Deadly Harvest A Detective Kubu Mystery - By Michael Stanley Page 0,66
it would be embarrassing to him and his friends.” She jumped up. “Here we go again. And you said you wanted to solve these muti murders. You’re the same as the rest of them!” Samantha turned and stormed out of the room.
AN HOUR LATER, KUBU picked up his phone and dialed Samantha’s extension.
“Please come to my office. We need to talk.”
A few minutes later, she knocked and walked in. Kubu waved at a chair.
“I’m sorry I walked out on you,” Samantha said quietly. “I get so angry when I see the same old ways being repeated. We’ll never get any of these people if that continues.” She sat down.
“I understand how you feel,” Kubu said. “But you will have to trust me on this one. If it makes a difference in getting a witch doctor convicted, we will reveal the informant’s name, and he’s agreed to testify. But it would be better if it didn’t come to that.”
He looked at Samantha, who sat without saying a word.
“Samantha, you’re crucial to our investigations. You have the drive and will to succeed. I want you to continue what you’re doing. I want you to come with me when we try to apprehend the witch doctor. But in this instance, I’m in charge. That’s not negotiable.”
Again, he looked directly at her. “Is that clear?”
He could see her fighting to control her emotions. Eventually she stood up and nodded. Then she turned and left.
Kubu sat for a while wondering whether Samantha would have the resilience to stay and work in the inhospitable environment that was the CID.
She will, he thought. She’s tough and very determined to make a difference.
He smiled.
She’s going to be a good detective.
THIRTY-TWO
KUBU WAS NOT HAPPY. He was cramped in the passenger seat of Samantha’s Corolla with a tub of KFC chicken on his lap, and Samantha was barely on speaking terms with him. But the main source of his concern was their location. It was a poor area, a warren of dirt roads without street lighting. He was convinced there were ways in and out that he didn’t know about. And they were much closer to the witch doctor’s “safe house” than he would have liked, but he was concerned about getting to it quickly in the dark on the rough streets. Gobey had said he could look after himself—he was, after all, a policeman—but Kubu knew he was weakened by his illness. He wanted to be able to come to the deputy commissioner’s aid quickly, if necessary.
Samantha knew none of this and was angry about being kept in the dark, untrusted. He offered her a piece of chicken, but she just shook her head. Kubu shrugged and went on eating. It was their camouflage in case anyone suspected them of being watchers. They’d simply pulled off the road to eat. That had been Kubu’s idea. Two armed constables in plain clothes sat in the back, working through their own tub.
“What happens if your informant gives us the slip?” Samantha asked. “We’d lose him in a minute in this.” She waved at the dusty tracks wandering between the tiny houses and shacks.
“I told you. He’s wired. I’m in constant contact with him through this.” He indicated the headset he was wearing. “And anyway he volunteered for this. He’s not some informer that I bought.” Kubu tried to keep the defensive tone out of his voice. “All we have to do is wait. When he gets the signal from the house, he’ll go in and keep the witch doctor occupied while we get there, and our second car comes from the other main road. Then we surround the house and go in. He’ll have to really make himself invisible to get away. And we’re covering the two main roads into the township; what can go wrong?”
“We’ll see just now,” Samantha grumbled.
Kubu frowned and helped himself to another drumstick. He knew Joy wouldn’t be impressed, but with Samantha not eating, he had to keep up their cover.
“Bengu. Come in.” Gobey’s voice suddenly came through the earpiece, startling Kubu. He switched on his mike and responded.
“Yes,” said Gobey. “I’m outside the house. All quiet and dark. But that’s how he operates. Always makes you wait, makes sure you know he’s the important one. We may have to hang on half an hour. Just be patient.” He sounded nervous.
“No problem. I’ll keep monitoring you.” Kubu muted his mike and radioed the driver of the other car to relay the message. Kubu was worried about