Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01 (11 page)

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
BVLGARI
sunglasses 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 river. 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.

Bobby had no idea what she was talking about, but the sight of the pointed spear point triggered something in his brain. What that might be did not register in its currently anesthetized state, but it would later.

“Do they have more of those spear things?”

“I think so. You gotta be quick if you want one, though. Travis and that engineer guy, what’s his name, were looking at them when I left.”

“I think his name is Polanski or something. He’s, you know, Polish, maybe. I guess one spear is enough for us. You think you’ll be able to get it back in the country?”

“Hey, it’s, like, a private plane. If the pilot, you know, don’t object, who’s to know.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll hang it on the wall next to the Chinese lion mask we picked up in San Francisco. I could use it like a letter opener.”

“When did you start reading letters? None of your ditzy pals know how to write.”

“You are, like, so not right. Desiree writes poems and stuff all the time. And there’s the bills I gotta look at every month.”

Brenda removed and folded her safari outfit and put it away in the dresser. The soft breeze from the overhead fan felt good on her skin. It was time to find out what Bobby had been up to with Leo, and that meant she had to be quick. One more beer and lover boy would not be able to perform, and she needed him pliable. She perched on the bed, batted her eyes, and smiled.

Bobby passed out.

***

The game cruise boat was configured so that nine passengers could sit three across on the thwarts and the guide sat in the stern. Neither Leo nor Bobby had made it. Bobby because he was still asleep when the time came to leave, and Leo begged off.

The guide took them out in the river and headed upstream toward Sedudu Island. Brenda was fascinated. She’d seen movies and once, when she was dating a guy from Northwestern—well, she called it dating, he might have had different descriptor—she’d watched a lot of PBS’
Nature
. But to see the real thing…

“Wow, look at those hippos, will you!” She unslung her camera from her shoulder and began snapping pictures. She turned to the guide managing the boat’s outboard motor. “Can you, like, swim with them?”

“Excuse me, you wish to swim with the hippos?”

“Yeah, you know, like in Florida, you can do it with the dolphins.”

“Oh, no, Miss. You see that old fellah there, that one is the bull and very protective of his territory and his ladies.” The hippo in question opened his jaws wide to display a set of tusks and a pink maw that was nothing short of spectacular. “If he get you in that mouth, he would snap you in half.”

She’d never imagined hippopotami could be dangerous. She thought of them like panda bears. Big, only not as cute.

“That animal is not even bothered by the crocodile, you see. Now if you went swimming and managed to stay out of his area, then the crocodiles would find you; that is, if the tiger fish didn’t get you first. No, no. Swimming in African rivers is not a thing you can do.” He gunned the outboard motor to move the boat out of the hippos’ range as the bull began to move toward them with a less than friendly look in its eyes. They cruised along the shore of the island. The guide pointed out the impala, gazelles, and elephants. The latter were hard to miss. There were two basking crocodiles on the Namibian shore that seemed uninterested in their presence. Brenda took their picture as well.

She turned to the passenger next to her. “You’re the engineer guy that flew up on the plane with us. I know who you are, you’re Polanski, or something, right?”

“Guilty as charged. Bart Polanski, right. That’s me. And you are Brenda Starr.”

“How’d you know that? I used to be Starr, but only now I’m, like, Mrs. Brenda Griswold.”

“Congratulations.”

Polanski seemed to be having difficulty keeping his eyes on her face, probably because her safari skirt had not been designed for sitting on the thwart of a boat.

“Yeah. So, what brings you up here?”

“Mr. Parizzi asked me to accompany him. We have some matters to discuss.”

“Oh, now I got you. You’re the Reilly grandson, aren’t you? Yeah, Travis sort of needs you. Me, too. Without us he’s crapola. Am I right?”

Polanski glanced nervously at Travis who sat three seats away.

“Probably ought to cool that, Mrs. Brenda Griswold formerly Starr. But, hey, if you’d like to have a drink with me later, maybe we could, you know, compare notes.”

“Okay, but only if you think you can manage a conversation without staring down the front of my blouse.”

Polanski blushed and backed off. She turned her attention back to the guide.

“Sir, how did those animals get out to the island?”

The guide smiled, displaying a set of the whitest, straightest teeth Brenda had ever seen.

“They swam, Miss.”

“Aren’t they afraid of the crocodiles and the…you said, tiger fish?”

“Oh, yes.”

“So, what happens if, say, a crocodile catches them?”

“Then they become that croc’s dinner.”

“Really? So, you don’t feed these animals?”

“Not unless we get careless.”

“Then they, like, eat each other, you mean?”

“Oh, yes. Some are predators, some are prey, and once in a while, one of them will be both.” He laughed, flashing those wonderful teeth again and added, “In this way they are like people, you see?” He turned the boat back downstream toward the lodge.

“Please understand, Miss, the bush is not a zoo and this is not one of your famous theme parks. These are wild animals living just as they have done since God put them here. We must observe and admire them. And stay out of their way.”