Jan and he had grown up playing rugby together in the small farming town of White River. Though it was a seemingly idyllic community nestled in the rolling hills outside Kruger, it also had the highest violent crime rate in all South Africa. Like Cobus, most of the younger generation escaped as soon as they reached adulthood. But Jan had chosen to stay and become a police officer.

During Cobus’s adventure in the Middle East, Jan had developed a sizable cocaine habit, which eventually cost him his badge. Now the perpetually paranoid Afrikaner worked as a private investigator in Mpumalanga, the province that was home to both White River and Kruger. Jan was ostensibly a truth seeker by trade, but many viewed him as a serial liar and an opportunist. Cobus saw Jan for what he was: a scavenger in a wilderness of lies. And such a creature could be a useful ally.

Cobus met with Jan on the deck of a roadhouse bar on the outskirts of White River. True to form, Jan had arrived twenty minutes early and was tapping his foot anxiously as he drank his beer. Cobus pulled out Nimpini’s phone and put it on the table between them.

“How did you get Nimpini’s phone? I thought he was rolled up by the Hawks.”

“I was the one who dumped him on their doorstep,” Cobus replied. After burying Nimpini’s weapons in the forest, he had driven three hours to Pretoria, where he deposited Nimpini on the sidewalk outside the elite police unit’s headquarters. He tied and gagged his prisoner, then duct-taped the wanted poster to his chest lest there be any confusion about the package he had delivered. Cobus had then parked down the street, waiting until he could photograph the officers taking him inside. He was short on trust these days and wanted insurance against some crooked cop releasing Nimpini for a price.

“You’re a crazy son of a bitch, Cobus. Always have been.” Jan got out his laptop and plugged in Nimpini’s phone.

“Do you think you can figure out who his supplier is?” Cobus asked.

“We’ll see.” Jan began importing the data from the phone into his computer.

“Are you still under contract with SANParks?” South African National Parks was the organization responsible for all the national parks in the country, and the last Cobus had heard, Jan was working for them, investigating poaching networks.

Jan scowled. “Don’t even get me started on that shit-fight. Those bastards accused me of being in on the game.”

“You?” Cobus inquired with appropriate shock, but he knew Jan well enough to suspect he had an unreliable streak.

Jan looked around and lowered his voice. “I got too close to something. It’s a fucking hall of mirrors here, mate. You can’t trust anyone.”

Cobus circled behind Jan to see what was on his screen: a map of Southern Africa, with pins and lines forming a complex web.

“What’s this?”

“A map of the poaching syndicates in South Africa and Moz. Every time SANParks busted someone, I ripped all the call logs on their phones, then had this software do link analysis to build a geospatial model of their communication structure. Turns out all the kingpins report to the same number.”