Zambezi (40 page)

‘Slow down. How did my daughter’s picture get in a newspaper?’

‘It was a file picture taken by her local paper when she first set off for Africa. I passed on her name to some colleagues in the States and they tracked down the picture. But that doesn’t matter now.’

‘The fuck it doesn’t.’ Jed was angry at the way the reporter thought he could ignore the wishes of a grieving family and publish his daughter’s picture despite the fact Patti had wanted it kept private.

This wasn’t the time to lose it, though. ‘How can we be absolutely sure it was her? You said your camera and pictures were destroyed by the mugger.’ Jed wanted so much to believe the odious specimen in front of him, but did not want to raise his own hopes.

‘I can’t. Only you can. I had a couple of shots on a second memory card which the guy I killed never got his hands on. I can show them to you and you can tell me if it’s her or not.’

‘OK then, let’s see them.’

‘We need a digital camera or, better still, a computer to download the pictures onto. My laptop and all my other gear was in my hotel room in Zanzibar. The police have it all now.’

Jed nodded. If what he was saying was true, Scarborough was on the run and had crossed several international borders in order to get this information to him. His attitude towards the younger man softened. ‘I know where we can find a computer.’

‘Where?’

‘A friend of mine, working in Mana Pools National Park. We can be there in a few hours. That’s if she hasn’t left already’ A friend? He realised he suddenly needed to ask Chris Wallis a whole lot more questions.

‘Cool,’ Luke said. ‘Let’s go.’

Jed tried to collect his thoughts. There were several explanations, ranging from innocent to evil, for how Miranda could have turned up alive on Hassan bin Zayid’s boat. The first, and most benign, was that the whole thing had been a terrible mistake and she had left for a holiday with her rich Arab boyfriend and neglected to tell anyone she was going. That did not sound like Miranda. News of her death had been reported around the world and, surely, once she learned of it she would have contacted her mother and, presumably, the authorities in Zimbabwe to set the record straight. Maybe they had been out of touch with the news media? A more sinister scenario was that bin Zayid, unlike Jed, had made the connection between his family and hers. Had he kidnapped her in order to wreak revenge on Jed for killing his brother? But how would the guy know who had shot Iqbal bin Zayid?

‘Was my name mentioned in the stories about Iqbal bin Zayid’s death?’ Jed asked Luke, as he started the engine.

‘No. The public affairs people stopped using the full names of American servicemen in stories in order to protect their security.’

Jed remembered reading the new policy. The CIA had learned that Al Qaeda operatives were trying to identify the addresses of soldiers serving in Afghanistan, possibly with a view to targeting their families. It was also why troops serving in the terrorists’ former base country had to burn the return addresses on letters and packages sent to them. Afghans had been seen rummaging through the trash dump early on in the campaign looking for old mail and, in the States, terrorist sympathisers combed local and national newspapers looking for servicemen’s names and home towns. If a soldier had an uncommon surname it needed little more than an internet search or a telephone book to find out where his or her family lived.

‘But,’ Luke added, sheepishly, ‘I did name you as Master Sergeant Jed in the story I filed.’

Jed nodded, angry, but resigned to the ways of the new media-driven defence force. If Miranda had mentioned his Christian name to bin Zayid, and that he was serving in Afghanistan, it would have been possible for him to make a connection, but there were a lot of Jeds in the Army.

Luke took a deep breath. ‘Um, I also mentioned in the story you had a daughter working on lion research in Zimbabwe.’

‘Tell me you didn’t,’ Jed said.

‘I’m afraid I did.’

That did it. If bin Zayid had seen Luke’s story he would have known immediately that Jed was the man who had killed his brother. Sinister pieces started to fall into place. The surly reception he’d received at bin Zayid’s safari lodge; the attempt on his life. Had he stumbled too early into a kidnap plot?

‘You said when you saw her on the boat she was dressed up and they kissed?’

‘That’s right. She didn’t look like she was there against her will, Jed.’

Jed swore to himself again. There were still too many questions and not enough answers. He needed to see these pictures. If it was her, he had to see Hassan bin Zayid immediately – and screw the efforts of the man’s flunkies to head him off. If it came to another visit across the border, he would take some additional muscle with him. Jed braked at the driveway of the filling station, then switched on his right-hand indicator and headed down the hill towards Kariba.

‘Hey, isn’t that the wrong way, man? I thought Mana Pools was to the left,’ Luke said.

‘It is. We’re going to pick up a friend first.’

Jed strode into the shebeen in Nyamhunga township where he had first met Moses. The woman behind the bar screwed up her eyes to get a better look at him in the gloom.

‘Hey, I remember you, mister. I don’t want trouble in here again. You can please leave.’

Jed held up his hands, palms out. ‘Relax, I’m just looking for someone.’

‘Moses?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah, he is a reformed man now,’ she said, then laughed. ‘Probably been to church this morning.’

Again the cackle.

‘Can you give me his address?’

‘Sure why not. Tell him to come back – my profits have been down this past week.’

Moses was standing on a rickety wooden ladder, replacing a shingle tile on the roof of a drearylooking house. The whitewash was peeling from the cheap cinderblock bricks and the lower third of the home’s façade was spray-painted a natural red-brown where last season’s rains had splashed up mud from the grassless yard. A small boy in ragged overalls with short-cropped curly hair and arms as thin as twigs craned his neck to watch the big man at work.

Moses came down the ladder and wiped his hands on a grimy white singlet, then turned. ‘Jed! How are you? I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’

Jed opened the rusty gate and shook Moses’s hand. ‘I need help. Again. Miranda may still be alive. She may be in trouble.’

‘What?’

‘I’ll explain in the truck. Can you come?’

Moses scratched his chin and looked back at the little boy A woman, young and pretty but tired in the eyes and mouth, walked from the house, drying her pink-palmed hands on a tea towel. ‘What is it, Moses?’

‘Miriam, this is Mr Banks. I told you about him.’

The woman offered her hand. Jed was impatient but said, ‘How do you do, ma’am.’

‘I don’t know what happened, but this one came back from your trip a changed man,’ Miriam said.

‘I was sorry to hear about your daughter. You have my deepest sympathies.’

‘Thanks, but that’s the point. I think she may still be alive, and I need Moses to help me look for her again.’

The woman’s eyes widened. ‘I was never going to let this man out of my sight again, but if what you say is true …’

‘I’ll get my things,’ Moses said.

‘There isn’t any danger, is there?’ Miriam asked Jed as Moses disappeared inside the modest house.

‘No more than usual.’

‘He can’t afford to lose his licence as a guide, Mr Banks.’

‘I understand.’

‘I pray you do. I wish you well.’

Moses ran his fingers through the little boy’s short hair and kissed Miriam. ‘I will be back,’ he said.

‘I hope so, but I will believe it when I see it.’

Jed introduced Moses to Luke and filled him in on the reporter’s findings as they drove. Moses listened to it all and, at the end, had no questions, just a statement.

‘If you go after this man, Hassan bin Zayid, it will not be straightforward for me to accompany you. I will not be able to cross into Zambia easily I’m not a licensed safari guide in that country – just another unwelcome Zimbabwean.’

‘I’m not asking you to break any laws, Moses.’

‘I will do what I can for you, Jed,’ he said.

The three-hour drive to Mana Pools gave Jed a chance to brief Luke on what he had been up to during his investigations into Miranda’s disappearance.

‘What I don’t understand,’ Luke said, ‘is if Miranda is still alive, whose remains were found in the belly of the lion?’

‘That’s been puzzling me, too,’ Jed said. ‘There can’t have been another European woman killed in the area, not without it being reported.’

‘Why do you assume the remains belonged to a European woman?’ Moses asked from the back seat.

Jed thought the guide had been dozing. ‘Because they were white.’

Moses looked puzzled.

‘Any other white women gone missing in the Mana Pools area?’ Luke asked.

‘No, though one of the National Parks maids has gone missing. The word was that she had run off, maybe with some of Miranda’s things. But she was African.’

‘Black, you mean?’ Moses asked.

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Jed said.

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ Moses said. ‘She was white.’

‘A European maid working for National Parks?’

‘No. When I was asking in the staff village about the maid, one of the rangers said she was
musope.’

‘What does that mean?’ Luke asked.

‘
Musope
is the Shona word for albino. Her skin would have been whiter than yours. Much whiter, in fact.’

Jed and Luke looked at each other. The only shred of physical evidence that Miranda was dead had suddenly been called into question. Jed’s excitement that his daughter could still be alive was tainted by his fear about what had become of her.

‘Surely the medical examiners would have been able to tell the difference?’ Luke said.

‘Tissue from the remains was being sent for DNA testing in South Africa. I’m supposed to get the final results – and pick up the remains for burial back in the States – when I get back to Harare,’ Jed said.

‘So we can’t tell for sure, just yet,’ Luke said.

‘Which is why I need to see those pictures you’re carrying,’ Jed said.

When they stopped at the National Parks office to get their permits to enter Mana Pools National Park, the officer on duty remembered Jed.

‘Back so soon?’ he asked.

‘I need to see Professor Wallis again. It’s urgent. She hasn’t left the park yet, has she?’

The man stamped their permits, handed them across the counter and said, ‘Ah, she has gone to Kariba.’

‘Kariba? Is she coming back?’

‘Yes, but she said she will be gone for four or five days.’

‘Shit.’ Jed ignored the look of shock on the ranger’s face. If Luke was right about Miranda he would have to track Chris down. He needed answers and couldn’t wait five days. They headed back outside to the Land Rover. ‘Let’s carry on,’ he said to the other two. There was nowhere else they could go that afternoon. He silently fumed for most of the remaining eighty kilometres into the park.

‘Leave me to check in with the warden,’ Moses said as they neared the turn-off to park headquarters. ‘You go on ahead. I’ll visit my friends in the staff village and see if there is any new gossip, then join you at the professor’s lodge later.’

‘Thanks, Moses.’ Jed stopped the Land Rover. The vehicle rocked as the big African got out.

‘Good guy to have on our side,’ Luke said as Jed drove off again.

Jed slowed and looked at the Australian. ‘
Our
side? I don’t think so. Look, I appreciate you coming here with the news, but we’re in this mess mostly because of you and your kind. Anything I do as a result of this information is a matter for me and, if he can help, Moses. We’re not in this together as one big happy family, buddy.’

‘Jesus!’ Luke exploded. ‘You’d be on a bloody plane back home with some albino chick’s hand in a wooden box if I hadn’t shown up! Cut me some slack, man. OK, you saved my life in Afghanistan, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit all the time. What do you think I’m going to do – phone in reports on the hour to CNN?’

‘You tell me what you’re going to do.’

‘If Miranda’s alive, it’s news. I can’t ignore that and you can’t either.’

Jed knew the boy was right. ‘So, what will you do, if we – I do find her alive?’

‘All I want is the chance to break the story A one-on-one interview if she’ll give it. Nothing more.

If she says no, I walk, but I want your word and hers that she won’t talk to any other journalists if she turns me down.’

Jed thought about the proposition for a few seconds, then nodded. He supposed leaving the matter up to Miranda – if she were alive – was the fairest thing to do. However, he still felt angry at Luke for putting enough information in his article about the firefight in Afghanistan for Hassan bin Zayid to make the connection between Jed and Miranda. ‘Whether Miranda speaks to you or not, I want my name left out of your story Are we clear on that?’

‘Crystal,’ Luke said, turning away to stare out the window.

The Zambezi shimmered in the golden rays of afternoon sun as they pulled up behind the lodge.

‘Nice spot,’ Luke remarked.

Jed grunted. At this moment he cared nothing for the spectacular vista in front of him. He strode inside and took the stairs two at a time to the upstairs bedrooms. Luke trailed behind him.

‘Most of Chris’s gear is gone, but it looks like she’s left Miranda’s stuff.’ He wondered what had delayed Chris’s departure for South Africa and diverted her to Kariba.

‘Which one of these cases has the laptop?’ Luke asked.

‘I don’t know. They all look alike.’ They were confronted by a pile of aluminium transit cases.

‘They’ve all got these little padlocks on them.’ Luke fingered one of the small brass locks.

Jed walked down the stairs and outside to the Land Rover. Behind the passenger’s seat was a canvas roll of tools. He undid it and took out a long-bladed screwdriver. Back in the room, he threaded the shaft of the screwdriver through the first of the locks and twisted. The padlock, which was more a visible deterrent than a serious security measure, popped open and Jed twisted the latches on the case. Chris must have had spare keys to each of the locks, Jed thought. He stared at the contents. It wasn’t a laptop computer.