Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01 (23 page)

Chapter 54

Sanderson received the call from a game drive guide. He’d noticed some activity near the road. That rarely happened, as game generally stayed clear of human habitation and especially the main roads. When he’d worked his truck with its gaggle of tourists to the center of what he took to be a stand-off between competing packs of hyenas, he saw the body. His passengers were in a panic, and the best he could do was reverse the truck, shout, and sound his horn. The hyenas scampered away a few meters but seemed ready to return. One of his passengers got sick. He couldn’t stay.

Sanderson left the men at the police station bickering over the likelihood of Robert Griswold’s guilt and his wife’s probable implication in the murder of Henry Farrah. Inspector Mwambe had finally let go of his hope to sweep the affair under a diplomatic rug. Enough was enough.

She managed to arrive at the scene before the safari truck drove away. She fired a few rounds into the air to scare off the hyenas and called for help. An hour later, the mangled remains of Robert Scott Griswold were removed, and she returned to her desk. She had paperwork to do. Three bodies related to animal encounters in nearly as many weeks.

There was a pink call sheet on the desk. She would deal with it later and only then discover she’d been promoted to the district superintendent’s position. A position she’d accept only after giving careful consideration and then refusing an offer from Kgabo Modise to join him in the DIS. He’d received the results of the DNA test on the
boloi,
and they indicated the scrap of skin left in Greshenko’s SUV was, in fact, human. He wished her to help in this and, who knew, other things?

Michael would be pleased. Rra Kaleke would express his doubts, but she would see the smile he tried to hide.

***

The Earth Global Gulfstream V left Kasane later than planned. It made one stop in Gaborone to clear Botswana customs, and another in Cape Town to top off its tanks. The plane flew north along the coast of Africa on its way home. The passengers were fewer in number on the return trip. And two urns containing the ashes of Henry Farrah and Robert Griswold rode in the baggage compartment.

Leo had been chagrined to learn that had he simply approached the Ministry of Environment, Wildlife and Tourism and perhaps the Tourism Board, all the machinations with Botlhokwa might not have been necessary. Whether Greshenko knew this or not, he did not know. The two of them would have to have a discussion about that later. After a lengthy meeting with both the DIS and officials from the Russian Embassy, Greshenko had been granted a residence permit to remain in Botswana. It had been part of the deal Leo negotiated in return for dropping any recriminations and forestalling more investigations into the two deaths. But for now, Greshenko had been given a second chance to select the better fork in the road. He and Greshenko, he thought, just a pair of old lions—lions in winter maybe.

The recently widowed Brenda Griswold was not with them. Leo could not manage a deal for her. Given her relationship to Bobby, who obviously could not testify for or against her, it seemed to the police unlikely she knew nothing or had nothing to do with Farrah’s death. There was enough evidence, however circumstantial, to at least hold her for further questioning. Leo had left her, looking frightened and alone, staring out at him through the Plexiglas that separated prisoners from family. Leo had arranged for her legal representation. It was the best he could do. With her make-up applied minimally, she’d looked the part of grieving widow. Whether she grieved or not was another matter. The Botswana legal system would deal with her for now.

Leo felt as though he’d aged ten years in the last seventy-two hours. “I’m thinking about Brenda. I don’t know why, the girl showed nothing but ill will toward me. But, you know she has next to nothing to return to. You are probably aware of Robert’s debt picture. Assuming she can wriggle her way out of this mess, and after she pays them off, she’ll be out on her rear and on the street.”

“She’ll manage, Leo. She has marketable skills. She’ll land on her feet, or back—whatever.”

“Tut, tut, don’t be so hard on her. Not now. Anyway, Travis, I had a come-to-Jesus moment on this trip. I had as close to a near-death experience as I ever care to have, and I learned something. Would you like to know what that is?”

“Certainly.”

“I built this company up from Harry Reilly’s dream of wildcatting for oil to what it is today. To do that, I had to apply some very sharp elbows to a fair number of people to move them out of my way. Married three times, sold out my principles on occasion, make that often, and probably suborned more politicians in my time than Botswana has produced—certainly more than is healthy for any government. I would not last a New York minute in a country like the one we just left, by the way. I had a great and exhilarating ride. I wouldn’t change a thing about the past, but you know what gives me the greatest pleasure now?”

Travis shook his head, Leo thought, indulgently.

“What I remember most, and best, are the times, too few I’m afraid, that I behaved decently and did something because it was the right thing to do. Travis, take the advice of one who is on the downhill side of life, fill your days with those moments as often as you can.” Leo thought Travis looked skeptical.

“Any immediate recommendations for me?”

“Yes, as I said before, I know a good deal about Brenda. Spent money to find out when Bobby ran off with her. Her life has not been an easy one…Don’t look at me that way. I know a tramp and a conniver when I see one. Nevertheless, I’ll ask for a favor. She will have some money I promised Bobby in exchange for the rights to his shares. I don’t have to, but I intend to keep that promise. She may blow it or she may not. I would like to think if given the chance, she could change.”

“Leo, she is like the leopard we never saw in the game park. She won’t change her spots. Assuming she beats this rap and is deported, she’ll be back to pole dancing and looking for another sucker and another soft berth.”

“Very probably, but you owe her something.”

“Owe? Me? She tried to—”

“I know what she tried, and don’t forget, I know your part in it. The least you can do is take care of her stuff. I want you to clear out her apartment, put the contents into storage or whatever. I happen to know she’d accumulated a few very expensive pieces, a Mondrian for one, and Bobby’s car, which probably cost more than one of our miners make in a year. Secure it all, get an appraisal, put it in storage, whatever. Then, if she does get off, she’ll have something to start over with. You can do that for her.”

“She’ll think I’m doing it because I feel guilty.”

“Don’t you? You should, a little at least. You set her up. That’s why I said, you owe.”

Travis looked ruefully at Leo. “I’m not sure about the feeling guilty bit, Leo. You think I should, I gather.”

“As a general rule, it’s a bad thing to let that particular emotion interfere with what you have to do in business…at least at this level. But in Brenda’s case, a little guilt won’t hurt you, and it might do you some good.”

“Do me some good? Is guilt something that works for you?”

“Once in a while. Not often enough, I’m afraid. Just do it, Travis.”

“I’d be wasting my time and the company’s money.”

“You are probably right, but I’d like you to try.”

Travis nodded his agreement. “Can I order you something to drink?”

“Some orange juice would be good. I would say a martini, but I’m not up to that at the moment. My doctor would shoot me if I did.”

The two men sat in silence sipping at their drinks. Travis appreciative of his scotch and soda, Leo, resigned to the juice.

“Have you thought about how you’ll spend your time, Leo, now that you have some to spare?”

“I told you I’d like to start a few little projects inside the real estate division.”

“I remember. You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said to me with respect to the mines and drilling for water, developing the land.”

“And?”

“With respect, I still think you’re off-base. Finding water and developing the land would be a high-risk, low-return undertaking.”

“We’ve been over this. But, perhaps you have something better in mind?”

“I do. For example, we have options on nearly a thousand acres in southern Arizona and California. Is that correct?” Leo nodded. “Why drill for water and tap an already attenuated Arizona aquifer? Does the world really need more suburbs, more houses? Let’s drill deeper, let’s build something better.”

“Go on.”

“Geothermal energy, Leo. There are places in the world where the earth’s natural heat is close enough to the surface so that we could tap it, produce superheated steam, recycle the water vapor, and power steam generators. Electricity.”

“You know this?”

“Some of it. The rest needs research, but near fault lines and volcanoes the magma is close enough for us to experiment. And then there is the land.”

“The land?”

“Instead of a thousand acres of tract houses, why not a thousand acres of solar panels? We are at a point where, with government subsidies and increased cost for kilowatt hours, it will not only be feasible, but profitable. And wind generators. There are parts of the desert that could support both on the same piece of land. Think of acres of solar panels with windmills spinning overhead. Alternative energy, Leo, that’s Earth Global’s future.”

Leo looked at Travis as if seeing him for the first time.

“I knew there had to be a reason I wanted to let this company go and turn it over to you. I’m obsolete, aren’t I? Don’t answer that.” Leo shifted in his seat and sipped his juice. “I guess I’m like that old lion. Without the government’s protection he and his kind would be long gone. People like me are an endangered species.”

Travis kept his face neutral, but Leo realized he had it right.

“There is no room for us any more. We’ve ravaged the land and now there’s almost nothing left. We will die off. The day of the corporate predator is done, I guess. Funny, I never thought of it that way. For me and my generation, it was a matter of reaping the earth’s bounty—almost Biblical, you see? Reaping and sowing. Only we didn’t sow very much and reaped to excess. Lots of bare earth and…So, no more predators. What are you, Travis, if not that? I can’t think of a benign predator.”

“Maybe we’re honey bees. Bees take the nectar and pollen that’s there, that will dry up and be blown away with the wind anyway, and chew it up and spit it out as honey, pure energy.”

“Honey bees? Sorry, doesn’t work for me. You remind me more of a wasp, Travis. Do wasps make honey?”

Travis smiled. “Africanized bees, then.”

“Yes, that might work. Mean sons-of-bitches. Take over other’s hives, kick out the old queen, and spread their version of beedom around the world. Yes that might work.”

Leo sat back and finished his juice and made a face. He didn’t like orange juice all that much. Maybe with a splash of gin…He let his mind shift into neutral. He envisioned his son dying somewhere out there in San Francisco. Young Leo had been barely in his teens when the divorce occurred. There had been a great deal of anger. Leo had a company to run. His wife, ex-wife, Reilly’s daughter, had a score to settle. Contact with his namesake had been difficult at best. Then, as the poison spooned out by the boy’s mother took hold, cut off entirely. Divorce is a miserable institution that hurts children far more than the correspondents.

“Did you know my son is dying from AIDS?”

“No, sir, I didn’t. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He’s gay, Travis, can you imagine that? Gay, and with another man holding his power of attorney and claiming spousal rights.”

Travis said nothing. Leo studied the mahogany finish on the built-in side table, ran his palm across its glassy surface and sighed. Had he started sounding like an old man? He surely felt old. Maybe he’d had enough.

“You don’t have children.”

“No, sir, I don’t.”

“Sorry, I knew that, of course you don’t. You’re lucky.”

“Yes, sir, I guess. I’d like to, some day though.”

Leo nodded absently. “When we return to Chicago, after we sort out the board and your place in the company, I’m going to fly to San Francisco to see him and that man. Check him out…Children are not supposed to die before their parents, are they?”

“No, sir, I guess not.”

Leo stared out the window through wispy clouds at the South Atlantic. Somewhere over to the west would be South America, another market, another opportunity, another challenge, but not for him. Not anymore.

So, this is how power passes from one generation to the next. Not like that poor lion. The game drive guide said he’s been forced out by a younger male. If Travis had had his way, the same would have happened to me. This way is better.

“One last thing, Travis. If I ever find you’ve strayed off the reservation again, I will send you and your career off to the equivalent of the elephant’s graveyard—where old MBA’s go to die.”

Leo smiled and signaled to the flight attendant.

“I’ll have that martini now.”

Glossary

Setswana is a dialect of Bantu, as is Zulu, and many other languages spoken in sub-Saharan Africa. The stem is Tswana.

+ Ba … people of the …
Ba
tswana

+ Bo … the country of the …
Bo
tswana

+ Mo … a person of …
Mo
tswana

+ Se … language of …
Se
tswana

a re tsamaye!
. Let’s go!

assigai.
Zulu word for spear, +
di
,
diassagai
, spears

bakkie.
Afrikaans’ word for pickup truck

bolihokwa.
important

boloi
. witchcraft

cattle post.
ranch

combi
e. small bus or van

ditshikanokana.
fireflies

dumela.
hello
+ Mma, Rra.
ma’am, sir

gabz
. a contraction for Gaborone

ke itumetse.
thank you

ke teng
. I am well

kgokgotsho.
wind-pipe

kgopa.
snail

kgosi.
Chief

kgotla.
court yard, meeting place

kraal.
Afrikaans’ word for corral

lerumo.
spear

manong.
vultures

MK. see
Umkonto we Sizwe

mma
(pronounced ma). Mrs. as a title of respect

modimo.
God

moloi.
witch, diviner

monontsha.
fertilizer

mosadi.
woman (
Kgosi Mosadi
. woman chief)

motsu.
sharp point, arrow

mowa
. soul, breath (of life)

nagaka.
witch

no mathata.
no problem, no worries

ntate
. father

o tsogile jang.
how are you?

panel beaters.
auto body shop

phane.
fried or cooked caterpillars, considered a delicacy

pula,
(literally rain). the currency of Botswana and
Thebe
(Drops), coins

pheri.
hyena, + di,
dupheri.
hyenas

roko.
dress

rondeval
. a circular hut fashioned from mud and woven branches, with a thatch roof, traditional dwelling of the Tswana

rra
(pronounced rah). Mr. or sir (with respect)

rre
(pronounced ray). Father, and designates a superior type of Mr. usually a clergyman, something of that sort.

rremogolo
. grandfather

sala sentle.
Stay well, goodbye

sekoa.
invalid, sick one

sesi.
sister

tau.
lion, +
di.
lions

Umkonto we Sizwe (MK)
. “Spear of the Nation”: a guerilla organization, the active military wing of the African National Congress.

wulu
. Wool

See also:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tswana_language