The Real

by Masha du Toit

  All was peaceful.

  They crouched for a while, scanning for any signs of danger. Nothing stirred. First Meisje then Elke climbed up to the gap and slid into the crawl-space under the building’s floor.

  The place stank of kelp and seawater. The last tide had not been high enough to reach all the way up here, but it was still damp enough to drench Elke’s trousers. Guided by Meisje’s enhanced senses, she made her way over to the far side of the space. Ndlela had explained how he and Isabeau had looked through a gap to see the animal cages that might contain a prisoner.

  The gap was narrow but it gave a good view onto the courtyard. On the far side, against the wall were the moonlit shapes of the bikes. The place stank of burnt plastic and Elke remembered what Crosshatch had said about the burning rubbish.

  It was hard to picture the Missy she’d known burning rubbish.

  Maybe it’s those two she’s with. The men.

  Elke waited, watching and listening for any sign of a guard. Finally she grabbed hold of the grid over the gap and tugged. She wasn’t surprised to feel it give; the metal was nearly rusted through. It came loose after several more firm tugs and she pulled it back into the crawl-space, wincing as it scraped loudly on the concrete.

  She waited for another minute in case the noise had drawn unwelcome attention. Nothing. Nobody raised the alarm. No steps sounded above them.

  Meisje didn’t need prompting to know what she should do next. After a last look and sniff, she edged her head and shoulders through the gap and dropped to the ground level of the courtyard. Then she stood silently, still within mind-link range, and surveyed the space.

  Elke closed her eyes so that her only input was the gardag’s vision. Even a normal dog has better night vision than the average human, and Meisje’s vision was far superior to that. The bikes stood out in clear detail. So did the pile of ashes and rubbish where the fire had been.

  Elke knew that Moraes was there even before Meisje swung her head towards the lion cages. Her scent was in the air, a scent Meisje would never forget. Elke felt the prickle as Meisje’s hackles rose and she murmured a calming command.

  There she was. A glowing heat-shape in the nearest cage. No doubt about it. Skyler Moraes was here, and she was a prisoner.

  ¤¤¤

  Elke pulled free from the mind-link and edged through the gap into the courtyard. She had a bad moment about halfway through when her hips got stuck. Not as skinny as I used to be. Or as flexible. She grimaced as the rough concrete ground against her spine. Getting too old for this kind of thing.

  A wriggle and a lurch got her through and she lowered herself silently to the ground. Meisje watched with interest as Elke gingerly rubbed the base of her spine.

  If Meisje’s relaxed attitude wasn’t enough, a glance around the courtyard told Elke she hadn’t alerted any guards. She automatically checked for an escape route. The stack of plastic crates against the exterior wall looked promising. The wall was tall enough to be a significant barrier but the crates would provide a convenient step up, if needed.

  Now for it.

  Moving quietly, she approached the cages. While most of the courtyard was visible in the moonlight, the cages were sheltered by an overhanging roof and were deep in shadow. She could barely make out the figure, propped against the bars of the nearest cage. It was Moraes. Her once close-cropped hair was an unwashed, shoulder-length tangle. She’d lost weight.

  Elke moved closer, nose wrinkling at the stench of sweat and urine. They’ve not even bothered to give her a bio toilet. Just a bucket.

  “What. The fuck. Are you doing here.” Moraes’s voice was barely above a whisper. She looked beyond Elke as if checking for other visitors. “Don’t you know this is a trap? Missy will shoot you.”

  “I know.” Elke crouched so that their faces were level.

  “You got my message then,” said Moraes.

  Elke closed her eye in assent.

  “So much for my attempts to warn you off.” Moraes snorted. “Was it too subtle for you?”

  “All those ‘sweethearts’ did ring a few alarm bells.”

  A smile touched Moraes’s lips but she shook her head. “Didn’t work, if you came anyway.”

  “Your friends tried to frame me,” said Elke. “Had to get out of the Eye in a hurry.”

  Moraes straightened up, as though surprised. “No way. Dolly would see through that scheme in a heartbeat. That’s why I suggested a frame-up. You’re not telling me she fell for that?”

  “Dolly’s out of the way right now. She’s being questioned by a commission. Closed hearing. Can’t reach her. They put somebody else in her place while she’s busy.”

  “Oh. Jeez.” Moraes slumped. “They honestly believe you’re a mole?”

  “My temporary boss is kind of an asshole.” Elke glanced around to check on Meisje, who was alert, but still relaxed. “Listen. I don’t have much time—”

  “You’re telling me.”

  Elke tapped the lock on the cage door. It was new but she could deal with it easily enough.

  “Don’t waste your time.” Moraes pulled her feet under her and grabbed hold of the bars. “They got a leash in me.” She pulled herself to her feet.

  Elke stared up at her blankly.

  “A leash,” Moraes touched the nape of her own neck. “You know. In my skull. Press a button on the remote and boom goes my head.” She raked her hair away from her face with her fingers, tucking it behind her ears. “That’s why they don’t need to keep me locked up all the time. Just at night.”

  “Oh shit.” Elke felt sick. “How the hell did that happen?”

  “Well, I was what you might call an idiot, and it was sort of your fault too. In a kind of karmic way, you know?”

  “What happened?”

  Moraes rolled her shoulders slowly and deliberately to ease out the stiffness. “The worst thing about being locked up like this is not getting any exercise. Drives me nuts.” She shook her hair back over her shoulders again. “You know that Nexico implanted a trace in me, right? They do it for all their employees.”

  “I heard.”

  “Makes it tough to get away. They scan you at all the checkpoints. So I couldn’t get out of the country.”

  Elke took another look at Meisje. As far as she could tell, the coast was still clear. They’d kept their voices low, but all this talk was making her nervous.

  “I had to get rid of that trace,” said Moraes. “I found some people who could help me. Up in Egoli. You used to be there, didn’t you?”

  Elke nodded.

  “Well. I found some people who could take the implant out. It checked out pretty good. Nice clean operating room, qualified medic, sterile equipment, all that. I had the money and they weren’t too fussy about the legalities. One of them was your pall Missy Cloete.” Moraes shot a look at Elke. “Who you apparently know.”

  When Elke did not respond, Moraes continued. “That’s when I made my mistake. When I figured out Missy was an ex-renter, like you, I got a bit too chatty. Let her know I knew you.” She grimaced, as though she’d bitten on something sour. “I thought, you know, I could get on her good side. By pretending to be the buddy of a fellow renter.”

  Moraes’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “She let me think it was all hunky-dory. Then when the procedure was done she told me that since you and I were such good friends, I should send you a little message. Lure you over here. And if I didn’t, oh, by the way, forgot to tell you, there’s a little bomb in your head now. She took out the trace and gave me a little present instead. The leash.”

  “What’s the range?” Elke looked over her shoulder at the plastic crates again. Moraes didn’t look capable of getting over the wall by herself but with Elke’s help, she might make it.

  “About a kilometre,” said Moraes. “So no. Running for it is not an option. They’ll realise I’m gone before I’m far enough away.”

  “Shit.”

  “I do agree.” Mo
raes grabbed hold of the bars above her head and let her weight hang on them.

  “You sure of that? Of the range, I mean?” said Elke.

  “Well, Missy’s pretty careful about it.” Moraes changed her stance. Her sleeves slipped back, exposing her arms. Elke couldn’t help noticing that Moraes was still as lithe as she’d been when they first met.

  “I’ve been checking the distance,” said Moraes. “Whenever Missy has to travel for more than about a kilometre, she takes me with her. Or leaves the remote with one of the boys.” She sank down to stretch first one leg, then the other. “They let me out of the cage sometimes. Lock me up at night.”

  She glanced up at Elke through her lashes. “Ironic, isn’t it? Missy thought she could use me as bait, that you’d care enough, that you’d be stupid enough to wander right into the bloody trap.”

  “Well.” Elke gave a breath of a laugh. “Here I am.”

  “God knows why, because I certainly don’t.”

  “Need to clear my name before I can get my job back. Thought you might help with that.”

  “I don’t get it.” Moraes looked at Elke. “Can’t they just access your memory? All that recording you do all the time? That should clear you of any accusations.”

  “Got the recording tech disabled when I became a cop,” said Elke. “Turns out they weren’t too keen on having a cop who’s a shade. Meisje too.”

  “No shit.” Moraes shook her head slowly. “That’s a bugger. I was sort of counting on that to keep you safe.”

  Elke blinked. “You were?”

  Moraes hunched her shoulders irritably, as if embarrassed. “I know damn well that Missy’s going to kill me whether her trap works or not. Fucking up her plans to kill you is the only entertainment I have right now. Damn. I thought for sure that nobody would believe another framing attempt.”

  Elke wanted to ask Moraes why Missy wanted to kill her, but she found she was embarrassed to admit that she didn’t know. “But they’re not here just for me, are they?” she asked instead. “Those other two? Those guys?”

  “Oh no.” Moraes seemed relieved at the change in topic. “Mamba and Buffel couldn’t care less about Missy’s plans. That’s all a side-show as far as they’re concerned. They’re here for a whole other thing. They’re on a job for somebody in the Eye. Got word that there’s a big cache of biologicals and drugs out here in the Muara.”

  A cold thread traced down Elke’s spine. “A cache of biologicals. And somebody in the Eye hired them?”

  Moraes nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else but Elke’s attention was snagged by Meisje, who had swung around, ears pricked, body tense. Elke was about to slip into mind-link, when Moraes reached through the bars and grabbed her arm.

  “Wait.”

  “Somebody’s coming,” Elke whispered as she tried to free herself but Moraes pulled her up against the bars. “There’s one more thing you have to know.” Moraes’s voice was urgent and she pressed her face into the gap between the bars. “About the boss in the Eye. He’s coming here.”

  “What?”

  “The moment they find the stuff, they’ll send a message,” whispered Moraes. “Then he’ll come here. The boss. The guy in charge. You’ll know who it is. You can use that. Exposing him will prove that you’re innocent.”

  For a moment they stared at one another. Elke felt Moraes’s breath on her cheek. Then Meisje let out a faint whine.

  Elke pulled away and slipped into mind-link. Instantly she knew what had alerted the gardag. Footsteps, coming along the deck above them. A thread of cigarette smoke.

  She headed for the pile of crates. Moraes called out as Elke boosted herself up the wall, crates cracking under her feet. She reached for the top of the wall, heaved, then she was over, landing heavily the sand with Meisje just behind.

  Crap. That made far too much noise. Someone shouted as Elke raced over the sand, heading for the shelter of the dunes. Another voice answered. A light came on, throwing her shadow out in front of her.

  “It’s a dog!” shouted somebody, incredulous. “I saw it go over the wall!”

  Elke crashed into the first of the scraggly bushes and ran, crouching and weaving deeper into their shelter. With the help of Meisje’s mind-link she was soon well into the dunes, far enough away to allow herself to rest, hiding in the darker shadows of a milkwood tree.

  ¤¤¤

  Ndlela lay curled up on the couch long after he woke the next morning.

  The couch was not that comfortable and he was usually keen to get up and get going, but today he found himself unusually grumpy. It felt as though somebody had coated his skin with prickles or replaced his blood with vinegar. He buried his face in his pillow, trying to cut out the argument between Noor and Isabeau, which had only died down when Isabeau reluctantly promised to stay at home to rest her foot and not go out either to help Ndlela with the beach combing, or to warn Xun that there was a price on her head.

  Then Noor made him take his head out from under his blanket and tell her about Elke. What had Elke said about the circus people? Why was she here? Why were he and Isabeau so sure that the circus people were up to no good, and yet they trusted Elke? How could they be sure of her?

  Ndlela tried his best to answer Noor’s questions but they made him angry. Part of the problem was that he sounded unconvincing even to himself and that made him feel like a fool.

  It was true. While he was sure the people down in the circus buildings were not Elke’s friends, he couldn’t explain why he felt so strongly that they were not to be trusted. After all, they’d done nothing, apart from shooting at intruders in the night, which according to Noor was perfectly understandable.

  At last he pulled up his blankets to shut out his sister’s annoyed face. I should never have asked Elke about Mom. That’s what’s got Noor so prickly. She hates people to see that she’s upset. He twisted on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position. Then he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Well, to be fair, all of us are pretty grouchy this morning.

  After Noor left for work Isabeau stomped around the kitchen, finding breakfast for herself, clumsy with the crutch. She didn’t chat to Ndlela as she usually did.

  He dragged himself out of bed and headed for their tiny bathroom, turned the tap on the water barrel and grumbled in irritation when it gurgled and spat.

  “Issy! You didn’t fill the barrel this morning.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She clumped into sight at the door. “It’s this crutch. It makes it difficult to carry anything.”

  He felt a rush of irritation, made sharper because he knew he was being unfair. “Couldn’t you just have told me?”

  “Sorry.”

  He grabbed the jug and went out onto the balcony. In one corner stretched the drip-trap, a contraption that condensed water from the early morning air and collected it into a reservoir. Watching the water trickle down into the jug, he wondered at his own mood. Usually the sight of the drip-trap, so simple, and yet so clever, cheered him. He’d made it himself after inspecting the much larger one at Crosshatch’s place. He’d even improved on it, experimenting with the materials and angles until it was much more efficient.

  Now it just seemed another inconvenience.

  He became aware of Isabeau, who’d followed him out onto the balcony and was watching him silently.

  “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I’m a bit in a bad mood this morning.”

  “It’s okay.”

  He took the jug to the bathroom and poured it into the barrel. Barely enough for them to brush their teeth and do the smallest of basin-washes with a facecloth. Sometimes he wondered why they wasted water on washing at all, but the habits his mother had insisted on were strong. It would be betrayal not to follow her routine.

  “You going to be okay here all by yourself?” he asked when he was dressed and ready to go.

  Isabeau shrugged. “I guess. I’ll be fine. You’ll come home for lunch, at least?”

  “Sure. If
I see Elke, I’ll send her to visit you.”

  That got a reluctant smile. “That would be nice.” Then more earnestly, “Ask her if she’s warned Xun, like she promised she would.”

  “I will.” Ndlela picked up his bag, suddenly reluctant to leave Isabeau all by herself.

  “I’ve got Robby,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “I’ll be fine, truly.”

  Robby, hearing his name, perked up and stood waving his tail. Ndlela smiled at him. “You’re going to have to hang on to him, otherwise he’ll follow me.”

  “I’ll feed him,” said Isabeau. “That should keep him distracted long enough.”

  ¤¤¤

  Ndlela was careful to keep out of sight of the circus buildings and went several kilometres up the coast before he started sifting through the junk that had washed up during the last high tide.

  It was strange, walking the beach without Isabeau. Usually they competed to see who could spot the best finds. She was almost always talking, going on about whatever book she was reading or asking him an endless stream of questions. It was irritating and he’d often wished he could go off by himself, but now he found himself missing her.

  He didn’t want to think about the things Elke had told him last night, didn’t want to think what it might mean.

  Was Noor right, when she said Mom was dead? He tested the thought, probing it as though it were a loose tooth. Surely he should feel something more than this numb weariness? If his mother really was dead shouldn’t there be pain, or tears? All he felt was a scratchy anger.

  He felt like a fool. As though he’d been watching a puppet show, totally taken in by the childish make-believe of the performance and only now noticed the strings and mirrors that created the illusion. She left. And she didn’t come back. And I kept believing that she’s fine, that she’d come back tomorrow.

  He kicked at a lump of rock. Maybe she’s not dead. Maybe she just doesn’t want to come back. Why should she?

  That thought was too much. He pulled back from it, shaking himself just as Robby might, after a plunge in cold water.

  You’re getting all tangled up in yourself. Don’t dwell on it. Open your eyes. See what work there is to do. That’s what his mother used to say. She never had much time for self-pity or sulking. Ndlela looked down the beach. Time to get to work. He bent to brush sand from a curved shape that turned out to be the remains of a tin can. He shook the can free of sand and dropped it in his bag.