Read or die! | Africa | Wildlife | Poaching |
The Last Rhino
This is Part Twenty-Three
Refresher from part 22
“Mandella,” he said, and the boy turned his head toward him. Fletcher’s heart shone. He rested both his palms on the side of his head. “Sleep,” he said. The boy didn’t respond. “fair enough,” he said to himself, “When you’re tired, you’ll find your way there.”
Fletcher checked his weapon and holstered it. “Bones, the rules are the same. One piss, get it,” he said, staring at the dog, who lowered his head, looking up from under his brow.
Part 23
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Rebecca lay in her bath, soaking after a day of surprises and being introduced to the terrors that lay out there in the flatlands. Fletcher Christianson didn’t appear to be the kind of man who would be a mercenary, but what would that kind of man look like? She lay soaking and wondering.
Rebecca’s world had been suddenly transformed by the scent of Africa and a man, beautiful as he looked, capable of killing other men. These two things combined to create a world of mystery and excitement.
It dizzied her mind, thoughts tumbling and falling all over the place. She was not breathing — her hands were touching the most private of parts in the warm, comforting bathwater, stroking, rubbing, harder, slower, quicker; then, in one huge breath, she felt herself climaxing, and it was done; she had reached a level of intimacy that was warm, beautiful, and immediate.
When Fletcher entered the Club, Gabriel was sitting at the bar. The Club was busy, and frustratingly, Boonsri had not found the time to speak or comfort Gabriel, though she could see a troubled look in his eyes.
“Hey, Gabriel. I’m sorry to have brought the news about your boys,” Fletch said compassionately, lowering his tone to one of great respect. “How old were they?”
Gabriel was trying to signal Boonsri. “Nineteen and twenty-one,” he said. “What hurts, Fletch, is I always have to wonder what side some of my rangers are on. When this stuff happens, I learn the hard way. I’ll ensure their service is rewarded with a pension for a year or two to help their families,” he said.
Finally, Boonsri came over. She wanted to put her arms around Gabriel and suffocate him with love. Instead, she asked, “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a beer, Boonsri,” Fletch said.
“Two beers, Boonsri. You look stunning this evening,” Gabriel remarked.
Boonsri tried to give a loving smile without giving her emotions away.
Gabriel turned back to Fletch. “I’m telling you, Fletch, the NhdLovu guys are behind this; I just know it.”
Fletcher nodded. “Knowing it and proving it, my friend.”
Boonsri returned with two cold beers. She put them down on the bar. When Gabriel reached for his beer, Boonsri touched his fingers. It was the smallest of touches, meaning the most of things.
“They’ve got the Zimbabwean Government in their pocket, Fletch. The law won’t touch them.”
“How did they get such power in the first place?” Asked Fletch, raising his beer to his mouth.
“ Okay, let’s begin with this: Bulawayo is growing and advancing, soon to be, if not already, the second largest city in Zimbabwe. The population is mostly Ndebele, Shona is a minority, and there are several other tribal cultures. It is from all these tribes that poachers make a living.”
“Fair enough, but the Nhdlovus, how did they begin to get the power they have? It seems you’re saying that they have the courts in their pockets, the judges, the lawyers, and the police,” Fletch was interrupted.
“Not all the police, Fletch. I know for sure good guys are working to break up the syndicates,” Gabriel said.
“So what are they doing?”
“Being blocked. Bantu, the Chief Commissioner, cares about the country and sees its potential without selling off the culture alive here. The outsider, Fletch, sees Zimbabwe as a mere snapshot of life in a fascinating destination. We are a country with the duality of beauty and chaos, untouched flatlands, and deserted white farmhouses, but we still battle poachers and poverty.
Those outsiders with entrepreneurial spirits realized that an untouched economy like Zimbabwe can hold enormous potential if one can invest. At first, it was the drug lords, not the dealers, who manufactured AIDS medications. When drugs improved the medical care of native South Africans, this country’s true potential was released. Should its incompetent government ever be removed, its wonderful people should allowed to thrive without interference.
But then, the outside world wanted what we once had in abundance: Tusks, elephants, rhinos. Competition and bribery in South Africa became rife, but finding a niche in Zimbabwe can be simple. With profitable land that is relatively inexpensive and a troubled country trying to climb out of economic despair, investment became the cornerstone of Zimbabwe.
The Nhdlovus bought cheap land here in Bulawayo, and next was a 24-hour Shell station, then two, and today they own five Shell stations. This gave them the money to make bigger and bolder land grabs. They told the government they wanted to build a wildlife conservation park funded by offering big game hunting to those around the world, for whom money is no expense if they can get a jumbo set of tusks. But that alone would not fund such a venture.
Twenty years ago, syndicates came in from China and Vietnam, having discovered value in the rhino’s horn, hired young locals and supplied them with cheap firearms for the sole purpose of killing the rhino. This is where the Nhdlovus got into the act. However, with the increased protection, profits from the rhino horn trade decreased, resulting in the emergence of sophisticated criminal networks — gangs with military backgrounds, many equipped with silenced rifles and night vision equipment. I decided to act in a like-for-like operation.
In Johannesburg, a law was passed, the shoot-to-kill policy. We needed to combat the problem immediately, Fletch,” Gabriel said. “Looking up your resume, I noted you had flight combat training. You were a military aviator, and getting to places where poaching is prevalent will be crucial. Naturally, it is dangerous. The Nhdlovus hire local men who will kill you without a moment's regret. If you slow down what is happening, and they kill you, Fletcher, I will have no regret. I will find more like you,” Gabriel said, resting his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder.
“I understand the job, Gabriel,” Fletcher said, draining his beer.
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