The Death of the Mantis (24 page)

“I think they’ll be happy,” she said. “He’s a good man. She
loves him for his mind and his character. That’s a good basis.”

Kubu grunted. He knew that it was best not to get involved.

“Pleasant told me that professors have what they call
sabbaticals,” Joy continued. “Apparently they are paid holidays to
places overseas. And Pleasant loves to travel.”

“I think they actually work at other universities. It’s to
continue their research. It isn’t really a holiday.”

“Oh, I see,” said Joy, sounding unconvinced. “If you had a
sabbatical, you would carry out research in the South African wine
country.”

Kubu laughed. “Yes, I probably would.” He turned his head and
kissed her.

“Hmm,” she said. “The brandy tastes better that way.”

Kubu finished it, set the glass aside and kissed her again.

“Definitely better that way,” said Joy. She looked at him in her
special way.

“Let’s go to bed,” said Kubu.

This time the flesh was willing too.

∨
The Death of the Mantis
∧

It will strike us in the dark

∨
The Death of the Mantis
∧

K
ubu arrived early at
his office on Monday with a bounce to his step. He greeted Edison
with a wave and offered smiles all around. He helped himself to tea
and settled in his office, half expecting his day to be made at
once by news of Haake. But when his email and office mail arrived,
they offered only the usual tedium. Even that couldn’t spoil his
mood, and he doggedly worked his way through it.

By mid morning it was done. Hopefully, he called Lerako, but he
had nothing to report. Somehow Haake still remained undetected
after another two days. Kubu wondered if someone had tipped him off
that the police were after him. Perhaps Use had managed to reach
him on his mobile phone. Was it possible that he was now on the
run? Someone with his experience of the Kalahari could easily find
places to slip through the border into South Africa.

What he needed was someone who knew the Kalahari as well as
Haake himself. Suddenly Kubu realised he knew someone exactly like
that. He scrabbled in a drawer and found the piece of paper he’d
used to jot down Khumanego’s numbers. He owes me a favour, he
thought. Let’s see if I can collect. He tried the landline first,
and it rang only a few times before Khumanego answered.

“Hello?”

“Khumanego? Hello, it’s Kubu.”

“David! How are you? Good to hear from you. Did you catch
Monzo’s killer?”

“Well, the good news is that we believe we know who it is, and
it’s not one of your friends. Did you read about the Namibian found
dead near Hukuntsi?”

Khumanego said he’d followed the case quite carefully, half
expecting that murder to be pinned on Bushmen as well. Kubu didn’t
tell him how close he was to being right.

“We now think that the man who discovered Krige’s body actually
killed him. And what’s more, he’d had some shady contacts with
Monzo. We’re pretty sure he’s our man.”

“David, that’s great news! I knew I was right to come to you for
help. I’m sorry if it was embarrassing for you, but it’s worked out
really well, don’t you think? Do you have this man in custody?”

This was exactly the opening Kubu wanted. “Well, that’s the bad
news. He seems to have gone to ground somewhere in the Kalahari. He
may not even know that we’re after him yet. My guess is that he’s
gone back to his exploring in the Hukuntsi area where he found
Krige. But he may be hiding. What I was hoping was that you might
be able to get the Bushmen in the area to help find him.”

Khumanego hesitated. “Bushmen aren’t enthusiastic about helping
the police.”

“That’s understandable, but this is very much in their
interests. If we get these murders sorted out, then people will
leave them alone.”

Khumanego sighed. “I wish that was true, David. But I’ll see
what I can do. Leave it with me. I do have a few contacts out
there.”

“Thanks, my friend. But be very careful. No one must try to stop
him if they see him. If we’re right, he’s violent, and he’s
committed two murders already. I’ll fax you one of the Wanted
flyers for him.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Kubu rang off.
After that he talked to the Interpol liaison officer. They decided
to alert the Zimbabwe border posts as well.

Kubu felt a tinge of frustration. How could someone disappear
for a week with the whole of Botswana looking for him? But he knew
the answer already. Botswana had a lot of empty space.

∨
The Death of the Mantis
∧

W
hen he saw Haake’s
Land Cruiser pulling into the Kgalagadi Filling Station, Willie ran
to be first there. He always tried to serve Haake, because he
tipped well. And surprisingly the Namibian seemed to have taken a
shine to the diminutive Bushman, laughing whenever Willie agilely
used the front wheel as a leg-up to reach the middle of the
windscreen. They’d spend a few minutes chatting before Haake took
off again. Willie liked to hear about Windhoek, a place he could
hardly imagine. And sometimes he would ask Haake what he was
looking for in the Kalahari. He was interested and, of course, he’d
been told to ask. But Haake would laugh and tell him he’d find out
if he was patient. He said he’d give Willie a hundred-pula tip on
the day he found what he sought. That hadn’t happened yet. It was a
standard joke between them. “No hundred pula today,” Haake would
say, and Willie would laugh.

But this day was different. Willie was nervous. He knew the
police were looking for Haake; he’d seen the picture that Constable
Tau had brought round. He didn’t know what to do. But he smiled and
waved, pretending everything was as usual, and Haake smiled
back.

“Fill it up, Willie,” he said.

“Jerry cans too, Mr Haake?” Willie indicated the fuel cans on
the roof rack.

Haake shook his head. “No thanks. I’m heading back home
tomorrow.”

He didn’t seem in the mood to talk, so Willie went about the
business of putting diesel into the thirsty tank. He carefully
cleaned the windscreen, making sure no marks were left when the
water dried. He would have cleaned the back window too, but was
puzzled to find a cardboard sheet in its place.

“Broke the window, Mr Haake?”

“Had an accident and didn’t have time to get the glass replaced.
Hardly matters. Doesn’t look like rain out here!” They both
laughed.

Haake got out and checked the Cash and Carry shop next door, but
found it closed; hardly surprising, as it was after seven p.m.
Willie hoped the other attendant didn’t recognise the Namibian, but
it was quiet at the petrol station this late, and the other man was
sitting some distance away.

“You want stuff at the Tuck Shop, Mr Haake?” The Tuck Shop was
attached to the petrol station and sold snacks and cold drinks. But
Haake shook his head. “I’ll try to get a hot sandwich at the
Endabeni place rather than junk food.”

Willie finished fuelling and told Haake the amount owed.

“You fine, Willie? All well here? You look a bit upset
today.”

“Fine, Mr Haake.” He hesitated, but knew he had to ask. “You
find what you looking for out there?” Willie waved his hand to
indicate the Kalahari. Haake just smiled and handed him money to
cover the diesel. Willie came back hopeful with the change, but
Haake took all of it from him. Then he opened his wallet, slid out
a hundred-pula note, and handed it to the Bushman.

For a moment Willie looked at it open-mouthed, his anxiety
forgotten. “You found it, Mr Haake? Really? After this long time?
Really? Where? What is it?”

Haake laughed at the torrent of curiosity. “You’ll find out one
day, Willie. No hurry. Now I need to get something to eat. Don’t
spend all that money at once, hey!” He climbed back into the
vehicle and headed up the tarred road through Hukuntsi.

Willie watched him go, rubbing the hundred-pula note between his
thumb and fingers as if to prove it was really there. For a moment
he hesitated – Haake had been nice to him – but then he picked up
the phone and rang the man who called himself Piscoaghu, who had
been waiting for several days.

“Did he give you the money? The hundred pula?” The voice was
tense.

“Yes, Piscoaghu. He gave me the money.”

“So he found it. Did he tell you about it?”

“No, I must wait to find out. He said nothing else.”

“But you’re sure he found what he was looking for?”

“He gave me the money,” Willie repeated.

There was silence. Willie squirmed. “Look, Piscoaghu, the police
want him. I’ve seen the poster! Must I tell them he was here? Maybe
I’ll get in trouble.”

“Tell them nothing. Don’t talk to anyone about this. No one. Did
he say where he was going?”

“He wanted food. From Endabeni. He’s going home tomorrow.”

“All right. Good. Now I have things I must do quickly.”

Without a word of thanks or farewell, the man hung up.

♦

Wolfgang Haake pulled up outside the Endabeni Guest House and
sat for a few moments thinking. Why had he given Willie the hundred
pula? Was he really that sure? “I have found it,” he told himself.
“The
koppies
match the sketch. And the ‘W’ on the map must
mean
Wasser
, because there’s a spring at the back of the
cave the arrow points to. And now I know what the ‘E’ stands for
too:
Edelstein –
gemstone. There are amethysts in that cave,
but not the diamonds I’d hoped for.” He rubbed his forehead. “But
they
must
be there.”

However, there were still issues to address. If the diamonds
were there, the kimberlite would have to be skulking below the
surface, hidden from view. How was he going to check that? I’ll
work it out when I’m back in Windhoek, he thought, trying to drive
the doubt from his mind.

He went inside to the reception counter, which divided the
dining room from the kitchen. A young woman he didn’t recognise
greeted him, but explained that dinner was over. The staff left at
eight, but he managed to persuade her to make him a sandwich with
Russian sausages and heat it in the microwave. It would only take a
few minutes, and there would be a few pula for her.

After about five minutes, another woman – one he thought he knew
this time – came out and looked at him, but didn’t return his
greeting. Thinking he might stay the night, he asked her if she had
a room. She shook her head vehemently and went away again. He heard
agitated voices in the kitchen. What a fuss over a sandwich! He was
getting tired of waiting. At last the first woman produced the
sandwich on a plate and suggested that there might be a room after
all, but Haake had had enough. The food was scalding hot – too long
in the microwave – and he wanted to get going. I’ll have it in
peace with a beer when I find somewhere to camp, he decided. “Wrap
it for me, please. I will take it with me.” She nodded, slid the
sandwich on to a piece of newspaper, closed it gingerly because of
the heat and offered it to him apologetically. He paid, gave her
the tip he had promised and went out to his car.

At first he noticed nothing wrong, but when he started to
reverse, he realised that the cardboard covering the back window
was now loose. That was odd; it had held well until now. He stopped
the car and examined the adhesive duct tape. It had come away from
the metal and was loose on three sides. It was as though someone
had pulled it open like a door and then tried crudely to reattach
it. Suspicious now, he turned on the car’s interior light and
looked around. Almost immediately he realised that the GPS was
gone. Cursing, he wondered if this was a petty theft, opportunistic
with the vehicle essentially open, or if it was something more
sinister. Was it possible that someone wanted the record of his
trip to the prospect? Or that someone wanted him not to have a
record? But it wasn’t a disaster. He knew the co-ordinates off by
heart.

Briefly he considered contacting the police, but they’d never
bother with a petty theft, and that was what they’d think it was.
The best thing, he decided, was to get moving. Find a safe, private
place to camp, not visible from the road, and head back to Windhoek
as soon as possible, using the shorter dirt road through Kule. Then
he could decide what to do next. He had friends at home. Maybe they
would help when he showed them the samples he’d collected,
including the amethysts he’d picked up off the ground.

He pulled back on to the road and headed west out of Hukuntsi.
He’d find a good camping spot not far out of town.

Fifteen minutes later, Constable Tau and three other policemen,
all armed, arrived at the Endabeni Guest House. There was much
excitement from the ladies running the establishment, including
criticism about how long it had taken the police to get there from
neighbouring Tshane. But no one had any idea where Wolfgang Haake
had gone.

♦

Haake found a spot off the road under a group of trees where he
couldn’t be seen by passing cars, although he expected none to use
this track at night. He switched off his engine, but oddly the
sound seemed to continue for a few moments as though the motor had
run on. He sat and listened for several minutes, but there was no
other sound. It must be my imagination, he thought. This is getting
to me. I’ve got to keep calm.

He would use the roof tent to sleep, but he set up a table and
chair and enjoyed a chilled beer from his camping fridge, while he
ate the now cold sandwich. He began to relax. His mind mulled over
the loss of the GPS. Was someone trying to steal his discovery? Or
were these the people who already knew about it and simply wanted
to stop him interfering? He’d spent years looking for the source of
Namibia’s diamonds. No one was going to take it away from him,
whoever they were. He downed another beer. After a while he needed
to relieve himself. He’d once been told that you never own beer,
you just borrow it.