Bad Seeds

by Jassy Mackenzie

  His face was lined, his hair salted with gray, but his eyes looked sharp enough to see straight through her. He wore a battered-looking official card on a lanyard around his neck that identified him as Sbusiso Jabulani. “You came through that door?” he asked.

  Jade glanced behind her. “I was waiting in the visitors’ room. I heard the truck hooting and thought I’d have a look. I pushed the door, and it opened.”

  “Forty years I’ve been working here, and never, ever have I seen that door unlocked. It is supposed to be permanently locked. It always has been. This is a high-security area.”

  Now that he’d said it, Jade noticed more signs displayed. authorized personnel only. access restricted. And on the right-hand side of the courtyard, she saw another windowless building with a solid-looking steel gate. In bright yellow letters on a black background, the sign announced: inqaba maximum security storage area. level 4 security clearance required. caution: dangerous substances within. protective equipment to be used at all times.

  “I’m sorry,” Jade said. “I didn’t know.”

  “Eish!” Sbusiso said again, shaking his head. “We had a fire drill at ten p.m., and we all had to evacuate this area for two hours. Maybe somebody unlocked the door then.”

  On the other side of the courtyard was a large rubbish bin. Sbusiso wheeled the cart over to it and began hefting the bin bags into the bin.

  “Let me help you,” Jade said, picking up a bag.

  “I will be in trouble if the boss man finds you out here,” Sbusiso cautioned.

  “Who’s the boss man?”

  “Mr. Gillespie.”

  “He’s the person I’m meeting, but he’s not here now. He said he’ll be back in half an hour, so I’m sure helping you for a few minutes will be fine.” Jade hoisted the bag into the bin.

  Sbusiso was looking at her more closely. “You are here to see the boss man?”

  “Yes.”

  “At such a time?” His tone suggested amusement, rather than surprise.

  “It’s urgent.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jade. I’m doing . . . some freelance work for him.”

  Sbusiso tapped his nametag in response. “I clean the offices and admin buildings. If Mr. Gillespie is not here now, you can help me if you like. He will probably arrive later than he promised. He is always late. Miss Lisa, who worked here before him, she was the other way around. Always early, and complaining you were late, even if you were on time. That one, she used to complain a lot when she was the boss lady.”

  “Lisa Marais?” Jade asked. The woman who’d hired Botha before leaving Inkomfe on bad terms to work for Earthforce.

  Sbusiso nodded.

  “Did you know her well?”

  “Lisa is my friend,” Sbusiso said. “I still speak to her sometimes.”

  Jade lifted another bag into the bin. The remaining bags appeared to be full of shredded paper and were surprisingly heavy. “Your job must be hard work,” Jade said.

  “Hard work, yes. But I am lucky,” Sbusiso told her. “I am one of the lucky ones, because I work only in the admin side. I have never worked near the poison. Most of the people who started work with me here are sick or dead.”

  The cart rattled as he moved it forward.

  “How did that happen?” Jade asked, concerned, as they turned to the next bag.

  “In the old days, nobody cared about the black workers,” Sbusiso said. “My cousin Shadrack, he is at home, dying. He worked here when they were doing the secret nuclear program, building the bombs. He worked in a building called Cheetah. Cheetah was where the bombs were manufactured, and then many years later, taken apart. The bombs were stored in Inqaba, over there.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the high-security building. “And still there is poison in that place today, because they keep the materials there now.”

  “What happened to Shadrack?” Jade asked.

  “Shadrack worked in the red water. They used a lot of water where the bombs were made, and this water was red in color. Poisonous, from the bombs. He was given boots to wear, but they were not high enough. Every day, the water would splash over his boots. His legs became covered in sores. Those sores are still there today. They have never gone away. And he is sick, sick.” Sbusiso shook his head. “He has pains in his bones, he is weak, his stomach is very bad.”

  “That’s terrible,” Jade said. Despite the exertion of moving the bags, Sbusiso’s story gave her chills.

  “His wife worked with the chemicals, the ones that they used to make the bombs. The white doctors wore special suits and gloves, but she did not, and when she asked why, they could not answer her. She was retrenched in 1995.” Sbusiso held up his hand, fingers outstretched. “Five years later, she was very sick. She was coughing up blood and had a headache that never went away. And then she died.”

  Together, they grasped another bag and hefted it into the bin.

  “There are others,” Sbusiso said. “Maybe fifty others in Atteridgeville, the township near here, who worked on the nuclear program. Some are already dead. But all the ones who are still alive have problems. Many problems with their skin, their stomachs. Cancers, kidney disease, weak hearts, blindness. Every two weeks, another funeral. Somebody else is gone. When we are all gone, who will help us? Who will fight for us so our families can be compensated?”

  “Can’t anything be done?” Jade asked. “Surely there are employee records that you could use to help? The law’s very different today.”

  But Sbusiso shook his head. “For forty years, I have watched our people fighting for justice, and I have seen them lose. They are told their employee records do not exist, even when the workers themselves have kept the papers and documents that they were given. All the records were probably shredded. Everything is shredded here for security. But how does that security help Inkomfe’s own workers?”

  Jade’s thoughts raced furiously. The image of the dead body sprawled in the flooded motel room flitted through her mind. “Did you know somebody named Wouter Loodts?” she asked.

  Sbusiso crossed his arms angrily. “That man!” he spat. “He was the boss when the bombs were made. He was in charge of the Cheetah building and the Inqaba strong rooms. And he did nothing when my people asked for safety equipment.”

  “He’s dead,” Jade told Sbusiso. It wasn’t her place to give details, but she was interested to see his reaction.

  “Did he die from the poison, too?” Sbusiso asked. From his face, she could see he was not aware of recent events.

  When Jade shook her head, Sbusiso’s expression tightened again. He placed his callused hand on the last remaining bag and spoke calmly. “I am not sorry that Mr. Loodts is dead. He caused a lot of suffering to the workers here, and to their families. I have decided there are two different sets of rules in life. One is for the rich. The other for the poor. And the rules for the poor are unfair, because we are so easily forgotten.”

  He hefted the bag into the bin. The cart was empty now.

  “I’d like to try and help you,” Jade said. “In return, could you tell me more about your friend Lisa?” Assisting Sbusiso while obtaining background information would be a win-win situation.

  Sbusiso nodded. “I can tell you. But not here, not now. I have to go back. There are still three more offices to clean.”

  Jade took down his number and promised to call him later that morning after his shift was over. Sbusiso leaned against the cart until it started moving, and then, limping slightly, guided it across the tarmac in the direction he’d come from. She watched him go, feeling troubled by what he’d said and wondering just how hated Loodts had been, and by whom.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jade returned to the waiting room, where she spent twenty more comfortless minutes before at last she heard the clang of the security gate and Gillespie’s approaching footst
eps.

  His tawny brown hair was disheveled, and he’d changed out of the dress shirt he’d been wearing earlier into a black golf shirt and chinos. Even so, he looked a lot smarter than Jade felt. As he walked across to her, she became acutely aware of her own state. Her jacket sleeves were creased because she’d pushed them back before attending to Botha’s bleeding wound. She was sure her hair was a mess, and one of the bags she’d just helped to load had left a dusty mark on her pants. Standing up to greet him, she hurriedly brushed the dust away.

  “Thanks for coming out here, Jade. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help,” Gillespie said. He seemed to be glowing from within, a frenetic energy smoldering in his core. He grasped her hand firmly, and suddenly, looking into his blue eyes, Jade didn’t feel quite so disheveled after all.

  “This is turning into a nightmare. I can’t believe Loodts is dead,” Gillespie said. “Or rather, I can believe it, because I have a police connection. I called him just after I spoke to you, and he confirmed it.”

  They sat down on the hard metal bench.

  “Botha wanted to discuss something confidential with Loodts. He hasn’t said what. I hope I’ll find out tomorrow. I wish I could tell you more, but we’ve been busy running for our lives,” Jade said.

  Gillespie shook his head. “This is not good, Jade. Not good at all.”

  “There was a woman with Loodts,” she told him. “I don’t know who she was. I don’t think the police know either.”

  Quickly Jade described the woman, and how she had tried to help her after the woman had crashed her car into the pole.

  Gillespie listened thoughtfully. “This is getting more and more bizarre. I have no idea who she could be. Do you think she might be a prostitute he picked up?”

  “It’s possible,” Jade said.

  “But why were they both dead? What happened?” Gillespie asked, almost to himself. He shook his head. “I trusted Loodts. Perhaps I was wrong to do so. He knew those systems back to front and inside out. Even blindfolded, he could have drawn a diagram to scale of Inkomfe and all the access points to the reactor room.”

  During the pause that followed, Jade realized how stark the silence was. This room was almost soundproof, a dead-end passage in a concrete maze.

  “How serious would it be if information were forced out of him before he was killed?” Jade asked. “How do the systems work?”

  Instead of answering immediately, Gillespie stood up and walked over to a large diagram on the wall. Following him, Jade saw that it represented the layout of the entire Inkomfe complex.

  “There are many layers of security in every nuclear plant,” he told her. “First and foremost, there are physical containment barriers built into the design. The design of the fuel itself, the rods that are used, the piping system—everything is worked out to the most accurate specifications in order to be sealed and contained.”

  He pointed to a spot on the map. “The reactor building itself—I told you how thick the concrete was?” She nodded. “That can withstand the impact of a jet plane. And then we have the security protocols, which are built around three functions.”

  He counted them off on his fingers as he spoke. “They are detection, delay and defense. For these to work, we have divided the plant into various areas. The double perimeter fence—the green zone on the map—provides an isolation zone that’s continually monitored by cameras and guards. This covers the protected area, shaded in yellow, where all visitors are searched and must be accompanied by an authorized employee. Now you see the red buildings on the map?”

  Jade nodded.

  “The red security zone covers the plant’s priority areas with the highest security. Locked doors are monitored by access control computers, and authorized personnel have to swipe their badges in order to obtain access. If any door in the red zone does not close within two minutes after opening, an alarm will automatically sound. Emergency alarms can also be triggered within the complex, and when this happens, the red zone goes into lockdown. The high-security doors are protected by the access codes.”

  “I understand,” Jade said. She decided not to mention that she had crossed into a red zone earlier, based on the map and Sbusiso’s reaction to seeing her. No reason to put Gillespie on edge.

  “Alarms sound throughout the protected area if any security is compromised, or if anybody tries to tamper with them. The guards’ patrol schedules cover all areas. Key cards activate only their authorized doors. Botha’s job was to streamline all the physical measures into one system. Now we have a very highly qualified team in charge of the three big security initiatives, but ultimately one person takes responsibility and pulls everything together. That was Botha.”

  He turned to face her. “So to answer your question, it could be extremely serious. Botha left before the final testing of the upgraded systems. I want to be able to say they’re fail-safe, but I feel the cards are stacked against us here. If he left even a single loophole, that could be exploited at a critical time.”

  Jade nodded. She understood the severity of the threat. “How can you find out?” she asked. “Can you check the systems?”

  Gillespie nodded. “Of course, although it will take time. Meanwhile, I am personally supervising all security measures here, and I’ve put extra guards on every shift. But now, Jade, we have another problem to worry about.”

  There was a new urgency in his voice. She glanced at him. Serious-faced, he met her eyes. “Botha could have killed Loodts. He was there at the time, was he not?”

  Jade nodded. “It would have been possible, but he seemed genuinely shocked when he heard about the murder.”

  But she knew shock could be feigned. The signs of stress Botha had exhibited could have simply been him furiously working out how to string her along while denying his own involvement.

  Gillespie rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe I’m having to theorize like this about two people I entrusted with enormous responsibilities. Now that the chips are down, neither of them has turned out to be the man I thought they were.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Jade said. “I don’t know enough about the situation yet. But I’m sure Botha will tell me more tomorrow.”

  Gillespie stared at Jade for a long moment. Then he shook his head. “Come with me,” he said. “I want to show you something. And then I’m going to explain why I’m taking you off this case.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gillespie didn’t go all the way back to the entrance. He led Jade back through the gate after opening it with a swipe of his card. Then he turned left and unlocked the door to a brightly lit room. Walking in, Jade found herself in a plush office. To her right was a large desk and high-backed leather chair. To her left, four chairs were set around a wooden table in a small meeting area. “Please, take a seat.”

  Jade sat down at the table while Gillespie walked over to the desk and picked up a folder, then sat opposite her and opened it.

  “I don’t know you well,” he said. “But I think that in different circumstances, I would have liked to get to know you better.” His smile was infectious—she couldn’t help but return it. “So please forgive me if I share something very personal.”

  “Go ahead,” Jade said, watching his face grow serious as he took something from the folder.

  “This is my wife, Andrea. Or rather, this was my wife.”

  Gillespie passed her a large glossy photograph. Jade stared into the warm brown eyes of a beautiful woman. Her jet-black hair was worn short with a spiky fringe. Her full lips were parted in a smile.

  “We were married for five years. The happiest time of my life. I managed a small private security operation in Iraq, and she lived there with me. It was dangerous work, a volatile part of the world. We both knew that. And one day, the worst happened. She and our driver were both caught up in a shooting incident. The car lost control, and both
of them were killed instantly.”

  “Oh, God, how terrible,” Jade said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was beyond terrible,” Gillespie said. “Beyond anything I’ve ever known. Jade, I went to pieces after that for a while. I blamed myself for putting Andrea at risk. If she hadn’t been in that car, if she had stayed safely at home, then this would never have happened.”

  “I understand,” Jade said gently.

  “I left Iraq in February and came back to South Africa. There were too many memories . . . I couldn’t stay there any longer. Couldn’t run things after what had happened. I returned home, and a couple of months later, when I’d pulled myself together, I started looking for a job. Loodts offered me this position.”

  Jade nodded sympathetically.

  “Anyway,” Gillespie continued, “I’m not just telling you this for catharsis. The reason is this: I cannot allow myself to needlessly endanger the lives of anybody I’m responsible for. I’ve seen the consequences firsthand.”

  “I’m not—” Jade began, but Gillespie held up his hand.

  “No, Jade. I’ve thought hard about your predicament, and what I’ve landed you in. You are in danger. So is Botha. I have no idea what’s been going on here, but he’s clearly gotten himself into something bigger and deadlier than he thought it would be. He has gunmen pursuing him. That puts you at risk as well. And whoever these men are, if they kill him, I cannot ever learn the truth from him.”

  “I agree with you,” Jade said.

  “And you . . . if anything happened to you . . .” Gillespie pressed his lips together and shook his head. “You remind me of Andrea in a number of ways. Your independence. Your tough-mindedness and resilience. You are a strong, brave woman, Jade. I refuse to allow myself to take advantage of those qualities.”

  “But Mr. Gillespie, keeping me out of danger is not going to help you solve your problems. Other lives are at risk, too.”

  “Yes, they are. And because of that, I’ve come up with what I think is the best solution, but I’m going to need your help. I want to have Botha arrested.”