The suspect kept a leisurely pace through the suburbs and took Kabulonga Road off the roundabout. Zoe glanced in her mirror and saw a new pair of headlights behind her. That was fast, she thought. Two turns later, the suspect stopped outside an iron gate manned by a guard. Zoe drove past the gate and saw the upper story of a European-style villa over the electrified walls. He’s a member of the elite, she thought, and he lives in my neighborhood.
She checked her mirror and saw the outline of Joseph’s face in the glow of her brake lights. At the end of the road, she reversed course and drove slowly back toward the gate. Turning off her headlamps, she pulled to the grassy shoulder fifty yards from the driveway. She saw the guard standing in a puddle of light cast by wall-mounted security torches. He glanced her way and then ambled back to his chair.
Zoe used her iPhone to download a satellite image of her location. She zoomed in until she could see the layout of the property beyond the gate. The grounds had the appearance of a park with grass and trees surrounding the house and two outbuildings, one of which looked like a garage. Beside the house was a swimming pool.
Joseph pulled up behind her and turned off his engine. Before long, another vehicle turned into the driveway. It was the black Jaguar from the hotel. The guard opened the gate, allowing the sedan to enter the property. Zoe conjured the older man in her memory—the piercing black eyes, the flared nose and strong jaw, the expanding waistline and bespoke suit—and compared him to the thin man. Father and son, she guessed.
She heard her phone ring. “How did you find him?” Joseph asked when she picked up.
She told him the story, omitting only the detail about her father.
He was silent for a moment. “You didn’t get a picture of him, did you?”
“Why would I have done that?”
Joseph grunted. “We need something to show the witnesses. I’m going to stick around.”
“He might not leave until morning.”
“It won’t be the first time I’ve sat up all night.”
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
“No, your truck’s too visible. Did you get the license number of the SUV?”
She found the image on her iPhone and recited the number for him.
“Thanks. I’ll call my friend at the Department of Road Transport in the morning.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“He owes me a favor.”
She studied the guard sitting beside the ornate gate. Instead of slouching with his legs crossed, he sat erect with his hands resting on his knees. “There’s something peculiar about that guard,” she said. “He looks ex-military.”
Joseph murmured his agreement. “He’s also sitting outside the walls after dark, not inside in the guard shack. Obviously, they want him to be seen.”
Zoe scanned the walls again and noticed a tubular device mounted on a stand at the corner of the property. “They have cameras, too. Maybe his father is a government minister.”
“Or an industrialist. He’s obviously worried about a break-in.”
“Robberies aren’t common in Kabulonga,” she objected.
“But when they do happen, people often end up dead.” He took a breath and let it out. “Go home and get some sleep.”
“Promise me you’ll keep me in the loop.”
He laughed drily. “I’ll call you if anything interesting happens.”
chapter 7
At nine fifteen on Saturday morning, Zoe sat in the CILA conference room tapping her fingers on the table, waiting on Joseph. At her request, Mariam had summoned the response team for an emergency meeting. All but Niza had arrived in casual attire, and Zoe had briefed them on the events of the night before. Joseph, however, had yet to show up. She had left two messages on his mobile, but he had not returned her calls.
By nine thirty even Mariam was showing signs of irritation. “This isn’t like him,” she said, checking her watch. “I’ll send an SMS.”
Suddenly, Zoe heard a horn and saw the nose of Joseph’s truck pull into the drive. A minute later, he sauntered in with an insouciance that belied the tension in the room.
“Sorry to leave you in the dark,” he said, “but I was busy, as you’ll see.” He found an empty chair and smiled at them. “The suspect’s name is Darious Nyambo, son of Frederick Nyambo, founder of Nyambo Energy Company, Ltd. Darious is thirty-one and a television producer at ZNBC. Frederick was Minister of Energy and Water Development under President Mwanawasa. I had breakfast with a friend who works at the Department of Energy, and he gave me the scoop on the Nyambos. Frederick is the leading private investor in the coal and hydroelectric sectors on both sides of the Zambia–Zimbabwe border. His holdings and government connections make him one of the most powerful men in Zambia.”
“Any relation to Patricia Nyambo?” Mariam asked.
“She’s his wife.”
Zoe leaned forward in her chair. “You mean the High Court judge?”
“Exactly.” Mariam’s voice was grave.
Zoe’s eyes went wide. “Why have I never heard of Frederick?”
“He keeps a low profile,” Joseph replied. “You saw the security at his house. According to my friend, he’s a businessman, not a politician. He peddles influence quietly.”