Chapter 14

Taking the Bull by the Horns

I’m not an investigative journalist.

I didn’t study journalism like Pam did. I don’t own a voice recorder. I don’t know the etiquette about interviewing someone. I don’t know the first thing about conducting an investigation.

I do know how to ask questions, though, and thankfully, I read a few mystery books when I was younger, so I set out to do exactly that, eager and hoping to get some clarity.

As soon as Nathan leaves for some other business meetings, I exit the resort with my guide, Fumbe. Instead of asking him to accompany me in taking pictures, though, I ask him to help me ask questions, promising him a hefty tip.

With his help, my so-called investigation leads me to a village where I meet a European missionary named Therese shortly before noon.

The best part? She can speak my language.

“Thank you for seeing me,” I tell her as I shake her hand.

“No problem,” she says with a sweet smile. “It’s not like I have anything better to do right now. Besides, new friends are always welcome.”

She ushers me inside her hut. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t want to risk upsetting my stomach again by trying something unfamiliar.

“How long did you say you’ve been here again?” I ask as I look around the hut.

“Eight years,” she answers. “Two in this village. We travel around.”

I nod. “That’s a long time.”

“Other missionaries have returned home, but for me, this is my home. The people here are my family.”

“It’s very kind of you to help care for them.”

She shakes her head. “It is an honor to serve.”

I pause, suddenly remembering Jack. He, too, was selfless, only intent on helping the animals.

“You said you wanted to ask some questions.”

“Yes.” Enough with the small talk and the reminiscing.

Focus, Sam. You’re conducting an investigation here.

“Have you ever heard of a company called Landers Innovations?”

“No, I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of it. Should I have?”

“It’s fine.” Next question. “Are you aware of rhino horns being sold around here?”

“Of course, I am,” Therese answers. “We’re all aware of it. We can’t do anything about it, though. The poachers… there are so many of them. And some of the rangers have been paid off, too.”

There’s a curse on the tip of my tongue, but I decide to leave it there since I’m in the presence of a missionary.

I settle for a frown. “That’s sad.”

“It truly is.”

“Do you know who pays the poachers and the rangers? Who buys the horns?”

Therese shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. All I know is that there are many of them. They come from all over the world. They think the horns are a source of power and prestige or some sort of cure. And it’s not just the horns but the tusks, too.”

“I know. So, there are many of them? Dozens?”

She shrugs. “I fear that as long as there are rhinos and elephants, they will continue to come.”

Despicable. Don’t they know that rhinos and elephants need their horns and tusks to defend themselves? To make matters worse, most of the poachers even kill the rhinos and elephants instead of just taking their horns because that’s more convenient for them.

“And no one dares stand up against them?” I ask.

Therese, too, frowns. “Like I said, there’s nothing we can do. But there was a group of people who tried to stop the poachers. I think they were vets.”

“Vets?” If I was a dog, my ears would be standing at attention.

“Veterinarians. There were about twelve of them, I think. But sadly, they all met an unfortunate end. Some say they were cursed, but I believe they were just unlucky.”

“Did you meet them?” I ask eagerly.

“I did once. In a way, they were missionaries, too. And they were a lively bunch.”

“Is this one of them?” I bring out my phone and show her the picture.

She throws me a puzzled glance. “I think so. Is he your…?”

“Brother,” I tell her. “His name was Jack Willis. He was a vet — part of a group of volunteers who came to Africa to treat sick and wounded wild animals.”

“Yes. I think that’s the same group.”

“I heard the group no longer exists. I just assumed some of them went home. But you say they all met an unfortunate end?”

“I believe so.”

“So, they all died of malaria?”

“Heavens no,” Therese tells me. “Some of them did die of sickness but some of them were killed by poachers, and I think one of them was killed by a wild animal.”

My face falls. “That’s terrible.”

“Did your brother die of a sickness?”

“Yes.” I nod slowly. “They sent his ashes home.”

“Ashes?” Therese looks surprised. “I thought they sent the bodies home. The villagers rarely burn the bodies of their dead. They do so only if there’s a serious disease or if the dead person was evil. Burning is considered dishonorable.”

I, too, am surprised. “But isn’t malaria a serious disease?”

“Not really. It is quite common. When I said serious disease, I meant Ebola or something like that.”

And yet, his ashes were sent home.

“Would you know if the bodies of the others were sent home?” I ask, more puzzled than ever.

“I’m afraid not. Maybe. Maybe they burned the bodies because they were easier to transport that way.”

Maybe. Even so, I can’t help but feel uneasy. Something feels off, and I want to find out what.

“Do you think you can give me directions to the village where he once lived? I might be able to learn more there.”

“Sure.” Therese nods then draws something on a piece of paper. A map. When she is done, she hands it to me.

“Your brother’s name was Jack Willis?”

I nod.

“I will pray for him.”

“Thank you.”

I leave the hut, looking at the map.

Strange. I came here to find out about Nathan’s involvement with the trade of poached wildlife goods, but I find out about Jack instead.

Jack.