“Good morning!” Hunter exclaimed loudly as he burst through the doors of the Nacala Port Authority office.

The secretary looked up curiously. Hunter gave her the song and dance about investigating the spread of infectious diseases in the area for the World Health Organization. He mentioned that he suspected sailors of transporting the new illness and he had questions for Chivambo. Hunter and Hongo both had interpreters with them.

“Chivambo is very busy,” the interpreter said. “He can put you on the calendar for some time late next week.”

“That’s no good. I am meeting with the health minister next week. Please tell Chivambo that the situation presents the gravest danger to the people of this nation as well as your brother and sister nations. Please explain that the virus, unchecked, could cause an enormously costly death toll, not only in this part of the world, but in others. Please drive home the point that the costs of stymying this potential epidemic now absolutely pale in comparison to the costs of dealing with it later, whatever those costs might include. We are willing to incur those costs.”

Hunter shot the interpreter a look. “Make sure you emphasize that we will incur those costs.”

“I understand.” The interpreter said.

After a brief conversation with the secretary, and a phone call to Chivambo’s office, the secretary penciled Hunter in for an appointment later that afternoon.

Hunter and Hongo went to grab lunch at a local restaurant. They were served matapas with prawns, a ground-up cornmeal dish with shrimp smothered in butter and a peanut stew on top.

“So, the game plan.” Hunter said.

“You continue the Doctor Sudbø story. Chivambo is right beneath the Minister of Transport. If Ghaelvord plans on storing his stolen ship here, as Virgil said, we can expect the minister to already be in his pocket. We can assume that the highest levels of officials are already tainted. While you go in, I will act like I am going to wait in the lobby, but when you enter Chivambo’s office, I will leave and speak with the dock workers. I saw a group of them outside. Chivambo may find out about our conversation, but if we are lucky, he will assume that you were the only person with a legitimate agenda and that my inquiries were just idle conversation.” Hongo laid out the plan.

Hunter acquiesced, “Right. It’s on you then, Hongo. Don’t let us down. If this fails to produce a lead, then we’re going to be stuck interrogating individual fishermen or something. You know, just whoever we can find and hope to get lucky. If we overstay our welcome with the port authority, or linger suspiciously, then we just might blow our cover.”

“Indeed. By the way, this stew is surprisingly good.” Hongo responded.

“Ahhhh, you’re just hungry.” Hunter said, although, on second thought, he agreed with Hongo. The stew was great.

Hunter walked into his meeting that afternoon prepared to distract Chivambo for as long as possible. He dangled the bait, pulled it back, dangled it again, and continued the dance. Chivambo knew that a hefty bribe awaited him, but Hunter only gave it up after hours of pumping him for information. Besides handing over a chunk of change, Hunter negotiated a deal whereby Chivambo would forward ship logs to the World Health Organization’s office in Oslo in exchange for “monitoring fees” wired to his account. Of course, the whole arrangement was a farce, but Chivambo would not figure it out for some time.

Meanwhile, Hongo meandered out across the docks. He easily found a warehouse where men played cards and listened to the radio. They brewed tea, mixed it with hot milk, and occupied themselves aimlessly throughout the day, waiting for ships to come in, so that they could help the crew unload. They were the day laborers of the wharf. Hongo joined them for tea and cards. Hongo knew that they had ways of cheating newcomers out of money, but he did not care. He quickly made friends with his liberal wallet and friendly attitude. After losing a few hands, he mentioned that he was assisting a Norwegian doctor investigating the spread of disease in the Nacala port. He asked about any suspicious activity. He got nowhere. When he asked about suspicious ships, everyone locked up. One minute, they laughed and joked with him. The next, they got cagey. One man, however, Daniel, grew agitated as time went on. He lost about a thousand meticals of local currency. His jokes grew increasingly sour. At one point, he nearly came to blows with another man and a group of men threw him out. Hongo paid it no heed. After a couple hours, Hongo got a text message from Hunter letting him know that they were wrapping up their discussions. Disappointed, Hongo thanked the men for the good times and the tea and left.

As he walked back toward the administration building, a man accosted his interpreter. Hongo turned to see Daniel talking excitedly in his native language.

“What is he saying?” Hongo asked the interpreter.

“He says that he saw a suspicious ship.” The interpreter responded. Then, he added, “I doubt that you can trust this man. He is an idiot.”

“Why would you say that?” Hongo asked.

“The others called him one back there while you were playing cards.” came the response.

“Just find out what he has to say.” Hongo said.

The interpreter got into a heated argument with the man.

Hongo butted in. “Hey! What’s the problem?”

“He wants two thousand meticals.” The interpreter responded sheepishly. “I told him to just tell us what he knows.”

“Good god, man! From now on, just interpret for me. Do not speak for me.” With that, Hongo pulled out two bills worth a thousand meticals each and handed them over.

He shot the interpreter a fierce look and barked an order, “Now, get the info.”

The interpreter sullenly turned and talked with Daniel. After a short conversation, he turned back to Hongo.

“He says that he saw a suspicious ship. He lost a lot of money and needed work badly, so he slept on the warehouse roof over there. He wanted to be the first one at the ships in the morning so that he would get the unloading work. He says that he woke up in the middle of the night and saw the lights of a ship coming from the north. He climbed down and waited for it to come, but it veered off to the west. He says it disappeared into the bay north of Minguri. He is lying. He just wants the money.” The interpreter looked angry with the man.

“Why do you say that?” Hongo asked.

“There is no port north of Minguri. There is only a bay. No ships go there. The Nacala Port is the only place for a container ship to dock and unload. On the Minguri side, there are only fishermen.” The interpreter said with indignation in his voice. “You should not have given him that money.”

Hongo grew tired of the commentary from the interpreter. “Look here, if you do your job from here on out and stop telling me how to do mine, I will kick in another two thousand meticals. If you continue to editorialize, then I am docking you by two thousand meticals.”

All of a sudden, the indignation was gone. “Okay, of course.”

Hongo spoke slowly and forcefully, “Now, find out if that is all that he can tell us.”

The interpreter talked with the man briefly. “He does not want you to talk to anyone about this. He says that he and others asked about the ship and that they were told to mind their own business. He says that one man demanded to work on the unloading crew when the ship came in because he saw it first, and they beat him and threw him in jail for the night. He says that they do not want anyone talking about the ship.”

The interpreter had a skeptical look on his face, but he kept his comments to himself.

“Interesting.” Hongo said. “Go ahead and thank him.”

The interpreter thanked him and he left.

When Hunter left Chivambo’s office, Hongo sat patiently on the couch in the waiting area. Hunter thanked Chivambo magnanimously for his services to the welfare of the international community.