Free White Bone by Ridley Pearson Page A

to be careful. Many prying eyes.”
    Knox’s throat remained overly dry. “I’ll bet,” he croaked.
    Vladistok spoke more softly. “A kilo of rhino horn is worth two hundred dollars fresh off the kill, as I said. Ten times that to a Somali broker. A quarter million U.S. by the time it reaches Vietnam.”
    “Grace wasn’t investigating poaching.”
    “She was investigating corruption. In Kenya, the two are never far apart.”
    “The clinic has ties to poaching?”
    “This was her concern as well. But the clinic is closed now. It no longer matters.”
    Knox swallowed, clearing his throat. “If she has been kidnapped?”
    “Why say such a thing?”
    “We’re approaching two days of silence.”
    Vladistok answered carefully. “In Central and West Africa, the paramilitaries will kidnap for political gain. Here, it’s for money or show. If she has been abducted, it could be to send a message, to pressure others not to investigate as she did. It could be for money.” She grimaced. “How can I help?”
    “You can give me specifics,” he said.
    “Grace implied—she did not state, I must emphasize this!—that she had reason to suspect a connection between the failed vaccine and a company based here in Nairobi.”
    “Asian Container Consolidated,” Knox said.
    Shocked, possibly impressed, Vladistok took measure of him before speaking. “She did not name the company as you just have. It is an interesting choice.”
    “Why?”
    “Asian Container Consolidated is run by a Chinese man named Xin Ha. He’s powerful. He has privileged access at all levels of government. No one’s going to touch him. He imports containers of Chinese goods, and more than likely either exports ivory and rhino horn or looks away when others do. His men are butchers. Allegedly, he has ties to the Somalis, and therefore the al-Shabaab terrorists. There’s no way the government doesn’t suspect this, yet they never act. He conducts business with impunity.”
    Knox nodded, trying to swallow spit to moisten his throat.
    “If Xin Ha was behind the vaccine switch, if he discovered Grace was investigating this fraud . . . But that’s entirely too much speculation. If Grace is in trouble, she needs you to stay away from Xin Ha, John, believe me.”
    “What do you know of Bertram Radcliffe?”
    Her face tightened. “He was a remarkable reporter in his time. That time has passed. Have you met him?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then you know he drinks excessively.”
    “Professionally. Yes.”
    “He lost his wife under questionable circumstances. This followed several columns he wrote excoriating the current government. After, Radcliffe outright blamed the government. His paper distanced itself. Things with him became all the worse recently: a colleague of his was shot up north. They said he was a poacher—as unlikely a truth as there’s ever been. He’s very near a broken man, John. I would be wary.”
    “His articles are online? The ones that got his wife killed?”
    “You and Grace are not so very different.”
    “You might be surprised.”
    Knox saw her eyes track something or someone behind him. He turned abruptly in defense. No one.
    “We must go. Both of us. Now!” she whispered. “There’s going to be trouble.” Taking him by the hand, she unwrapped his phone and slipped it to him. Then she unbarred the screen door and led Knox out to a muddy lane no wider than his shoulders, through an adjacent dwelling, and out into a different lane.
    “We part company here,” she said, pointing Knox deeper into the settlement. “Take your first right. Cross three lanes like this. You will find your group there.”
    “What’s going on?” Knox asked. “What kind of trouble? I don’t need my group.”
    “Yes, you do,” she said, her eyes frightened. She’d been spooked by something Knox had missed.
    “What is it? You saw someone.”
    “Your group will provide you with cover. The police will ignore you if you are with them.”
    “The