Rebel Trade by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2012-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“Can you believe it!” Oscar Boavida raged. “I had to sit there in his office while he said that I—that all of us—are common criminals!”

Jamba saw no value in reminding Boavida that he had demanded an after-hours audience with Gurirab at Nampol headquarters, a risky move at best, under the present circumstances. Rather, he replied, “Not common criminals, perhaps.”

The MLF commander rounded on him, snapping, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Jamba allowed himself a shrug. “Consider it from his view. He is a police officer. We break laws. We are, in fact, committing crimes.”

“But for a higher good!”

“Of course, sir,” Jamba answered, soothingly. “But a policeman’s mind is narrow, eh? He sees the letter of the law, and little else. When his superiors demand that he ignore some illegitimate activity and he receives no proceeds from it, anger is predictable. And now, with all that has been happening—”

“That is another thing,” Boavida said. “He as much as blamed me for the fact our men are being murdered. The gall of it! We are the victims!”

“As you always say,” Jamba replied, “this is a war and we have chosen sides. A death in combat is not murder, and there are no innocents.”

“Stop quoting me, for God’s sake!”

“Yes, sir.” Jamba bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “I apologize.”

“At least I left him thinking about my idea,” Boavida said.

“Which idea is that, sir?” Jamba asked.

“That a member of his own department is behind these raids, or at the very least directing others to their targets,” Boavida said.

“Was he receptive, sir?”

“He will consider it,” Boavida said, sneering. “He’s so gracious. Willing to consider the idea, while acting as if I’d insulted his department. Think of it! They pocket bribes from anyone with cash in hand, but still pretend they’re virtuous.”

“Even a thief needs self-respect,” Jamba said.

Boavida shot his top lieutenant a suspicious glance, as if the comment had been aimed at him specifically. And so it had, at least in part, though he could hardly take offense without making the point more obvious. Jamba was speaking of himself as well, conscious that he was guilty of repellent acts that stained his soul—if such a thing existed in reality.

Most days, he hoped that it did not.

“Tell me what you accomplished,” Boavida ordered.

“Sir, the two Nampol detectives that I’ve cultivated will be checking personnel lists when they can, looking for officers whose recent actions have been out of character. To start, they’ll look for missing men.”

“Why missing?” Boavida asked.

“Because all leaves and holidays are canceled in the present crisis,” Jamba said. “An officer who’s not on duty must present a medical certificate that he’s unfit to serve. Only a handful qualify. So, anyone without a doctor’s note—”

“Is absent without leave,” Boavida said, catching on. “He’s run off on some errand of his own.”

“Exactly, sir.”

“And may be working with our enemies.

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