Chapter Five
Carlo watched the in-house guests leave for their afternoon safari activity. They would be gone at least three hours, giving the group enough time to sit down in the dining area for their meeting. All the game rangers and trackers would also be gone from the lodge, which was essential for privacy.
He raked his hands through his hair, feeling dispirited. His father and uncle’s company had over decades evolved into an exclusive, boutique hotel chain with branches throughout Southeast Asia and Africa. Their East Africa operations consisted mostly of high-end safari lodges. The airline, previously a sideline, used to fly guests to their lodges. But over the past thirty years, Carlevaro Air had developed into one of the most competitive light aircraft airlines in East Africa, out-earning the safari lodges. That the airline would be the one to hang the noose around their necks…
This lodge was at ninety-five percent occupancy all year and well managed. The tented accommodation was glamorous, stylishly colonial and gleamed with polished wood. Comfortable loungers and deck chairs overlooked the Rufiji River. The lunch had been exceptional and later, for dinner, the staff would light lanterns, creating a magical atmosphere. With the generator running for only a few hours at night, the stars in the sky would have no competition for their brilliance.
From where he stood on the deck he could see hippos in the river, and farther down a herd of elephants came to drink. He clenched the railing tighter as he observed the elephants. There were several young ones playing with each other, not much different from human children. They scuffled and ran around in circles, following each other in what looked like a game of tag. Every now and again they would disappear between their mothers’ legs, just to burst out again in the clearing. They were a treat to observe, yet bile rose to his throat. One day, each of those elephants would be in danger of being killed for their tusks. The idea made him physically sick.
He took a deep breath to contain his anger. Peppe had failed, and if he and Angelo didn’t get their act together there would be nothing left in thirty years’ time.
Noel Peters walked over, brushing some sweat from his brow. “The head ranger tells me there are two sites where we can go and see the carcasses. Both recent.”
Carlo suppressed the queasy twist in his stomach, the anger pulsing stronger through his veins. He checked his watch. “Let’s get this meeting done with. We’ll go tomorrow morning.” He took a seat at the head of the table.
The rest of the group filtered over from where they were sitting by the pool relaxing after lunch. Simone wasn’t there. As everybody took their seats Carlo sat down and indicated that they would wait.
Two minutes later she rushed in, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white strappy top. Her hair was a rumple of curls, hanging loose around her shoulders. She stifled a yawn as she sat down next to the rangers, whispering an excuse for being late. It was obvious that she’d been sleeping, and if he weren’t so annoyed he would’ve loved to kiss the sleepiness from her eyes, see them sparkle with life and lust. Angelo sat across from her, his gaze dropping to the neckline of her top, which hinted at the fullness of her breasts. Involuntary arousal surfaced and he clenched his jaw. Damn Angelo, he was stripping her naked with his eyes.
He forced his gaze away from his younger brother and Simone. He had to get through this meeting without giving in to the distraction Simone had always supplied. From the first day he’d set eyes on her it had been like this. The magnetic tug, as unavoidable as the earth’s gravitational pull on a meteorite.
He studied the people around the table. Some of them looked uncomfortable—notably James King, the lodge manager. James’s wife couldn’t join the meeting, as she was busy with dinner preparations. He’d started to collect data on every single person who worked at the lodge, and the Kings had only been with Carlevaro East Africa for a couple of years. He cleared his throat to get the full attention of the group. “As you know, Peppe Carlevaro retired. Angelo Carlevaro,” he paused as Angelo nodded to the group, “will be taking over as managing director of Carlevaro East Africa.”
“How’s Peppe doing?” Simone interrupted.
Carlo sighed. Everybody must be worried. Change and uncertainty made people nervous. “He’s doing well under the circumstances, and we hope he will recover well.”
“He won’t be back?” There was sincere concern in her voice.
“No.”
She lowered her gaze to her lap.
“Dino Viggio, my right-hand man in Rome, will assist Angelo. Dino will be here for six months or so, depending on how things go.” Carlo paused while Dino shook hands with those he didn’t know.
“Two days before Peppe had his heart attack, he emailed me about a situation that was brought to his attention.” He looked at Simone as he spoke. He wanted to see her reaction, judge it for himself. She didn’t look up at him, but fiddled with the wristband of her watch.
“Poaching has been a problem in the Selous and Ruaha for decades now. But it has escalated in the past six months in the areas where our lodges are situated.” This wouldn’t be news to most of the people around the table. He suppressed a sigh knowing he was about to drop a bomb. “Now it has come to light that Carlevaro Air has been flying the illicit goods out of the reserves.”
Simone jerked her head up, her eyes wide. “What?”
The people at the table murmured to each other, uttering their shock, then glanced at Simone, before turning back to where he was sitting at the head of the table. All color in James King’s face drained away and then he flushed red, looking as guilty as sin. Carlo warned himself not to jump to conclusions.
Simone grew pale under the scrutiny of the group and glanced at James, who didn’t meet her gaze. Were either of them involved or were all three, with James’s wife Liz in tow?
“A syndicate seems to be operating in this area, and is connecting with our lodges in the Ruaha. We suspect elephant tusks are being flown out of Ruaha and the Selous almost on a weekly basis.”
“How do you know this?” Simone asked, frowning. Her eyes were bright and her earlier sleepiness was gone, her voice quavering.
He tossed the incriminating photos they had received on the table.
“These arrived two days before Peppe’s heart attack. Someone shoved them under the door of the Dar es Salaam office. Addressed to Peppe.”
Simone reached across the table to pick up the photos.
He searched her face, but except for having paled, Simone revealed nothing. “The photo quality is bad, taken at either dawn or dusk. But you can identify a Carlevaro Cessna Caravan being loaded with what resembles an elephant tusk wrapped in some fabric.”
Carlo knew there was no denying it. The wrapped object being lifted into the hold of the airplane had the distinct curve of a tusk, and judging by its size must have weighed almost thirty kilograms.
Simone looked up at him before studying the photos again. Finally, she shuffled through them, somewhat dismissively. She shook her head in denial. “Is this all you have?” She passed the photos to James, who held out his hand, fingers trembling as he took the photos.
“It’s enough.” He tried to stay calm and keep the anger from his voice, but Simone shot up, her chair scraping cruelly along the wooden deck.
“I don’t believe it. How do you know where these were taken?”
Carlo’s gaze swept over the group, as they passed photos from one to the other, expressions grim. Unlike them, he’d had time to study the photos, to go through each image, trying to see if there was enough to identify a person or the location. In the few photos with people in them, faces were turned away from the camera. Whoever had taken the photos had done so on the sly and in a rush. In one picture he’d recognized the signpost at Rufiji Camp’s landing strip, cut off three-quarters of the way. The sign was in the standard Carlevaro font used throughout their lodges, in their brochures, and on the menus, logos, signs and stationery. The branding was a dead giveaway.
“Sit down, Simone,” he said.
Her hands were resting on the table, pushing onto the surface so hard her knuckles and fingertips had turned white. She slumped down in the chair, defeated as she raked her hair away from her face.
“I’ve called in Noel Peters, whom all of you know, to lead an investigation. For now, it seems nothing has leaked to the media. The damage to our company’s reputation, should this come out, might be irreversible,” Carlo said. “If our staff are involved in poaching activities, it could break our Tanzanian operations.”
“Why would that be?” James asked, leaning forward.
“We could lose our concessions from the Tanzanian government and Carlevaro Air’s operating license could be revoked,” Angelo said.
“If that happens we might as well close shop.” Carlo let the comment hang like a sword over the group but it felt as if the blade’s weight was pressing into his own neck. If Carlevaro East Africa closed down, Peppe’s conservation efforts of the past decades would be washed away and where the elephants had been grazing there would be nothing.
Shocked silence followed. James raised his eyebrows at this and Simone paled even more.
“Noel, together with our anti-poaching unit from Kenya,” Carlo nodded to the four game rangers who sat on either side of Noel, “will be investigating. The forensic auditors will be going through everything at the lodges and the head office in Dar to see if they can uncover anything.”
He waited a moment before continuing. “It’s imperative that we sort this out before anything leaks to the Tanzanian government or tourist board—need I mention the EAWS, WWF or any other conservation NGO we’ve supported over the past thirty-odd years?”
He handed the meeting over to Noel, who was much more informed about what was happening on the ground in regards to their East Africa operations. He trusted Noel. He was one of Peppe’s best and oldest friends, and had worked for over forty years in the conservation business. Carlo didn’t think Noel would ever take up smuggling illicit goods.
Noel didn’t elaborate on the Carlevaro’s plan of action but detailed how the perpetrators would be dealt with. He told the group that customs police had found a pile of elephant tusks in a container in the Dar es Salaam airport, ready to be shipped off to Asia.
Carlo studied each member at the table, knowing that they might have given too much away, that the perpetrators might well freeze their operations. But at some point, they would take the chance again, because the money was too good to refuse. He seethed and could happily wring any poacher’s neck.
Simone avoided meeting his eyes as his gaze rested on her. If she were not involved it would’ve been a shock to hear about the air trafficking. But what if she was guilty? It was a nagging thought and one he chose to ignore for the moment. Where had she been these past few years? He had never come back to Dar es Salaam after he’d terminated his contract as a pilot. If he’d known that he would find her here he might have returned.
“Do you have anything to add, Carlo?” Noel asked.
He’d lost track of the conversation. “No.”
Everybody stared at him, and he swore under his breath, annoyed with himself for losing focus. It was something he hadn’t fallen prey to for years. It could be the heat, but if he was honest with himself, it was because she was there, sitting deep in thought across the table.
He adjourned the meeting, stood up and strode to the railing at the end of the deck.
“Join us for dinner,” Angelo said, in that musical voice which had just enough accent to make the average woman’s knees weak.
“No, thank you. I’d like an early night.”
“As if you’re tired. You rolled out of bed earlier,” Angelo teased her.
Simone didn’t respond, probably blushing as she used to. He turned to see her response to his brother’s charms.
Simone’s eyes were downcast, but she didn’t blush. She pulled up even taller. “Mr. Carlevaro—”
“Call me Angelo. You know by declining you’re offending our Italian obsession with food and feasting.”
She smiled, but her eyes were cold. “Mr. Carlevaro. I know my place. I would like to stick to it.” She chipped the words with precision. No message could be clearer.
“Nonsense. Come have a drink. If we’re to fly together for the next few weeks we might as well get to know each other.” Angelo was taking hold of her hand to tug her to the bar. She stood her ground and retracted her hand.
“The last time I saw you, there was a redhead at your side. I don’t think she would care to see you drinking with another woman,” Simone said, challenging him softly.
Carlo wanted to laugh at the expression on his brother’s face. Angelo wasn’t used to being snubbed. And clearly, Simone had evolved into much more than the average woman. She’d always been different, but he loved this new, spirited side of her.
“Back off, Angelo. Simone doesn’t want a drink,” Carlo said, turning away from them to look at the river. Her footsteps beat on the deck as she walked away.
Angelo came to stand next to him. “What the hell’s up with you?” he asked in Italian.
“As I said this morning, you need to stay away from the staff.”
“By the looks you’ve been giving her your hands are itching to get into her—”
“Angelo,” Carlo sighed, raking his hand through his hair.
“What?”
“There’s more to it than that.”
Carlo stomped off, annoyed that he’d left his expressions unguarded to those who knew how to read him.