Page 93 of Duty Preserved

“Our tech expert Jace called back,” he said.

He stopped when he saw Faith.

“Guys, this is Faith Njeri from KWS.”

“Donovan Hughes.” He extended his hand and she took it.

Andrew stepped up beside him and nodded. “Andrew Volante. We’re from Citadel Solutions.”

“Right. The ranger training. How is Cole doing with his recovery?” She looked between Donovan and Andrew.

“He’s managing. He’ll still be in therapy for a while.” Donovan replied. “He’ll get there.”

“Of course.” Faith nodded. “I’m glad to hear he’s on the mend.”

“Faith is here for the poaching report,” I said. “She brought information you need to hear.”

Donovan looked at me. Then at the spread of photographs and documentation between Faith and me.

“Tell me.”

I gave him everything Faith had assembled. The dated hits at other conservancies and the sightings between kills. The same signature at every site. A crew with funding and experience, working the region for months.

Andrew and Donovan listened intently.

“The phone,” Donovan said when I finished. “We plugged it into one of our laptops that Jace can access remotely. Using that, he’s been able to rip most of the data off the device. If the GPS history of this phone matches the locations and dates of the kills Faith just described, we’ll have definite confirmed actionable intel.”

He looked at me, then Faith. “I need to call him back. Can you give him what you just shared here?”

Faith nodded. “Of course.”

Donovan dialed the number and put it on speaker.

The line connected. I could hear the faint clatter of a keyboard in the background.

“Tell me you’re calling with good news,” Jace said. “I’ve been staring at Afrikaans text messages for nine hours, and my eyes are staging a revolt.”

“Better than good news. I’ve got context for your data.” Donovan kept it brief. “I’m here with Sarah, Andrew, and Faith Njeri from KWS. Faith has the regional picture. Dates and locations of kills at conservancies across Laikipia, plus sighting reports on the crew between jobs. Go ahead, Faith.”

Faith listed them. Conservancy by conservancy, month by month.

“The phone’s GPS history puts the device within twenty kilometers of Borana on both of those dates.” Jace’s voice had shifted from its usual lightness into something focused. “And Lewa in March. And within range of Mpala in June. Every location you just named, the phone was in the area at or near the time of the kill.”

The room went still.

“Everything on this phone is coordinated through one number,” Jace continued. “A South African mobile prefix. Every instruction about logistics and transport routes for the horn. It all flows through one person.”

“Who?” Donovan said.

“Willem Nasser. South African national.” His keystrokes stopped again. “That number is all over this phone. Every thread leads back to him.”

Donovan’s hand closed around the edge of the counter, the first visible reaction since he’d walked in.

“They’re moving rhino horns into the Asian market through a chain of middlemen,” Jace continued.

Donovan’s expression hadn’t changed. His eyes were on the phone, but I could tell he was already sorting it, running the numbers against what he’d seen on the ground.

Faith had been writing through most of this. She looked up.