The Death of the Mantis (32 page)

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Authors: Michael Stanley

BOOK: The Death of the Mantis
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“Isn’t that dangerous?” Constable Moeng asked. “Aren’t there
wild animals that could attack you? Like hyenas or lions? Aren’t
there snakes and scorpions?”

Khumanego shook his head. “Bushmen know how to live
with
the animals and plants. We don’t fight them like other people. We
respect them, and they respect us. There’s nothing to be afraid
of.”

“Aai. I’d never sleep out there. No matter what you say, I’d be
scared. The tent is going to be bad enough. If a hyena can eat
bones, it can also eat through the canvas. I’ll be lucky to get any
sleep at all.”

While the camp was being prepared, Kubu took the satellite phone
and walked a short distance away to make his check-in call to
Edison. He gave their co-ordinates, and said he’d phone again
around eight the next morning.

He turned the satellite phone off and walked back to camp.
Before joining the others, he replaced the phone in its charger in
the Land Rover.


Kubu was impressed with the food. His steaks arrived medium rare
as he had requested, and he found the peas and baked beans quite
tasty. Sitting under the brilliant stars, he even enjoyed the box
wine. It’s incredible, he thought as he gazed upwards, how many
stars you can see when there are no lights around. There was the
Milky Way; and the Southern Cross and its pointers; and Orion with
his belt and sword; and there was the brightest star of all –
Sirius, the eye of Orion’s hunting dog, Canis Major. Billions and
billions of stars. It wasn’t surprising that people looked upwards
in awe and wondered about the universe and how it began and what
was going to happen to it. It was easy to see how so many people
saw gods when they looked at the night sky.

Khumanego spoke little during the meal, but when he saw Kubu
looking upwards, he told the group stories about how the Bushmen
viewed the skies.

“You think of those three stars as Orion’s belt,” he said,
pointing. “We have a different story. For us they are zebras, a
male in the middle with a female on each side. A god was standing
on one of the star clouds and shot an arrow at the three zebras.
You can see the arrow near the zebras – it is those three stars
close by. But the arrow fell short. So the zebras lived, and as the
night wears on, they will sink towards the earth. Then, one by one,
they will step on to the earth, and soon they will no longer be
left in the sky. But the arrow will remain.”

Nobody said anything for several minutes as they gazed
upwards.

“The moon was once a man who made Sun angry. Sun stabbed the man
with his knife, and a bit fell off the man. Sun stabbed again and
again until the man was nearly gone, had almost disappeared. ‘Spare
me,’ the man cried. ‘Spare my children.’ And Sun relented, and the
man grew again. But when he was whole again, Sun grew angry once
more and started to stab him again.”

The men sat in the dark, lost in thought.

“If you listen carefully,” Khumanego eventually continued, “you
can hear the stars whispering. They are your ancestors talking to
you, watching you, watching over you. They see what you do, how you
live, and decide whether you will join them.” He turned to Kubu.
“I’m sure Gobiwasi is now holding hands with his ancestors,
watching us, remembering old times.”

Kubu thought back on the wizened old man he’d seen not long ago.
A man of dignity and grace, he thought.

After a while, Kubu stood up. “Time for coffee. Then to
bed.”

“Moeng will stand guard until one. Then I’ll take over until
dawn,” Pikati told him.

“Good idea,” Kubu responded.

The rest stood up and went to try to get some sleep.


The group woke early and had finished a light breakfast and
several cups of coffee by six a.m. They wanted to leave in the
relative cool of the morning. They knew that the terrain was going
to be much more difficult than the previous day, because they’d be
driving off-road on soft sand through a part of the Kalahari that
was covered with scrub. They’d have to maintain speed to prevent
the vehicles from sinking into the sand, but that would be
difficult because they’d constantly be avoiding bushes and small
trees. Kubu had decided that he didn’t want to drive under such
conditions and brought Tau into the lead vehicle to take over.

It was only about five minutes after Kubu’s Land Rover set off
that they received a radio call from the second vehicle.

“Come in, KUBU ONE. Come in, please.”

Sergeant Pikati told them that the second Land Rover’s engine
had spluttered to a stop moments after they had started. He asked
them to return.

When they reached the vehicle, Kubu saw that Pikati was already
at work, head under the bonnet, and Moeng was near the back wheel
looking carefully at the fuel filter.

“It has to be something with the fuel,” Pikati said as he stood
up. “As far as I can see, all the electrics are okay.”

“The filter is pretty clean,” Moeng said, handing it to Kubu.
Although Kubu knew little about the workings of a vehicle, he could
see that the filter wasn’t clogged.

“Try it again. Maybe it’s like my computer. When something
happens, I just turn it off and then on again. It usually
works.”

Moeng replaced the filter, and Pikati slid behind the steering
wheel and tried to start the engine. It cranked over and over, but
did not start.

“Maybe it’s the spark plugs,” Kubu offered.

“I don’t think so. The engine spluttered to a stop just after we
got going. That wouldn’t have happened if the plugs weren’t
working. It would’ve cut out right away. Anyway I checked them
before you got here, just in case.”

“I don’t know much about cars,” Kubu said, “but let’s think this
through.”

Pikati nodded.

“One. Is there fuel in the tank?”

“Yes. The fuel gauge shows full – we topped the tanks up this
morning. And there have been no leaks. We’d have noticed that.”

“Two. Is the fuel pump working?”

“We can hear it.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

“No. But it is easy to check. Moeng, unclip the fuel line from
the filter housing. I’ll turn on the ignition.”

Moeng went back to the rear wheel, felt inside the wheel well
and undipped the fuel line to the filter.

“Okay. Start her.”

Pikati turned the ignition and fuel sprayed out of the line.

“Stop!” Moeng shouted.

Pikati turned the key off.

“And you’re sure the spark plugs are okay?”

“Yes.”

Kubu shook his head. “I’ve no idea what else to ask.”

The three men gathered around and tried to brainstorm what else
could be the problem, but to no avail. Nothing else made sense.

Kubu called to Tau and Khumanego, who had found a little shade
and were watching the proceedings with interest.

“Come over here! We need to decide what to do.”


Kubu waited until eight to phone Edison. This time it took a
couple of attempts to get through.

“Good morning, Kubu. How are things in the desert?” Edison was
obviously in a good mood.

“We’ve got a problem, and I need you to do something for me. We
haven’t moved since last night.”

“What’s the problem?” Edison asked.

“It’s one of the Land Rovers. We can’t figure out what’s wrong
with it. The engine turns over but doesn’t catch. It seems the fuel
system is working, and so are the spark plugs. We’ve run out of
ideas.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Find a couple of Land Rovers and send them out. I’d like them
to reach us tomorrow evening at latest. Also, talk to a mechanic
and see if he’s got any ideas.”

Edison whistled. “That’ll be difficult. It’s the weekend
tomorrow. I may have to get them to Tshane from Gaborone. They’d
have to leave by tomorrow morning to get to you in time. I’m not
sure I can get everything organised by then.”

“If they left at dawn, they’d be here by evening. I need them
here as soon as possible. We’ve got to push on, otherwise the
murderer may strike again. I can’t afford to wait here for
ever.”

“I’ll have to clear this with the director first. Call me in a
few hours, say at noon, and I’ll let you know.”

Kubu knew there was nothing he could do but wait – not his
favourite pastime.


The Death of the Mantis

Thirty-Five

K
ubu thought it was
one of the worst days he had ever spent. Worse even than those dark
days when he had been taunted and bullied at school. They waited
hour after scorching hour, passing the time with nothing to do.
Kubu fretted, wondering where the murderers were, and what they
planned. He felt sure that the wasted time was critical, that
something bad was ahead.

The three policemen spent the morning uncomplaining under the
vehicles – the best shade available. Kubu envied them as he looked
from the broken shade of a nearby tree at the three sets of boots
sticking out from under the Land Rovers. His morning was spent
shifting from one uncomfortable position on his camp chair to
another, following the shade, mopping his forehead and towelling
off his soaking upper body.

Khumanego was nowhere to be seen. He had left camp, saying he’d
return later. Where was he? Kubu wondered. What could he be doing
in this heat? He was probably happily trotting through the Kalahari
feeling quite at home! Or was he meeting with his Bushman friends
who roamed the desert?


Every hour or so, each man would drink several large glasses of
water. Nobody ate anything after breakfast – it was just too
hot.

Kubu was very thankful when it was noon. He walked slowly to his
Land Rover and took out the satellite phone. He needed to share his
misery. When Edison answered, he asked for Mabaku, and the director
came on the line almost immediately. He must have been listening
over Edison’s shoulder, Kubu thought.

“Kubu, it’s Mabaku here. Look, this whole venture is getting out
of hand. We won’t be able to get the Landies to you before the day
after tomorrow. Around lunch time, we think.”

“But Director! We need them tomorrow at the latest.”

“I’m sending more men. And they have to get provisions and so
on. These things take time. They’ll only be able to leave Tshane
around lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Then they should reach us late tomorrow night.”

“They’re not going to travel at night. I don’t want them to get
lost, let alone attacked.”

“I can’t sit in the desert twiddling my thumbs when people are
being murdered left, right and centre!”

Mabaku’s voice rose. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kubu. If you
don’t follow orders this time, I’ll transfer you to the Camel Corps
or something worse!”

Kubu didn’t laugh.

“Look, why don’t you go back to Tshane and wait in comfort?”

There was some merit in that suggestion, Kubu thought. But it
meant another two days of sitting in the Land Rover, bouncing up
and down. That might be worse than sitting in the sun doing
nothing.

“No. I’ll wait here,” he decided. “I’ll be careful. I
promise.”


“What’s gone wrong now?”

Kubu gave a start and turned. He hadn’t seen or heard Khumanego
come back, but now he was there, standing quite close.

“It’s going to take them two days to get here. There’s nothing
we can do but sit and wait. It’s infuriating!”

Khumanego walked closer and spoke softly. “David, it’s time to
give this up. Be patient. Wait until these people make a mistake
and give themselves away. Let’s go back to Tshane. Perhaps we can
work something out from there.”

Kubu shook his head. “I’m not giving up. That’s final.”

Khumanego said nothing for several seconds. “Where’s the
sensible David I used to know? At school you always did the right
thing. I was the one who’d take risks and get us into trouble.”

For a while the two men stood next to each other in silence. At
last Khumanego sighed, and said, “Look, I really do want to help.
It all just seems so pointless. But maybe we
can
do
something while we wait for the other vehicles. Actually, I think
there
is a
group of small hills not too far from here. We
could take a look from a safe distance. Then come back and report
to your boss. If we don’t see anything…” He shrugged.

Kubu hesitated, thinking about Khumanego’s change of mind. “How
far away are they?”

“Perhaps two or three hours.”

“Are they on the GPS track we’re following?”

“More or less. I don’t use a GPS. I just know.”

Kubu knew Mabaku wouldn’t approve of this adventure, but he
couldn’t sit around for another two days doing nothing. He’d die of
frustration and boredom. And if they found something, perhaps
Mabaku could lay his hands on a helicopter or two.

“Tau!”

Tau walked back over.

“Tau, we’re going to scout around the area for a while. See if
we can see anything. You come with us. We’ll drive for a couple of
hours, then come back for the night.”

Tau did not look happy. “Assistant Superintendent, are you sure?
Shouldn’t we wait for the others? You know how easy it is for a
Landie to get stuck in the sand. You should never travel in the
desert with one vehicle.”

“We can’t just sit here roasting in the sun, doing nothing.
We’re not going far, and we have radios and the satellite phone.
Khumanego thinks there are some hills not too far away.”

“Why don’t we wait until tomorrow? We can leave at sunrise. At
least it will be cool.” Tau’s voice betrayed his anxiety.

Kubu shook his head. “No. We’ll do a short trip this afternoon.
If it takes longer than expected, we can try again tomorrow.”

“But – ”

“We’re going!” Kubu snapped. “We’ll drive for a couple of hours,
then come back.” He stalked off to the Land Rover. Khumanego was
already there, waiting.

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