The Jason Green series Box Set

by Gordon Wallis

  They were clearly angry and red in the face as the gate was pulled closed. They turned around and sauntered back towards the factory unit satisfied they had sent me packing. I walked back to my vehicle and started the engine. I turned in my seat and looked back at the closed yard as I waited for the air conditioner to cool the cab. My pictures were good, but I felt I needed more. I drove further up the dirt road for a few hundred metres until I saw the point where it merged with the highway. To the left was a rough track that appeared to go off into the swampy bush. There were tyre tracks on it so I assumed it would be passable. I turned left and drove down the road slowly.

  On either side were fields and ditches most of which were waterlogged. The going was slow but eventually the track wound its way around a hillock and started gaining height. The surface was drier and I was able to increase my speed gradually. I stopped near a small village of mud huts roughly a kilometre from the main highway. A group of small children approached the vehicle clearly excited to see a stranger in their midst. Their excitement grew when I took the drone out of my bag and placed it on the roof of the vehicle. After linking it to the controller and checking the battery was full, I sent it up to three hundred feet. Although I could just see it as a speck in the sky above, I could not hear a thing and I felt confident I could send it over the Imperial Dragon yard undetected. Using the screen on the controller as a guide I sent it towards the highway and it was soon completely out of sight. When I saw the highway below on the screen, I stopped the drone and moved it to the right. Sure enough, the yard came into view and I began taking pictures and videos in 4K resolution. It took less than two minutes to get the pictures I wanted and when I was finished, I pressed the 'home' button to bring the aircraft back. The group of children around the car were beside themselves with excitement as I guided the drone down and caught it with my right hand. I showed it to them before putting it back in my bag and leaving the village.

  The journey back to the main highway was slow but I made it eventually and turned back towards Beira. From the road I could just see the logs from the truck being offloaded by the forklift beyond the high wall and the razor wire. With the gate now firmly closed I pulled over and snapped a few photographs of the front of the yard. Satisfied I had enough I pulled off and headed back to the city. It was approaching lunch time when I finally made it through the utter confusion of the city traffic and entered the peaceful and orderly suburb of Macuti. As I was making my way up the beach road, I noticed a freshly painted building to my right with a sign that read 'Yacht Club'. I pulled in to the car park, grabbed my bag, locked the vehicle and walked in. There was a small cover charge to enter which I paid at the reception, but the staff were welcoming and pleasant. The main area of the club was a long room with a bar counter that ran the length of the rear and faced the sea. The frontage was fitted with huge sliding glass doors that looked out on to a spotless verandah and beach. Although the building was old, the room was modern, breezy and bright with a tiled floor and colourful furniture. I took a seat at a table in the shade outside and sat with the warm sea breeze blowing over me. There were a few patrons, mostly white businessmen, sitting nearby who were already getting stuck into pints of beer. After ordering one myself I opened my laptop and inserted the SD card from the drone. Even from three hundred feet the pictures that I had captured showed an astonishing amount of hard wood within the yard. Every square metre of available space was stacked high with the massive logs. As I had seen from the gate there was a factory unit in the centre of the yard with a stack of shipping containers behind. I zoomed into one of the pictures and I could clearly see the raised fuel storage tanks behind the small accommodation block.

  I spent a few minutes studying and saving the pictures I had taken from the gate as well. Along with the aerial shots I had a clear idea of the layout of the yard. The waiter arrived with my beer and I ordered an Eisbein and chips for lunch. I closed the laptop, sat back and stared out to sea as I smoked. As far as I could see the operation was fairly simple and straightforward. The chemicals, including the cyanide, would arrive in containers and be distributed regionally from the factory unit in the yard. The ivory would arrive at night and be stored in either the factory or the accommodation block. From there it would be packed in the containers along with the standard legal loads of hard wood for export to China. Product in, product out. Simple. All of this business, the legitimate and the illegal, would take place behind the high walls and razor wire of the Imperial Dragon yard. Impressive operation. My mind went back to the Chinese men I had seen at Charlie's Pub the previous night and their negative interaction with Gabriella Bongiovanni. The very same men I had seen at the yard earlier. What was that all about? My thoughts drifted as I remembered her red-hot anger and her unquestionable beauty. The image of her upper body showing through her white cotton shirt with the light behind it and the feel of her cool dry hand in mine. As I crushed out the cigarette, I shook my head and reprimanded myself for my idle daydreaming. Concentrate Green. The food was superb and I washed it down with another ice cold Manica. The waiter brought the cash machine and after paying for my lunch I sat and thought about what I needed to do that afternoon. My thoughts went to my flat and my work back in London. It had been a long time since I had left and there were a lot of emails to attend to. The freelance nature of my work afforded me the flexibility to come and go as I pleased but there would certainly be questions from the insurance firm. I glanced at my watch and was surprised to see it was almost 2.30 pm. I packed the laptop and the camera and walked back through the bright interior of the Yacht Club and out to the vehicle. The steering wheel was too hot to touch at first as the vehicle had been parked in direct sunlight. When the cab had cooled sufficiently, I reversed and headed up the ocean road towards my hotel. As I drove past Charlie's Pub I glanced at the car park looking for the old open top Land Rover of Gabriella Bonjiovanni . There were a few modern 4 by 4 vehicles but hers was not there. Concentrate Green. I parked the vehicle at the hotel and walked through the ferocious afternoon sun to my villa. I spent the next hour dealing with various emails and after making a phone call to the insurance company in London I opened the front door to sit outside and smoke. The afternoon had cooled down somewhat and there was a steady breeze blowing through the Casuarinas and the Palms in front of me. I decided I would return to Ceramica that night and watch the yard from the safety of the nearby bar. It would surely stay open as long as there were punters and I was interested to see if any deliveries would take place after dark. Still my mind kept returning to Gabriella Bonjiovanni and her argument with the Chinese men from the Imperial Dragon yard. What was her connection? What was their argument about? Was she there for the same reason I was? I sat there for a good half hour smoking and pondering the many questions in my mind. It was past 4.00 pm when I went back inside the villa and took a shower.

  I left the volume on the television turned up as I shaved and listened to the mundane repetitive news and weather from Europe. It felt as though I was a million miles away from all of it. Not such a bad thing Green. After dressing I grabbed my bag, locked the front door and headed up the path to the vehicle. I was hungry and there were only two options I knew of for dinner. Charlie's Pub or the Yacht Club. As I drove down the beach road, I noticed the young drug dealer I had met the previous night had taken his usual position under the street light. I glanced at him briefly then continued to the car park at Charlie's Pub. The wheels of the vehicle crunched on the sand as I parked under an overhanging Bougainvillea bush. I walked past the ablution block and crossed the concrete floor of the alfresco area. There was a group of white men sitting with scantily clad local women near the drop off to the sea. A waiter was delivering pints of beer and bottles of wine to them as I passed and I heard the raucous laughter from the table. Looks like a party. I glanced around the pub as I walked in. Apart from a group of youngsters in the far corner and the owner, Charlie, who was sat in his usual spot by the bar, there was no one there. No Gabriella
Bonjiovanni and no Imperial Dragon men. Disappointing. The television was tuned to a music channel and there was some godawful 80's video playing.

  “Evening Charlie,” I said as I nodded to the barman for a pint of Manica.

  “Oh, how's it Jason,” he replied. “How are you today.”

  “Good thanks,” I replied as I took my beer and headed to the far left of the bar where I had been the previous night.

  As I sat down, I heard opening chords of 'We Built This City' by Starship. I shook my head and drank a full half pint of the beer. It was thirty minutes later when I saw the old open top Land Rover pull in to the car park under the trees. Gabriella Bonjiovanni wore clean white cotton shorts and a khaki bush shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She strode across the concrete floor confidently with her long, powerful, suntanned legs. On her feet she wore the same veldskoen bush shoes. She cast a brief disapproving glance at the table of revellers sitting outside near the drop off. It was only when she walked into the pub that I saw the smear of grease across her forehead. Her dark curly hair was damp with sweat as well.

  “Don't you say a word Charlie!” she scolded, holding up her hands which were also covered in grease.

  Charlie turned on his bar stool to look at her.

  “Not again!” he said with a laugh.

  “Yes...Again!” she said with a bright smile.

  Her perfectly white teeth were in stark contrast to the olive skin of her face

  “The starter motor, this time!”

  She glanced around the pub quickly and our eyes met for a split second.

  “Order me a beer Charlie. I'm going to wash up” she said before turning back and walking off to the ablution blocks.

  Her broad shoulders were still but her firm shapely buttocks swayed gracefully, as she walked and she held her greasy hands at a dainty angle away from her spotless shorts. Gorgeous and can fix a Land Rover too. In my mind it was a confirmation of sorts. The woman was tough, but she was also very much a lady. I ordered another beer from the barman while she was gone. She returned bright eyed and fresh faced and she pulled up a bar stool near Charlie. She drank deeply from her beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. They both engaged in a conversation I assumed was about Land Rover engines although I could not hear what was said. It was clear they were fond of each other although the relationship was purely platonic. Although I tried to mind my own business our eyes met on a few occasions and the effect it had on me was electrifying. Pull yourself together Green. Ten minutes later Gabriella Bonjiovanni stood and gave Charlie a friendly kiss on the cheek. Carrying her beer, she walked over to where I was sitting and I was instantly aware of her expensive perfume.

  “Good evening Mr Green,” she said pulling up a nearby bar stool, “How are you today?”

  “Hello Miss Bonjiovanni, I'm well thanks. I see you've had some car trouble.”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “Unfortunately, it's a regular occurrence but I love the old girl.”

  “Looks like a Series 2 short wheel base. Late sixties?”

  “Bang on Mr Green!” she said with a bright smile “You know your Land Rovers.”

  “No not really,” I replied with a smile, “I prefer something a little more reliable and please call me Jason.”

  She turned to look at me and raised her eyebrows in mock outrage.

  “Jason you are treading on dangerous ground. Us Land Rover purists would be outraged if you suggested any other vehicle. Be warned. And you may call me Gabby.”

  We both laughed as we drank our beers.

  “So Jason,” she said with an inquisitive look. “What brings you to the bright lights of Beira? It's not exactly a tourist city.”

  “Well I was on holiday in Zimbabwe and got involved in an accident that put me in hospital for a while. Anyway, I'm all fixed up now, so I guess I'm just taking a break before I go back to London. And you?”

  “Oh, I'm a journalist” she said nonchalantly as she motioned to the barman for a menu “Based in London as well. Satellite News Network. We are here doing a feature on the logging industry and the deforestation of Mozambique. Been here three months now.”

  Immediately my mind flashed back to her angry interaction with the Chinese men from Imperial Dragon the previous evening. There's your connection Green.

  “You said We ....?”

  “Yes, I'm here with my crew,” she said as the barman handed out the menus. “There are three of us in total, but my male colleagues prefer the bars and clubs down town. Let's just say the women there are a little more .... friendly.”

  “Ah, I see,” I said as I opened my menu.

  Gabriella Bonjiovanni pulled a pair of horn-rimmed reading glasses from the top left pocket of her khaki shirt and placed them half way down her nose. I watched her as she scanned the menu and for a moment, she reminded me of a bossy librarian. Albeit a very beautiful one.

  “Can you recommend anything?” I asked as I browsed the choices on the menu.

  “This is Mozambique Jason...,” she said as she turned a page, “It's all good...”

  “Okay,” I said. “Well I'm going to have the pizza”

  “Good idea,” she said still looking at the menu, “I think I'll have the same.”

  “Would you like to join me,” I blurted out and instantly regretted it.

  She turned and looked me in the eye with the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose and for a split second I thought I might have over-stepped the boundary.

  “Sure,” she said as she closed her menu, “but right now I need another beer. What about you?”

  “Why not?” I said with relief before draining my glass.

  It took twenty minutes for the food to arrive after we ordered. We spent the time casually chatting at the bar about the city of Beira and Land Rovers. I was eager to find out more about her work, but I decided I would wait a bit and create a better rapport with her first. When the pizzas arrived, we took a nearby table and I ordered a bottle of South African red wine to wash it down with. I was fully aware she was highly intelligent and fiery to boot so I kept the conversation light. After the waiter cleared the table I sat back and lit a cigarette. Gabby sat back as well, looking content and fiddled with the base of her glass.

  “Tell me more about your work Gabby. Must be interesting?”

  She looked up from her wine glass and screwed her eyes up slightly as if she was scrutinizing both me and my motives. In that moment she was both frightening and beautiful. She took a deep breath and relaxed.

  “There isn't really a lot to tell Jason. I'm an investigative reporter for a television news channel. My assignments take my crew and me around the world. The normal time frame for a good feature is between two and four months. A lot of my work is on Youtube if you search for it.”

  “Fascinating,” I said as I sipped some more wine.

  “And what about you Jason Green?” she said with a dreamy half smile “What's your story? What do you do?”

  “Me?” I said. “Well I'm afraid my work is fairly boring. I'm in insurance. Freelance work with a few firms in London.”

  She looked me in the eye and nodded slowly.

  “I think there is more to you Mr Green. What is your accent? Yours is not a London accent,” she said.

  “I was born in Zimbabwe. Rhodesia back then. I left in the early 80's” I replied openly.

  “I have a distant connection with Zimbabwe too,” she said, “my grandfather was killed during the construction of the Kariba dam. He was one of the Italian construction workers stationed there at the time. His body is actually still in the wall. Never recovered.”

  “Wow,” I said, “I had heard that a few people were buried in that wall during the pouring of the concrete.”

  “Hmmm,” she said as she glanced towards the door and took a sip of wine.

  “You seemed very upset with those two Chinese men last night,” I said.

  She turned her face back towards me and looked me in the eye once again.
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br />   “Mozambique is a huge country Jason,” she said firmly. “Do you know the eastern seaboard of this country is roughly the same size as that of America?”

  “I know it's a big country but...”

  “Well it is,” she interrupted, “and up until recently this huge country was almost entirely covered in ancient hardwood forests. Those men from last night are some of the main players in the deforestation and export of this wood to China. The country is being raped as I speak.”

  ‘They export a lot more than that Gabby,’ I thought. She sighed and went on.

  “In the past three months my crew and I have had more than a few run- ins with those men. They, and the others are violent. They operate with impunity here and it is all aided by massive corruption at all levels of government. It is a multi-million-dollar operation, Jason. Soon this country will be a wasteland and only a few individuals will have anything to show for it. We are witnessing an environmental disaster unfold and I am here to document and expose it.”

  “I see,” I said. “Sorry if I seemed to be prying.” Which I was. It was clear she was extremely passionate about her work.

  “No, it's okay,” she said as she picked up the bill for the food and began writing on the back of it with the pen the waiter had left on the table.

  “Our report is almost complete. Another month and it will be done,” she said pushing the piece of paper towards me. “If you'd like to see it, come past my place tomorrow morning for coffee and I'll show you.”

  I glanced down at the paper to see she had written an address on it.

  “Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go,” she said standing up. “Thanks for the dinner Jason.”

  “A pleasure Gabby.” I replied slightly surprised at her sudden exit. “I'll try and swing by tomorrow.”

  She turned away and left, only stopping briefly to kiss Charlie on the cheek. I watched as she disappeared into the darkness of the trees near the car park and I wondered if there would be another problem with the starter motor on the old Land Rover. To my disappointment it started on the first attempt and I watched the lights as she reversed out the entrance. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was just past 8.00 pm. Too early to go to Ceramica Green. One more beer. I returned to my seat at the bar and ordered a fresh drink.