"I think we'll all be ok; we just need to stick together."
It was strange for Nicole that she had to share Nathan now with seven other people, who all had different questions and viewpoints. Nathan was by far the oldest; being thirty eight he was much older and wiser than anyone else in the group. Then, at times, he even made Nicole feel like a little girl.
What's ten years anyway? She thought.
His return did not happen as she fantasized it would, and with the situation being the way it was, romance was probably the last thing on his mind. Nathan was now in survival mode, and with it came added responsibility as they all relied on him.
With everyone now settled in around the fire, they began socializing and enjoying themselves as Hannes and Riaan began to barbeque the meat Nicole had brought along. Laughter was a sure sign that normality would someday return. Nicole began to feel out of place. Before she knew it the first jackal had cried and she realized it was time to say good-bye.
If only he could come home with me and spend the night, she thought.
Thoughts like that would have to wait for another time.
"I cannot stay long but I promise tomorrow I will spend most of the day here," Nicole said to Nathan as they walked to the quad.
She wanted to grab his hand but he held them in his pockets. The sun was already beginning to set and the lights on her quad were not working.
"Nicole, thanks for the letter, it meant the world to me," he said as he hugged her goodnight.
Finally, she thought. I was going to ask him about it……..perhaps he does like me after all.
After Nicole left, Nathan returned to the camp-site and noticed Chantel was missing again. A typical teenager, never thinking about anyone else except themselves! He did not like it. Yet, something still seemed out of place with her.
Chapter 16
"Who controls the past controls the future, and who controls the present controls the past."
George Orwell
Friday was always a half-day in Cape Town, and doing business after lunch was virtually impossible, as many people still preferred to knock off early; a custom repeated by most coastal cities that had a vibrant tourist industry. Yet, it often meant that an entire day's work had to be completed before lunch time and the mad rush to start the weekend.
This hectic ritual had repeated itself many times for Warren, who had just finished his last shoot for the day. He was in two minds to leave the photographic lighting stands up and race home. But, as always, he had his routine and the studio had to be kept clean and tidy, so he began to pack everything away while the last of the three models finally left.
He could not wait to get home, she was back!
Arriving at home within minutes from his studio in Bree Street, Warren made his way upstairs to the spare bedroom where Kate was still asleep, her bedside lamp was on. He looked at his watch: 1:47 pm. He watched her for a moment then grabbed Tigger, who came into the room, and gently placed him on the bed beside her where he instantly started to purr and pump the cushion.
The operation to rescue Tigger, took Warren over an hour; to corner and catch her Persian Prince. Somehow he had been locked out of Kate’s flat without food or water and probably slept in the basement. Just then Kate stirred and turned around to face him. Her eyes sparkled when she saw him.
"Tigger, my boy" she called, as she reached over for him. This was the first time Warren saw her smile.
Kate had not slept much over the last few days, as tears began rolling down her face. She was in a mess. The former vision of beauty had somehow come undone. She had been through so much lately and his heart ached every time he looked at her.
How could she have gotten involved with AKA? Warren shook his head.
"You want something to drink or eat?" he asked her.
Kate lay there looking at him, smiling as she held onto Tigger.
"I need a long, hot bath first!"
Warren wanted to take her into his arms but knew it would be a mistake.
"I'm also starving," she said.
Within moments Kate heard the sound of water running. Warren had impeccable manners, another thing she loved about him, and he was considerate. She felt safe, but knew it was only temporary.
When Kate finally finished her bath she made her way downstairs, dressed in his pajamas and dressing gown. Her clothes had been washed and dried but it still reminded her of the ordeal.
"I hope you don't mind," she said as she sat down at the breakfast table.
"No, not at all, however you look like a hospital patient, you know," he said.
She sneered at him; perhaps he still had his charm.
It was now 2:30 in the afternoon and they were having breakfast. They had done that before, only a few months ago, and after much love making. He kept those thoughts to himself, but he was sure she also thought of them. Especially now, being back in his house and wearing that robe she had worn so many times before. Yet, there seemed no time for idle conversation anymore.
"I need to tell you something you're not going to like," he said.
She looked up as he delivered the words that would once again send her into shock.
"There's a warrant out for your arrest."
"What the fuck! What you talking about?!" she exclaimed, putting her knife and fork down.
"It's for drug trafficking…………"
She knew instantly it was Kazak who was behind this. Kate's bottom lip started to quiver again. Warren could not handle that and went to her side of the table to hold her. She had become so fragile lately. Thoughts of escaping with her into the sunset were reserved for silly romantic novels; he had to think of something more concrete.
"What must I do?" she asked as her bottom lip began to quiver again.
Warren was not a violent man, but he wanted to kill someone for this.
"I asked a friend of mine, who is also in the Police, about your stolen iBand, and he did a trace for it but came up empty-handed. He informed me about the internal warrant for your arrest and said there's nothing he can do for you and that you should hand yourself in and let the law take its course."
Kate was speechless.
"When I told him you're British, he said it will make no difference, but as a citizen of the UWN you will receive all the proper legal counsel," he said.
"I cannot believe it………This time last week everything was fine, I was fine. Now I have been fucked over by that scum bag and I have no life left. What about my work at DGM? They probably know by now," she said.
"Yes, definitely. Apparently the Police have already been there, looking for you."
Great! Kate thought. Julia must be over the fucking moon.
"They will retrace your iBand's digital footprints and no doubt go back to all the places you have been over the last week."
Kate thought about Kazak and the warehouse, and she felt it was now over for her.
Guilty by association!
Kate knew it was true; she was a drug addict, but not to the extent they said she was.
Regardless, she could not tell Warren everything as he would never understand the pressure she was under or the deal she made with Kazak. At least she did admit to using AKA, which was a true confession.
It took another hour and a few strong coffees to calm her down again. Warren gave her plenty of time alone to try and figure things out for herself. He had spoken to a good friend about it and he also confirmed her predicament.
"I do not know how you feel about this Kate, but you have very few choices, either you turn yourself in and let the law takes it course, or you run, which will confirm your guilt. That in itself is a very scary thought, so please don't even consider it. We know who got you framed in the first place and hopefully, when you tell the Police about Kazak, they will understand."
Kate knew that option was ridiculous as the Police were just as corrupt as the criminals.
"If you go to the British Embassy then..." Kate cut him off.
"Wh
at British Embassy, Warren?"
He then clicked; as part of the UWN there were no Embassies anymore. Warren stood up and went to the fridge, he needed a beer. This was the most stressful thing to happen in his life and he had no idea what to do. Kate had always been a stress factor; now he remembered why they grew apart. She was always worrying about something.
"Can I get you one?" he asked.
Perhaps that would calm her down.
Kate shook her head; the last thing she felt like doing now was drinking.
"The other choice is to get you out of Cape Town, to a nice safe place where no one will find you, and hopefully we can bribe someone to clear this all up. I have money," he said.
"Yes, sure Warren, just like that," she said, irritated at his idea.
But time was against her, and she had to think clearly if she wanted to get out of this mess.
All her things were still at the flat and they were probably using it as bait to trap her.
"Ok, I'll do it," she said, "because there is no fucking way I'm sitting in an African prison."
"I agree, and Kate, I know exactly where to hide you."
Nothing came to mind, except the wildlife farm in Namibia they had once visited.
"You must remember the place, Kate; we've been there so many times."
Still nothing, she shook her head in frustration.
"My dad's farm in Clanwilliam," he said, as if a light just went on.
"Yes, I do remember the farm. Yes, that's perfect, but what about your Dad, what’ll he say?"
"Don't you worry about him; I'll take care of everything and trust me, they’ll never find you there."
Kate felt she could breathe again. She stood up and made her way over to the fridge and took out a beer for herself. For the first time she had hope.
"Warren, I swear I would be lost without you," she said.
They hugged and he kissed her on the forehead.
"My sweetheart, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
"I know" she said, holding him ever tighter.
With so much to sort out she felt drained once more and needed to lie down. No doubt Kate Baxter had lost her job at Digital Global Media, but she was tired of it anyway.
Julia would be gloating to the ends of the world, but Kate didn't care. All she wanted was her last month's salary, and by all accounts that had been frozen as well. At least she had a friend, a very good friend.
Just then Tigger came strolling into the kitchen, obviously hungry. It reminded her of what was important, everything else could be replaced in time, but he could not. Somehow he still remembered the place and jumped up onto the counter and made his way as if nothing had changed. Just then Warren reached for the tinned food he had just bought and Kate went to the cupboard to get a bowl. They met in the middle of the kitchen and almost kissed.
Things would turn out fine in the end, somehow it always did. Kate felt more positive, especially now that Warren was back in her life………perhaps it was destined.
But still, this was a serious situation and the players were far out of his league. After all, what did she really know about Kazak and the people he had sold her to? It still shocked Kate that she had been traded like a piece of meat. Kazak had shown his true colors, and his heart had turned so cold and callous that she had finally realized he was capable of anything.
If Kazak was still in the sex trade, then he was in bed with the Nigerians.
Rather the Police than them, she thought to herself. I need to get out before Warren gets involved. They will kill him.
Kate knew far too much about Kazak's operation and she realized that her life meant nothing to him.
Perhaps it never did.
Chapter 17
"We live in the time that is spoken of, so beware for that time is upon us"
Nathan Cohen - Captured Diary
It would be another five minutes before Steenkamp arrived at the parade ground, but they waited patiently and ready; all two hundred and fifty UWN Peacekeepers. Yet, mustered here in the central courtyard of the dreaded Staaldraad Prison Camp, were Aryan brothers and sisters from the far north, with no loyalty at all to the local population of South Africa. Kept separate from the citizens, their six month duty was about to begin. The German detachment had arrived just in the nick of time to boost Operation Clean Sweep. Steenkamp had requested them personally.
Finally he had command of his first detachment of highly trained German troops. They would make a difference and Steenkamp would deploy them as ruthlessly as his hero of the Second World War, Rommel, the illusive desert fox. It made no difference if they wore the UWN uniform, their blood was still German.
Friday, the 30th of March 2028, was penciled into his calendar. Steenkamp had actually counted the days down, making sure there were no delays in his consignment. It had been a busy month from hell, with preparations and the coordinating of Operation Clean Sweep. As it was customary, the commanding officer always inspected his new consignment of UWN troops. Even if they were called Peacekeepers, he knew the cold facts, and they were perfect.
After the car stopped, the awaiting officers escorted him to the podium where they took their position along the side of the Dais. The Master at Arms marched into position and turned with utmost precision and faced his Aryan brothers and sisters, who stood perfectly still on the parade ground. It was silent.
"Attention!" he shouted, and with precision not witnessed by the local soldiers, the parade ground shook as rifles and boots made a single sound, a movement practiced to perfection. Steenkamp took the salute and met the Master at Arms to inspect his troops.
They marched up and down the ranks, stopping every now and then to talk to a soldier.
Steenkamp seemed impressed, very impressed.
When he had finished his inspection the troops stood at ease as their Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Colonel Hendrik Steenkamp began his speech. If only he could address them in German, but even Afrikaans would never do. Instead, it had to be in English, the language both tribes detested with bitter memories of defeat.
"Welcome to South Africa, my fellow peacekeepers. I promise you one thing: your six month duty here will be memorable; you have come at a very crucial time. Operation Clean Sweep is currently under way. Germany has contributed to the fight against terrorism, and with your help I believe we will strike a decisive blow against those who stand against all we have built up. But I think you know that."
He paused long enough to scan the parade ground.
"You are here, at this precise moment in time, to do what you're trained to do. To bring peace and stability to our region and to crush the resistance where ever it may be. The United World of Nations must remain strong, especially in these difficult times."
He felt ecstatic and overjoyed, for standing before him was the solution that would crush all who instigated any form of resistance, and he could not wait to see them in action. The German blood that flows in his veins may have been a little diluted, but it was German none the less.
It was however strange to see so many female troops, a very pleasant surprise. Steenkamp spoke about their duty to the UWN and the great service they were doing to mankind in general. The morning breeze was bitterly cold, cutting through uniform and biting into body and bone. A shiver went down his spine as Steenkamp finished his speech, but there was no applause from the troops. They stood still, cold and emotionless.
Steenkamp took the final salute as invited guests and security agents clapped hands, and then rose as they finished off with the United World of Nations national anthem. Old traditions still remained in force.
For the first time Modisa felt a little out of place, as he was one of the only black officers left standing on the podium. The others did not even bother to introduce themselves to him. Perhaps someday he too would address his troops this way. The winds of change had blown his comrades away and replaced them with white kids, many still in their early twenties.
What on earth did they know
about Africa?
He kept his thoughts to himself as he watched Steenkamp leave the podium and make his way towards the officer's wardroom. It was almost two hours later when Steenkamp finally joined him in the operations room. He had been hob-knobbing with the other high ranking dignitaries.
As much as he respected Steenkamp, he hated the man with every fiber of his being.
Steenkamp took off his cap and jacket and handed them to Modisa as he strolled into the Staaldraad Ops Room. It was much smaller than the one at Central Command in Cape Town, but it still had all the latest technology needed to run successful operations throughout Zone 3, which fell under his direct command. Steenkamp looked at the monitors, all displaying images of holding pens with prisoners and guards on duty.
He was not really interested in the prison aspect of Staaldraad, but rather in the hunt for extremists. The prison functioned smoothly, like clockwork. It should have been automated.
Cameras had been installed along the perimeter with infra-red capabilities. The entire camp was under surveillance, but no feeds were permitted to transmit to the outside. As a top secret holding facility, it was off the grid, so to speak.
Modisa had already prepared for the next mission; all he needed was Steenkamp's approval. Once again, he felt as if he was being evaluated.
"Bring up the feed from the drones," Steenkamp said as he looked at Modisa, who signaled to the young female operator to comply.
The images from the spy drone appeared on the screen. It had been circling the target zone for the last hour at an altitude of 800 meters. High definition optical cameras captured every detail and relayed the footage back to the ops-room via the mobile relay station. The drone was constantly scanning with its high-tech sensors, until finally it beeped a confirmation.
"Target acquired, Sir," she said.
The image was crystal clear. They watched the monitors without talking; adjusting settings till it was just right. Other screens displayed weather patterns, terrain topography and Intel on the subject. A green dot indicated it as a friendly.
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