A Death in the Family (27 page)

“I'll speak to him and get back to you,” came the reply.

Mabaku gritted his teeth and hung up. And for the next hour, he tried to keep his mind off what Kubu had said and on the road, where straying animals posed their usual risk.

*   *   *

NOTHING LIKE MENTIONING
the president to get a high-up official's attention, Mabaku thought as he arrived at the commissioner's office a mere ninety minutes after his original phone call. And he only had to wait a few minutes before he was ushered into his boss's office.

Mabaku had known the commissioner for many years and thought he was an honest man, even though he was too political for Mabaku's taste.

“Sit down, Jacob,” the commissioner said. “I hope you are not going to tell me that the president will be in some sort of danger when he goes to Shoshong.”

“Not physical danger, Commissioner,” Mabaku replied, “but potentially political danger.”

The commissioner frowned. “It's not like you to pay attention to politics, Jacob. Are you beginning to learn something in your old age? What's up?”

For the next twenty minutes, Mabaku brought the commissioner up to speed on what Kubu had been told by Newsom, and he played the tape of the phone call supposedly between Mopati and the man at the Konshua Mine.

“The concern I have about the president's visit to Shoshong next week, Commissioner, is that he will make some commitment to the mine to appease the young men who are out of work. Given what we have just heard, I think that would be premature.” He paused. “But I realize that I cannot suggest that the director of mines is corrupt unless I have incontrovertible evidence—which I don't.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I want your permission to try to corroborate what is on the recording. The first step is to make sure the voices are of Mopati and the Chinaman. What I want to do is leave a message for both of them to call me. We'll record their calls and do a voice match with what we have. If there is a match, then I want your permission to take the next step—that is, to see if I can get some evidence that they are working together in an unethical way…”

“And how will you do that?”

“I'll meet with Mopati, ostensibly to update him on our investigation of the mine riot. During the meeting, I'll tell him we have evidence that his deputy, Kunene, had been in the pay of the Americans and that he had been providing them with information about the tenders for the Shoshong mining concession. I'm hoping that he'll be so excited that we're investigating Kunene that he'll rush to tell his Chinese friends. I'll need you to get authorization for wiretaps on the business and private phones of both Mopati and the Chinaman, Shonhu.”

“Based on the flimsy evidence you have or may get?”

Mabaku nodded. “Commissioner, we can't have this sort of thing undermine the progress Botswana has made. I'm sure you know someone you can persuade to give us this.”

The commissioner sat silent for a few moments, then nodded. “I'll see what I can do.”

*   *   *

AS HE DROVE
back to CID headquarters, Mabaku pondered how to get Shonhu and Mopati on tape without raising suspicions. Mopati would be easy. He would contact him and arrange a meeting for the following day. He was sure there'd be enough conversation to compare it to the voice on Newsom's recording.

How to deal with Shonhu was more difficult. If he were to contact Shonhu directly, it might raise suspicions that the police were onto something. He didn't want that. He pondered various other alternatives and eventually decided that his assistant, Miriam, could speak to Shonhu under the pretext of inquiring whether he and the mine manager would be at the
kgotla
when the president spoke the following Sunday—the police wanted to be sure that they had all security issues covered. Again, Mabaku thought that they'd be able to get sufficient conversation to make a comparison possible.

He'd just settled down to handle the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated after the Shoshong riot when his phone buzzed. “It's the director of mines,” Miriam said. There was a click, and Mabaku greeted Mopati and introduced himself. When the pleasantries were over, he said, “Director, I would like to brief you tomorrow about some of our findings concerning the
kgotla
fiasco. It's better done in person, and it's rather urgent. What time would suit you?” After a few moments of trying to coordinate schedules, they agreed on a time late the following afternoon and hung up.

That's plenty for the voice comparison, Mabaku thought with satisfaction, and returned to his pile of papers.

About half an hour later, Miriam walked into his office with a smile and said that she'd recorded several minutes of conversation with Shonhu, the Chinese mine executive.

“Excellent,” Mabaku said. “Please send both recordings to Zanele immediately. Please tell her I want her results back tomorrow morning.”

He walked over to the window overlooking Kgale Hill and searched for the troop of baboons that often came into the CID parking lot looking for scraps of food, but they were nowhere to be seen. A pity, he thought. I like them more than some of the people I have to deal with. He turned and sat down at his desk. I wonder what tomorrow will bring, he thought as he picked up the next file needing attention.

 

CHAPTER 44

In the first session of the conference on Thursday morning, Kubu gave Mabaku's paper. He was very nervous, not only about speaking in front of a large and critical audience but also about being faced with questions he might not be able to answer. However, Mabaku's topic—the challenges of using high-tech detection and forensics in a developing country—appealed to many of the smaller and less affluent nations represented, whose problems were far away from art theft and nuclear power waste. The applause was warm, and the questions friendly and asked with genuine interest. Kubu enjoyed his moment in the limelight and returned to his seat with a warm feeling of a job well done. At least here, he'd not let Mabaku down.

His good mood was enhanced by the fact that he'd managed to change his flight to leave that evening. He'd persuaded himself that getting back to deal with the Mopati sting and what would develop from it was much more important than another day of boring talks. And returning to temperatures where you could walk outside without freezing was a bonus. However, he admitted to himself that the real reason for leaving a day early was that he wanted to get home. New York was great, and he was glad he'd had the opportunity to see a tiny part of it, but he wanted to be with his family. The next time I come to America, he thought, we'll come together and take the girls to Disney World! He knew it wouldn't happen—the cost would be far too high—but it was fun to dream.

He left the conference at lunchtime, hailed a cab like a real New Yorker, collected his bags at the hotel, and soon was on his way back to JFK. He now thought of himself as a seasoned traveler, confidently using the self-service check-in kiosks and taking off his shoes and belt to be X-rayed, while he stood with his arms above his head in the body scanner. After only half an hour of standing in various lines, he found himself in the departure area, faced with an array of shops and with time to kill. Everything was on sale and duty-free, and the temptation was too great. He had to buy gifts for the family.

For the girls, it was easy. He bought them each an “I Love New York” T-shirt with a picture of the Statue of Liberty on the front. For his mother, he bought a silk scarf with rainbow colors. It wasn't really a souvenir from America since it was made in China, but he thought she'd love it anyway. It was a present for Joy that posed a real problem.

First, he thought perfume would be good, but he wasn't sure what she liked. Then he passed a jewelry store and spotted a pair of twisted gold earrings marked 50 percent off. These he knew she would adore. Even with the discount, they were expensive for a Botswana detective. The shop assistant noticed his hesitation and said, “Shall I gift wrap them for you, sir? No extra charge.” Kubu grimaced and nodded.

*   *   *

THE FLIGHT HOME
was much better than the journey out. Not only was the jet stream helping, but the flight to Johannesburg was nonstop, so it seemed much shorter. Best of all, there was a vacant seat next to Kubu, so he could spread out, lean his pillow against the window shade, and doze from time to time.

Nevertheless, by the time he arrived in Johannesburg, he was pretty shattered. Once more, he had to negotiate customs, immigration, and security, but all continued smoothly, and, for once, Air Botswana was on time. I'll be home for dinner, he thought. Or is it lunch?

In any case, it was only a few more tiring hours before he carefully negotiated the steps down to the runway in Gaborone and was hit by a blast of dry hot air. He smiled. Fifteen minutes later, he had a child in each arm and a wife and mother whose smiles looked as though he'd just returned from months in the wilderness.

“Daddy, Daddy, we missed you,” Tumi yelled. “Did you take pictures? Did you bring us presents?” Joy started to scold her but then just laughed. In the meanwhile, Amantle was looking hard at Kubu's face. “David, I can see your face is chapped from the cold. I told you that you needed a proper hat, but you didn't listen!”

“I'm fine, Mother, and anyway I bought a hat,” Kubu said. To cheer her up, he added, “But it was very cold. Much colder than any of you can imagine.” He gave a theatrical shiver, much to the delight of the girls.

Once they got to the car, there was a huge welcome from Ilia to finesse, but eventually they were all settled with Joy driving, Kubu in front holding the fox terrier, and Amantle in the back with the girls talking nonstop.

And half an hour after that, he was home.

 

CHAPTER 45

As Mabaku drove to the Department of Mines, he planned the coming meeting. He was a straight shooter. He liked to say what he meant and mean what he said, and he disliked lying under any circumstances. He didn't do it and wasn't going to start now. In any case that might be ruled entrapment. What he intended to do was to be selective with the truth, and he had no great problem with that.

A twinge of doubt remained. Zanele had told him that there was a very high probability that the voices were the same, and then she gave him a lecture on key frequencies and confidence intervals and continuity measures. The bottom line was that she thought Newsom's recording was genuine and that the participants were Mopati and Shonhu. That was good enough for him, but if Kubu was right about Newsom being CIA, then it was just possible they were falling for a scam. Another reason to be careful in the interview.

As soon as Mabaku arrived at the office of the director of mines, he was shown in. Mopati greeted him and ushered him to his meeting table. He reminded Mabaku that they'd met before at a government function and offered coffee.

Was there an undercurrent of nervousness below the friendliness? Mabaku wondered. He thought there was, but maybe he just saw it because he expected it.

Until the coffee was served, they compared their plans for the
kgotla
at Shoshong on Sunday. Then Mabaku got down to business.

“Director, I know you must be very busy, so thank you for seeing me at such short notice. The reason I asked to see you urgently is to brief you on certain important matters that we've discovered since the Shoshong riot. The minister and even the president may need to know, so we felt you must be completely in the picture. Before I do that, however, I'd like to get a little more background from you. Some points are confusing us, and I'd like to be sure we understand the situation properly.” Mabaku paused until Mopati nodded his agreement.

“I understand there are at least two applicants for a mining lease over the contentious area in Shoshong. Is that right?”

Mopati hesitated. “That's correct. This is confidential, of course, but I have no problem sharing it with you. Both the Konshua Mine and an American company have applied for the lease. They have both been involved in prospecting the area. Konshua is proposing a large expansion of their existing operation; a US junior, UNE—Uranium and Nickel Exploration—wants to start a new open pit in an overlapping area. We need to choose which one to award the license to.”

“But all this depends on the people of Shoshong?”

Mopati nodded. “Both developments will dispossess a significant number of people. Whoever wins the lease must come to a settlement with them.”

“Konshua tried and apparently—at this point—failed. What about the American company?”

“It's a bit technical, Director Mabaku. Konshua's view was that if they could get approval from the people and if they had a strong economic case for Botswana in terms of jobs and revenue, they would have a big advantage. They were probably right. But as it turned out…” He shrugged. “They made what I felt was a generous offer. I was most surprised by what the chief decided. It was a big mistake, I think.”

“It certainly was for him,” Mabaku commented dryly. “And the US company?”

“They're applying for the lease subject to
subsequent
approval from the community. And they have the US embassy backing them with offers of all sorts of support. The US is lagging China in investment here, and they're obviously keen to catch up.”

“And how will you decide between the two applications?”

Mopati frowned. “There are many issues, and the minister has the final say, of course. I don't believe it will be helpful to go into the details of the process now.”

I'll bet you don't, Mabaku thought. “The minister will presumably follow your recommendation?”

Mopati nodded. “Probably. That's why I have this job.”

Yes, thought Mabaku. A very senior and quite well paid position. But it's not enough for you, is it? “Let me explain my interest, Director,” he said. “There are several issues that have arisen during our investigations. In the first place, it's possible that Konshua was doing more than making promises. Julius Koma—the chief's son—was clearly compromised. He negotiated with the mine management behind his father's back and used every opportunity to push the mine's case. He even advised people to show displeasure if the chief ruled against them—mainly unemployed young men. As a member of the chief's council that wasn't ethical.”