Deadly Harvest Read Online Free Page B

West-­North constituency. Left BDP 2008 to found Freedom Party. Charismatic speaker and fund-­raiser. Only Freedom Party representative in 2009 elections.”
    Kubu read some of the reports of rallies and speeches Marumo had given in his reelection campaign, as well as a number of editorial comments. Even after the election, Marumo had managed to stay in the public eye. He’d worked feverishly to support his candidates in two by-­elections, although both had lost badly in the end. In parliament he constantly challenged the government’s “same old way” approach, and he wrote a weekly column in Mmegi newspaper.
    There was no doubt that Marumo was getting a lot of attention with his attacks on what he called the BDP’s arrogance and lack of sensitivity to the plight of ordinary ­people. But even more than his attacks on the government, he was gaining supporters with his message of hope. He called for sharing the prosperity of Botswana, claiming that there was enough money to uplift all, to reduce the incidence of AIDS, to improve education, to create jobs, to protect retirement. His slogan: “Believe in yourselves, and we can change the world!”
    Sounds like Obama, Kubu thought.
    A S K UBU DROV E TO Marumo’s house in the upscale suburb of Phologolo, he hoped that the interview wouldn’t last long. He was feeling hunger pains and wanted to put them to rest. He was about to turn into Pela Crescent, where Marumo lived, when he was stopped by a ­couple of policemen.
    â€œAssistant Superintendent Bengu, CID,” he said opening the window and showing his badge.
    â€œOkay, rra. Please park on the street. It’s that house up there.”
    As though I could miss it, Kubu thought, seeing a crowd of ­people and two television trucks.
    Kubu looked around as he heaved himself out of his old Land Rover. An upper-­middle-­class suburb. Very little traffic. Nice trees. Secluded. A low probability that anyone would have seen whoever left the dog’s head, he thought. But if someone did see something, there was a decent chance they’d pay attention.
    He walked to the house and skirted the crowd, which was in a semicircle around the gate to the driveway. Marumo was standing on a chair, pumping his hand in the air. Camera flashes were reflecting off his sweating face. “Whoever did this—­they won’t silence me,” he shouted. “The ­people want change, and nobody is going to stop us.”
    Kubu walked up to a man standing behind Marumo and whispered in his ear: “Assistant Superintendent Bengu for a noon meeting.” The man looked at Kubu but did nothing.
    â€œTell him!” Kubu hissed.
    The man pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket, scribbled something on it, and handed it to Marumo, who had paused to take a drink from a bottle of water.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen, that’s all for now. Thank you.” Then he added sarcastically, “The government has sent its ace detective to solve this great mystery.” He jumped off the chair and extended his hand to Kubu. “Nothing personal,” he grinned. “Couldn’t resist taking a shot at the government.”
    â€œIt sounded more like a shot at me,” Kubu replied without a smile. “Can we go inside?”
    â€œ I ’M REASONA BLY FAMILIAR WITH your political career,” Kubu said after they had settled down in the living room. Kubu liked the feel of the plush leather chair that he’d lowered himself into. “Do you think it’s at all possible that the BDP would try to intimidate you by leaving a dog’s head at your front door?”
    â€œOf course. They’re very nervous about the gains we’re making. They’ll be in real trouble at the next elections if they continue to lose support.” He took a deep drink from his water bottle. “It was a BDP supporter all right but, even if you find who did it,