Elephant Murders: Justice

Elephant

Murders

Justice

By Susan Hunter

Hudson Run Press – New York

Hudson Run Press

Publishers since 1999

Lake Luzerne, New York 12846

Copyright © 2015 by Susan S. Hunter

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Cover Design by Sharon Bolton

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hunter, Susan S.

Elephant Murders | Justice / Susan Hunter

eISBN 978-0-9702932-3-7

1. Elephant Poaching

2. International Environmental Crime

3. Female Detective

4. Kafue National Park (Zambia)

About this Series

Elephant Murders: Justice is the second volume in a trilogy about elephant poaching in Africa and Asia published in 2015.

The first volume in the series, Elephant Murders: Starbuck, was released in March 2015 and the last volume, Elephant Murders: Memories, will be published in May 2015.

All volumes will be available in Kindle and other e-book formats, and will be released in print editions in 2015.

Every tusk, piece and scrap has been steeped and dyed in blood.

Every pound weight of ivory has cost the life of a man, woman, or child.

For every five pounds a hut has been burned;

for every two tusks, a whole village has been destroyed;

every twenty tusks have been obtained

at the price of a district with all its people, villages, and plantations.

It is simply incredible that, because ivory is required for ornaments or billiard games,

the rich heart of Africa should be laid waste,

that populations, tribes and nations should be utterly destroyed.

Whom after all does this bloody seizure of ivory enrich?

Only a few dozen, who, if due justice were dealt to them,

should be made to sweat out the remainder of their piratical lives in the severest penal servitude.

Henry Morton Stanley

In Darkest Africa, 1890

This book is dedicated to finding

justice for humans and animals everywhere

The killings are on-going, brutal, and must be stopped.

They are as ugly in reality as they are on the written page.

I know. I’ve seen the carnage up close.

Elephants don’t deserve this kind of punishment and we must do everything in our power to protect them.

I hope the three books in Elephant Murders contribute to that end.

1 | Malinga’s Confession

Shiko and Katanga stumbled in the heavy grass when they heard the sound of the helicopter over their heads. They looked up and saw the gun barrels aimed straight their heads and panicked. Malinga’s shouts only confused them more. Bullets were pinging off the dry ground around them, kicking up plumes of dust. Shiko had frozen, his mouth opened wide in a howl. Katanga tried to get him moving, but to little avail.

Malinga looked up and saw the General leering down at her, cursing her with his fists, while the two Asian men with him reloaded their automatic weapons. Panic gave her the extra energy she needed to reach her cowering children and pick them up like sacks of maize, one under each arm. Adrenalin made them lighter than feathers as she sprinted for the cover of the forest, reaching it just as the gunshots ripped over their heads. When the gunfire continued behind them, she knew she had to keep running or the General would kill them all.

Malinga pushed herself up with a start, waking the passenger next to her. She sat forward, gripping the arms of her seat in wide-eyed terror. She could see with the elephants’ eyes, hear with their ears, and cringed as every bullet struck her skin and penetrated her soul. The cruelty was unflinching and relentless.

Dreams of the poachers’ helicopter still terrorized her nights and struck fear in her heart. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the ten magnificent beasts had been murdered. Coming awake on the flight from Zambia to Guangzhou, it seemed the elephant murders had happened eons ago instead of just a week.

So many things had happened in such a short time. She’d found new purpose in police work, convinced her boss and Zambia’s President to established an interagency task force to make the fight against poachers more effective, and was now pursuing the murderers across the boundaries of continents and countries. She’d become closer to her children and parents. And she’d fallen passionately in love with a man she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust.

Waking from her nightmare, Malinga shook with fierce anger at the senseless murder of the elephants, just as she had when she first saw their lifeless, faceless forms lying in a game park clearing. She’d vowed to find the killers and make them pay. Eitone, the amber-eyed park ranger who’d stolen her heart during the case, had been right: she’d never sleep until the job was done.

The dream was still as intense as it had been on the first night and every night since. Malinga knew there was only one way to end the nightmare: bring the bastards who’d were responsible to justice, and bring the ivory they’d stolen back to Zambia where it belonged. That was why her long, lanky body was folded like an accordion into the tiny economy class seat of Air China’s flight to Guangzhou, where she knew the poachers had gone to sell the bounty of their evil labor.

The elderly priest next to her sputtered awake and rubbed his face. He looked at her timidly. Are you all right, my dear? he asked.

Sorry, Malinga murmured. Sorry I woke you up.

I’ve been half awake for most of the trip, he said. These seats are so uncomfortable I couldn’t sleep. He smiled tentatively and cleared his throat. It looked like you were having a terrible dream. I almost called the stewardess.

I’m sorry I kept you awake, Malinga said. It’s just that I can’t get the case I’m working on off my mind.

It’s a good thing you woke up when you did, the man said. We’re about to have breakfast.

I’m glad I didn’t wake you up earlier.

Oh, you did, he said, and shrugged. But I never sleep well on planes. He cleared his throat, eyeing the shrink-wrapped sandwich the stewardess had thrown on his tray table. I hope this is better than last night’s dinner.

Malinga laughed. And I thought I liked Chinese food.

The priest smiled. Coffee, he said to the stewardess.

Coffee, Malinga said, turning toward the priest. I’m surprised you drink coffee. Don’t all Irishmen prefer tea?

He chuckled. And don’t all Zambian women?

I did until I trained for three months in San Francisco. Coffee seems to be one of the few things Americans got right.

What can Americans teach Zambians that they don’t already know? he asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Police forensics. It was a basic course.

The priest’s eyes widened. I knew it! You’re the policewoman I’ve seen on the television!

Malinga laughed. Yes, I’m afraid so.

Oh, no. Don’t be afraid. You were quite good, and you’re a lot prettier than your boss.

She laughed. I’m sure he’d be glad to hear you say that.

Remind me of your name, my dear.

Malinga Mutende, Deputy Inspector, Zambian CID. And you?

I’m Michael Ahearn. Deputy Inspector, GID. He chuckled. With the Catholic Church. The Jesuit Center on Theological Reflection, he said, sticking his hand out to shake hers. It’s a pleasure and a privilege to meet you.

Malinga’s face lit up. I knew I’d seen you before, too, she exclaimed. You led the demonstration that forced Parliament to approve free education for AIDS orphans.

Good memory!

Thanks to you, fewer children will end up in trouble on the streets.

He bit into the breakfast sandwich gingerly and sipped his coffee. If you’re on a plane to China, he said, it means you’re keeping your promise to pursue the poachers and the ivory to the ends of the earth if need be.

She smiled sheepishly. You got it. I guess I was a little overdramatic, but we need to capture the public’s imagination. Right now, not many people care about poaching because they don’t make the connection to national security.

They don’t know how powerful the gangs are. They could take over half of Zambia if they were a little better organized.

Malinga laughed, delighted. Not many people understand that.

Is that what’s giving you nightmares?

Malinga shook her head. Not really. She blushed and looked away. I can’t really talk about it.

It would probably help if you did, he said kindly.

It would, I’m sure, but . . . He waited, smiling patiently.

Malinga plunged on. I have a small confession to make. She looked out the window. I’m very excited about this mission, but I’m also very frightened.

You should be. Chinese gangs are very good at what they do.

She looked at him and grinned. That’s not very comforting.

But it’s true.

I’m also worried about my children, she said, looking away. I feel guilty about leaving them. What if something happens to me?

Ah, Malinga, the priest sighed. Every parent has to step away and let their children grow. Fortunately, in Zambia, the wider family will pitch in and help. I see that with the orphans all the time. He took her hand again and patted it. Can I assume that was your mother and father standing with the children and waving good bye?

She nodded, smiling bravely, but her mouth quivered and her eyes teared over.

And who was that handsome man with them? He had your little boy sitting on his shoulders to see above the crowd, while the little girl kept dancing around your mother.

Shiko’s eight and Katanga’s ten.

Lovely. But who was that handsome man?

Malinga laughed. The captain of the park rangers at Kafue, Eitone Mazoka.

I enjoyed watching him kiss you goodbye. Malinga’s eyes widened. He laughed and patted her knee. Oh, my dear! I assure you my interest isn’t prurient. I could tell that you two share something many couples never get to experience.

Malinga felt the tears fill her eyes. She stood. Excuse me, Father, but I need to use the lady’s room. By the time she returned to her seat, the breakfast things had been cleared and the stewardess was announcing their descent. We’re beginning our approach to Guangzhou International Airport. Seat backs and tray tables in the upright and locked position.

Michael handed her his card. I’ve written my cell phone number on the back, he said. I’d ask for yours, but that means I’ll feel the need to check in on you periodically.

Malinga smiled. Nothing I’d like better! she said, and dug her card out. She noted her mother and father’s names and Shiko and Katanga’s. I’ll be home by the end of the week, but these are the important characters in my life should one of them pick up the phone.

He raised his eyebrows. You plan on catching these criminals very quickly.

If I don’t, they’ll disappear completely.

Well, my dear. I wish you the best of luck. And God’s help whenever you call for it. The GID is on your side, I can assure you.

Malinga grinned. GID. Is that what I think it is?

The priest nodded. It is. May the force be with you.

When the plane had landed, Michael struggled to his feet. Arthritis had taken his body over completely. And what brings you here to China, Father Ahearn? Malinga asked after she lifted his bag from the overhead.

I’m here to submit to an ancient form of Chinese torture. Acupuncture. I’ve tried everything else for my back and nothing’s worked. As you can see, I can barely walk anymore.

I’m sorry to see that.

He smiled up at her from his half-bent position. God has his way of slowing us down so we can listen.

She smiled. If he slows me down, I can only pray he slows the criminals down as well.

Never forget the story of the tortoise and the hare, my dear.

I wonder how that translates into Chinese.

2 | Global Violence

Each year, more than thirty thousand elephants die so that international gangsters and terrorist groups can make money to fund other crimes and terrorist violence. As a representative of the Zambian police force, I’m here to ask for your help to stop a gang of poachers that traveled from Africa to China a few days ago carrying close to five hundred kilograms of elephant ivory to sell on the Chinese market.

Malinga pressed the remote and a photo of Elvis as she’d first seen him – clean shaven with dreadlocks – flashed on the screen of the press briefing room. This is the man we believe is responsible for the crime, a Zambian named Elvis Shasonga.

Then she flashed up a police sketch of Elvis, completely bald but with a full goatee. This is what Elvis looks like now. He’s traveling under the name of Jonah Tafika. She passed around copies of the photos. If you can run both pictures in your newspapers or on your websites, it will help us a lot.

The legal department advised Malinga not to identify General George Tembo, Elvis’s uncle and mastermind of the ivory killings. Pointing a finger at the General, Zambia’s Minister of Defense and presidential hopeful, would only embroil the police in a terrible mess at home. So Malinga simply said, we believe this man is traveling with at least one other Zambian accomplice and may also have some high-placed Chinese accomplices.

Who are the Chinese? one reporter demanded.

Malinga paused. Legal had also advised her not to mention the Chinese Ambassador to Zambia for fear of international reprisals, although they were sure of his participation in the elephant massacres. Nor could she mention the role of prominent Chinese business man Lingtao Cho, who had helped kill the elephants from General Tembo’s helicopter.

I’ll update you as soon as we confirm their identities. She passed out her business card. If any of you hear anything, please be sure to alert me.

Malinga was relieved when the press conference came to a close. She’d only addressed the Zambian press once before, shortly after the elephant massacre. Ordinarily, she was happy to leave media relations to her boss, Inspector Crispin Chikanda. But they’d decided to get the word out about their pursuit of the tusks, and Suchong Sung, the Chinese wildlife ecologist who was Malinga’s main contact in Guangzhou, had managed to attract a large number of reporters.

If you make yourself visible, you’ll be safer, Eitone had advised. Rainford Kalaba, University of Zambia biology professor, and Jane Mukasa, head of the Zambian Wildlife Authority, issued an advance statement to the Chinese press about Malinga’s investigation, so many of the reporters were conversant with her mission to save Zambian elephants from extinction.

What happens if you don’t find the criminals here in China? a female reporter asked.

I’ll find them wherever they go. They shot ten elephants with AK-47s from a helicopter and butchered them with a chainsaw to take their tusks. They even murdered some of the young ones with no tusks at all. They are ruthless killers who must be stopped.

The press corps mumbled among themselves and another hand shot up. Throughout history, the Chinese have used ivory for art and even for mundane utensils, like chop sticks. The elephants never went extinct before. Why is it different now?

"First, the scale at which it’s done. When elephants were hunted with rifles, it took years to kill as many as are killed with automatic weapons in a few hours. The herds had time to replenish themselves.

"Second, poachers often kill the babies because they get in the way of the ivory harvest, diminishing their recovery capacity of the herds even further. Third, poachers are now poisoning watering holes to kill hundreds at a time, along with all the animals that feed on them.

Wildlife poaching is a global crime involving international terrorist groups. It’s as much a problem for humans caught in the violence of international criminal gangs as it is a problem for the animals themselves. It’s rooted in poverty and ignorance.

She looked up into the television cameras and smiled what she hoped was her most winning smile, dark eyes lighting the delicate triangle of her face. We can stop elephant extinction before it’s too late if we have your help. If people stop buying ivory, the murders will stop. Please, when you run this story, emphasize the devastation this is causing, and challenge your audience to rethink their habits. It may not be so important to eat with ivory chopsticks after all.

Where did you say the ivory is from?

It originated in Kafue National Park, one of Africa’s premier national game parks, in my home country of Zambia. Oh, yes. Please emphasize that we have complete genetic information on the tusks, so anyone who buys them can be easily arrested and incriminated.

The reporters looked uncomfortable and a number of hands shot up. So the ivory can be tracked to documented criminal activity? one asked.

Yes. Anyone who buys this ivory be heavily fined, and all known associates will lose the right to participate in all future legal ivory auctions. Since the legal auctions will soon be the only source of ivory, smart buyers won’t touch these tusks with a five meter pole.

3 | Elvis Gets the Cold Shoulders

What do you mean, you haven’t sold the ivory yet? You’re nothing but a lazy idiot!

General George Tembo, Elvis’s uncle, moved so close to him he nudged him backward with his belly.

It cost me thousands to bring you here! the General shouted. You persuaded all of us that you could sell the ivory through your old drug contacts. Now you’ve embarrassed me in front of the Ambassador and Mr. Cho! If we can’t get rid of this ivory, how can we make more deals?

The DNA sampling and the Wildlife Authority warning has spoiled our chances here, not me, Elvis retorted. You saw the press conference last night. I’ve contacted everyone I know, but ZAWA’s story spread through the underground network before we got here.

When did ZAWA take the DNA samples?

Before we left the airport, Uncle. Don’t you remember? You were standing right there when they did it.

That’s what they were doing? Well! I’ll have to put a stop to that when I get back to Zambia. I’m sure there’s someone I can bribe.

That’s fine for later sales, but what can we do now? Did the Ambassador or Mr. Cho have any luck with their contacts?

Tembo laughed scornfully. Even less luck than you, apparently. Since the story hit the news, they’ve backed away from us. I need to have a serious talk with both of them.

Don’t give up hope, Uncle. I’ve got two more possibilities. I’m going to see Xhin Xhe. I knew him from the drug business and he’s a very important man in all these deals. It’s possible he’ll overlook the risk of the DNA trace, but I might have to offer him a lower price.

See what he says and call me.

I’m going there now. I’ll call you with his offer in a few hours.

Elvis’s hopes rose as the taxi sped away from his uncle’s hotel toward the Xingfu Market. Once he made the deal with Xhin Xhe, he’d have his first million. And a track record that other dealers would respect when he brought the other half of the ivory to Asia. They’d taken so much ivory take from the ten elephants they’d killed, that he was forced to bury half the tusks near Kafue Park’s Musa Gate for a later trip.

As the taxi wended its way through the crowded city, Elvis’s spirits rose even higher. Success would breed success. Once they started harvesting ivory with cyanide, major channels would open and they wouldn’t have to worry about DNA tests. His uncle’s position as Minister of Defense would ensure that they could centralize all the trade from Zambia under their control. They just had to make this first deal.

Since he’d landed in Guangzhou, Elvis had failed to find anyone willing to buy the ivory he was carrying. His drug dealer friends acknowledged its quality and value, but they were leery of DNA tracing and a first-time trader like him. Elvis and his uncle were breaking into the market, and the difficulties of circumventing known middlemen were more formidable than they’d imagined.

So now he was hurrying to see his old friend, Xhin Xhe, sure he would want the stuff. He bounded from the taxi when they reached Xingfu and after a few inquiries, found Xhin Xhe in the rear of the market. Kingpin of the illegal ivory trade in Guangzhou, the old man looked the same as Elvis remembered but for a few more missing teeth, evident when he smiled at him.

Xhin Xhe recognized Elvis from earlier drug deals and greeted him like a long-lost friend. But when the talk turned to ivory, he closed up. Did you see that press conference? he asked. The police took DNA samples. If I buy this ivory, I’ll be ruined.

But wait! Hear me out! Elvis begged. His pitch became more fervent as the old man’s face lengthened. Finally Xhin Xhe signaled him to stop. He cleared his throat.

No DNA record, I would buy your tusks, he said. I like you, Elvis, especially now that you have no hair and a mustache. Mr. Tafika, he said, giggling loudly. Make no mistake. I want to buy from you, get you started, make future relationship. But now that the police have the DNA, it’s too risky. If they catch me, I spend the rest of my life in jail. Besides, there’s another deal coming my way that’s better than yours.

Elvis smiled in spite of himself. That was the real reason. But Xhin Xhe! My deal is big, too! I’ve got half the ivory with me, and I’ll bring the other half from Zambia once we establish terms. The half that’s still in Zambia hasn’t been tested, and I’m sure I can get it here without that. We killed a lot of elephants, old man. There’s at least two million US in it for both of us.

Xhin Xhe stared at him for a moment. When he grinned, Elvis’s hopes rose. He’d persuaded the old man after all. What do you say, old man? We’ll give you a good price!

Xhin Xhe hesitated for another fraction of second, then shook his head. Maybe you come to me with new ivory. Right now, I close door on our discussion. DNA very bad omen.

Elvis’s heart fell. Okay, old man. But you’ll be sorry you turned me down when I control Zambia’s ivory trade. We’ll be selling more ivory than you’ve ever seen in your life by the end of next year. We’ve found a new way to harvest it.

He thought he saw the old man’s eyes open a little wider, but Xhin Xhe still shook his head. He put his hands on his knees and rose, laughing at Elvis’s crestfallen expression. Come back to me in the future. No DNA, I buy.

Xhin Xhe grinned up at him. Tell you what. My boys take you out for some good dope. On me.

Later. I have a little more business to do first. I’ll call your boys when I’m ready. Elvis stood. He had one more contact left, a Chinese who’d bought ivory from him when he’d worked the Caprivi Strip in Namibia.

Xhin Xhe smiled mischievously. No need to call my boys. They follow you now, keep track of where you go. Maybe we get ivory free if something happens to you.

4 | In the Xingfu Market

I’m warning you now, Suchong said as her driver approached Xingfu on the S-16, the stench is terrible. Animals are killed and skinned right in front of the buyer. The suffering here is the worst I’ve seen in Asia. If customers could see what happens to these animals before they get to the table, they’d never eat them again. Xingfu means happy in Chinese – happy for the eater, not for the prey.

No end to human cruelty, Malinga mumbled, feeling a bit like prey herself. It was too early in the morning, and there’d been no time for breakfast or a cup of coffee at the hotel. Despite her best efforts, Elvis had increased his lead. He was two steps ahead of her – or more. She had to keep moving or she’d never catch him.

Suchong, Rainford’s friend, had met her at the airport and took her to dinner after the press conference the night before.

We’ll start in Xingfu, she’d said. "Most of the vendors sell wild animals for food, but it’s also the center of the illegal ivory trade and the first place anyone would go to sell tusks. The man