
Jess stood when Winter’s eyes fell on her row. “Jess Kimball. Taboo Magazine.”
“Yes?” Winter said.
“Are you confident the authorities have arrested the right man?”
“I’m not authorized to discuss the FBI’s actions, but they have assured me they have the right person in custody. I have no reason to doubt that,” she said, evasively.
Jess said, “And do you think he acted alone?”
Winter frowned. “The police and FBI have told me that is the case.”
“What motive did he have to harm the good people at Kelso Products, Ms. Winter?” Jess asked.
Winter’s eyes widened, and her mouth formed a little “O,” as if she was astonished at the question. She shook her head. “You’ll need to ask him.”
“I already have. Thank you.” Jess sat down. She’d cover the rest of her queries privately.
Several more questions were asked before the conference came to an end.
As the reporters filed out, Jess dodged through the flow and reached Claire Winter on her way off the stage.
Jess held out her card. “Can we talk for a moment?”
Winter frowned at the card. “Are you planning an article on us for Taboo Magazine? Kelso Products is a little bit outside your readership, isn’t it?”
“Our readership is always interested in the truth, Ms. Winter.”
“Yes, of course.” Winter nodded her head. “I know your magazine and your work.”
“Do you know Alex Cole?”
“Not well. We have fewer than a thousand employees here, Ms. Kimball. I know all of them at least a bit. When he was identified as a suspect, I learned more about him.” She shrugged. “He works in our research department. A hard worker, his supervisors tell me.”
Jess cocked her head. “He’s exceptionally well-educated, and practically the poster child for a geek researcher who minds his own business and never causes trouble.”
“Where are you going with this?” Winter frowned.
“Doesn’t it seem strange that a man as smart as Alex Cole would be dumb enough to use his own phone to detonate the bomb?”
Winter shrugged. “The whole situation is strange to me, Ms. Kimball. It’s astonishing that Cole or any other Kelso employee would detonate a bomb in the first place, actually. I can’t quite wrap my head around it, even now.”
“Alex Cole told me that an Italian researcher caused a lot of trouble here a while back. Marco Benito?”
Winter waved the comment away. “He came with good credentials, but he didn’t fit in at Kelso.”
“In what way?”
“This is Iowa, Ms. Kimball. We work hard. We have a can-do culture here. Everyone helps each other out. We always have. Since the company was founded by the Kelso family decades ago. Benito didn’t understand us. He didn’t fit in. He left of his own free will, quite a while ago.”
“Were you aware of any antagonism between Benito and Alex Cole?”
She shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know every employee on a personal basis. Do you think this is significant as to why Alex Cole planted the bomb?”
“If he planted the bomb, you mean? I don’t know yet. Possibly.”
“Then you should share your evidence with the police. And the FBI. We all want the truth. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Winter turned to leave.
“What about Debora Elden?” Jess said, walking along toward the exit. “Do you know her?”
Winter held her mouth open a fraction before speaking. “Should I?”
“She worked here until a few months ago. Another researcher. On a project you shut down.”
“Kelso has been having financial problems. We’ve had to make cuts in several areas. That’s no secret.” Winter shrugged.
“Debora Elden and Alex Cole were dating at one time.”
“Well, if you think this Elden girl is significant, bring her to the FBI’s attention, too.” Winter walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tuesday, August 16
10:15 p.m. Central Africa Time
Zambia, Africa
Ephraim crouched low in the Defender’s seat. “Automatic fire,” he said.
Chola ignored him as he struggled with the radio crudely bolted to the top of the dash in the bouncing vehicle. “We’re out of radio contact range. Keep going.”
Ephraim veered around an outcrop of rock, not lifting his foot from the accelerator. “Tell them they’re mercenaries with some weird equipment. Tell them. T
ell them.”
Chola let go of the microphone. “It’s hopeless. We’re miles out of range.” He pulled a Ruger Hawkeye rifle from clip behind his seat. “Six shots against automatics.”
As if to hammer home his point, the glass in the rear of the Defender exploded.
The Land Rover bucked as they flew over a tiny dry stream.
Chola pointed the Hawkeye in the HiLux’s direction. There was no hope of aiming as they sped over the rough ground. He fired five shots, frantically cycling each spent round out of the chamber and loading the next.
The HiLux swerved and hung back a moment.
Chola grabbed a box of ammunition from behind his seat and reloaded. “Just keep moving and hope I get lucky.”
The HiLux arced left, taking advantage of a clear patch to make up ground.
Automatic fire tore through the Land Rover’s hood. Large chunks of metal spiraled into the air. Chola hunkered down.
The Land Rover’s engine slowed. Chola snapped his head up, ready to shout for more speed when he saw Ephraim. Blood spread across his shirt, and his head lolled backward. He was dead.
The HiLux veered toward the slowing Land Rover.
Chola grabbed the steering wheel, and rammed his elbow down on Ephraim’s leg, flooring the accelerator.
The Land Rover responded, gaining speed as its engine churned louder.
The HiLux was ahead and to the left of him. Chola arrowed the Defender toward the Toyota.
He hit the Toyota’s side at fifty miles an hour. A screeching tear of the metal.
The Defender’s steering wheel twisted out of his hands. The HiLux bounced and rolled up onto two wheels. He watched, praying it would roll over.
The Land Rover glanced off, its weight keeping it down, and momentum carrying it on. The HiLux crashed down on all four wheels. Chola cursed. His best hope had been to wreck their vehicle.
He twisted his head to look at the Land Rover’s path ahead and screamed. A valley’s edge was a hundred feet away.
He twisted the steering wheel. The Land Rover leaned hard on its tires. The vehicle turned a fraction too late.