“I agree we should do that, but that’s not why I’m worried. I think... well, it’s a big coincidence that my coordinates brought us here. Why do the truck stops all occur so close to this supposedly closed mine? What if Brogan’s involved in this illegal mining, and he’s transporting the gold?”
“It would suggest a connection. But, logically, if a transport truck was collecting large quantities of ore from the mine, it would be heavier after leaving, not lighter. And if they were processing the gold on site, then the weight difference would be negligible, since it takes tons of ore to create only a few ounces of gold. But even so, let’s not rule it out, if you suspect it. You have good instincts.” In fact, Joey realized, in the short time they’d known each other, he had developed the utmost respect for Isobel’s guts, her judgment, and her intelligence. It bothered him that her husband didn’t seem to appreciate these qualities as much as he should.
Then he stopped dead, taking Isobel by the arm. Her skin felt warm and, to his surprise, she grasped his arm in turn.
“What is it?” she breathed.
“It’s broken open.” Joey stared at the concrete building that marked the start of the tunnel. The boards that sealed its entrance had been ripped away, and the door beyond was forced wide.
The zama zamas were back.
Chapter 22
“You think the zama zamas are actually inside?” Isobel whispered, staring at the pitch-black gap leading to the tunnel. She was glad that Joey was beside her. She found he reassured her in a way that went beyond the presence of his muscular and imposing body. He was calm, capable, surprisingly sensitive to her needs, and shrewdly intelligent.
“It’s very likely they may be here,” he replied. “We may be able to hear some activity if we go in, but first, let’s call for backup.”
“Who are you going to call?”
“First, the cops. Secondly, an ambulance.”
“Ambulance?”
“Confrontations between police and zama zamas tend to end violently.”
Isobel waited, watching, while Joey made the calls.
No sign of any vehicle approaching. She was sure now that the truck driver had been warned to avoid the meeting point. If that was so, then perhaps Joey was right, and the evidence they had discovered — the tire tracks and the breached mine entrance — would explain these specially scheduled detours. That would mean her husband’s South African employees had become involved in illegal mining.
Her thoughts were in turmoil as she considered how they might have found out she was here. Had Samantha innocently said something to the wrong person?
But then something else caught her attention. It was a strange, faraway sound, only just audible in the quiet of the night.
At first, she thought it might be an approaching truck; it was a low, drumming noise that reminded her of tires over rough ground, only not quite the same.
She turned toward the direction of the road to try to hear it better, but when she did, it faded away.
She moved closer to the concrete entrance, and that was when she heard it again.
Curious, she stepped through the dark mouth of the gateway, and then walked a few more steps. Now the throbbing was resonating through her body, the booming sound punctuated by sharper cracks, and a low babble of what might be voices. Shivers chilled the length of her spine and she felt her neck prickle.
“Joey,” she called.
He was off his phone, and he must have instantly picked up on her fear. In a few giant strides, he was inside.
“What’s wrong?”
“Listen.”
Joey listened, then spoke again, sounding shaken. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on down below, but something is seriously wrong.”
“Why?” Her mouth felt suddenly dry.
“Those aren’t the sounds of mining. They’re drumming on the rock with tools. I think trying to call for help, but it could also cause a structural collapse. People must be trapped down there.” He stared down the pitch-black tunnel. “We have to get them out.”
Chapter 23
Shadrack Mashishi was driving to the drop-off point as fast as he could. He was behind schedule and in a panic about it, because it wasn’t good to arrive late when working for these bosses.
It was only his job to drive. That was why he had a job. Because he drove capably, and because he was prepared to do what he was told without asking questions. He knew he was lucky to have work at all with his criminal record — a six-month conviction for assault and battery after a vicious bar fight some years ago.
At first, he thought the silver BMW coming up behind him was a hijacker because of the speed with which it approached, flashing its lights as it stormed along in his lane. Then the car passed, and Shadrack was just heaving a sigh of relief when the brake lights flashed and it swerved in again.
“Shit!” Clamping his jaw tight, he slammed on the brakes, feeling the truck start to fishtail on the wet road. He prayed it wouldn’t overturn and cause him to lose the official load of coffee beans that he’d freighted from Zambia. As for the unofficial load, hidden behind an inner panel — well, he was sure the twenty men crammed in there would have a few bruises after his evasive maneuver.
He skidded to a stop behind the BMW. After a moment to collect himself, it occurred to Shadrack that this might be one of his employers. Maybe plans had changed. Either way, he needed to stay calm. A tall, thin man unfolded himself from the car and strode over, grinning at him with a lopsided smile that stretched only as far as his cheekbones, leaving his eyes stony cold.
“Shadrack?”
Definitely one of the boss men.
“Yes,” he replied, opening the door and climbing down. He focused on trying to appear willing, not letting his face show the mixture of exhaustion and fear that was seething inside him.
“This is a precautionary stop. There’s a situation to resolve at the site, so we are delaying delivery of the cargo.”
“Ah,” Shadrack said. He wondered how long the wait would be. He had his own deadlines to meet. When border officials were routinely bribed so that a search meant opening the truck’s back door and glancing inside — well, a man ended up doing favors for friends. And branching out into additional enterprises to cover expenses. There were some pills stashed in the door compartment, and a couple of underage pornographic DVDs he’d obtained to sell on. That particular market wasn’t his taste, but it sure paid well for material.
“Did you know the rear-access door of your truck is loose?” the cold-eyed man asked him, and something in his tone made Shadrack’s stomach lurch. “You could be fired for that. Get round the back, check your cargo, and close it properly.”
“Will do.” Shadrack pulled himself up straighter. Suddenly it was like this guy had planted a ramrod in his spine. He marched round to the back of the truck and stepped up to the small access door.
Loose? It didn’t look loose. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure. Go through the motions, please the people who signed the paychecks.
He opened the door, looked obediently in at the closely stacked sacks, and closed it again, twisting the handle vigorously.
When he looked back at the man, a gun had materialized in his hand, its cold black eye staring directly into Shadrack’s own.
“Hey,” he shouted. “Wait!”
Shadrack wanted to run, but bright headlights filled his vision, an approaching truck was blinding him, and the hard-eyed man paused, as if waiting for the truck to pass before doing the deed.
Then darkness swallowed him.