The Killing Grounds

by Jack Ford

  ‘You want me to see if the blood has the same bacteria which is in the fleas?’

  ‘Yeah, though I have a feeling I already know the answer.’

  Cooper handed Eddie the test tube of blood. ‘Thanks, I appreciate this, Ed.’

  Eddie nodded, reading the label out loud.

  ‘Emmanuel Mutombo… Listen, it’s no problem. My pleasure. Give me a few hours to turn it round. I’ll call you when I know.’

  106

  ‘Hey, Beau!’

  Cooper walked up to his Uncle who was down on his hands and knees, weeding the flourishing green vegetable garden of the monastery.

  Beau grinned widely. ‘Right back at you, Coop… Give me a hand up, will you, damn sciatica is playing up again.’

  Cooper stretched out his hand. Pulled up Beau with ease.

  And using the bottom of the long cream robe he was wearing to wipe the soil from his hands, Beau eyed Cooper up and decided not to bother telling him how terrible he looked.

  ‘What’s on your mind? You’ve got that look in your eye you always had as a boy when something was troubling you.’

  ‘I’m just stuck.’

  ‘Aren’t we all… Is this about Maddie? Cora? About your meds? Is there a problem? Please tell me this isn’t about Ellie.’

  That was a hell of a list, but for once it was none of those things.

  ‘Nope, it isn’t about her or her and no, there isn’t a problem,’ Cooper half joked. ‘Well, there is and, as you point out, several of them, but that’s not why I’m here.’

  Beau winked. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’ve got all these pieces of a jigsaw but I can’t see how to put it together. I know the answer’s there, but I’m missing something.’

  ‘You wanna try me?’

  ‘Well, you know most of it already. What you don’t know is, Jackson found out…’

  Beau interrupted sounding surprised to hear the name. ‘Jackson?’

  ‘I’ll tell you about it later. Anyhow, Jackson found out that a couple of pieces of clay pot, which I collected in the DRC, had explosive residue on them. TNT as well as some kind of copper wire embedded in them. Then remember my friend Eddie?’

  ‘The one who likes to dress up as a chicken?’

  ‘Yeah, that and other things. Well, he did some tests on some bugs which I found at the crash site. Turned out to be fleas. Anyway, apparently they’re carrying some crazy-ass disease he’s never really seen before.’

  Beau nodded, taking in the information. ‘So you think the pieces of pot are significant? That they’re relevant?’

  ‘That’s the thing I don’t know. They might not be. But there was a third piece which I took from the water plant when I smashed the pots…’

  ‘You smashed some pots? Any reason.’

  ‘Let’s just say I wasn’t having the best of days. Anyway, that piece came up blank, but Jackson’s friend seemed to think all three pieces were from the same kind of composition of porcelain. But then, all that could mean is that they were made by the same local craftsmen.’

  ‘It’s odd that TNT would be found on the pieces.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I can’t see a reason why there’d be explosive residue on something like a clay pot. It’d blow to pieces.’

  Beau nodded in agreement. ‘Nasty stuff, that TNT. Pretty toxic. I had a friend who use to work with it. Ended up with liver failure and damage to his spleen. There are stringent health and safety measures now, but during the First and Second World War they often called the munition workers who handled the chemical canary girls.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, a canary is a bright yellow bird, and skin contact with TNT makes your skin turn yellow. Hence the nickname.’

  ‘Say that again.’

  ‘You going deaf, Coop, on top of everything else?’

  Cooper snapped. ‘Please, Beau, just tell me again.’

  ‘Okay… It’s one of the side effects of the chemical. Yellow skin as well as other skin irritations, like dermatitis… What’s going on?’

  ‘Charles, the guy in charge of Lemon, had really bad dermatitis on his hands and wrists, as well as really heavily stained yellow fingernails, which Maddie commented on. And get this: Donald Parker; I saw a recent photo of him, holding some award he’d won. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but his hands were just like Charles’s. Yellow staining and dermatitis.’

  ‘So what does that prove?’

  ‘It doesn’t prove anything, but it points to them both handling TNT. Though that doesn’t really help me, either. Can you can see why I’m stuck? All I’ve got are fleas, witchcraft, and a hell of a lot of pots.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Charles had a vast collection of these pots. Didn’t tell me why. He pretended it was to do with the new décor.’

  ‘You don’t believe him?’

  Cooper scoffed. ‘No, nothing spells liar like Charles Templin-Wright.’

  Beau exhaled. ‘I hate to say it, but I’m as stuck as you on this. Can’t see any connection. Did you tell me what happened to the plane? I can’t remember.’

  ‘At a guess, Rosedale thinks it was flying too low. Hit some trees, and went down. I reckon he’s right.’

  ‘To hit some trees. That’s pretty low flying.’

  Cooper said, ‘Yeah, I know, but we think bad weather and bad piloting caused it. And that’s it. Oh, and this… This is the printout of the findings from Jackson’s friend. The ceramic guy.’

  Cooper passed Beau the sheet of paper.

  ‘Look at this, Coop. It says two of the pieces have insect residue on them.’

  ‘So? I found them outside. Why wouldn’t they have it? Place is crawling with bugs.’

  ‘Exactly. Crawling with them. Insects walk over things they don’t deposit themselves on stuff… Did your friend Eddie, give you a printout?’

  ‘Yeah, here.’

  Cooper pulled out another piece of paper from the inside of his jacket, being careful not to pull out the bottle of pills he had in there.

  Beau took the printout. Read it and said, ‘Hey, look, if you cross reference the insect residue on the two pieces of pot and this flea of yours, well the cell structures of the insects are all the same. Jesus, Cooper, think about this.’

  ‘I am. And I’m getting nothing fast.’

  Irritated, Beau said, ‘It means that in all likelihood these fleas of yours were also the same kind of fleas on the two pieces of pot.’

  Cooper stared on blankly.

  ‘Just tell me what you’re thinking.’

  ‘No, Coop. This is what you were like as a kid. Always wanting to be spoon-fed. Think about it.’

  Cooper rubbed the back of his neck. Took a deep breath. Then took another one. ‘Beau, my childhood wasn’t exactly Mary Poppins.’

  ‘Coop, we’re not going to go down this road again are we? You know what, I won’t be drawn into a fight. Let’s just stick to the reason why you’re here. Remember the military history books I gave you as a kid?’

  ‘Kind of. Hardly bedtime reading.’

  Beau snapped. ‘Maybe if you’d read them, Coop, then you’d know what I was getting at. What does this remind you of? The pots and the fleas and the TNT? Along with the plane and people getting ill? Come on, think about it.’

  Cooper stared at his uncle. Trying to focus on what Beau was getting at rather than focus on his childhood. He said, ‘You win, Beau, and before you say it, yes – I’m giving up, I don’t know.’

  ‘Well this reminds me – and it’s the only thing that I know which ticks all these boxes – of General Ishii.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Jesus, Coop. Didn’t you learn anything? No, don’t answer that. Okay, in World War Two, the Japanese used insect warfare on a mass scale. General Ishii, well he used plague-infected fleas against the population of China, using flea-filled clay pots, dropped over the area in low flying planes. Think about it, Coop, it fits the profile. And this Simon Bal
lard, or Bemba as he calls himself now… well, from what Bill Travis said, he’s as evil an individual as General Ishii ever was. Not to put too fine a point on it, I think what you’re dealing with is some kind of entomological warfare.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I might be so far out on this but my gut’s saying different. I mean the concept of entomological warfare, that’s been around for centuries. And what you’ve told me, I can’t help thinking it’s got all the hallmarks of it. Look, go and get some books from the library. Read it up. See what you think. The only thing I can’t tell you is why it’s happening. Maybe you just need to look further.’

  107

  Late into the night, Cooper sat up reading the books he’d picked up from the library. His mind was racing as he pored over the images and accounts. And for once he tried to fight against the urge to take the edge off… He lost that battle, but at least he was finally beginning to understand the part of the picture he hadn’t been able to see before. He got it. And if it was what he was thinking, then the only thing he needed to work out was what he was going to do next.

  Splashing water on his face, Cooper grabbed his pills, his wallet, and hoped he was about to grab the final piece of the jigsaw.

  108

  ‘Why, Thomas J. Cooper, I don’t believe my eyes, what’s it been, ten years or more?’

  Janice Spencer-Wells, a proud Jewish New Yorker, gushed with warmth as she sat in her wheelchair behind the large desk at the Washington State University. Her green eyes twinkling with real surprise and delight.

  ‘It’s been more like thirteen, maybe fourteen.’

  ‘Now this is the part where you’re supposed to say to me that I don’t look a day older.’

  Cooper grinned. Gave a wink. ‘Well you don’t.’

  She cackled and Cooper smiled. He’d forgotten how loud and infectious that cackle was.

  ‘That’s bull, and we both know it. I look in the mirror in the morning and it’s not my mother I see, it’s my grandmother. But you, Thomas J., you look fine.’

  ‘You’re probably the only one who thinks so.’

  ‘Oh no, I think age just seems to suit you. How old are you now? Forty? Forty-one? Thirty-nine? No, don’t tell me, I just want to imagine you as perfect.’

  There was the cackle again. Loud. Warm. Infectious. ‘Come on then, Thomas J., what is it that you want?’

  ‘Janice, I need a favor.’

  She smiled playfully. ‘Of course you do, and here’s me thinking you were popping in for some action. So come on, what can I help you with?’

  ‘I’m working on a case and I need to know about mining rights in Africa. The Democratic Republic of Congo, to be precise.’

  ‘Well come on, pull up a chair, we can get cozy.’

  Janice, an economics professor who Cooper had met through Beau, pushed the mouse on her computer, making it jump to life.

  ‘Is that what you’re working on?’ He pointed to the Word document which was open.

  ‘Yeah, I’m writing it for the Post. Funnily enough it’s about African mineral reserves and various foreign billionaires that have been allowed to set up mines, and are shipping huge amounts of valuable ore out of poverty-stricken areas of Africa. It’s tragic. A huge amount of people are just unaware of the great wealth which is basically beneath their feet, and they’re certainly not seeing any of the profit generated. Problem is, a lot of people here think this is yesterday’s news.’

  Cooper read part of it aloud. ‘The DRC has unexploited mineral reserves estimated at 24 billion US dollars, but without an effective army or police force to maintain law and order, armed militia groups control mining through force. In response, the DRC government encourages foreign investors to conduct private mining. Since 2002, the DRC Mining Code required foreign investors to surrender 5 per cent of company shares to the government and pay various taxes levied against profits. The industry has boomed in recent years, though lack of basic services like electricity and clean water have hindered progress, as have ongoing issues with armed militia groups. In February 2013, a draft bill proposed amendments to the 2002 mining code, including an increase from 5 to 35 per cent of foreign company shares to be given to the government, along with huge increases in taxes against mining profit, but in 2017…’

  Cooper stopped. ‘I’d like to read this when you’ve finished, can you send me a copy?’

  Janice laughed. ‘Ay-yay-yay, buy the Post yourself, you cheapskate.’

  Cooper roared with laughter. The second belly laugh in a week. That was some going.

  ‘You’re good for me, Janice, did I ever tell you that?’

  ‘Yeah, you told me that the last time you saw me; thirteen years ago. It’s becoming too much of a regular thing.’

  Still chuckling, Cooper asked, ‘How can I find out who’s wanting to mine in a certain area?’

  ‘Of the DRC? Well, mining rights and applications are granted on a first come first served basis. I can look up who’s been granted a license if you like.’

  Cooper watched Janice tap furiously on her computer. Logging into different websites and documents. ‘It’s a bit of a nightmare if you don’t know how to find it, plus a lot of the information isn’t always available to the public. But we’re lucky at the University, we can usual get access to most records… like this… Okay, here it is, the DRC Ministry of Mines… if I click on Contract-Natural-Resources… and then again on Mining Contracts… there you go. It’s the list of mining agreements between various companies and the DRC Government; take your pick, Thomas J.’

  Skimming down the list Cooper was drawn to a group of five contracts awarded to Nadbury Electronics/Condor Atlantic Mines. A couple were dated as far back as two years ago, another one as recently as three months ago.

  ‘Can you click on these for Nadbury Electronics and Condor Atlantic Mines, the ones there, in South Kivu…? Thanks.’

  The first document opened up on the screen to reveal a legible but poorly scanned copy of a lengthy legal contract written in French. In the bottom corner of each page there were two sets of hand-written initials and a government authentication stamp which read:

  Republique Democratique du Congo L’office des mines d’or de sud Kivu.

  ‘Can you click on the others, please Janice?’

  Cooper read through them all. It was exactly what he’d thought.

  ‘You see what you’re looking for, Tom?’

  ‘Too right I do. The companies I’m looking into, Nadbury Electronics and Condor Atlantic Mines, well it looks like they’ve been granted research permits for most of the land around Buziba, as well as some actual mining licenses. Do you know if there would be any restrictions on it?’

  ‘On their mining? No, probably not. The only thing which is required is to commence testing the area within six months of getting the research permit, and once they’ve done their tests, to make sure the land is worth mining. Then they’d be free to apply for an actual mining license, which wouldn’t be a problem to get, especially if they owned the land. And from there they could carry on mining for ten years before needing to renew it. At the moment companies only have to give 5 per cent of their company shares to the DRC Government, as the proposal for 35 per cent still hasn’t been passed yet. But otherwise they’re free to mine unrestricted. And in an area like that, the profits could run into hundreds of millions.’

  ‘Janice, thanks, I owe you.’

  Cooper got up to go.

  ‘Oy vey. You don’t get away that easily. I deserve a kiss for this. See that black mark on my face? That’s where you kissed me last time, I’ve never washed there since.’

  109

  ‘Hey, Maddie.’

  The next day, Cooper stood in the kitchen of Onyx feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He could think of a million places he’d rather be. Even though they’d had the conversation at her house, it still felt awkward. And he’d been trying to figure out what to say to Maddie for the past few minutes, but as he stirred his coffee, which
didn’t need stirring any more than it had done a minute ago, with Maddie staring and expecting him to talk, the only thing so far he’d managed to come up with was the greeting. And this time he knew she wasn’t going to let him get away with a shrug.

  In truth, he’d been hoping not to run into Maddie; she knew him too well and would know straight away something was going on. He’d also forgotten it was Granger’s birthday, which meant everybody was around.

  He wanted to make a quick exit and go find Rosedale, who he’d actually thought would be here. But with Maddie standing in the doorway, the quick exit he was planning on wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  Maddie’s sharp voice crashed into the difficult silence.

  ‘What’s going on? How come all of a sudden you’ve got nothing to say?’

  ‘Sorry, I just got stuff on my mind.’

  ‘Like what? Tom, what are you hiding?’

  Cooper held his hands up in the air. Felt an intense desire to push past her and just get the hell out. His head was racing and he needed to get on with what he had to do.

  ‘Maddie, listen. Can…’

  ‘Oh don’t tell me. Let me guess… Can we do this another time. That’s what you were going to say wasn’t it?’

  Cooper knew he sounded breathless. Agitated by the adrenalin surging within him. ‘Yeah. That’s what I’d like. Please. I’ve got to go and find Rosedale.’

  ‘Why?’

  Cooper blinked several times. Gave a nervous laugh. Looked at her sideward.

  ‘Why do I have to go and find Rosedale? Don’t take this the wrong way, Maddie, and I don’t mean to sound harsh, but your days of asking me where and why are over. You threw me out, remember?’

  ‘Our truce didn’t last long, did it? But don’t kid yourself, Tom, my days were never there. You did what you liked when you liked.’

  ‘I don’t need to do this now.’

  ‘No, you never do.’

  Cooper looked down at nothing much. He could feel himself becoming jumpy. He felt cornered, and he needed to get out.