"But Anne insists that staff, which consists of five of us and a cleaner, take our entire hour lunch. That leaves just her, to substitute for us all while we have lunch, as well as just 'her' alone between 6pm and 8pm. It works well for the staff, obviously, and there are no complaints on our side of the arrangement. No one ever questions her, and no one is ever late, and if for some reason a staff member is too sick to arrive on time or at all, we know better 'not' to have a replacement for the day. She never speaks much, but she is most polite and very generous with her smile. Her gaze really says the little she needs to say in her environment, I suppose. It is after all 'her' environment - and we're merely visitors... or rather helpers. Come eat up, we need to go back, let me introduce you and show you around." Mary had the painful habit - and more than a small measure of bossiness - to play tour guide for 'johnny-come-lately's to the university.
While staff were out on lunch as well as between the hours of 6pm and 8pm, that was when Anne was busy, really busy. Anne managed more work during these few hours than met even the most vivid of imaginations. Not that anyone would imagine anything else from a librarian Other than, books, books and yes, more books, and filing, loads of it. Mostly is been cancelling old membership cards, issuing new ones and signing off on magazine and newspaper deliveries in the mornings and some afternoons. That had been another duty that Anne insisted on managing on her own.
Anne's system was unassuming and quite boring, much like she was. Maybe her system was even as uneventful as her constant choice of 'all-things-grey-and-black' to wear, it was said. That was how her staff and the university both thought she had been for many seasons of many years. 'She' was the familiar old book smell that greeted the staff and the staff before them, and those who came before them, year in and year out.
If time wanted to rest and close its eyes for a few years, and wanted everything to be the same when it woke up, Anne's library is where time would come. A joking comment from old professor once made when he saw a calendar from three years before on the side of a filing cabinet next to where Anne normally sat writing. At the time she acted like she was deep in thought. He didn't repeat speaking his mind when she smiled back however... as the book that was due back, barely made it at three minutes to 6pm. Anne thought it was a great compliment that time would choose 'her' library to rest. Not because she was aloof. Rather, she was quite pleased that the boring front she created over many years was still so well-preserved.
During those few lonely hours every day Anne made notes that were placed inside the books corresponding with page numbers of the third last date the books were last stamped. Notes would attract attention obviously, but then bookmarks were common items. It was her standard and every book had one. The banking details and accommodation arrangements for her equally unassuming newspaper delivery people were safer than in a stainless steel bank vault. It was considered 'kind' of her, when on occasion a staff member would observe her wanting to improve the men, and seldom a woman now and then; by suggesting a good book to read. It was equally kind of these people not to hurt Anne's feelings, staff thought, to humour her and take the book that they signed for. People from outside the university were granted permission to use the library facilities, but Anne cared more for the delivery people it seemed. Late at night when she was alone she thought of all the things hidden in this well-organised paper vault. The fact that so many things, both old and new, fitted into Anne's paper maize was pure genius.
Anne had kept record of decades of information on energy and technology advances, minutes and agendas of secretly recorded meetings between local and overseas as well as political meetings, and the names of recruiters of both business and National Intelligence staff who recruited students who would fill seats in power at a 0stage. The now and then off-campus visitor that took out or brought back a book, never raised an eyebrow in the library. Anne cared very much for these bookworms.
Anne's soft spot however were the delivery men and very few women. Like Anne, they were younger versions of her, many years before when she was transferred. That sounded better than she had 'comprising information on a high-level politician whom she had 'interviewed' - for lack of a better word - at a new division after he somehow thought it was becoming to throw rumours of suspected third-force activities, and her department into the very same sentence. They couldn't get rid of her like they had done all over the world with people who outlived their usefulness in her department. And not that an attempt could not be arranged, for such a retirement Problem was, dear old Anne was part of a very small and willing and even feared not to mention committed group of people. After the corporate-types had completed their missions and bugged phones and intercepted emails and letters and siphoned money out of business accounts, so a CEO would be blamed and replaced; that is where Anne came in. Anne and the delivery people.
She had six teams which she expertly managed internationally. They were nowhere on file, nowhere on a payroll, and never referred to in 'polite' conversation, as the previous President once said. The weight of the decision to use them was severe enough that there was only one person at any one political administration, could request their services. Anne understood the need for "quiet" in more way than one. She ran teams who made sure problems went quiet and remained so. How it was done was never asked and no one wanted to know, ever.
Much like Anne's background, her colleagues were also carefully chosen and recruited from medical fields, mortuary staff and one or two from special forces. None were married, and they had no family to speak of. Not that anyone would have prevented them from entering into a serious relationship with someone, but after being remunerated more than generously, they would have had to pursue a normal life gain. It was Anne who insisted and believed it wouldn't be fairer on a family 'not' having to deal with the lengthy absence and psychological changes of a family member. Maybe that was the reason why she was chosen many decades before. Her integrity, fairness, and committed-to-the-end framework, in the name of the 'cause', which technically never existed, wasn't for everyone.
No one but Anne knew what she knew, well, people didn't exactly fight to get information out of her. When a request came, it was irrelevant who the subject was. Wealth, security, bodyguards, position in society, rank in the armed forces, - none of that mattered and none of that ever posed a problem. The subject would be reported missing and that was the end of it. The latest of Anne's many successes was in a Chinese tabloid recently, when no less than five prominent wealthy men mysteriously went missing, mere days apart, in between two small airports. Case closed. Anything more than that would have led to witnesses and evidence - and negligence and loose ends were not why Anne and her people existed. Or rather, that was not why the need for them existed. Anne's people performed a crucial function that no one else performed, wanted to perform, or knew how to perform
She had been a 'cleaner' for most of her life and had witnessed technology and politicians both replaced with what should have been concerning frequency. But then no one noticed To say that she was a genius was an understatement. Her after-hours advice and assistance when even the most experienced of the people sometimes hit a speed hump, was in high demand. The highest of demands actually. It was, and is, speculated even in intelligence circles that it was worth noting the 'missing-persons reports of prominent people were mainly filed over weekends and holidays. Why not on business days, normal days, they asked? Anne had never missed a day at the library in all those many years and counting. Could it be coincidence, or it could be, that to make a problem disappear takes patience and time? And by implication, the bigger or heavier the problem, the more patience and time was required. But mainly time. So they say...
Anne, always the early riser, waited outside after having been warmed up by her favourite cup ginger-tea.
"Can't believe how fast the university semester ended. I'm must admit, I'm jealous of the young people, meeting their holidays with their typical 'let's-go-wild' excitement. Jovial groups of colourfully,
but mostly weirdly dressed young people with bags and suitcases - already packed two days ago I'm sure - will be lining up at all five different bus-stops. Love how obvious it is always to notice who the art students are, and who aren't part of their world. Reminds me of my twenties - their attitude of nonconformity to traditional make-up, hair do's and what to wear and what not to - all the while copying each other's so-called uniquely original outlook on evolving stages of fashion and thoughts of the world around them. As usual, a small handful of fortunate ones will be making their way to the fenced-off area where their cars had been parked, and the rest of the 'normal ones' will be darting elatedly down the steep stairs to their waiting parents. Very few, but the handful of over achievers' minds will still be occupied with notes, lectures, and those pricey text books that they neglected to ask back after erroneously lending them out. For the rest, a temporary pause on brain activity on all things 'learning' and anything remotely resembling responsibility. As much as the vibrancy of the kids keeps me going, I'm somehow strangely addicted to a stroll or two through the sudden 'ghost-town-like' long corridors and echoing auditoriums - with no more too early mornings observing those are so weighed-down by the stacks of books, pulling their young shoulders skew while rushing and alternating auditoriums. It's holidays and they obviously deserve it. I think I'll have to give it a miss this time. It's already almost time to go". Only a single person was still planning in her mind. Planning, weighing up options, memorising routes, alternative routes, train departure times, and the second last item - the distance to and from the different embassies... just in case.
"I must check up on what the weather would serve up on these places. Haven't been to Malta in ages". The weather was normally the last box to be ticked on Anne's list, and with a few items of 'out-of-place' colourful clothing for her usual wardrobe - packed and rolled up, Anne loaded her boot.
"This chilled fresh air at 4am in Johannesburg is always quite refreshing and welcome. A taste of what the coming winter may bring, I'm hoping. Damn, did I have a drop the keys!" Anne looked down at where she dropped keys and picked them up without her eyes leaving the road she had been scanning. Over her shoulder down into the distance down the road; just for what was a brief few seconds, she thought back of a similar fresh morning about the same time of the year, only it was seven years before.
"Not again, you're not serious!?"
What seemed like a car door clicking shut somewhere in the background, draped her mind in fully alert mode, just like then... she shot a look over her left shoulder and noticed a man standing on the drivers side of a newish model Audi, enjoying a cigarette and his passenger apparently had just joined him.
"It's a bit too obvious..." Anne tried to adjust her eyes to absorb the little available light down the dimly lit street about 150 meters away, from where she thought the sound darted from.
"Odd time of the morning to wait for someone". Anne thought as they still didn't leave their vehicle. Both men turned their gaze away from Anne, and faced the opposite way down the street.
Before Anne closed her boot, she was sure she heard a twig crack somewhere behind her, but for some reason didn't give it any thought. Loose sand; from what she gathered on previous early mornings, had washed onto the tarred parking and with it, some remains of the slowly dying big oak tree that she parked under. Instinctively, but more because she was startled she moved and turned away from the sound and reached for her jacket pocket. A fist suddenly swiping past her, missed her face by a mere two inches. The barely missed punch, was so close, that in that brief moment, she could smell the soapy fragrance of someone who had a bath in the past hour or so.
"As if this is the time to be analytical...!" Just as she stepped back, another blow missed her so close that her glasses moved a few millimetres. Following the two powerful but missed punches, just then, a shot rang loud. Both Anne and her tall attacker, for the first time paused, and shared a three second surprised stare at one another. The attacker seemed surprised that his victim was shorter than he thought, also that she was also significantly older - almost resembling a typical granny-figure. The slightly overweight man and Anne, both sank to their knees and didn't get up. As he leaned against an old Volkswagen Beetle - and attempting to push himself up against it - he suddenly slipped back down on his knees again and fell face down onto the cold tarmac. Anne, having leant against the bumper of her vehicle, decided to remain in her uncomfortable position and not move a muscle. Neither of them were visible from further down the road at the time - being jammed in between the two parked vehicles - and paranoid Anne made an instinctive but quite accurate assessment it seemed, as seemingly hasty footsteps were getting louder and closer from further down the road. The lifeless attacker didn't move and was staring and Anne, and Anne was staring back at him, still deciding not to move an inch.
"John! John!" Someone was calling from the direction of the hurried footsteps, which were hitting the road faster and much harder now. But the tall and slightly overweight 'John' didn't answer his worried friend, and still didn't move. Anne breathed out slowly, and took in all the air she could - and surprising for her age, was upright in a flash. Leaning against the back of her vehicle, she faced them square on as two loud bangs cut sharply through the chilly April morning air, upsetting two doves in the tree overhead. Two thudding sounds followed, and both the men, who were running fast and closing the distance in record time, waving their pistols, were suddenly peddling air. To Anne, the men resembled two tall but out-of-commission demolished buildings, and they dropped. Each fell in his own peculiar unnatural position and remained like that.
As always Anne wore a jacket with two comfortable sized pockets. In the left, she felt again for the cell phone, which only had three mobile numbers programmed on speed dial. She felt for the opening on the right side of her jacket and hid the compact 9mm pistol again. Anne had already called the first speed dial number when she went down with her attacker as she waited, pausing to assess what was going on. The call was answered and the listener heard the last two shots clearly.
"You OK!?" The voice was loud on the phone.
"Yes I am, our flight is in two hours, so time is going to a possible challenge..." She answered.
"My place" And she ended the call. By the time a white panel arrived on the quiet dimly lit street in Randburg, Johannesburg, three bodies were already dragged to lay neatly between her and the old vehicle behind her. Perspiring, having just finished placing the last of the plastic bags and tied these tight over the heads of her attackers, she had already and with great effort, placed a large ten litre drum back in her boot - as the liquid poured on the road, bleaching all three dark red stains, perfectly translucent.
"Anne, Anne, Anne..." The driver said softly as he got out.
"We can talk on the way. Oh and morning". Her reply as she removed her luggage from her boot and put it in the visitors'. Within less than three minutes Anne was driving an Audi, following a panel van, with the street lights flashed overhead repeatedly, oblivious to the load of the G&M Electrical stickered van - and in front of Anne's house were three wet spots that turned from red, to clear, to damp in a short few minutes. It was the cleanest the tar had been since it was laid years before.
That morning Anne and a short balding man with a neatly trimmed beard and black suit, enjoyed a warm cup of tea at the Lanseria International Airport while they waited for their two fellow passengers. The men they were waiting for, were apparently running late, and she moved the balding man's suitcase a bit further away from her, by nudging it with her foot. Satisfied that he was armed, due to the weight of the suitcase, she knew he probably had already arranged that he would not be searched before stepping onto the plane. Anne again had been accurate in her assessment. The case, as she would later on landing be proved correct, would contain more than just medical books and a stethoscope. They were served a second cup of tea and after paying, acting out an old couple still on love, hooked-in their arms and slowly made their way towards
the booking counter.
By the time Anne, the doctor and the men who arrived late, were all airborne to Cape Town - large flames were busy engulfing a new Audi sedan on a remote dirt road near Renosterspruit agricultural holdings a few kilometres away from Lanseria International Airport. Two curious wild rabbits were less than impressed with the spectacular light-display which followed the vehicle's wheels popping in ear-deafening succession, and darted uninvited into the freshly dug hole of a neighbour. In turn the tyres burnt out as the fire hungrily consumed everything, in its awesome wake.
"Somewhere in a small block on the third page of the following month's morning newspaper, police would again be appealing to the public to come forward with information" Anne thought during a long tired blink.
The article would detail a puzzling and gruesome crime scene of three incinerated, presumably male bodies, with teeth all removed, discovered by perplexed members of a police patrol vehicle. According to news, it would be reported, the bodies were totally unrecognisable and neither watches nor jewellery, or other forms of identification, were detected. No traces found of the remains of clothes, belts, shoes, etc. Police would in all probability find that, at the time an Audi had been stolen a day before, but there would be no other leads to follow and no witnesses. The only information that would be withheld as usual, would be that of the autopsy. The autopsy report, as Anne would accurately have guessed, would have indicated, that no bullets or any other foreign objects were retrieved, and that the bodies had identical and deep gushes to the frontal sections of their skulls.
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