Ivory Nation, Andy Maslen [e manga reader .txt] 📗

guitars, offbeat drumming and a high-pitched man’s voice singing in Tsetswana.

Eli pointed up at the sign.

‘Cute.’

‘Koko means chicken in Tsetswana,’ Gabriel said.

Eli rolled her eyes. She turned to Stella.

‘Gabe speaks a million languages.’

They laughed and Gabriel felt lifted by the good-natured mood.

‘Nyet ya ne! Bù, wǒ bù zhīdào! Nee, ek doen nie!’

Stella’s eyes popped wide open.

‘What?’ she exclaimed.

‘I just said “No I don’t”. In Russian, Cantonese and Afrikaans.’

Eli snorted.

‘Typical of you to research the local lingo.’

‘Which has got us out of at least one scrape since we’ve been together.’

Their banter was interrupted by a smiling man in a flower-print shirt and an apron tied round his waist.

‘Ladies, gentleman, welcome to Koko Loko. I am Jimmy, the boss around here. Table for three, yes?’

Seated outside at a table Jimmy brought out from the interior, Gabriel, Eli and Stella ordered a St Louis each. Jimmy was adamant they should let him choose for them.

‘You won’t be disappointed,’ he said with a grin.

Ten minutes later a waitress, long braids wound up into a glossy coil on the top of her head, brought their food. She wove through the other diners with a huge oval tray balanced expertly on one upturned palm.

‘We have mixed barbecue,’ she said, placing a vast platter of perfectly charred cuts of chicken, pork and lamb in the centre of the table. She pointed at a stainless steel-dish of a fluffy white substance halfway between rice and mashed potato. ‘This is phutu pap. It’s ground maize. Plus Jimmy’s special sauce.’ Next she indicated a brimming jug that released a rich smell of tomatoes and garlic. ‘This is morogo. Some folk call it African spinach. It’s cowpea leaves. Very tasty. Lots of protein,’ she added, winking at Gabriel. ‘Build up your muscles.’

Left to their food, Stella glanced at Eli, then turned to Gabriel.

‘I think the waitress likes you, Gabriel. All that bit about protein.’

‘Yeah,’ Eli added, stripping the flesh from a chicken wing. ‘I’d better keep an eye on you.’

Gabriel pretended to think about what she’d said, staring upwards and stroking his chin.

‘You may have a point, Stella,’ he said. ‘She was very pretty.’

Eli’s eyes popped wide.

‘Bastard!’ she said, punching him on the arm, none too kindly.

‘Hey! You started it.’

‘Yes, but I was joking.’

‘So was I!’

‘What have you been up to since we last spoke?’ Stella asked Gabriel. ‘Tell me about your sister.’

Gabriel finished a mouthful of chicken and took a swig of his beer. He scragged his fingertips over his scalp.

‘Good question. Leaving aside all the boring operational stuff, the main event was that I discovered I had a sister,’ he said. ‘A triad kidnapped her when she was a baby and trained her up to be a bodyguard for the big boss. We were reunited in his office.’

Where she ran him through with a Samurai sword before he could kill me.

Stella raised her bottle to him and clinked the neck of his.

‘Wow! Congratulations! That’s amazing. And, somehow, a very “you” kind of story.’

‘Thanks. I think.’

‘What’s she like? It must have been quite an experience if you’d never really got to know each other.’

He hesitated. Yes, what was Mei like? Stella’s second question was even better than her first.

‘She’s tough, a really good fighter. Smart. Fearless. But—’

‘But what?’ Stella asked, glancing at Eli, who was frowning as she concentrated on Gabriel’s words.

‘I don’t know. In fact, that’s just it! I don’t know. Not really. We spent some time together at my place and started to tell each other our stories, but then I had to get back to the UK.’

‘Did you feel a connection?’

Gabriel nodded.

‘Yes. Absolutely. In fact, there was one point in her boss’s office where I think we were communicating without words.’

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it? That means there’s something deeper there.’

‘I guess so. And she reminds me of my mum. She has the same eyes.’ He took a pull on his beer. ‘How about you? What’s been keeping you occupied?’

Stella laughed, causing a few nearby customers to turn round in their chairs, smiling good-naturedly.

‘I don’t know if you see much news, but you must have heard about the serial killer in London last year. The media called her “Saint Death” because she was doing her victims in like they were Christian martyrs.’

Gabriel nodded.

‘She was crazy, right?’ he asked.

Stella shrugged.

‘Not for me to say.’

‘Didn’t I read you killed her in self-defence?’ Eli asked.

‘Yup. She never made it as far as a courtroom, though I’m pretty sure we’d have got a conviction.’

‘What did you use?’ Eli asked.

‘A spiked metal fence post.’

Eli pursed her lips and nodded in appreciation.

‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, yes?’

Stella frowned. She swigged some beer.

‘I’m a cop, so I shouldn’t say this. But, yes. Basically. Mim Robey was a psychopath. She killed or helped her brother kill a dozen innocent people.’

While the two women discussed the rights and wrongs of killing psychopaths, Gabriel looked around the restaurant.

For all we know, the people we’re looking for are right here, sucking chop bones.

He ran through what little he knew about the targets.

They’re involved in the illegal ivory trade.

They’re at the sharp end – literally – shooting and butchering elephants right here in Botswana.

They must have a supply route to get the ivory out of Botswana.

They’re making sufficient returns to justify the risks.

They have enough men, weapons and discipline to get the better of a troop of Paras supporting APU guys.

Surely they must have known that hitting the Paras would bring a shit-ton of trouble down on their heads? Did they care? Are the stakes so high they’re willing to go all-out?

The obvious answer to the riddle was that this was organised crime. International organised crime. And where one illegal commodity was involved, he was pretty sure they’d find other flows of ‘trade’, from arms and drugs to people trafficking.

That made him think of some of the unsavoury characters he’d met in the previous few years, from Russian gangsters and triad bosses to corrupt politicians and tycoons with a morality-bypass.

None of it made him comfortable. But of one thing