Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01 Read online

  If Travis felt a twinge of panic at this last remark, Leo thought he hid it well. He leaned forward and retrieved a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. Touching the tip of a pencil to his tongue he began totting up a column of figures. Travis took the hint and took a seat further back in the plane. Leo was enjoying himself.

  CHAPTER 21

  Brenda tried to catch Travis’ eye as he made his way aft. He nodded toward her snoring husband and shook his head. Once again he wondered what he’d gotten himself into by taking on Brenda as an ally. And what was Leo trying to tell him? He’d hinted that he might know something, but did he? If he did, he had to have talked to someone and that could only have been one of the Griswolds. He doubted it was Bobby, not that the kid wouldn’t talk, but he didn’t think he had sufficient brain power to grasp the significance of what Brenda and he planned to do. Besides, everyone knew that he and Leo were anything but close, and he would likely have no objection to seeing the old man taken down. That left Brenda. Would she have gone to Leo figuring there might be a bigger payday working with the top dog? With Brenda, anything was possible. He’d need to find out somehow.

  He realized he had a dilemma to resolve. As exciting as another physical liaison with Brenda might be, he really needed to maintain some distance. The thought of being in proximity to her for any but the briefest interval set off all the alarm bells in his survival system, a system that had served him well in the past. And it didn’t just involve the possibility of her husband finding out. No, women like Brenda were leeches. If they attached themselves to you and you weren’t careful, didn’t pull them off, they would bleed you dry. Still, there were worse ways to extract information. He pushed the image of a naked Brenda out of his mind. He’d deal with her later. At this moment, he had to assume that Leo might be on to him. He needed to shore up his position and make it unassailable. And that meant keeping Brenda and all the baggage she brought along.

  He looked back at his boss, who seemed to be working out the arithmetic on a fresh sheet of paper. Like Leo, he had some adding up to do, as well. Griswold’s shares were firm. Whether Brenda could raise the money to redeem them or not would be immaterial. If she didn’t they were his. If she did and held them, he’d be sure she voted them his way. Either he’d have to keep the illusion of intimacy going until after the vote or persuade her she’d end up back on the street with nothing if she didn’t. In the end, it didn’t matter if she was loyal or trustworthy; Brenda would go along. Greedy people could be relied on in the short run. After that? So long, Brenda.

  Added to Griswold’s, there were his shares acquired over the years through the company’s ESOP and the ones he’d bought subsequently from brokers eager to sell at a lower than market price as part of odd-lots. Then he had the proxies from board members he’d quietly picked up over the past months, and finally, the Reilly family shares. They would be the game breaker. Even if Brenda couldn’t control her husband and bolted, he’d have what he needed. It would be close, razor thin, but he could still make it happen. Nothing Leo could do could stop it. He sat back in the leather captain’s seat and relaxed. Done deal. What had Leo said? Meet again and discuss where I fit into the big picture. I think the reverse is what you need to be thinking about, old man. He signaled to the flight attendant and asked for scotch-rocks. He hoped Leo noticed.

  ***

  The gray monkey had been moving about the area for several hours. He’d tried begging for hand-outs near the lodge restaurant and attempted a grab-and-run from a table of late breakfasters. He’d been chased off by a cook wielding a meat cleaver. He’d swung over to the Sedudu Bar to see if any chips or a part of a sandwich had been left on a table from the night before. Even a half-filled bottle of beer would have been a welcome treat. He knew from past experience that his chances of finding one or the other were reasonably good. Today, however, he would be disappointed. He paused and surveyed the area, then scampered westward past the empty campground toward a stand of trees that hung over the river bank. Skimmers regularly visited the area. There might be a new bird’s nest up there, and he could steal eggs or hatchlings. He was halfway up a vine when the corner of his eye registered the image of the lion. The resultant rush of adrenalin rocketed him into the tree’s upper limbs and safety.

  He hid behind a leafy frond and studied the big cat. He knew that if he had missed seeing it and wandered too close, he would have been that animal’s next meal. Cats ate his kind. Some hunted them. The leopard could follow him into the tree if it chose. This cat, he knew was not a climber. A younger lion might try but probably would not.

  The lion did not move. He broke off a dry branch and dropped it, hitting the lion on its side. Nothing. No movement, not so much as a twitch. He dropped another, larger stick. Still nothing. Curiosity has killed many more monkeys than it has proverbial cats. The monkey cautiously worked his way downward. When he found a limb about a meter above the lion, he positioned himself on it, snapped a large branch from the tree, and poked the lion in the ribs.

  In one fluid, tawny, motion Sekoa cleared the ground, pirouetted, and swiped at the monkey, which escaped sure death from its claws by centimeters. Sekoa stood, and let out a terrifying rumble that seemed to rise from somewhere deep inside. It ended abruptly with a hacking cough. Blood dripped off his chin. He looked angrily at the monkey, who by then had managed to find a precarious perch in the topmost branches and sat chattering; all thoughts of eggs and hatchlings erased form his consciousness.

  The lion dropped back to the ground and huffed his displeasure. He would liked to have pulled the monkey down from the tree. His hunger now caused him nearly as much pain as his diseased lungs. He licked the blood from his paws and stared off toward Sedudu Island and contemplated a herd of red lechwe grazing among a dozen elephants. Finally, his massive head dropped and he drifted off to sleep.

  The monkey made its way limb-to-limb to an adjacent tree and edged carefully to the ground. He made a wide circle around Sekoa and galloped back to the hotel. A cook brandishing a meat cleaver posed a lesser threat to him than an angry and hungry lion.

  CHAPTER 22

  The plane’s door whooshed open and the copilot had the stairs down while the twin jet engines’ whine still carried across the tarmac at Kasane Airport. Brenda managed to be the first out, her BVLGARIsunglasses perched stylishly on the top of her head, her miniskirt flashing a bit more thigh than usually seen in this part of the world. She seemed disappointed that there were no photographers. She’d expected a dozen or more when they’d landed in Gaborone and was amazed when there were none and she’d missed her chance to be featured on the front page of one, or more, of the country’s newspapers. She didn’t want to miss out this time. The absence of photographers, official greeters, indeed anybody of significance, annoyed her greatly. The shuttle from the Safari Lodge waited a short distance away and next to it sat an elderly SUV and an official-looking Volvo.

  She turned to speak to Travis, who’d followed her up the aisle and whom she assumed would be close behind her, only to discover the next person off the plane was a man she recognized as one of the engineers. One who had not been sent home apparently but instead had managed to talk himself onto the plane for the ride north. He stepped around her, turned back, gave her a complete once-over, and with a grin that would pass as a leer in another age, walked to the shuttle. She smiled back and pushed her sunglasses down on her nose. After the air-conditioned chill of the Gulfstream’s interior, the heat and humidity nearly knocked her down. She rooted around in her purse and found her cologne. She spritzed her neck and cleavage. It didn’t help, but it did seem to entertain the engineer.

  Leo exited the plane next and nudged her forward. “Don’t dawdle, Brenda. We’re scheduled for a river game cruise in a few hours and then dinner. You don’t want to miss out on that.”

  Bobby, his eyes still crusted with sleep, nearly tripped coming down the steps. Travis hung back. She waited another few seconds and then followed the group to the shuttle
. Leo, she noticed, veered off toward the SUV. A man she remembered as having been on the plane for the flight from Chicago, the Russian, stepped out of the vehicle and greeted him. They spoke briefly, and then Leo climbed into the right front seat, the man the left, and they drove away. Moments later the Volvo followed.

  Travis fell in beside her and murmured something about staying cool. Not very likely in this heat.

  “No, I mean keep your distance. Bobby is suspicious, I think, and could cause trouble. And Leo suspects something, too. I don’t know what, but if he figures this thing out, we could have some difficulties.”

  Brenda stopped and faced him. “I thought you said this was in the bag. Anyway, I got options.”

  “You have nothing, Brenda. You go blabbing to Leo and he’ll shred you like a wood chipper. He can bring a lot of not-nice folk down on you.”

  “Yeah? Like who?”

  “Hired muscle, private eyes, and police. He makes really big contributions to all kinds of Chicago heavy hitters. They’d have your past plastered all over the front pages of the local papers and TV, and that’s just for starters. Some of your former colleagues at the Golden Cage would not be happy with you, either, and you can imagine how they’d react to being shut down by Vice.”

  “Let them try. There’s stuff I know that could send a lot divorce lawyers humping up to the North Side in a hurry.”

  “Brenda, don’t go there. Believe me, you do not want to get into a pissing match with Leo. Stick close to me, and when he’s just the ex-CEO, we can have our fun.”

  Brenda couldn’t be sure if Travis was blowing smoke up her skirts or not. Did he say that because he didn’t trust her to stay in place, or he was on the level? She’d have to think about that.

  “We gotta talk, Travis.”

  “Okay, but wait for my cue.”

  Brenda didn’t like that idea either, but let it pass. She’d give it a day, two at most, but no more. Then she’d make her move. The party, minus Leo, piled into the van. She wondered where Leo was driving to. How come he didn’t go with the rest of them, and what was up with that guy he was with?

  Things were getting fishy. And then there was Bobby to contend with. Sheesh.

  ***

  Leo shifted his bulk on the front seat. The SUV had a bad exhaust system, and if the windows hadn’t been rolled down, fumes would have quickly filled the cab.

  “This has to be the only left-hand drive in the country. What is this thing, anyway?”

  “It’s and old LADA NIVA. Used to belong to a Russian delegation in Congo. They ran out of options. It cost too much to ship it out, so they left it. Some enterprising person here bought it. I have a certain sentimental feeling for it.”

  “Well, I like it. Feels like home. Isn’t it tricky driving on the left with the steering wheel on the left, too?”

  “It takes some getting used to. Remember, I’m European, sort of. We have to adjust as we travel.”

  “Okay, so fill me in. I can only talk on the way to the lodge. We will have to do the serious business tomorrow. How successful were you with the big man?”

  “Something is not right, Mr. Painter. There are things happening here that I do not understand.”

  “What do you mean, something is not right? What’s happening?”

  “Well, for one thing we are still being followed.”

  “What? Now? Here? Is it the same guy you told me about?” Leo swiveled in his seat and tried to make out what was behind them.

  “The funny part is they are not even trying to hide it. It’s not a police car, mind you, but the way it has been hounding me I think it is safe to say it is CID or DIS. And lately, there has been a police car nearly everywhere I go. They stay three or four car lengths behind me, every day, all day. It’s like they want me to know they’re there.”

  “CID, DIS?”

  “Criminal Investigation Department, Directorate of Intelligence and Security.”

  “Why would they want to do that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It does if they want to keep me, to keep us, from meeting with Botlhokwa. That old fox won’t let us get closer than a kilometer if he thinks we’ll bring the police down on him.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That or the government wants to make sure that I, perhaps we, don’t embarrass them or the U.S. by mixing in where we don’t belong. You are a guest of the country, after all.”

  “What can we do? I haven’t come all this way to go home empty handed. Would spreading some money around help? I’ve made arrangements for that eventuality.”

  “These people are not easily corrupted, Mr. Painter. But perhaps…Here’s your lodge. I’m staying at the Mowana Safari Lodge further down the road. I’ll ask around and see if we can set up a meeting with a go-between in some out-of-the-way place. We just need to assure Botlhokwa we aren’t wearing a wire, as you say in your detective shows, and any conversations we have are off the record. Reserve seats on as many game drives tomorrow as you can. I’ll see if one or more of their people can be in the same areas on the route, and we can make at least a preliminary contact.”

  “How can you, or they, possibly know where we’ll be on a drive? They tell me the park is about the size of Rhode Island.”

  “The guides talk to each other on radios. There is one pride of lions close by, and they almost always converge on it if one or another spots it. Tourists love taking pictures of lions. There is a chance we can use that as a starter.”

  Leo hoisted himself out of the passenger side and walked to the lobby as the shuttle pulled in. He left the details of checking everyone in to Rose Hayward.

  “Listen up, everybody,” she shouted. “The management has asked me to make these quick announcements. First, stay away from the river bank. There are spots where the embankment is steep and people have slipped into the water. There are crocodiles and they have been known to attack people. Okay, second, there was an accident a short while back and a lion attacked a man.” There was a general murmur among the group. “Anyway, the manager says they had to close their campground temporarily. Apparently tenters and caravans are permitted to park somewhere around here, but they closed that down until they catch the lion. Also, be very careful walking about at night. If you must go outside, stay on the walkways and in lighted areas. And, finally, he says to keep the sliders and windows closed and locked. The area monkeys have been known to enter a room and trash it looking for food and so on.” It was not clear what and so on covered.

  In actuality, the Safari Lodge consisted of several buildings. The main lodge had some rooms, shops, a bar and lounges, as well as the dining area that stretched across about one-fourth of its width. Below that, facing the river were a large concrete esplanade with tables and a modest swimming pool. To the west were several structures designed to resemble rondevals, but their outward appearance was all they had in common with the native huts. Inside were baths, air-conditioning, and soft beds. In addition the lodge had built about a half dozen multibedroom chalets, and beyond them were two buildings constructed much like two-story American motels with perhaps a dozen rooms in each with doors opening onto a walkway and small decks with sliding glass doors facing the river. Each room had a large bed, a place to hang clothes behind it, and a separate shower and water closet. The end rooms had an extra, small bedroom attached as well.

  Leo left the rest, and key in hand, marched away from the lobby area across wooden walkways toward the separate buildings. The path took him through a valley, and he noticed that the trees that pierced the deck near the lodge were, in fact rooted in the earth below it. His room was located in the far end building, and he was puffing from the exertion when he found it.

  A man-eating lion! What a great bit of theater for the tourists. You had to admire these guys; they sure knew how to sell their product. He’d need to keep that in mind. His accommodation was on the ground floor and one of a series of similar rooms in a building that had two floors and that offered a view of the ri
ver. There was a small balcony at the rear with a sliding glass door, probably the one the monkeys were fond of.

  He’d want to know the locations of the rest of the party eventually, but for now, this would do nicely.

  CHAPTER 23

  Bobby found a small refrigerator in the room and he stocked it with beer. He had his third of the afternoon nearly downed when Brenda returned from the gift shop.

  “Look at what I bought.” She held a large bag aloft. Bobby swallowed more beer and grunted. He was feeling a little numb which was the state he’d been trying to achieve since they left Gaborone. Getting mellow eased the mental anguish facing difficult decisions made for him. And he’d never hit Brenda before. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Not good, but…

  “Count on you to find a way to spend money. What’s in the bag?”

  Brenda dumped her purchases on the bed and stripped down to her underwear. She held up and then put on her acquisitions: a khaki shirt with shoulder flaps and two breast pockets, which buttoned rather suggestively, a pair of matching cargo shorts, a sleeveless bush jacket and a floppy hat fastened on one side, Digger style.

  Bobby grunted and popped open another can of beer.

  She rummaged in the pile on the bed and pulled up a wide belt, which she threaded though the belt loops on her shorts—not a moment too soon as they were in the process of sliding to her ankles. As the pièce de resistance she folded a pair of gloves over the belt. She spread her arms and invited Bobby’s comment.

  “I liked it better when you didn’t have any clothes on.”

  “Moron. Look at what else I got.” She held up an iron spear point. “The woman at the store said it was a real Zulu assegai—you know, like in that movie we saw about those warrior guys trying to fight the English back in the day? I said I thought they were called diassagai but she said that was the, like, plural, you know —one, assegai, two, diassagai—only you don’t say the two or something. See, they put a d and an i in the front instead of an s in the back. It’s, like, Bantu and all.