The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu (38 page)

“I don’t have a landline, just my cell.”

“So your contacts are expecting you in Johannesburg this
afternoon?”

“Yes. If I don’t show up, they’ll kill me when they find
me.”

“You must have a way of alerting them that you’ve been delayed.
You could have had a breakdown or an accident, not so?”

“If I’m going to be late, I leave a message at the same number’
with an estimate of when I’ll be there.”

Kubu leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Ms. Levine. That’s
been very helpful.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at her.
She’s becoming quite twitchy, he thought. Tapping her foot.
Cracking her knuckles. Twisting her fingers. Another hour or so
she’s going to be desperate.

“Needing a fix, Ms. Levine?” Kubu murmured. “Better get used to
it. You’re not going to find any in jail. You’ve been very foolish,
my dear.”

He ended the session and turned off the tape recorder.
“Constable Morake here will get you a cup of tea,” he said. “I’ll
be back shortly.”

♦

Kubu found the office he had used earlier, shut the door, and
went to work.

First, he located Mabaku, who was shopping with his wife Marie
in the Game City mall. He seemed only too pleased to get a call
from Kubu on this Saturday morning. Quickly Kubu recounted the
pertinent details of Allison’s confession.

“The South African police will want to use Levine to get her
principals,” Mabaku said.

“She’s expected in Johannesburg later today,” Kubu said. “I
doubt if they can set it up that quickly. Anyway, we can’t let her
go. We may never get her back if she leaves the country.”

“I’ll give Van der Walle all the information,” Mabaku said. “He
may want to try to do something anyway.”

“I can get photos of Levine to Van der Walle,” Kubu said, “if he
wants to use someone who looks like her. I can also arrange for her
cell phone to be taken to the border so that the messages will
register as coming from South Africa. Someone can pick it up and
use it to set up a rendezvous. They can easily get a car that looks
like hers. I’ll send them the number plates too. I suspect the drug
traders won’t fall for it, but it may be worth a try.”

“Good, fax all the information to me. I’ll send it to Van der
Walle.”

“She’s suffering from withdrawal,” Kubu said. “I may be able to
get a lot more out of her later. She’s beginning to look
desperate.”

“Don’t let her do anything stupid. Keep an eye on her. Better
get a doctor to look at her, too. Meanwhile, give Tatwa a call and
fill him in.” He paused. “I’ll have to leave Marie here to finish
shopping and go across to the office.” He did not sound unhappy
about that at all. Before Kubu could add anything, the phone went
dead.

Kubu checked with Morake about the shoes. It looked likely that
there was a match between one of Allison’s shoes and the faxed
footprints they had found. Kubu nodded, pleased.

Next Kubu phoned Tatwa who was delighted to have a reason to
bring the ranger in for questioning. He was pretty sure they could
now at least charge Allison with being an accessory to murder. He
asked Kubu to send the shoes to him as soon as possible.

For the next hour, Kubu filled out the necessary paperwork for
charging Allison for the possession and trafficking of drugs. He
also drafted a confession relating to the drug charges for Allison
to sign. Finally, he briefed one of the Francistown detectives on
all aspects of the arrest, as well as what was happening in
Kasane.

Kubu was feeling quite satisfied. A drug charge that would
stick; a potential murder charge; and the possibility of finding
some high-up dealers in Johannesburg. Now it was time to pressure
Allison to get the information he really cared about – the
relationship between the drug smugglers and the murders at
Jackalberry Camp.

♦

Kubu sat down opposite Allison and completed the necessary
preliminaries.

He paged through his notebook, stopped, and then looked at
Allison who was now even more on edge.

“Just a few more questions, Ms. Levine.” Kubu stood up and
paced.

“How did you know where to take Gomwe on the morning he was
murdered? It was quite far from the camp and not easily found.” He
waited, but Allison did not answer. He decided to gamble.

“Come on, Ms. Levine, we know you took Gomwe to the clearing
where he was murdered. We’ve identified your footprints with
Gomwe’s going from the camp to the clearing. You lied, Ms. Levine.
You said Gomwe went jogging. That’s not true, is it? We checked
with his friends. They laughed when we suggested that he got killed
while jogging. They said if he jogged, he most probably died of a
heart attack, not from an attack by a rogue elephant. He wasn’t
into that sort of exercise at all.” He waited for a response, but
Allison did not say a word.

“Anyway, our trackers said that the two sets of footprints –
yours and Gomwe’s – were walking not jogging. You’re lying, Ms.
Levine. You knew what you were doing. You deliberately led Boy
Gomwe to his death.” Allison was looking down, not meeting his
eyes, silent.

“Who told you to take Gomwe to the clearing, Ms. Levine? If you
don’t tell us, then I will charge you with the murder of Boy Gomwe.
But you know, I don’t think you murdered him. I think you were
used. Why would you die for those scum? You know that Botswana has
the death penalty for murder, don’t you? We aren’t soft like South
Africa. You kill someone here, you die for it.” Kubu knew this was
an exaggeration, but then it was not a lie either.

Allison looked as though she could barely keep herself on the
chair. All resistance had drained from her. Kubu was surprised to
see that she was crying.

“I just did this for the money,” she whispered. “I needed the
money.” To keep up appearances, Kubu thought. To be able to play
the field. To pay for her fixes. He waited.

“I didn’t know they’d kill Gomwe,” she said at last. “Douglas
told me that they were just going to teach him a lesson. Show him
who ran things around Kasane. That he better back off.” A sob
wracked her body. “I liked him. I never wanted him killed.” She
buried her head in her hands.

Kubu sat watching her cry for a time, deciding she was telling
the truth. She thought this was easy money, he thought. An easy
game. But the game has harsh rules, which she chose to ignore. He
shook his head. Fool, he thought. What a fool.

She asked for a drink, so Kubu fetched her a glass of water. She
grasped the glass in both hands and sipped. Several minutes passed
before Kubu decided he could continue.

“Ms. Levine,” he said quietly. “I now want to go in a different
direction. A few weeks ago, there were two murders at a camp in the
Linyanti. We believe that they were drug related, and we think your
friend Gomwe was involved; he was a guest there. Then another guest
at the camp was murdered a week later in Maun. About the same time,
the camp owners were assaulted, my wife was nearly kidnapped, and
her sister was kidnapped.” He paused, but Allison said nothing.
“We’re sure the people you work for are involved in all of this. I
need you to tell me everything you know about your contacts,
particularly in Zimbabwe. Who are they? Where can they be found?
How can they be contacted?”

Allison frowned.

“I think you’re wrong,” she said at last. “As far as I know
Botswana is divided up by different groups. They’ve sort of carved
out the territory between them. Douglas told me that Gomwe was
trying to get in on the action. Seems as though he was trying to
set something up for himself. Nobody up here had ever done business
with him.”

“Have you heard anything about a drug deal in a place called
Jackalberry in the Linyanti?”

Allison shook her head. “But then I wouldn’t hear about it. You
should ask Douglas. He’s closer to things than me.”

For the next ten minutes Kubu questioned and bullied Allison,
trying to pry out of her any information that would lead him to the
kidnappers. But he got nothing. He eventually decided she had
nothing to offer. Frustrated and disappointed, he ground his teeth
and thumped his fist on the table, making both Constable Morake and
Allison jump. “Take her back to her cell,” he told Morake, and
turned away. Allison shouted that she needed a fix, but Kubu
ignored her.

Alone in the office, Kubu closed his eyes to concentrate his
thoughts. What were his next steps? He was equidistant from Kasane
and Gaborone. Should he go and help Tatwa deal with Douglas, the
game ranger, or should he head back to his office and be at the
center of activities? He decided he should head home and leave
Tatwa to cope on his own.

What about Joy and Pleasant? Would they want to stay in
Francistown for another week, which he hoped would be the case, or
would they want to return to Gaborone? He shook his head. He
realized he could not predict what they would want to do. He sat
quietly for a few contemplative minutes, then picked up the phone
and called Sampson’s house. Joy answered almost immediately –
Sampson had gone to watch a soccer game.

“My dear,” Kubu started tentatively. “I need to get back to
Gaborone. Do you want to stay on with Sampson for another week or
so, or…”

“I love Sampson,” Joy interrupted, “but I couldn’t stand another
week with him. Pleasant and I were talking a few minutes ago. We’re
ready to leave.”

“Are you sure you want to go back? We haven’t caught the
kidnappers yet.”

“You may never get them. We’re ready to go home!”

“Okay, okay, we’ll leave tomorrow.” Kubu was peeved that he had
no say in the matter. “I’ll be back in half an hour. Can you make
us some lunch?”

“Lunch will be ready as soon as you get back. I had a notion you
might want something to eat.”

Kubu was not sure whether Joy was being sarcastic or funny, so
he ignored the comment. “Thank you, darling. I’ll see you in a few
minutes. I love you.”

∨
The Second Death of Goodluck Tinubu
∧

T
atwa was nervous
before entering the empty office that served as the interrogation
room in the Kasane police station. This was the first interview he
had done by himself. Part of him wanted Kubu with him, but another
part, struggling to emerge, wanted him to take charge and prove
himself. Since Kubu was three hundred miles away, there was no
option. Taking a deep breath, Tatwa opened the door.

“You don’t mind if I call you Douglas, do you?” Tatwa said in
Setswana to the ranger slumped in the chair on the other side of
the table. “Mr. Legwatagwata is a bit of a mouthful.”

Douglas nodded.

“I’m going to tape this conversation as an official record.”
Tatwa was nervous and wanted to do everything correctly. It took a
couple of minutes to provide the proper introduction on the tape,
as well as to read Douglas the customary caution.

“Before I start,” Tatwa said, “I want to tell you that you’re in
big trouble. You could spend the rest of your life in jail. But the
more you cooperate, the more inclined we’ll be to help you. Do you
understand?”

Douglas nodded again. Then at Tatwa’s prodding said, “Yes” for
the tape recorder.

“Let’s start with the easy stuff. First, we are going to charge
you with drug trafficking. Your friend, Ms. Levine, told us that
she picks up drugs from you whenever she visits Elephant Valley
Lodge. In exchange she gives you a lot of money. Of course, we are
always careful to check whether someone is lying. So we did some
checking. We found traces of heroin in your backpack.”

“She’s talking bullshit,” Douglas spat out. “Trying to get
herself out of trouble. I always thought she was too good to be
true.”

“What do you mean?”

“Coming back to Elephant Valley Lodge time after time. Always
finding a single guy and then screwing his eyes out.”

“Why would she finger you then?”

“She wanted sex with me, and I turned her down. So she hates
me.”

Tatwa pondered this unexpected tack for a few moments.

“How then do you explain the heroin in your backpack?”

“She must have planted it. Insurance if she got caught. Then she
could blame it on me. Exactly what she’s done. And get me back for
rejecting her.”

Allison Levine had not struck Tatwa as someone who would be
upset about being rejected by Douglas. She would think he was just
an idiot.

“Then how do you explain this?” Tatwa asked, consulting his
notebook. “A few days after she visits Elephant Valley Lodge, every
single time, your bank balance jumps by five thousand pula. Same
amount every time. Always a week after she leaves. Always a cash
deposit. Who are the big tippers, Douglas? You must be an excellent
guide and ranger. Five thousand pula. That’s nearly my monthly
salary. Is it Ms. Levine who tips you so generously every time she
is here? For what, Douglas? For favors? I don’t think so. She may
charge for favors, certainly not pay for them. No, Douglas. I think
you get paid in cash every time you deliver the money to your
Zimbabwean friends. Only you are too stupid to realize you
shouldn’t deposit it in your bank account.”

Douglas stared at Tatwa, but did not respond.

“Come on, Douglas. Surely you know who is being so generous to
you!”

Douglas continued to stare, but his focus slowly slid from
Tat-wa’s face into the middle distance.

He’s feeling trapped, Tatwa thought. Doesn’t know what to say.
Let’s see how he reacts when I put more pressure on him.

“You know how serious this government is about reducing drug
usage. Trafficking is not treated lightly. My guess is you’ll get
twenty years or more for that. At least you won’t have to pay your
board and lodging, right?”

Still Douglas did not respond. He looked down at his hands.

“However, we know you are a small cog in this business – an
important cog, but a small one. If you give us information about
the people you work with, I’m sure we can come to a deal.”