Niza spoke in a measured tone. “That’s helpful. But Luchembe will trot out all of the other mahules Darious knew. We have to answer the question, ‘Why Bella?’”
“She had a history with the Nyambos,” Zoe retorted. “And she had a disabled daughter.”
“Look,” Niza said, “I think Bella is the prostitute. But I don’t think we can prove it yet.”
As much as Zoe hated to admit it, Niza had a point. They needed to explain the past.
As soon as the meeting ended, Zoe placed three calls from the driveway. The first was to Godfrey. When he didn’t answer, she left him an imploring message, highlighting the critical stage of the investigation and Kuyeya’s desperate need for family assistance. Her second call was to Mwela Chansa, Cynthia’s husband. To her astonishment, he answered on the third ring.
“Moni?” he said in Nyanja.
Zoe was so shocked to hear his voice that her mind went blank. “Sindimalankhula chinyanja,” she said after a pause. “Do you speak English?”
“Who is this?” he asked hesitantly.
“My name is Zoe Fleming. I’m trying to reach Cynthia about her cousin, Charity.”
She heard static on the line and then a woman said, “Hello?”
Zoe’s heart clutched in her chest. “Are you Cynthia?”
“Yes,” she responded, sounding wary.
Zoe introduced herself. “I met with Godfrey in Livingstone. We talked about your cousin, Charity, and her daughter, Kuyeya.”
Cynthia took an audible breath. “He told me. Why are you calling?”
“He thought you might remember the name of the man who took Charity to Lusaka.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Did Godfrey tell you what happened to Kuyeya?”
“It’s a terrible story,” Cynthia said quietly.
Zoe planted the hook. “Charity had a history with the man who raped Kuyeya. I’m trying to find out what that history was. I need to know why she came to Lusaka.”
After a while, Cynthia said, “I don’t know his name. We met him only once.”
Zoe didn’t allow her dejection to show. “Can you tell me about that meeting?”
“He bought us lunch in Livingstone. He told us he’d offered Charity a job.”
“What kind of job?”
“I didn’t pay attention.”
“It must have been a good job to take her away from nursing school.”
When Cynthia didn’t reply, Zoe thought the call had disconnected. “Are you still there?”
“How long is this going to take?” Cynthia said, sounding wary again.
“Not much longer. Did the man have a relationship with Charity?”
Cynthia sighed. “How would I know? I was only a child at the time.”
“Your grandmother thought she was pregnant—”
Cynthia interrupted her. “My grandmother had her own ideas.”
“She sent you letters, didn’t she?” Zoe asked. “Did she ever mention a relationship?”
Cynthia’s reply was curt. “What about the letters?”
At this point Zoe laid all her cards on the table. “Look, I know this is awkward. I know your family has suffered. But I’ve found no one who knows about Charity’s life in Lusaka before 2004. If she sent you letters, they might help us put the man who raped Kuyeya in prison.”
Suddenly, Cynthia shut down. “You know nothing about what we have suffered. My husband told me not to talk to you. I should have listened.”
The line went dead. Zoe stared at the phone angrily and her headache flared up again. She breathed deeply, trying to quell her frustration. Then she placed the third call.
“Clay Whitaker, please,” she said to the World Bank receptionist. “It’s Zoe Fleming.”
A few seconds later, Whitaker picked up. “Zoe. This is a nice surprise.”
“Thanks, Clay. Listen, I have a favor to ask. I need to know what Frederick Nyambo and his company were up to in 1996.”
“Is this for a case? Because I can’t testify in court.”
“It’s for a case. But I’ll let you off the hook as soon as you answer my question.”
Whitaker laughed. “Are you always this friendly?” When Zoe didn’t reply, he said, “Okay, 1996. That was the year Nyambo Energy won the contract for Zimbabwe’s first private power project. It was a step in the direction of privatization, though it didn’t pan out as Frederick hoped. We talked about that before.”
“How did the private power project come about? Did Nyambo go to Zimbabwe?”
“I imagine he did. Why?”
Zoe weighed her options and decided to trust him. “I need to know if he made a trip to Livingstone or Victoria Falls in March or April of that year.”
“I doubt the project would have taken him there. The Zimbabwean government does most of its dealings in Harare. But Batoka Gorge was on everyone’s mind at the time. It’s possible he went to Vic Falls for that reason. When do you need this?”
“Soon.”
“Let me make a couple of calls. I’ll get back to you quickly.”
“Thanks,” Zoe said and hung up.