After lunch, Crys crossed the river to Rond-Point-de-Rive, where Rhino International had its offices. She was greeted by the receptionist, who showed her to the director’s office. Nigel Wood was a very different character from Dr Helmholz. He jumped up from behind his desk with a broad smile and shook her hand vigorously. He was a tall man, a little older than her, conservatively dressed in an expensive-looking suit, with a discreet hint of aftershave.
‘Welcome to Geneva, Ms Nguyen. I’m so pleased you could visit us.’ He was clearly English, but to her surprise, pronounced her name perfectly.
‘It’s kind of you to see me at such short notice, Mr Wood, but I needed to fit in Geneva before I go on to Vietnam. I know you must be busy with the big CITES meeting at the end of the month.’
‘You’re on your way to Vietnam? Well, there is a lot on here at the moment, but I certainly appreciate the opportunity to give you our position for your article.’ He offered her coffee and indicated a seat at his office conference table.
As she had with Helmholz, Crys explained her project for National Geographic and asked about Rhino International’s approach to rhino conservation. Wood confirmed what she’d read on its website. Rhino International supported a total ban on all sales and movement of rhino horn.
‘There is nearly a total worldwide ban on rhino horn now, Mr Wood,’ she responded. ‘Yet the poachers are winning. The rhino breeders claim that removing the horns from rhinos and then selling them on an open market would drive prices right down and remove the incentive to poach.’
He was silent for a few moments, never taking his penetrating, bright-blue eyes off her face.
Eventually, he said, ‘It isn’t the solution, you know. I’ll give you a copy of the report we’ve prepared on exactly this issue. There’s no case where legalising a banned substance has reduced demand. Take marijuana, for example. Where it’s been legalised, consumption has increased. The difference between that and rhinos is that you can pretty well supply any demand for marijuana. You just grow more. That isn’t the case with rhinos. The horn grows too slowly, and the population grows too slowly.’
‘What about artificial rhino horn? Some of it is indistinguishable from the real thing, even at microscopic level. Couldn’t that change the picture altogether?’
He shook his head vigorously. ‘The whole thing is based on mystique. Consumers won’t settle for imitations.’
‘So, what’s your answer then? We’re not winning the war on the poachers – I saw that myself in South Africa. And it’s at a huge cost – in terms of money and people.’
‘Education. That’s the thing.’ He thumped the desk. ‘The trick is working with the youngsters, focusing both on the ineffectiveness of rhino horn, and on the awful consequence of rhino extinction. Then the kids talk to their parents. And it’s working. It’s like the fur trade. That was destroyed because it became socially unacceptable to wear them. We can do the same thing with rhino horn.’
‘But what can you really achieve that way?’ Crys asked. ‘How can you reach that huge number of kids?’
‘Through social media. Facebook, Youtube, Instagram, and so on. Fun ads with cute, animated rhinos, and competitions, et cetera. A lot of kids do engage. It is working.’ He paused, shook his head, and then said, ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps I get a bit too intense about this. Rhino are very special: the last male Northern White Rhino just died, and the Asian ones are just about gone. Maybe there are new ideas we need to consider. Meanwhile, we have to protect the rhinos we still have. That’s my mission here: making sure CITES doesn’t throw in the towel and allow trade.’
Crys sympathised with Wood’s commitment even if she wasn’t yet convinced by his strategy. She was about to ask more about the education initiatives, when he suddenly switched the subject.
‘Tell me about what you learned while you were in South Africa.’ He leaned back in his chair to listen. ‘I’m sure that will lead to more things we can discuss.’
Her first reaction was to ignore his request and keep control of the interview. But Wood’s passion appealed to her, and he might also have useful contacts. She hadn’t given up on trying to save the elephants, so she gave him a summary of her time in Africa, starting with Tshukudu.
As well as being a good talker, he was an attentive and patient listener, just adding the occasional comment or question. However, when she told him about the plane crash and the subsequent attack by Pockface, he sat forwards, concentrating on every word she said.
‘Dreadful!’ he exclaimed with a deep frown. ‘You were lucky you weren’t killed. Did the police catch the thugs who attacked you? Did they find the money they were looking for?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ she replied quickly. ‘And it got worse. I was held by the police, but one of the guards let me escape from my cell. It was a setup, though: the Portuguese men were waiting for me. They still thought there’d been money on the plane and that I knew where it was and started to torture me – started off by dislocating my finger.’ She held up her hand. ‘I think they would’ve killed me if the police hadn’t got there in time.’
Wood leaned back, shaking his head. ‘What an awful experience. I can’t believe you’re so calm about it!’
‘It’s behind me.’ She shrugged. ‘There’s one other thing, though, and I think it’s important. While they were holding me, I overheard a phone conversation.’ She summarised Pockface’s call.
Wood held up a hand to stop her, and then asked her to repeat the exact words she’d heard.
‘As far as I can remember, he said, “Not next Sunday. Sunday after. Need eight men”, and then he listened for a moment. I couldn’t hear the other person. Then he replied, “Three. Yes, three. And more money. Same”.’
Wood looked shocked and muttered, ‘Sunday week? That soon? And three…’ He scratched his head. Then he asked, ‘Did the police have any explanation for what this was all about?’
‘Well, everyone seemed to believe there was a lot of money involved.’
‘But what was it for? Did they say?’
‘The police colonel thought it might be for some sort of smuggling. But he didn’t really know. He even asked for my opinion.’
‘Did he, indeed?’
‘I guessed that with all those men, and a lot of money, they could be setting up a big elephant operation. I’m hoping you can help stop it. I don’t trust the police in Giyani. That’s why I escaped. We need to bring outside pressure to bear on the police and nature conservation authorities there, so that they take action and take it quickly.’
Wood took his time before replying, rubbing his brow, and frowning. Crys’s shoulders slumped. Despite his words, it was going to be the same as with CITES. Not his problem.
‘Did the Portuguese men ever mention elephants or say anything that would link with elephants?’ he asked at last.
Crys shook her head.
‘I think you’re wrong about the elephant connection. Look, I’ll tell you something – our people in Vietnam have picked up rumours of something big happening in South Africa soon. It’s very possible you’ve stumbled on the same thing.’ He fixed her with his bright-blue eyes again. ‘If so, it is big, and it’s directed at rhinos, not elephants. We thought it would be in the next few months, but if we’re talking about the same operation, it’s more like days.’
‘You have people in Vietnam?’
‘The workers in the education programmes. They keep their eyes and ears open.’
Crys still wasn’t sure rhinos made sense. They weren’t in big herds like elephants. But it didn’t really matter as long as Rhino International
would take it up. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if my experience in South Africa helps you get the attention you need, I’m really glad. Please keep me in the picture – it will be an important story. You’ll need to get the police and nature conservation to act very quickly. I hope what I’ve told you helps.’
But Wood was shaking his head. ‘I wish it did. Unfortunately, you’ve only got a few overheard scraps to add to the rumours from Vietnam, and there’s no obvious connection at this point.’ He frowned, and Crys’s heart sank.
‘Look,’ he went on, ‘one of the senior people from the Department of Environmental Affairs in Vietnam is here for the CITES meeting – his name’s Dinh. We must ask him whether he’s heard these rumours and, if he has, he may have some ideas of how this all fits together. He’s an important person and may be able to give you some connections to follow up in Vietnam for your article. Would you be able to meet him tomorrow if I can set it up?’
Crys didn’t hesitate. Wood struck her as the sort of man who wasn’t easily brushed off. If Rhino International would get behind this – driven by Wood’s enthusiasm – they might save a lot of animals. And it could be a really big news story too.
‘Just let me know when and where,’ she said, smiling.
Crys had just settled down to write up the notes from her interviews, when her phone rang. It was Barbara Zygorski of the New York Times. She sat up, hoping for something useful.
‘Hi Crys, I had to pull in a few favours to get to Michael’s emails, but I eventually got there. Sorry for the delay, but I had to be very discreet.’
‘Fantastic. Thanks so much. Was there anything after the date I gave you?’
‘There was, and it’s pretty strange.’
Crys picked up a pen and grabbed a sheet of the hotel stationery.
‘I think Michael must have two mailboxes in his mail programme and by mistake used his Times one to send an email instead of his personal one. That’s easy to do. And, of course, the reply came back to his Times inbox, and he replied. So, there were only three emails: two out and one in.’
Crys could hardly contain herself. ‘What did they say?’
‘They’re all very short. The first one had just one word – “Agreed” – with a question mark.’
‘Agreed?’ Crys asked. ‘Nothing else?’
‘No. That’s it. The second was a reply. It said “We agree. Ten thousand dollars.”’
‘It sounds as though they’re trying to close some deal or other.’
‘True. And the third – Michael’s reply – seems to be a counter offer. It says “Ten thousand dollars now; ten thousand dollars when you have the information.” That’s it.’
Crys thought for a few moments.
He must be offering to sell them something – probably to get inside a smuggling gang.
‘Who was Michael talking to?’
‘There is no name, just an email address. It is duong731a@vn.yahoo.com.’
Crys punched the air. She could contact someone who had been in touch with Michael more recently than anyone else she knew. She copied it down, checking with Barbara that she had it correct.
‘When were the emails sent?’ Crys asked.
‘All on the same day – five days after you received your last one. And there’s one more thing: Michael’s emails were sent from South Africa, and the duong731a one was sent from Ho Chi Min City in Vietnam.’
Barbara then asked if Crys had any updates as to Michael’s whereabouts, and Crys filled her in with the little news she had.
‘But it seems he may still be alive,’ Barbara exclaimed. ‘That’s great news.’
‘Let’s hope it’s true.’
As soon as she put the phone down, Crys wrote a short email to duong731a@vn.yahoo.com enquiring whether the recipient knew where Michael was. She took a deep breath and pressed SEND, wondering if she’d get a reply and whether she should have written it in Vietnamese too.
Then she sent an email to Mabula, giving him the information about the emails and asking him to see if his Vietnamese counterparts could trace the sender.
Fat chance she’d hear anything from him, but she had to try.