As Kubu made his way to the meeting room, everyone he met stopped him and wanted to hear about his trip. It’s as if I’ve been away for weeks on vacation, he thought. But as much as he’d resented being thrown out of Shoshong, he had to admit that the trip had been quite an experience. And, of course, he’d tracked down Newsom, although he suspected it was rather the other way around.
Mabaku came in not looking happy. Kubu’s heart sank. Something’s gone wrong, he thought.
The director took the seat at the head of the table and folded his arms. “I’m going to fill you in on what’s happened over the last few days. But I want it absolutely clear that everything I tell you is in strict confidence. Is that understood?” He glared around the table until everyone had offered a nod. Then he laid out the whole story of Kubu’s meeting with Newsom, the verification of the voices on Newsom’s recording, the possibility of a much more valuable ore body than the Department of Mines had been led to believe, and, finally, the Mopati sting. “All Kubu’s idea,” he concluded generously, “and we pulled it off!”
There was a buzz around the table and broad smiles. Mabaku held up his hand. “But…” Everyone quieted down. “But I’ve been talking to the prosecutor and the commissioner this morning. It’s not enough. It won’t convict Mopati, because all this evidence is tainted by Newsom’s illegal recording. It’s likely we won’t be allowed to use our own recording in evidence either because the authority to tap the phones was based on illegally obtained information. Anyway, Shonhu was careful about what he said. When Mopati told him that we thought Kunene’s death was suicide, he said: ‘That is good.’ That’s hardly an admission that he had anything to do with the murder.”
Mabaku slapped his hand on the table in frustration. “These bastards aren’t going to get away with what they’ve done. No way Mopati quietly resigns, or this Shonhu character gets deported. They’re criminals—possibly killers—and they’re going to pay for it.”
There was silence for a moment before Mabaku continued, “We’ll go after Mopati. Damn it, he must’ve left a paper trail. We can follow that. For a start we know about the payoffs. We should be able to trace them.”
“Is it possible Mopati actually helped Shonhu with the murder?” Samantha asked. “They both had a motive, and it would’ve taken two people to set up the fake suicide.”
Kubu shook his head. “It’s possible but unlikely. People like Mopati don’t get their hands dirty if they can help it. He’ll have a watertight alibi, I’m sure.” He took a sip of water and thought for a moment. “We mustn’t see the Kunene case in isolation,” he continued. “Somehow I’m sure they’re all connected: the attack on Newsom, the shooting of Chief Koma, even the murder of my father. I’m not saying the mine was responsible for all of it, but I believe the mine’s at the center of all of it.”
Samantha joined in. “If our riot suspects were paid to cause trouble at the kgotla—that could be the link. I’ve got a webcam videoing people coming and going at the mine’s admin building. Julius Koma went in and out twice over the last couple of days.”
“I wonder what he was up to there,” Mabaku said. “I don’t trust him.”
“I made blowups of pictures of all Batswana who visited the building and showed them to the suspects to see if they could pick out who paid them. It seemed like a good idea, but they haven’t identified anyone yet. But we’re sticking with it.”
“I see a few scenarios,” Mabaku said. “Now that we know the sort of things the mine is up to, I think it’s likely that they arranged for the men to stir up trouble and for the chief to be shot. In that case, forget about finding the gun or the guy walking into the admin building and making an appointment to see Shonhu. But there’s also a chance that Julius was behind it. Then the question is where did he get the gun? We should follow up on people who we know or suspect might be selling illegal weapons.”
Kubu thought it was a long shot, but he didn’t object. He didn’t have a better idea. He took a deep breath and changed the subject cautiously. “I said my father’s murder was also wrapped up in this somehow. I’m just guessing, but I do have a theory.” He glanced at the director to see how this was being received. “My uncle told me that he thought my father had inherited something to do with land. When Julius came to see him, he told him about it. Suppose it was some sort of right over the area the mine wants or even an ancient mining lease? If so, my father would have been able to block the expansion if he’d wanted to. These people didn’t know my father and wanted to make sure he didn’t cause any problems. So they tried to get the document, if there was one. When they didn’t succeed, they killed him.” He paused. “Some of his papers, including his will, are missing. My mother and I believe they were stolen during the break-in after his murder.”
“Have you done anything about this?” There was a growl in Mabaku’s voice.
Kubu shook his head. “No. It’s only an idea. I’ve been thinking it through since I learned about the rare-earth possibility. Suddenly, all the stakes are much higher.”
Mabaku mulled it over. “I think it’s a very long shot, but we’ll look into it. It’s not the way mineral titles work here, certainly not anymore. But if such a document existed, then there must be a record of it somewhere.”
“I can check,” said Edison. He liked ferreting out information.
Mabaku looked around, but no one else had anything to contribute. “I have a hunch Kubu is right about the mine being at the center of all these issues. But I’ve no idea what the connection is.” He shrugged. “Okay, let’s get to work.”
* * *
HOWEVER, THE DAYS passed, and no breakthrough occurred. There was a feeling that the case was slipping away from them. At any time, Shonhu might vanish back to China, and the common link with Newsom and Mopati would be gone. Eventually, Kubu couldn’t take it anymore. He went to see the director.
“Director,” Kubu said as he sat down, “what has Edison come up with? He was going to follow up on all sorts of things. Has he done that?”
Mabaku nodded. “He did, but there’s nothing there,” he growled. “The Nigerian bank was a dead end. We need to put a request to the Nigerian police through Interpol. That will take forever. We don’t have that much time. He checked the bars along Kunene’s route. Nothing. And the big disappointment is the phone tap. Nothing more of any use. Just Mopati informing the Chinese that the decision about the new mining concession has been delayed a couple of weeks. The Chinaman didn’t make a single call since the one last Friday.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Kubu asked, “What about my father’s case. Is anyone doing anything about it?”
Mabaku took a deep breath. “Kubu, at the moment we have nothing new to go on. I know you think all the cases are connected, but we’ve no idea how.”
“Edison was going to look for land records. Did he do that? I could—”
“You’ll do nothing! Edison has spoken to officials in the Department of Lands and talked to several elders in the area by phone. Nobody knows anything about a document your father may have had. In fact, only one of the elders had even heard of a Bengu family from Tobela. I never believed that idea would go anywhere.” He shook his head.
Kubu was silent again. He still felt he should be more involved. Edison worked hard, but he might miss things—especially about his father. “Damn it, Jacob. We can’t let them get away with this!”
“And what do you suggest we do, Kubu? Tell me where I’m going wrong.” The sarcasm wasn’t wasted on Kubu. He sighed.
“I’m sorry, Director. I know everyone’s doing their best. But we need something soon, or everything we’ve done will be wasted.”
Mabaku nodded. They needed a break. But how were they going to get one?
* * *
MABAKU CALLED A meeting for Friday afternoon. He wanted a report back from everyone and hoped a little pressure might get things moving.
“Well?” he growled. “Has anybody got anything more?”
Nobody answered.
“Edison. The phone tap?” Edison shook his head.
Mabaku turned to Samantha. “Any progress on who paid the men to incite violence? Or who may have sold the handgun?”
“There’s quite a long list of people who we suspect of being able to supply firearms of different sorts. I’ve spoken to over half of them, threatening them with all sorts of bad things. They all deny it, and the bad news is that I believe them. To be certain, I’ve shown the two men who say they were paid to cause trouble photographs of everyone I’ve spoken to. But they haven’t recognized anyone. I’ll keep on it, but I’m not really optimistic we’ll find the man.”
Mabaku turned to Zanele. “If we start from the assumption that Shonhu was the murderer of Kunene, what can we get from the forensic evidence?”
“We got a partial fingerprint from the hose that was put in the exhaust pipe. If that matched Shonhu’s prints, we’d have strong evidence.”
“I presume we tried the database?” Mabaku asked.
Zanele nodded. “Nothing. But you often don’t get matches to a partial anyway.”
Kubu looked thoughtful. “We know he’ll be at the kgotla next Sunday, Director. Can’t we make an excuse to give him something to look at or something? Maybe a vendor asks him to hold a curio or something?”
Zanele looked glum. “It won’t work with a partial,” she said. We really need a decent set of prints for comparison.”
Mabaku frowned. “What about the bullet that killed the chief?”
“It’s badly fragmented and distorted from hitting the spine. We won’t be able to match it to the gun.” She shrugged.
“Zanele, didn’t you find a hair in the car?” Samantha asked.
“Yes, I did. It could’ve been from someone from the East. Possibly a Chinaman.”
“How can we get one of Shonhu’s hairs?” Edison asked.
There was a silence in the room.
“If we had a search warrant for his house, we’d find one easily enough,” Kubu said. “But I don’t think we’d get one just yet.”
Mabaku shook his head. “Definitely not.”
He looked around the table, but no one had anything more to contribute. “Well, there’s not much more we can do at the moment,” he said. “We’ll just have to be patient. That’s what this business is—paying attention to detail and patience. If we’re lucky something will break.”
“Director, are you sure we can’t go after the Chinese with what we have now?” Samantha asked.
“I’m sure, and the prosecutor is sure. All we’d do is alert them, and we’d not be able to stop them heading back to China. Then we’d have nothing. No, we must be patient, as hard as that is.”
“And so, if nothing breaks, they walk away?” Samantha’s voice was husky with anger. “That’s not right!”
“Right or not,” Mabaku responded, “that’s the way it is. It’s not easy to swallow seeing people you know are guilty getting away with what they’ve done. Unfortunately, it happens all the time. But what’s worse is when they get off because the police have screwed up. So we just have to keep plugging away and hope we find something or someone that helps us.”
He looked around the table. “Kubu and I are going to Shoshong on Sunday for the president’s visit. We know that the mine officials will be there, and I’m told the Chinese ambassador will be too. That’s how important this is. Normally, he wouldn’t go to a thing like this, but obviously he has pressure from above in China. If you find anything new before I leave, absolutely anything, phone me on my cell phone. I’d love an excuse to talk to them.”
He stood up. “Kubu, I’ll pick you up at your house at one on Sunday. There’s no way I’m driving that far in your Land Rover.”
“Yes, Director,” Kubu said. “I’ll be ready.”
As Kubu and Samantha walked back to their offices, Kubu remarked that Samantha must look forward to having a weekend off at last.
“I am,” she replied. “I’m way behind on my volunteering at the women’s shelter. They need all the help they can get.”
Kubu looked at her. “You really believe that women are treated badly in Botswana, don’t you?”
She stopped. “Don’t you?” she snapped, and walked off.
Kubu stared after her. What an unusual woman, he thought.