Frederick Ramsay_Botswana Mystery 01 by Predators Read Free Book Online

Americans would say. Because of the global economic meltdown, the sale of the raw materials in Botswana has dropped precipitously, leaving the economy a little shaky. The mines in particular are in financial trouble and have struggled to pay their employees. The country needs help from institutions like the African Development Bank.”
    “A good time to invest, or not?”
    Greshenko shrugged as if he had closed the book on that part of his history. “You’re the minerals expert, it’s your call, Mr. Painter. Capitalism is not quite my line of country.” He tilted his head at Travis Parizzi. Leo glanced in Travis’ direction and shook his head.
    “Travis? No, he doesn’t know. I’ll fill him in when the right moment comes. In the meantime…well, I don’t need to tell you, discretion, Greshenko. This may be a developing country with more goats than flush toilets, but they’re as shrewd as snakes—”
    “And innocent as doves?” Greshenko finished for him. Leo’s eyebrows shot up. He had been raised by fundamentalist Christian grandparents. The only residue of that rigorous and often painful upbringing was his ability to quote occasional bits of scripture. That Greshenko recognized and could complete the passage from Matthew on top of the Botswana connection came as complete surprise.
    “Jury is out on the dove bit. Word in Washington is the pols here, unlike those in my beloved Chicago, are incorruptible. We’ll have to see about that, but in the interim, be careful. We don’t want to be seen as the wolves.”
    Russians never ceased to amaze him. He guessed he did not have Greshenko’s story, not all of it at any rate, and possibly never would. He wished he were younger. What he, what Earth Global could have done in that vast country with men like Greshenko! Hell, the man even had a better grasp of English than 90 percent of the dolts who worked for him.
    The plane lurched to a halt. A minute later, the pilot had the door open and steps down. Leo Painter and his party descended onto the taxiway to be greeted by two officials who steered him and his party through customs and on to their hotel. They set the time for the appointments with the minister of Mineral, Energy, and Water Resources, BEDIA, and a handful of other functionaries. The purported purpose of Leo’s visit had begun. In the confusion of off-loading baggage and passengers, Yuri Greshenko slipped through customs to a waiting SUV. He did not notice the official-looking car at the curb behind him.
    Kgabo Modise had been waiting. He’d watched the sleek corporate jet touch down and disgorge its passengers. His eyes, however, were focused entirely on the man whose picture was clipped to the folder on the seat beside him.
    No one noticed Greshenko’s departure except Modise, who started his car followed a discreet distance.

Chapter 9
    Henry Farrah was not part of the official meeting-and-greeting taking place in the hotel’s ballroom. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even know why Leo had brought him along. But knowing Leo as he did, he knew there would be a reason forthcoming and he would find out soon enough. He wandered into the hotel bar and, turning his back on the three or four other patrons perched on stools near him, began punching numbers on his cell phone. There would be a seven-hour difference between New York and Gaborone, eight to Chicago. He needed to know if the SEC had tumbled to the leak; he needed to know what his partners knew or were prepared to do if it had. He was in as close to a state of panic as ever in his life.
    As in a European pub, his order for whiskey translated to Scotch. Henry didn’t like Scotch. His ulcer positively rebelled at Scotch. He signaled to the bar tender.
    “Sir, something wrong with your drink?”
    “Take it away and bring me a beer.”
    “Certainly. What brand would you like?”
    “I don’t care…a local beer, then.”
    The bartender retreated, returned, and placed a can of Saint Louis beer