A/N: I would like to wish you All the Best for 2018. Each new year has its trials and tribulations; but also its joys and delights. May you know many, many more of the latter, dear readers.

oOo

CHAPTER TWELVE

Yaroslav Krupin's operation was not large, but it was tight and powerful; a semi-autonomous cell where he gave the orders and his men obeyed them. He deployed those men where he needed them, depending on his current business.

Krupin himself was a brutal man, born in a remote part of northern Siberia and left to raise himself from a young age. He killed his first man when he was fourteen, and his second two months later. Later, he started out by operating protection rackets in the former Soviet Union, eventually adding arms dealing and cybercrime when the regime fell. Then, he started to acquire legitimate businesses, one of which was the supply of gas to St Petersburg, competing against established crime syndicates. Thus, he had never fallen foul of the law.

Now, his interest was in the oil business in Africa, but he also had an eye on the mining industry. Botswana had an established mining industry and a wealth of mineral deposits, which had brought it to his attention.

The Okavango Delta was of particular interest to him and he had hired a Frenchman, Guy de Rochefort, to oversee the acquisition of a huge track of land that was going up for auction in London. The man had impeccable credentials and he had given him autonomy to act.

Krupin's various other interests had taken him away and he had only become aware that something was amiss when he watched on-line as Rochefort suddenly left the auction, when the asking price was still within his means.

Rochefort had assured him he had everything under control and had a strategy in place. Initially, they had agreed on a watch and wait policy. Rochefort had used the time to recoup the funds he had gambled away, and after initially bluffing, he had transferred it back into the account it came from; getting Krupin off his back.

Krupin was no fool. He would enjoy watching this man, but he had his own deadlines to keep elsewhere, so he had given him a mental deadline before he would take matters into his own hands. There was no point rocking the boat unnecessarily, and Krupin loved watching the game unfold. He understood Rochefort had patience, but he himself only had so much of it. And time was money. He therefore deployed his own men in the region on occasion, to monitor the situation and to watch Rochefort; although the man himself did not know either of those things.

Heshima had an abundance of water, unlike the majority of Botswana. Water was a necessity for industrial development but the diamond operations were sewn up between the Government and large scale corporations, the main one being the De Beers Corporation. Diamond processing was the mainstay of the country's economy, which interested Krupin. To have such leverage, were he to discover diamonds on Heshima! The resultant financial gain was mind-blowing to him.

Rochefort would be a welcome scapegoat-in-waiting, once he had wreaked havoc and destroyed Treville. It would be a simple matter to walk in after and take the land and all Treville had built up. Treville's backers would lose faith in him as he proved he could not control what was happening on Heshima. Krupin would then step in with a most lucrative offer, given the chaos that would overtake Treville's operation and his backers would bite his hand off in order to save their investment.

Under cover of the newly resurrected reserve, now under his control, he had plans to then survey the land for diamond deposits by satellite. Once he had that information, the highest bidder would come running.

He already had one of Treville's backers lined up to assist in his future plans; everyone had their price. If this man saw his investment floundering under the chaos he planned, he would be a vote against Treville in the boardroom when the time came.

If this land was as valuable as he believed it may be, though, it would still be there after he had completed his other business.

Then, Rochefort would know what it felt like to cross him; should he do so. And Krupin had every expectation that he would attempt to do just that.

oOo

Athos and Nkosi continued to become close friends, and would often take the horses for a ride on their day off. It would also give Athos a chance to check on the rhino herd and Thamani. This particular day, they took some food and plenty of water and headed off toward the lagoon tree house.

Nkosi was a good horsewoman and kept pace with Athos as they rode across the flat savannah.

She had watched as Athos and Porthos had each built their tree houses when they were constructing the Garrison; laughing at the depth of competition between the two. Even though the structures were some miles apart, it was as if each knew what the other was thinking and when they were both unveiled, the similarities were striking; bringing a smile to both their faces.

"That's amazin'" Porthos had said, as he looked up at Athos's structure. "We didn't even compare notes!"

Both were octagonal in shape and had a walkway around the circumference. Both had integral seating on the inside, although one was more luxurious. One of the differences was the material that Athos had used. As he had built it on the edge of the mopane woodland, that was the majority of wood used in its construction.

Porthos had built his in the traditional Tswana way, with a framework that he then dawbed with a wattle made with grass and mud.

Both had large windows to let in the light but Athos had built an additional seat in the heavy wooden eaves that supported the roof. There was a hatch in the roof that opened to the skies. It was his "stargazing perch." Once the hatch was opened fully on a dark evening, the stars that littered the heavens above were a sight to behold. Sitting there with only the noises of the night animals around him, he could identify the constellations and watch the occasional shooting star as it arced across the sky. It was a cliché, but the African night sky really did look like diamonds had been strewn across a black velvet cloak.

The first time Nkosi had accompanied him, she too was awe-struck. Even though this sky was so familiar to her, to view it here in this intimate setting with this man, made her breath catch. As he pointed out the constellations, she slipped quiet glances at his face. Once, he looked down and caught her staring up at him, but she thought she got away with it by naming the animals they could hear in the nearby woodland.

On this particular day, they rode to the tree house but did not go up. Tethering their horses beneath it, secure within the metal cagework Athos had built for that purpose, they had walked over to the lagoon and sat in the shade. Athos took the backpack off his shoulder and handed her the food he had prepared and they ate and laughed; Athos leant forward and wiped crumbs from her cheek in a bold brief moment, and she felt herself falling weightlessly into his green eyes.

Later, they went to visit her father, Nyack, in their village, another five miles east.

As they road side by side, Nkosi looked across at Athos.

"Do you miss your old life?" she asked softly.

His face clouded over and for a moment, she regretted asking.

She didn't think he was going to answer but then he looked across at her.

"Why would I? I have a new life here."

"No regrets?" she replied.

"I will always have regrets; but I cannot change the past, and I have learned from Porthos that I cannot continue to fight it," he replied. "Although, it may probably still fight me occasionally," he added wryly.

"We are reborn with each new day," Nkosi replied.

Athos thought of the first glorious morning he had seen break from the tree house.

"An admirable philosophy," he smiled.

He stretched out his hand toward her. Their horses had slowed to a walk while they had been talking and she now held out her hand and wrapped her slim fingers around his hand. They walked on like that for a few yards in silence.

Suddenly, she kicked her horse into a gallop.

"Last one there cooks dinner," she shouted over her shoulder.

Her laughter began to fade as she disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"Not fair," he growled, as he urged his horse into a gallop and charged after her.

As it turned out, they arrived at the outskirts of the village together, and agreed to share cooking duty.

After settling the horses, Athos watched Nkosi move around, talking to the women and children who always gathered to stare at the white men sitting with their elder. She laughed as the children pointed at him but if he saw them, he did not say anything. Eventually Nyack waved them away and they ran off, laughing.

Nyack saw how Athos watched Nkosi.

"She is a credit to you, Nyack," Athos said gently to the old man; aware he was under scrutiny.

"It takes a whole village to raise a child," the old man answered quietly. And then, he told Athos the full story.

His three sons had been born to his first wife, a native Tswana woman, their marriage arranged when Nyack was sixteen and she was fourteen. Their's had been a good marriage but it ended when his wife died after a long illness.

Nkosi's mother Jayne had been a white woman; his second wife, and their marriage had been blessed with a daughter.

When Nkosi's mother died suddenly, the whole village rallied to help him raise his four year old mixed-race daughter; having taken her as one of their own when she was first born. The women of the village had loved her mother, who had been an American missionary. Malaria had taken her, after all her years in Africa in good health it had been a terrible shock to everyone.

Nyack understood that for him, love came above all else; above race and above tradition.

Now, that same daughter seemed to be drawn to this white man.

Nyack had made a promise to Jayne.

Watching Athos and Nkosi together, he was not unhappy.

To be continued ...