“He’s not checked in. He was here for a conference today. I saw him when he arrived, and a red flag kind of popped up. After the conference he went for lunch, so the porter and I went to the restaurant and walked past to get a better look. I wanted to take a photo on my cell phone to show you, but I was worried they might see. He was quite alert. You know, he saw me looking, so I got scared and went back to the desk. I think he’s gone now. The lady who organized the conference and luncheon just left.”
“Okay. You’ve done a great job. I’ll send someone from our team through to speak to you personally. In the meantime, I need all the details for the woman who arranged this conference.”
“Sure. I’ll give them to you in a sec. Just hold on.”
The minutes he spent on hold seemed endless to David.
Eventually Yasmin came back on the line. “Here we go. Her name is Mrs. Baloyi, and she is the CEO of a company called Gold City Gaming. I’ve got all her details here. Company address, cell phone number and the confirmation of the bookings.”
David scribbled the details down, thanked Yasmin and replaced the receiver, his mind speeding through the next steps.
“I’ve got an urgent lead on an FBI case that I need to follow up on immediately,” he told his team. “You can start on the preparations we’ve discussed so far, and we’ll finalize the planning for the operation as soon as I’m back in the office.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Mrs. Grace Baloyi, CEO of Gold City Gaming, was a large woman in every sense of the word. She stood six feet tall in her gold Louboutins. The shiny black wig she wore added volume to her head, and her black-and-white checked Chanel jacket showed off her massive bosom as well as the breadth of her shoulders. Her voice could have cut glass, and seemingly had no down button on the volume control, but her most impressive feature at that point in time was her anger.
“You are oppressing me, Detective,” she roared, resplendent in her rage, the sound filling her spacious Fourways office and reverberating off the walls. She hadn’t yet offered him a seat. They were standing in between her huge, glass-topped desk and the mahogany conference table, which had six comfortable-looking chairs.
“We have had a tip-off that the guest you met today at the Sandton Sun may have been the terrorist sympathizer Rashid Hamdan, who is wanted by the FBI,” David explained. “Gold City Gaming booked out a small conference room. You were present for an hour in the morning before leaving your guest and his four colleagues there for another two hours.”
Baloyi was already shaking her head, although her shiny wig hardly moved.
“Then you joined your guest for lunch on the outdoor patio with two other representatives from Gold City Gaming. I have the booking numbers as well as the names of hotel staff who are prepared to testify about your guest’s resemblance to Mr. Hamdan.”
“Uh-uh. I don’t know anybody of that name.” She clasped her hands decisively. David noticed the nails were perfectly manicured in stripes of blue, white and gold.
“He wouldn’t have been traveling under his own name. He has a number of passports in different names. He’s approximately fifty years old, with brown eyes, about five foot eight in height.”
“The overseas guest I had lunch with earlier today did not resemble your description. He was not five foot eight in height!”
“Was he taller or shorter?”
“Yes,” Baloyi shot back in a defiant tone.
David sighed. “This is a criminal investigation, and if you purposely obstruct it, you could be charged with defeating the ends of justice.”
“Detective Patel!” Baloyi drew herself up to her full height, her lips quivering with fury. “I am a businesswoman who has run Gold City Gaming successfully for four years now. I have a stellar reputation in the industry. We employ a total of two hundred and fifty workers, ninety-five of whom are women and one hundred and eighty of which were previously unskilled. My husband, you may or may not know, is a member of our South African cabinet! He is the Deputy Minister of Small Business Development.”
David had known. That fact had given him a headache even before he’d met her. “That’s not the point,” he insisted. “This isn’t about Gold City Gaming, it’s about international terrorism.”
“I do not do business with terrorists. I do business with companies. I was awarded a tender in October to supply sixty slot machines for Suhail Services, a registered and legitimate company based in the Middle East. These slots have been shipped out of our warehouse and are going to be air-freighted to Iraq.”
“Is gambling legal in Iraq?” David asked, surprised, but his question backfired.
“Are you implying that I conduct illegal business deals?” Baloyi flared. “Maybe you should educate yourself better before you come here making unfounded accusations. Yes, gambling is legal in Egypt, Israel, Lebanon and Iraq. Suhail Services has casino operations in Egypt, Lebanon and Iraq. The slot machines are being shipped straight to Iraq. This was an important international tender, and I have spoken with many of the company representatives over the past month.”
“What was the name of the representative you met with today?”
“Like I said, there were a few of them.”
“The man you had lunch with. You must know his name.”
“I am unwilling to disclose it to you. He was here to do business, Detective. Not to cause terrorism. We cannot treat our business visitors like criminals, or they will go and do their deals elsewhere.”
David took a deep breath. “I’m going to be forced to arrest you and take you in for formal questioning if you cannot answer me now.”
“His name was Peter Smit.” Baloyi glowered at him.
He didn’t think she was lying, but neither was the information very helpful. It was a common name. Well, that made sense. No point in getting a fake passport made in the name of Ignatius Quisenberry. The whole point was to blend in. And Hamdan might have other passports with him—it was likely he’d have backup plans, especially since he’d met up with a business associate in a public place. Even so, David would put the word out to Passport Control. “Where was he staying?”
“Detective, I have no idea. I was not told what hotel he was booked into, or what transport he used or even what date he arrived. I did not organize this trip! He came here as a courtesy to meet me and to supervise the transit of the gaming machines, which are being air-freighted to Iraq early tomorrow morning from O.R. Tambo Airport. They are already loaded up. All the paperwork is in order.”
“Where’s he staying tonight?”
Mrs. Baloyi checked her watch, which was silver, studded with Swarovski crystals. “Unfortunately, Mr. Smit has already departed the country. He left our lunch table at two p.m. and went straight to the Gautrain to catch his flight. He told me it was leaving at four thirty p.m. I see the time now is four forty-five. You are fifteen minutes too late.”
“You’ll receive a subpoena regardless,” David snapped, turning away irritably.
“The ANC Women’s League will hear of this!” she called after him. “Our police service is working against the country’s interests. You are enslaving our entrepreneurs with petty laws and bureaucracy. You are disempowering honest businesses with your talk of terrorists. Trade and commerce are our lifeblood, Detective.”
Her voice followed him through the glass double doors and into the beautifully marbled reception area. He thought he could still hear her outraged cries echoing in his ears even after he’d climbed into his car.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ensconced in luxury at the hotel that was their safe house, Jade and Botha had nothing to do except wait. David would only be able to start the operation after dark. It was a magnificent afternoon, and the suite’s western aspect allowed an incredible view of the sun setting among crimson-lined cumulus clouds.
Jade couldn’t enjoy it. She paced the gleaming tile
d floor impatiently, wishing she could focus on something and settle down. It was all out of her hands now. Waiting had never been one of her strengths.
Botha, on the other hand, appeared as calm as usual as he sat at the table, typing away on his laptop as if nobody’s lives were at stake. Occasionally he glanced up and spent a few moments staring thoughtfully at the red-and-gold splendor beyond the window.
When it was dark, he said to Jade, “Come on. I’m taking you to dinner.”
“Dinner?” Jade looked at him blankly. Despite the fact she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, food wasn’t very high on her list of priorities right then.
“There’s a restaurant downstairs. I have a rule in life: When you can’t do anything in a situation, worrying won’t help. Getting on with things is the best way. Come on.”
“Okay,” Jade agreed. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
She showered quickly, blow-dried her hair and threw on a pair of black jeans and a silver-gray short-sleeved top. Botha was right. The preparations had given her something to do and took her mind off worrying. She locked her gun in the safe, and by the time she stepped out of her bedroom, she already felt better.
“So tell me. Your connection with Robbie, that gangster whose place we used? Were you close?” Botha asked her as they headed down the carpeted corridor toward the elevators.
“Working relationship only,” Jade said.
Botha nodded. “So you have a working relationship with a gangster who screws people over and specializes in assassinations.”
“Had,” Jade corrected him. “We haven’t been in touch for years.”
The doors opened, and they stepped inside.
“And you’re trying to date a police detective.” Now the corners of his mouth were curving up.
“Was trying. It’s in the past. Like I told you, David ended it.”
She spoke in a low voice. In this small space, they were so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.
“You’re beautiful,” Botha said unexpectedly, and Jade’s head snapped around as she stared at him in surprise. “Beautiful, intelligent . . . and a ton of trouble. I’m debating whether David made a smart decision, or he’s the dumbest guy I’ve ever heard of.”
Jade scowled. “Probably a smart decision,” she muttered, and Botha laughed softly.
“I’m teasing you, Jade.”
“Oh.” She tried to retain her frown but found it dissolving. She looked down, hiding her smile behind a curtain of hair, but his fingers smoothed it back, pushing it away from her face.
Then the doors slid open, and they walked out, heading for the double doors opposite, where Jade could hear the clinking of cutlery and smell the rich aroma of cooking meat.
Botha ordered a Meerlust Rubicon, a legendary red wine that Jade had heard of but never tasted. They clinked glasses and toasted to David’s success. The wine was rich and smooth, and it went some way toward dissolving the tight knots in her stomach. She put her phone on the white tablecloth, next to the leather-covered menu. She scanned the food options, wishing she was hungrier and wondering what David and his team were doing right then. A successful operation meant they would all be out of danger. She didn’t want to think about what the alternative meant.
David called at eight thirty, just as their main courses arrived. She snatched the phone up. “What’s happening?” she asked. She couldn’t relax until she’d heard his voice in reply.
“We got them,” he said. His voice sounded tight with tension, even as she let out a huge breath of relief. “Successful operation. There were two of them. Both armed. They followed us to the rendezvous point, and we drew them in. Only problem was that they started shooting, so we were forced to return fire. One was killed immediately, and the other’s been taken to the ICU with two bullets in the head and the chest. The paramedics didn’t rate his chances and said if he survives, the head injury would mean brain damage for sure. So we couldn’t question them.”
“That’s a shame,” Jade said. It was frustrating to think that they would never know who had hired the men or why. “But at least that’s two of them out of circulation.”
“Three,” David corrected her. “Mweli went to investigate the place where Scarlett Sykes stayed with her boyfriend. She was ambushed along the way by a third man and managed to shoot him dead. There’s enough evidence to link him to the motel murders, which means we have sufficient proof that Scarlett Sykes was working with the criminals. So now they’re all dead.”
“Right,” Jade said. Two plus one equaled three, and they had never seen more than three men after them.
It was paranoid of her to suspect there might be a fourth. A mastermind, lurking in the shadows.
“It’s been a hectic day,” David said. She could tell the stress of the shooting had made him talkative. Her food forgotten, she was glad to provide an ear as he continued, “I can’t believe we managed to organize this with so much else happening. We had a tip-off about a suspected terrorist sympathizer who’s managed to infiltrate the country.”
“A terrorist sympathizer?” Jade asked.
“Name of Rashid Hamdan, but he goes under various other passports. He was hiding out in the Emirates before he came here. Someone saw him at the Sandton Sun and tipped us off. It turns out he was here to do business with Gold City Gaming, and I’ve just had a lovely discussion with their outraged female CEO.”
Jade laughed. “I’m sure she was helpful.”
“Absolutely. Very cooperative. She didn’t accuse the police at all of trying to interfere in the deal she did with him, selling slot machines to his casino in Iraq.”
“Oh, dear. Not still in the country, is he?”
“It seems we’re too late, because he’s already flown out, and his cargo’s packed and ready for air freight. So the upside is that Hamdan was here doing legitimate business and not planning any terrorist activity. The downside is that we lost him. He slipped away, which I’m sure the FBI will be delighted to hear.”
“I guess that means some paperwork for you?”
“Yes. Back to the office for me. With the Hamdan case and the operation we’ve just done, it might even be an all-nighter from here.”
“Well, good luck. I’m glad you’re okay. Drive safely, hey?”
“I will do.” He paused. “I’m . . . I’m so glad I could do this for you, Jade. Take care—rest well, and I’ll sign you out in the morning and get my captain to give you a ride wherever you want to go. Oh, and please tell Botha I appreciate him picking up the tab, but it was unnecessary.”
“I’ll tell him,” Jade said, disappointed that David wouldn’t be coming through himself in the morning. Though maybe it was a good thing. Somehow, it stung less than it would have a few days ago. Hope could sometimes be crueler than despair, as she had learned at great cost.
She disconnected, feeling her appetite flooding back, suddenly aware of the spicy aroma of her Cape Malay lamb curry. She raised her glass to Botha. “Well, he did it,” she said. “The operation worked. The only problem is that the hit men can’t be questioned. One’s dead, and the other is in ICU with head injuries but probably won’t make it.”
She drank the wine, enjoying its silken-smooth flavor. Botha refilled their glasses as Jade spooned hot atchar over her curry before digging in.
“What else did David say?” Botha asked. “I heard you mention a terrorist sympathizer.”
Jade nodded. “Another case. They had a tip-off that a terrorist sympathizer infiltrated the country. He came here from the Emirates. Name of Hamdan, but he travels with different passports. He was buying casino equipment for his business in Iraq, and he left the country before they could arrest him.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Botha said.
“No. I feel sorry for David, with this crisis coming right on top of ours. I feel guilty sitting here enjoying wine and food
while he’s pulling an all-nighter, racked with stress with only bad coffee to see him through. Terrorism is so frightening.”
Botha nodded.
Bad as she felt for him, Jade could no longer allow David’s predicament to dent her appetite. She finished her curry and had two large glasses of wine. She was surprised that after drinking to David’s success, Botha didn’t touch his wine again, and ate only sparingly from the Scottish salmon he’d ordered.
They were back in their suite by nine. The day’s adrenaline, combined with all the good food and wine, had left Jade craving sleep. Her eyes were heavy, and she was looking forward to an uninterrupted night, knowing she could rest peacefully because the threat had at last been nullified, and they were safe.
She thanked Botha for dinner and went straight to her bedroom.
Just before sleep took her, she thought she heard him outside, speaking softly but urgently on his phone.
Chapter Forty-Eight
When he’d returned to the office, David found more information in his inbox. The report on the Inkomfe sabotage had been sent to him, and Fanie had sent Botha’s cell phone records from his personal email address to David’s Gmail account.
David wanted to get to the phone records. Those were what were making him most impatient. But he decided to read through the sabotage report first, to get a picture of what happened and when. If his gut was correct, the timing of Botha’s phone calls might well dovetail with the events of Friday morning.
At approximately two a.m. on the morning of the first of November, two men armed with handguns gained access to the Inkomfe Nuclear Research Center, the investigating detective had written in a painstakingly neat hand. They climbed over the two perimeter fences between the old entrance and gate one with the help of ropes and ladders. The fences were subsequently found to not be electrified, as had been assumed.
That sentence gave David a headache for a moment. He pressed his fingers into his temples before continuing. The men were wearing ski masks and black clothing. They were described as being of average height and fit build. They could not be further identified due to the masks and gloves.
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