What she really meant was: where are you?
‘Of course not. I’m still at work. Only leaving now.’
‘I’m only leaving Randburg now. It’s been a long night.’
‘Are you OK after the shooting?’ David asked. Nice that he’d bothered to ask, even though his voice contained the same level of sympathy that an anti-bullfighting activist might show when enquiring about an injured matador.
‘I wasn’t really involved,’ Jade told him. ‘Innocent bystander. The shooters broke into an empty house while I was in the area.’
David grunted something that Jade didn’t catch, and for a few seconds there was silence on the line. Then: ‘Do you have a minute to speak to me?’ he asked.
‘Of course. Fire away.’
‘I meant in person,’ he continued, and she felt her palms dampen.
‘I … yes, of course. Do you mean now?’
‘If you have the time. I’ll come to you. You say you’re in Randburg. How about meeting up at The Baron on Main Road?’
‘Sure. I …’
Unusually, Jade found herself at a loss for words. She didn’t know what to say to David in response. She guessed he’d chosen The Baron because it was about the only place in the area likely to be open after midnight. It was a notorious pick-up joint, but jokes about that seemed inappropriate. And since he’d said he wanted to speak to her in person, he obviously wasn’t going to offer any further information over the phone.
‘I’ll see you there then,’ she said, and hung up before the gaps between their words turned from uneasy to downright embarrassing.
24
Even after midnight, The Baron was busy. The music was still pumping and the air was clouded with cigarette smoke. The bar was packed with well-dressed patrons in their twenties and early thirties. Lots of cash being brandished about; lots of bling. Men with designer ties loosened and silk shirts unbuttoned a couple of holes. Gold chains, platinum watches, BlackBerrys and iPhones seemingly glued to their palms. Women with fabulous hair showing off gym-toned bodies in faded, hip-hugging jeans and bejewelled stilettos that shrieked ‘Bought in Sandton’.
The restaurant area was quieter. A few people were lingering over coffees and waiting for their bills. There was no sign of David so Jade sat down at a corner table that had been recently vacated and not yet cleared. She pushed aside an empty whisky glass and a cup with the dregs of a cappuccino, and when the harassed-looking waiter arrived with a tray, she ordered a glass of Chardonnay for herself and a Black Label draught for David.
Her stolen gun was tucked inside the cubbyhole of her Fiat, which was parked between the gleaming bulk of a silver Toyota HiLux and a black Range Rover. From the road it would be invisible. Nobody had followed her here and she’d paid the car guard twenty rand to keep a special eye out for anyone who approached her vehicle. So, for now at least, she could relax and wait for David to arrive.
He walked in a few minutes later. Tall, dark-skinned, blue-eyed, and with a presence about him that turned the heads of several women at the bar in spite of the fact that he was about ten years older – and wearing clothes ten times cheaper – than the men who were chatting them up. If he’d been her partner, Jade would have felt proud to see him arrive. He wasn’t, though, and that left her feeling lonely and frustrated. She’d gladly have swapped places with any of the girls at the bar. At least they had some chance of a future with their drinking partners.
David folded himself into the chair opposite Jade.
‘Thanks for making the time,’ he said.
‘No problem. As you know, I was on my way home.’ She pushed the beer over towards him and he clinked glasses with her before draining half the contents in a single gulp.
‘What happened with the shooting?’ he asked, and Jade felt suddenly hurt at the thought that perhaps this was why he’d asked to meet up with her, because he didn’t believe what she’d told him and suspected that she had instigated it.
Doing her best to rise above these misgivings, Jade gave him a brief outline of her latest puzzling case.
David listened with his chin propped on his steepled fingers, interrupting her only to order them another round of drinks. Although it was getting very late now, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to tell her what, if anything, was bothering him.
‘Wait a minute,’ he asked the waiter as he was preparing to leave. ‘Is your kitchen still open?’
‘Yes, for another few minutes. I’ll bring …’
‘No, no, I don’t need a menu. Can I have a cheeseburger and chips, please? I’m starving. All I’ve eaten today is a slice of stale carrot cake. It was Captain Thembi’s birthday on Monday.’ He glanced at Jade. ‘Anything for you?’
‘No, thanks. I’ve had supper.’ If you could call a banana and a large bag of chilli cashews eaten in the car while driving back to Jo’burg ‘supper’.
‘So you have a theory about why Zelda Meintjies’s gone missing, then?’ David asked when the waiter had gone.
‘I’m sure it’s got something to do with one of the pieces she’s working on, and part of the reason I think so is that I couldn’t find any of her most recent notebooks. Only the older ones.’
‘She could have bought a Dictaphone and stopped using them.’
‘That’s a possibility, I suppose.’
‘Or she had them with her. In her car, perhaps. Which there was no sign of, by the way.’ And, in the mess of papers in the house, Jade hadn’t noticed any documentation relating to a vehicle. She could only hope that Harris knew the car’s make and model, or better still remembered the number plate, and had given this information to the police.
‘And how is Zelda’s disappearance linked to her sister’s death? It can’t be coincidence, but which happened first?’
‘I don’t know. All I can tell you is that both events happened at around the same time.’
‘So, do you think the men who fired the shots tonight are also responsible for pushing Sonet off the building after jimmying her parachute?’
‘Well, there was another set of footprints on the top floor of Sandton Views. I still don’t know who they belong to. But what puzzles me, though, is that if you wanted to kill someone there are far easier ways to do it.’
‘Plenty, yes. But not so many that would point a charge of culpable homicide directly at one person.’
‘True. It must have taken some planning to arrange that would-be accident though – and how did they know she was going to be jumping that particular night?’
‘That’s a good question.’
A short but easy silence followed. Then the waiter appeared with David’s burger and he started in on it immediately, eating at the same speed that a pack of wild dogs who’d just made a kill might have done.
‘You reckon the guys who shot the old man also slashed your tyre?’ he said, dunking a chip in tomato ketchup.
‘I’m pretty sure. I recognised the truck they were driving, although I didn’t get the licence plates, unfortunately.’
‘Probably fake in any case. You’re remarkably calm about this, Jade.’
‘I’ve thought it through. The shot was a lucky one. That means they’re trigger-happy idiots, not professionals.’
‘They cut your tyre at the hospital and they turned up in Randburg just a few hours later. They’re not going to stop, Jade. Are you sure they’re not tracking your car?’
‘Would you have bothered to put an expensive tracking device on a vehicle that you assumed was going to end up rolling over a steep cliff? Finding me now will mean starting from scratch.’
‘Well, how did they find you in the first place? What were they doing driving round a remote rural area waiting for you to pitch up at the farm and then go to the hospital?’
‘Good point, David. I don’t know why they were out there or if they were waiting for me, or for someone else. In any case, though, they’ve lost me now. But, if they’re halfway competent, they’ll have discovered where I live by tomorrow mor
ning. If they’re not it could take longer.
‘And then?’ He was frowning now.
‘I’ll know who they are.’
‘They’re not playing games, Jade.’
‘Nor am I.’ Bravado, she knew, even with the dubious assistance of an old pistol.
David said nothing. Just took another swallow of beer. The frown hadn’t left his face. The two deep lines in between his eyebrows looked as if they were about to become a permanent fixture.
‘Those notes. Have you had any more of them?’ she asked, changing the subject. She was sure he must have done, otherwise he wouldn’t have wanted to meet up so urgently.
‘I have. One. This evening, in fact.’
‘Same place?’
‘Yes. At the gym, but this time it was taped to the door.’
‘And the message?’
‘Different this time.’
‘Well?’
David didn’t look like he actually wanted to tell her. He stared down at his empty plate and mumbled something inaudible.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Jade said.
‘You might as well know. It said: So who’s the proud father-to-be, then?’
Jade couldn’t help it. The mention of David’s pregnant wife triggered a surge of jealousy that made her want to get up, knocking her chair over and perhaps her half-full wineglass as well, and storm out of the restaurant. But that was only for an instant, before the seriousness of the situation hit home.
‘They’re involving your family now?’
‘Yes.’
And whoever was leaving the notes knew about his personal circumstances. This was all the more disturbing when Jade remembered that, as part of the Organised Crime division, David routinely dealt with drug dealers, arms smugglers and human traffickers. Ruthless, violent and powerful criminals who were more than capable of following through on their threats. And if they’d found out where he worked out, that meant they also knew where he lived.
With a nine-year-old boy and a heavily pregnant wife, David was at his most vulnerable, especially since Kevin had been abducted by kidnappers the previous year. Although the boy had been sedated for the duration of his capture, and was virtually unscarred by the event, David had been through the worst kind of hell, and Jade knew it was one of his deepest fears that something similar might happen again.
‘Naisha and Kevin are leaving town tomorrow morning for the long weekend,’ David said as if reading her thoughts. ‘Naisha’s uncle is over from London and they’re all having a big family get-together in the Pilanesberg. When she asked me this morning if I really thought it was a good idea for her to go, I just about jumped with joy. I’m hoping now she didn’t realise something was wrong.’
‘Let me know the next time you decide to go to the gym. Someone’s obviously watching your movements. If you do, then I can keep an eye on the entrance.’
‘Thanks. I will.’ But he said it reluctantly, as if he didn’t want to expose her to his dangers when she already had her own to deal with.
‘Has anybody else in your team received similar notes?’
‘I haven’t heard anyone else mention it.’
‘And there’s nobody you suspect? No case causing any particular problems?’
‘Honestly, Jade, there’s nothing I can think of. And where there’ve been threats in the past they’ve contained specifics. You know the type. “Drop the Rajnee case or your family will suffer.” Usually arrives in a grubby envelope, printed in caps, with at least two spelling mistakes.’
Jade smiled. ‘Well, let’s think positively. Perhaps this is the disgruntled ex-partner of someone who you’ve already put in prison, and all they want to do is mess with your mind for a while.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ David said, sounding unconvinced.
He insisted on paying the bill, and just before they left, he dug in his pocket and slid a small bunch of keys and a black remote control across the table.
‘Take these and please use them,’ he said.
Jade stared down at them. ‘How? For what?’
‘They’re for my house in Turffontein. We tried to sell it a few months back, as you know, but the market’s stagnant, so we’ve been renting it out. It’s between tenants at the moment and I’d really appreciate it if you would stay there – for one or two nights at least.’
Seeing the doubt in Jade’s eyes and misconstruing the reason for it, he continued. ‘It’s very secure. The gate and the garage are automated now and there are reinforced burglar bars on the windows. It’s partly furnished – you’ll be comfortable there.’
‘Thanks. Really.’ Jade took the keys. They were still warm from being in his pocket. Lucky keys. She and David hadn’t touched at all.
And then, to her astonishment, he took her hand. Reached across the table and closed his long, slim fingers over hers. His grasp was as warm as the keys had been and his touch felt heartbreakingly familiar.
‘Just be careful, Jadey, OK?’
Jade didn’t reply. She didn’t have the words. How could she tell him that she’d only now realised this meeting was not about him. This was about her. He was worried and doing his best to look after her.
David released her hand and got to his feet, and waited for her to do the same. Then he walked her to The Baron’s open door and out into the half-empty car park.
25
David’s Turffontein house was indeed tightly locked up – security gates closed and windows closely barred. It resembled a mini prison in a street that looked shabbier and more dilapidated than Jade remembered from the last time she’d been there.
As it was being rented out, Jade didn’t expect to find any personal stuff of David’s around, and there wasn’t. The interior smelled of furniture polish and fresh paint. Turning on the hallway light, which was covered by what looked like a brand-new lampshade, she made her way into the bedroom. The bed was stripped, but the black bin bag on top of the mattress contained bedding, clean and ironed. In lieu of a bedside table, a wooden chair stood beside the bed.
Before Jade went to sleep there was one final and important task she had to do.
She took the stolen gun and clipped a fresh magazine into place. Then she went outside into the chilly night, holding it muzzle-down, feeling the comfort of its grip in her hand, the shape simultaneously familiar and new.
The house and its tiny garden didn’t provide many opportunities for target practice. She would have to make do with standing up against the wall and aiming it at the tool shed on the other side of the dry stretch of grass.
She took a steady breath. Sighted. Tightened her finger on the trigger and sent a silent apology to the residents in the surrounding houses for disturbing their sleep, even though she was sure that in this area gunshots were not an uncommon sound, and equally sure that nobody would be able to pinpoint exactly where it had come from.
She aimed for the centre of the second board from the left, about a foot below the corrugated-iron roof. As she pulled the trigger she felt the sound blast her eardrums and the hard kick of the grip in her hand as the muzzle flash briefly flared and the used shell tumbled to the ground.
Jade picked it up and held her breath. Some dogs began to bark, but apart from that there was no response of any kind.
The gun worked, at least. Now to find out how accurate it was.
The bullet had left a perfect circle in the exact centre of the second plank, a foot from the top. From a distance it looked like a knot in the wood. She was sure David would easily be able to fix it with a tube of Pratley’s putty, if he noticed it at all.
It had punched right through the half-inch board but the wood had slowed its speed, flattened and distorted it, and sent it tumbling down onto the shed’s dusty floor. She put it in her pocket with the shell.
She had a weapon that not only worked but was also superbly accurate.
Double bonus.
Back inside, she locked the front door and then the bedroom door. In one of the built-in
cupboards she found a small fan heater to help to dispel the empty chill of the room. Then Jade unpacked the sheets and duvet and made the bed, put her cellphone on the chair after setting the alarm for six a.m., undressed quickly and eased herself between the cold sheets.
‘That’s enough for one day, I think,’ she said aloud.
Five hours of sleep was all she could have, and tomorrow would be another long day. She needed to trace Harris. He was a potential source of information and she was annoyed that he’d left while she was being interviewed. Whilst finding him would be a relatively easy job, it would take up time she didn’t have.
She also needed to report back to Victor Theron. To inform her client about the latest developments in the investigation, and establish whether the police had been in touch with him, or made any progress regarding the circumstances surrounding Sonet’s death.
But her biggest priority was going to be keeping ahead of the men who had slashed her tyre at the hospital and then turned up at Zelda’s house a few hours later. Although logic told her she was safe and that they wouldn’t think to look for her here, and that she needed her sleep, instinct disagreed.
Instinct told her to be wary of every noise. Better sleep-starved than dead.
Eventually, Jade’s thoughts drifted to the man and the horse she’d met earlier in the day at the abandoned farm. The sheen of the Arab’s coat, the smell of leather and sweat, the surefootedness as the pair had cantered away over the stony ground.
Jade slipped into sleep; her dreams punctuated by the rhythmic beat of horses’ hooves.
The buzzing of the alarm tore Ntombi from a night of troubled rest. She fumbled for the ‘Off’ button, sat up and tugged her sweat-damp nightie away from her body. Her thoughts were racing so fast that the ticking of the old-fashioned clock next to the bed seemed sluggish by comparison. She switched on the light, banishing the oppressive darkness of the room.
She would never rely on an electric alarm clock. Not in a city where power cuts were so frequent. Besides, this clock had been a birthday present from her husband two years ago. Khumalo had thought it would be useful for her to help time her cooking, and it had been. Dish after dish had been cooked to perfection thanks to the clock that had stood on a trestle table in her hut, safely out of the way of the steaming pots on the hot plate and the baking trays slotted into the tiny oven.
Pale Horses Page 13