Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 02
angry look at Charles who, like Modise, stepped back, puzzled.
    “I am very angry at the thought of the park being a place where this awfulness is taking place.”
    “Well, Sanderson, you can rest assured they will not be back. At least not to film. But that will not stop others from trying somewhere else. It is a shame, but all we, the police, can do is be vigilant.”
    “I am not sure it is enough. If people do not buy this filth, there is no reason to make it, yes? You must stop it at the consumer end, I am thinking. Perhaps Charles can give you some leads in this matter.”
    Charles looked genuinely shocked. “Sanderson, what are you saying? I am not a person who frequents the places where this business goes on. I merely pointed out to you what anyone, no everyone, knows. That pornography is ingrained into the culture. It has been for years, I think. I saw a very fine program on the telly about some place in Italy where they had a big volcano problem many years ago, thousands, I think, and the walls on these houses that they uncovered after all this time had pictures of…those sorts of pictures. It has not always been so bad a thing it seems.”
    “That those people did these things is no excuse.”
    “Do you think I am likely…Sanderson, simply to know these things is not the same as condoning, utilizing them or…or anything. What are you thinking?”
    Modise paused and then sat at Sanderson’s desk, just as he had at Mwambe’s. And for the same reason—to assert his authority and bring the conversation back to where he needed it to be.
    “Enough, Sanderson. I agree with you completely,” he said, “But this gets us nowhere. I need your thoughts…yours too, Charles, on how we can monitor the park when the press arrives in a month or two. Mwambe tells me the gap in the fence is for outsiders, people who do not know how really easy it is to enter the park. He says the poachers would not need it. Is that so?”
    Sanderson took a breath. Her anger subsided sufficiently to address this problem. “I am sorry, Charles. I had no right to accuse you. So, as to Mwambe. He is correct in that. The gap is convenient to Kasane, and so has the advantage of providing quick access to the park. Otherwise you must do some driving about on bad and probably unfamiliar paths. If you do not know these tracks, they can be dangerous.”
    “Who would know of these?”
    “The guides from the lodges all know them. And then there are the local people. You know there are still some people living in the enclaves near the water. They come and go. Mwambe may think they are poachers but they live off the land—at least some of them do, and they have hunted it forever. They fish but will not take an animal. I cannot be so sure about their friends and relatives from across the river, and then there are the illegals from Zimbabwe. They flee the chaos in their country and the foolishness of Crazy Bob. If there is a problem with them, it is the poverty they experience that will make them easy prey for exploiters.”
    “Well, we must work with what we have, I guess.” Modise would have liked something more concrete, but it was early still.

Chapter Seventeen
    “It’s dead simple. We find customers, we find suppliers, we put them together and take a nice finder’s fee.”
    “I’m not convinced about the simple bit, but if we’re caught, we’re perished and that’ll be the dead bit.”
    “Don’t be such a puss, Harvey. I’ve explained it to you a dozen times. Now, your job is to scare us up some buyers. That should be easy enough for you. You’ve been mucking about in the minerals business for donkey’s years. I’ll see to the suppliers. There’s always some power hungry warlord or Mugabe wannabe out there who can supply the goods to get the cash he needs to pay for his personal war.”
    “Jack, you could sell ice to Eskimos, I know. I just think we might be headed into something that could bring some very nasty types into

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