Page 16 of Never Enough

“Hemeda and Pilis Kader,” Waters snarled, throwing the file folder in his hand down on the table so that he could run that hand over his closely cut dark-blond hair.

“Bonus question points awarded to the Navy SEAL,” Gilgamesh confirmed.

Steel, silver eyes flashing beneath his mussed black hair, shifted in his chair, leaning forward on his arms on the tabletop. “What’s in Zimbabwe?”

“A defunct mining site. There are several legitimate mines in the country, but this particular area was purchased by a private investor thirteen years ago. The purchasing corporation built the compound and had begun drilling tunnels, but they suffered huge losses trying to get an actual mine built anddisappeared into the jungle, so to speak, leaving everyone cutting their losses.

“Fast forward to today. As far as the civilians are concerned, around two years ago, people began filtering into the old mining area, hoping to tempt certain death and hit a lucky strike. Basically, they purchase their own individual supplies, show up, pick a spot, and make human-sized tunnels to find and follow the old diamond veins. Most of them, a decent-sized man can’t even turn around in. Think Viet Cong tunnels. It’s not a job for the faint of heart, and the danger level is high, but these people are so desperate they’re willing to take the risks. In this location, mining is strictly forbidden, but no one is really paying attention. Even when there are accidents, the miners remain quiet about it because bringing public attention to it means bringing down the police on their illegal ventures. Or worse, losing their unlawful access to the land.

“Unfortunately, even if the police did something about the illegal mining, it would have little effect. The corruption on both sides of the color wall across Africa is rampant. In Zimbabwe, most of the officers were white Europeans until 1982, when the country made an active effort to replace the older white officers with younger native officers. But the damage was so extensive, it’s hardly better than it was. Many officers are on the take, not because they are innately corrupt, but as a means to remain safe from criminal gangs, political candidates, and anyone who has power or money to hire protection. Looking the other way is an occupational expectation unless it negatively affects the police force itself.

“Those who take police officer jobs are usually young and not afraid of getting their hands dirty. The hours are long and brutal because there aren’t enough officers to cover the areas they serve, and the turnover is huge. No one wants to go to work in a job where they know the likelihood of them cominghome that night is less than fifty percent. Some African countries lose, on average, an officer a day to violence. The justification for being on the take allows them some supplementary income and provides a little extra insurance they get to go home at the end of the day. No guarantees, but some insurance is better than none.”

“What does any of this have to do with the Kaders? Or you? Or Ka-Bar, for that matter?” Waters wondered aloud.

Medusa flicked at a piece of imaginary lint on her pants. “Mythos is always interested in illegal activities. Uncut stones are an easy way to fund illegal activities.”

Midas mumbled to himself, “Well, at least I have a name for the trio now. Medusa, Loki, Gilgamesh… makes sense.” Nemo watched him start to madly type information into his computer, searching for anything on “Mythos” or its members.

Gilgamesh shook his head. “Ka-Bar’s connection? There’s absolutely nothing in his past to suggest he’d suddenly turn on the military, his country, or his family. A Westerner like him, formidable and affluent-looking, it’s likely they’re using him to lend outward legitimacy to the Kaders’ business. The question is whether he’s being coerced or is it by choice?

“As for the mining? Simple. These individuals are primarily central Africans. Even when they find stones, the rate of return when they sell them is not even a tenth of what they’re worth. Men like the Kaders are middlemen. They’ve organized these workers into a step above slave labor, purchasing their stones at a pittance, then turning around and selling them at value, possibly a little higher, and making a killing while they do it.”

“However,” Medusa chimed in, “something’s changed. The individual miners who were living in the self-created camps have completely disappeared, yet the illegal output of stones in this area in the last two months has increased one hundredtimes what it was. Both of those conditions caught our attention enough to take a closer look.”

Waters crossed his arms over his chest, and one hand rose to rub his chin. “You think they’re working the mine underground now.”

“That would explain why the output increased,” Steel acknowledged. “You can hide a lot more people underground. They can work round the clock with the police none the wiser. If there are no illegal settlements for the police to break up, it also means less police presence in the area. And even if someone does come around to do a rudimentary inspection of the area, there’s nothing to see other than an abandoned mine compound with minimal security, like an abandoned building has a guard to prevent trespassers.”

TB nodded. “Likely someone on the local force has access to the inspection rotation and warns the Kaders. That would allow them to halt operations before the raid occurs, then once the way is clear, they send the workers back to it.”

Waters gave a sideways nod, chin to the left. “I hate to admit it, but they’re not stupid.”

During the course of the conversation, something had been nagging at Nemo. Now that the conversation appeared to be winding down, he had questions. One, in particular, was giving him heartburn. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Loki, what type of mining are we talking about?” he asked.

Loki looked at Nemo. “I’m sorry. Didn’t I say? Diamonds.”

Fuck. Female? Great Britain? Tight spaces? Diamonds?

“And, just out of curiosity, where is this associate you were going to extract? As in, where is she right now?”

He kept his eyes glued to Loki on the screen, but he could feel the heat of his five teammates' stares.

Loki had the grace to shift uncomfortably, and then he glanced at Medusa, who was looking down at her hands as ifshe was studying her manicure. He then moved his gaze to Gilgamesh, who simply stared back at him. Both men turned in unison to the camera.

Loki coughed discreetly into his fist. “Unfortunately, we weren’t immediately available to extract her, and by the time we could get to her, she had disappeared. There’s been no contact since then, and we have no idea where she is. That’s the other reason we’re calling you. We’re hoping you might be able to assist in finding our asset.”

“So we would never have seen these photos of Ka-Bar except you need us to find your lost asset. If we’re on the same side, this tit-for-tat bullshit needs to end.” Nemo’s hands let go of the table edge, and he placed them flat on the table. “What is your asset’s name?”

The air felt supercharged. Heavy. He was sure his heart and lungs were working at their normal capacity, but it felt like he was being compressed underwater. It was all he could do to keep from yelling at the triad as they paused before answering.

It was Medusa who finally broke the silence. She raised her eyes to Nemo in the camera. “Haskell. Haskell Dawson. You’ll likely know her as Le Chatte Noire.”

Every muscle in Nemo’s body was so tense it felt like one wrong word, one wrong touch, would cause him to explode.

All eyes were focused on Nemo.

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