A Carrion Death & The 2nd Death of Goodluck Tinubu
Page 79
Constable Tau and another constable had bailed out the boat and were ready to head off after Enoch in the police launch. Kubu was pleased about the ace he had hidden up his sleeve the night before.
“He can’t get far. Keep in touch using the radio and don’t engage him in a shoot-out. If you spot him, keep out of range, stay on his tail, and wait for reinforcements from the Defense Force. I don’t want one of you floating around in the river. We’ve had enough close calls today.” Tau promised to be careful, but went off excited. Minutes later Kubu heard the launch start up. The chase was on!
When Kubu closed his phone, Dupie came up shaking his head. “Damn!” he said. “I would never have believed it unless I saw it. Enoch, after all these years.”
“I want to show you something,” said Kubu. He led the way to the office tent and entered first so he could watch Dupie’s face as he came in. The desk was still showered by chips and pieces of the broken Eye. Dupie’s jaw dropped. “Shit!” he said. “How did this happen? I told you it was important.” Now he sounded genuinely shocked and angry.
“Enoch. And what he said was: ‘That’s finished. I did it for her. Not for him, for her.’ What do you think that means?”
Dupie just shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. Why did he smash the Eye?”
“Perhaps he was announcing the end of a connection, Dupie. The end of a relationship. After this, you’re on your own. Could that be it?” But Dupie did not answer. He backed out of the tent, visibly shaken. Salome was calling him.
Kubu could hear Dupie telling Salome and the camp staff what had happened. Already the story was becoming distorted. Salome started to sob, and Dupie broke off to comfort her. Kubu scowled. Things were complicated enough. It was time to contact Mabaku and to decide on the next step.
Mabaku had escaped from home and was at the office. He was tired and sore and did not need any bad news. But that is what he got. Serves me right for not listening to Marie, he thought.
“So let me get this straight, Kubu,” he said, when Kubu had filled him in on the events of the last two days. “You suspected Enoch because Du Pisanie tipped you off about him. You practically arrested him, but it didn’t occur to you he might be armed? So he’s now escaped—with the money, you say—and we have the Defense Force scouring the country. Two countries, actually. Did anyone think of informing the Namibian police?”
“I’m sure Kasane will do that. The Defense Force will have to inform them about the plane and the chopper, too.”
“I’m sick to death of people being sure about things. Maybe they’ll forget, too. Get onto them and discuss it with the police there yourself,” Mabaku growled.
Kubu hadn’t forgotten. He had just thought it politic to phone Mabaku first. But he didn’t want to waste time arguing. “Yes, of course, Director,” he said. “But it’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“Why not?”
“Because, as a precaution, I told Tau to empty the camp motorboat’s fuel tank last night. The boat won’t be able to get far.”
“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” said Mabaku, impressed in spite of himself. “But let’s leave Enoch to the local police. I want you back here; I can’t rely on Banda. Enough of playing cat and mouse on the Linyanti. It looks like it was actually cat and lion with you as the cat. At least you weren’t the mouse!”
Mabaku’s instruction was good news for Kubu. It coincided with what he wanted to do anyway. I must call Joy, he thought, worried again. “Yes, Director, that was my intention. What shall I do with Du Pisanie and McGlashan? Bring them in to Kasane, or leave them here?”
“What have you got on them?”
“Well, not much directly. Dupie told me a nonsense story about covering for Enoch the night he murdered Boardman, and I suppose the implication of what took place this morning is that Enoch is the culprit. But I don’t believe he did it on his own. I think all three are in on it. Dupie’s latest piece of play acting was a setup.”
Mabaku grunted. “Hold them as material witnesses. I don’t want legal hassles to add to everything else now.”
“They’ll argue that they’re citizens in good standing and not going anywhere. My suggestion is that I impound their passports and leave them here with two of the constables to watch them. For their own protection, that is. We still haven’t resolved the Madrid issue.”
“Don’t remind me. And Edison’s come up with nothing more from Beardy. Well, this will be a lesson to me. I can’t afford to get sick and be away for two days.” He mulled Kubu’s proposal. “Yes, do what you suggested. Once we catch Enoch, we’ll have him singing a different tune. Then we can get Dupie and Salome to come and supply the words.” There was an interruption, and Kubu could hear Mabaku’s secretary tell him the commissioner was on the other line.
“Kubu, I’ve got to go. See if you can arrange things for the rest of the day so that you don’t drown any of my detectives, don’t start a war with Namibia, and don’t release a horde of murderers into the community. Do you think you can handle that?”
Kubu said he thought he could, and the director hung up. Kubu wondered why his careful moves—with real results in this case—always seemed to come across as bumbling incompetence when summarized by the director. But Mabaku was right about the Namibians. He needed to call them.
When Tau radioed in from the police launch, the news was mixed. They had found the motorboat stuck on a sandbank in the river and, indeed, it had run out of fuel. But there was no sign of Enoch. Obviously he had rowed it to the shore and then pushed it out into the current. So there was no indication of where he had landed, or even on which side of the river. They were only about fifteen minutes away, so Kubu told them to come in. There was no point in them sitting on the river on the off-chance that the spotter plane would find Enoch nearby. He would have gone to ground by now in any case. However, Kubu’s plan had worked to the extent that there was a relatively small area in which Enoch could be hiding, and he must be relatively close.
Tau was back at the camp by the time the spotter plane arrived. There was a side benefit; it was a six seater with four people in it. When it went back to Kasane, Kubu and Tatwa could get a ride, saving the four-hour drive in the Land Rover. Kubu relayed the information on where the boat had been found, so the plane had a reasonably well-defined area to search.
Tatwa joined Kubu to wave as the plane flew low over the camp. He was looking better, dry, in clean clothes, and thankful for the large neat whisky that had started a bout of coughing, expelling most of the river still in his lungs.
“I spoke to the director, Tatwa, and he said we should leave the manhunt to the local police. You’ve got to tidy up the Gomwe case, and I need to move the Madrid business forward. Let’s get packed up. We’re going home.” As Kubu expected, Tatwa made no objection.
Kubu made the situation clear to Dupie and Salome and the staff. They were all material witnesses, and there would be more questions once Enoch had been caught and had told his side of the story. They were to stay in touch by phone, make no trips off the island without letting Tatwa know, and in any case no trips out of Botswana. To emphasize the last point, Kubu took their passports, and two of the constables would remain on the island.
Dupie laughed at that. “How long does this charade go on? We have a business here you know. Lives to lead. Enoch’s a bush man. You may never find him out there.” Dupie gave a broad wave encompassing Africa.
Kubu was not in the mood for banter. “It goes on until I say it stops.” He looked at Tatwa. “We better get going. I expect the plane will be finished its search in an hour or so.” Then he hesitated, not sure how to address the others.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” he said at last, brusquely, and turned away.
Reaching the mainland felt like a release. Jackalberry Camp had become a prison, haunted by death. While Tau organized the luggage, Kubu and Tatwa took a last look around. “What did you find in that shed?” asked Tatwa, pointing to it.
Tatwa frowned. “Well, every car has a jack and stuff to change a wheel.”
“Not the wheel, the tire. They’ve got tire irons to get it off the rim and inner tubes to reinflate it once they’ve fixed the hole. But once the tire’s off…”
“You could put stuff in it!” Tatwa joined in. “Stuff like money. Were there any wheels in the shed?”
Kubu hesitated, then shook his head. “I remember a dented rim and a tire, but not a tire on a rim. But it could be one of the spares on the vehicles.”
“The one you have to crank down under the Double Cab? That’s the best hidden.” Tatwa’s heart sank. Getting at that wheel was a lot of work. But Kubu shook his head. “That vehicle has only the one spare. They wouldn’t risk driving on a million dollars. It’ll be one of the Land Rover spares. My guess would be the one on the back door. I wouldn’t put it on the hood over the hot engine, would you?” Tatwa shook his head, but Kubu was already walking toward the Land Rover.
Now they were faced with another problem. How could they tell if the tire was a disguised bank box? Tatwa had an idea. He found a twig, jammed it in the tire valve, and was rewarded by a satisfying hiss of escaping air. Having tied up the boat and loaded the luggage, Tau joined them, puzzled by why his superiors were sabotaging Dupie’s vehicle. If the idea was to stop him escaping, it seemed to Tau that letting down one of the tires on the ground might be smarter.
Sooner than expected, the air in the tire stopped hissing out.
“It was pumped up just enough to keep everything in place,” Kubu said, tensely. He felt the tire, but it remained hard and still firmly on the rim. “Damn! Get it off the door, Tau. Use the tools from the police Landy.”
Dutifully, Tau found the wheel spanner and spun off the nuts. He and Tatwa lifted the tire onto the ground.
“Now what?” Tatwa asked. But Kubu already had the wheel on its edge and slowly rolled it over the ground. They heard something shifting around inside.
Kubu turned to Tatwa, triumphant. “Get on the radio and tell the plane to wait. We’re going to have something pretty spectacular to take back to Kasane. Much more interesting than Enoch’s backpack stuffed with old newspapers or whatever.
“Tau, take the boat back to the camp and fetch Dupie and one of the other constables. Tell Dupie to bring the keys to the shed. Tell him we need to look inside there again.”
But Dupie had been watching them from the lookout through binoculars. He sighed. He had come so close. But it seemed that his last roll of the dice had come up snake eyes.
Dupie watched in disgust as the constables battled with the tire irons. “You’ll wreck the wheel if you’re not careful,” he complained. “What the hell is this all about anyway?” But it was obvious what the hell it was all about when they finally got the rim free. Kubu pulled out the flat inner tube, shook out the tire, and flooded the sand with money. The notes were wrapped into packets in thin plastic. Kubu picked one up, pulled off the wrapping, and flipped through the stack of one hundred dollar bills with his thumb. Then he counted the packets. Their earlier speculation of half a million dollars looked close.
“Shit!” said Dupie. “That’s where he hid the money, hey?” Kubu looked at him inquiringly. “Enoch!” said Dupie in an unconvincing reply to the unasked question. Kubu ignored that.
“Morné du Pisanie, I am arresting you in connection with the murders of Goodluck Tinubu, Peter Jabulani (also known as Ishmael Zondo), Sipho Langa, and William Boardman. You are not required to say anything at the moment, but take note that anything you do or say will be recorded and may be used in a court of law. Do you understand what I have told you?”
Dupie said he did, while Tau handcuffed him and searched him for weapons. A good idea, Kubu thought.
“I’ll need some things,” said Dupie. “Till you catch Enoch, and this is all cleared up.”
Kubu nodded. “Tatwa, take Dupie back to Jackalberry. Arrest Salome too and then get them to Kasane. Leave one of the constables at the camp to keep an eye on Moremi and Solomon in case we were wrong about them. I’m going to take the money and catch that plane. If I hurry, I can still get back to Gaborone today. Tau can drive us to the airstrip. Okay?” Tatwa nodded. He, too, was high on the mixture of triumph and excitement. He headed back to the police launch.
Kubu searched for something to hold the money. There was the boat tarpaulin, but it was much too big. He needed to catch the plane! At last he grabbed Tatwa’s backpack and emptied its contents onto the backseat, rescuing a couple of T-shirts that ended on the dusty floor. Then Kubu and Tau stuffed the money into the backpack, dumped Tatwa’s clothes on the tarpaulin, scrambled into the vehicle, and took off. They made a fine pace over the bumpy road, as a few items of Tatwa’s underwear they had missed escaped into the African bush.
Part Eight
ONE MAY FALL
One may fall, but he falls by himself,
Falls by himself with himself to blame.
—RUDYARD KIPLING,
“THE STORY OF THE GADSBYS”
Chapter 74
By the time Kubu landed at Gaborone, he was tired but content. The money was safely locked away at the police station in Kasane, Dupie and Salome were being held there, and Tatwa was keeping a close watch on them. Enoch had survived the day, but could not remain at large for long, now that they knew pretty well where he was. Best of all, Joy would be waiting to meet him at the airport. So he grabbed his luggage and looked around for her, his mind on a delicious dinner with good wine, and a beautiful woman before, during, and after. When he saw her, he dropped his case, folded her in his comfortable bulk and lifted her off the ground, and kissed her with the passion of absence.
“Oh, Kubu, put me down! Everyone’s watching! You’re embarrassing me!” she said through her laughter. Indeed, many travelers glanced at them, the bored expressions of business travel replaced with smiles.
“My darling, I’ve missed you and been worried sick about you, but now we are back together and everything is fine.” Kubu confirmed this remark with another kiss, this time with all feet on the ground.
“Oh Kubu, you got them? Solved the case?” Joy was breathless.
“Well, I know who did what and how. One suspect is still at large, but the others are in custody. We’ll have it all wrapped up in no time. And after this I’m not budging from Gaborone.” He picked up his bag and headed for the exit with his arm around her shoulders.
“Will Pleasant and I have to testify? Identify the suspects?”
Suddenly Kubu realized that they were talking about two different cases. “Well, we haven’t got that lot yet. This was the Jackalberry Camp murder case.” Seeing her disappointment, he rushed on. “But it’s all linked. We’ve got the money that the kidnappers were after, and it will be all over the newspapers tomorrow. They won’t dare set foot in Botswana again. And Beardy is going to tell us everything we want to know. He’s just looking for a deal.”
But Joy was not consoled. “Kubu, I’m so tired of worrying about myself and Pleasant. I wish you could catch these people. I think they might try again. We’re scared.”
“My darling, I had to go to Jackalberry to solve this case, but it’s done and I’m staying right here. The whole thing is just about wrapped up! There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.” He sounded much more cheerful and confident than he actually felt. He leaned over for another peck, and Joy responded before quickly turning away, but not before he had seen the wetness in her eyes.
When they reached the car, it was shaking from Ilia’s jumping and barking. She was trying to squeeze herself through the two-inch gap at the top of the window that Joy had left op
en for fresh air. There was nothing for it but to open the door and let her dive into Kubu’s arms and do a complete lick and polish of his face.
“You’re impossible, Ilia. You’re so badly behaved. But I love you. Now get back into the car so we can go home. I very much hope that your mother has a fine dinner waiting for both of us.” Eventually they managed to get Ilia sufficiently under control to get the doors closed and the trip home underway.
“How have you been feeling, my love?” asked Kubu, realizing he was on shaky ground.
“Oh, much better. I’ll be fine now that you’re back. It was all just the stress and worry.”
“Is that what Dr. Diklekeng said?”
Joy shook her head. “I’m so much better I didn’t want to waste his time. Anyway, let’s talk about something else. I’ve made a delicious curry, and I’ve put a bottle of gewürztraminer in the fridge. See? I’m learning which wines go with what. And Ilia can have the sauce over her dog biscuits. She’ll love that. And then we can have a nice quiet evening together. Quiet until a bit later on that is.” She gave him a naughty smile, her good humor apparently restored. Kubu marveled at how neatly she had changed the subject. He could already smell the spices, taste the fruity richness of the wine, and feel the touch of her soft hands on his body. He must stop nagging her. All would be well.
“How is the karate going?” he asked, once more on bedrock.
“Oh, I’m not sure I want to go on with it. I’ve got so much on my mind, so much to do. I’ll think about it. You’re here to look after me now.” Kubu felt the rock turning to sand. She loved her karate.
“As a matter of fact, I need a checkup too,” he said. “That strain in my shoulder has been worrying me a bit again. I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Diklekeng, and we can go together.” Catching Joy’s developing scowl, he used her technique of changing subjects and scrambled back to solid ground.