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quarrels,
demands. And I don’t have the patience I used to. It’s the broken
sleep. I always wake when Tumi cries. I don’t know how you sleep
through it.”
    “My darling, you know I’m always happy to help. Wake me during
the night and I’ll give her a bottle.” He tickled Tumi under the
chin. Joy sighed. She’d tried to wake Kubu many times. It was
easier to deal with Tumi herself.
    Kubu asked if she wanted another glass of wine, and she nodded.
A few minutes later he returned, two glasses in hand. He handed one
to Joy and raised the other. “To the best mother in the whole
world! Thank you, my dearest.” Their glasses touched with a clear
ring. They had learnt long ago to hold their glasses at the bottom
to get the best sound. “Tonight, let’s go down to Wimpy. You won’t
have to cook, and they’re having a special on T-bone steaks.”
    Joy nodded. Wimpy was fine, and they could take the baby.
    ♦
    The next morning, as Kubu walked into the office a few minutes
late, Edison pulled him aside and said quietly, “The director wants
to see you. Right away.”
    “I’ll get myself a cup of tea, then go and see what he
wants.”
    “I think you’d better go right away. He has been into your
office several times, looking like a thunderstorm.”
    Kubu wondered what was on the director’s mind as he knocked on
the door and pushed it open.
    “About time! Why are you late again?” Kubu recognised Mabaku’s
voice of anger. Before he could answer, Mabaku had pointed to a
seat. Kubu sat quickly and tried to look as nonchalant as
possible.
    Mabaku just stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Kubu
didn’t even want to wriggle in the chair to make it more
comfortable.
    Mabaku started quietly. “Kubu, yesterday I told you not to get
involved with your Bushman friend.” He paused and raised the level.
“And when you made a snide remark about the police not wanting to
help the Bushman people, I told you not to be clever.” Kubu nodded.
Mabaku jumped to his feet. “When I tell you not to get involved, I
mean don’t… get… involved!” Each of the last three words was
accompanied by a loud crash as his fist hit his desk.
    “But Director – ”
    “You can’t sneak around and try to embarrass me into changing my
mind!”
    The whole of the Criminal Investigation Department was now privy
to what was happening in the director’s office as his voice echoed
through the building.
    “I will not have you subvert my authority! What do you think you
were doing?”
    Kubu didn’t move. He was stunned.
    “But Director – ”
    “What do you think you were doing?” Each word was uttered like a
separate sentence.
    “You’ve always been fair to me, Director. What have I done? I’ve
never let you down before.”
    Mabaku glared at Kubu.
    “Cindy Robinson!”
    Kubu frowned. “Director, I don’t know anyone by the name of
Cindy Robinson.”
    “Bullshit! If you don’t know her by name, you certainly know who
she is!”
    “Cindy Robinson?”
    “At eight-oh-five this morning, I got a call from a Cindy
Robinson – an American reporter. She’s been working on a series of
articles on the Bushmen. But now she smells news. Why are the
Botswana police persecuting the endangered Bushman peoples againi she asks. How can the Botswana police hold three
Bushmen in Tsabong on a charge of murder without any evidence?” He
paused still glaring at Kubu. “She’s heading to Tsabong right now.
Someone tipped her off. Well? Do you deny it?”
    “Director,” Kubu said quietly, “I’d never do that. I never spoke
to anybody at any newspaper, let alone an American newspaper. I
promise.” He paused, then anticipated Mabaku’s next question. “And
I didn’t suggest it to anyone else either.”
    Mabaku sat down and rubbed his chin.
    “Then it must have been your Bushman friend. He’s using you,
Kubu. Good friend indeed! He set you up.”
    Kubu flushed. The director had to be right.
    “I’ll phone him right away.