A small argument ensues about the worth of shares in the new Bismuth site discovered on the mine near one of the older galleries. Bruce has the figures he has found about bismuth and its worth, and is entering the discussion boldly, fighting for the best value. Sue is countering arguments as well, but she can feel the strain of it; of being here, arguing about something so seemingly trivial, when inside all she can think of is Lisa and her absence, and where and how she is now.
She can feel a headache somewhere behind her eyes; pounding in time to her heartbeat; slow, steady, fluttering. She lifts her hand and holds her brow, her fingers gripping her temples to slow the bar of pain that is creeping slowly across, blocking out her thinking and making her gasp.
Beside her, Bruce looks at her, concerned.
“Hold it.”
He almost shouts into the lively argument around the table. He gestures with his hands, flapping at the arguing men. Sue waves a hand at him in restraint.
“No...no, Bruce.” She says, weakly, fighting the pain in her head. “I'm alright.”
Around them, the argument still rages, oblivious. One or two of the shareholders are looking at Sue with questioning looks, but the rest seem not to have noticed.
“I think...” Sue clears her throat. “I think we should call another session, with the construction people and the engineers. We need the facts about the expense of recovering this material first; before we can even start to evaluate its net worth.”
There is silence for a moment; then the conversation rages again.
“We could...”
“Why are we waiting? The returns could be so great...”
“What if...”
“Has anyone checked the shareprices from Ewing Gold? They did a similar thing about five years ago. Has anyone checked how they're doing now?”
Sue feels the blackness of the headache pulsing behind her eyes, blinding her. She is spiralling into the ache of it, her heart thumping steadily and painfully the only sensation she can feel besides the pulsing, flowing dark that obscures her sight.
“Ms Montmorency?”
Elspeth has come into the room. Sue has not noticed. The whirling dark is all she can see. She holds her head with one hand, fingers clasping the temples to try and stem the pain.
“Susan?” Bruce touches her shoulder gently from where he sits next to her, concerned.
“Yes?” She asks it weakly.
“Telephone for you, Ms Montmorency.” Elspeth replies, her voice questioning and lively. She is oblivious to Sue's distress; just delighted to have her back at work, heading up the company as capably as ever. She continues, smiling.
“You'll take the call in my office?”
“Yes. Yes, Elspeth.”
“Very good.”
Sue closes her eyes again for a moment; forces them open after a second or two. She puts her hands on the table, the joints white with the strain. Presses down and lifts herself up. She is shocked at how weak her legs have gone under her. She feels drained, the room whirling with the dizziness and exhaustion she feels.
Elspeth leads the way, high-heels soft on the silky-soft pale carpet of Sue's office.
In the office, Sue leans heavily on the front desk; lifts the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hello Ms Montmorency? This is Inspector Zamoxolo from the Police department.”
“Yes?” Sue's voice is suddenly urgent.
“We think we have a lead your missing partner.”
“Yes?” Sue's voice is practically singing with elation and relief. “Yes? What is the lead?”
“We have a report from a man who lives on the edge of town; near the industrial area. He says he thinks he saw a car of the description you and Mr. Mokgotsi supplied; heading out to the old industrial area.”
“What?” Sue's voice is at once relieved and concerned. “Has anyone been up there?”
“We have a team moving through systematically; starting at the paper mill on Old Main Road.”
“That...it could take days.” Sue breathes.
“It could. But we have to do things thoroughly.”
“Surely you must have some idea where they were heading?”
“The man who saw the car said they looked as if they were heading to the ridges, where the old refineries were. But from where he lives, it would be impossible to tell. They could have headed in any direction at the edge of town. We just don't know.”
Sue's heart is pounding. She can hardly think past the flooding relief. She feels lightheaded, the sudden release of tension crippling.
“Thank...thank you for calling.” Sue manages. Her voice is light as well; lower in tone and soaring with relief.
“Of course. We will keep you updated of our progress, Ms Montmorency.”
They greet and hang up. Sue feels weak, lightheaded. She feels her knees give way.
Elspeth wheels a chair over, concerned.
“Ms Montmorency?”
Sue collapses into the chair gratefully. Her head is whirling; the spots and swirls in front of her eyes blinding her as the blood-flow returns to her head. Inside, her heart is soaring, beating steadily with renewed intent.
“Ms Montmorency? Are you alright?” Elspeth's voice, concerned, comes from a long distance away.
“Yes.” Sue replies, firmly, through the whirling lightness and fog before her eyes. “Yes, Elspeth. I'm fine.”
Now she knows where Lisa is. She will find her. This afternoon. Soon. Whatever the police say. She believes the man that the car was heading to the ridges, as it seems a logical place to go if you were planning to keep someone hidden. She will find Lisa. Whatever anyone says.
The meeting.
“Elspeth? Is there room to reschedule a session of the meeting to tomorrow? Something's come up.”
“Yes, Ms Montmorency.”
“I'll go in and round off, then.” Sue replies. She stands, almost effortlessly. Her legs tremble a little with relief, but she is resolute.
At the door of the meeting room, she pauses and takes stock. Of all the seven men there, they should be free to continue tomorrow. She looks around the table. Will Laverock...he'll be there. Steve Wiseman...also. Zamoxolo Mketa...he'll be there. But...where is Cedric Brinkman? From Brinkman Car assembly? In all the excitement, she hadn't noticed his absence.
Oh, well; she thinks. He'll be there tomorrow. So much the better, that we discuss again then, so he can catch up as well.
“Right, gentlemen.” Sue clears her throat, her voice brisk. Authoritative and utterly, totally alive.
“We will need to continue this meeting tomorrow. I trust that will be satisfactory for all?”
Because something has come up. Because she knows where Lisa is. Because, soon, she can do something to change things. To find her and bring her back.
Chapter 6
The floor of the warehouse is pale cement; dusted lightly with straw and lit to pale gold in the patches of light from the high windows.
Lisa looks down at it; thinking absently about the patterns of light and shade, of straw and cement and dust; concretely about the case and the people involved, fitting the pieces together into some sort of coherent picture.
She is resting on a ledge about a third of the way up the wall. Climbing the wall in this place has proved easier, and has given her something to do, if nothing else.
Lisa watches absently the floor across the room from her post on the front wall above the door; the dust rising in the shafts of light from the windows before her gaze. Her mind considering all the possibilities. The ledge is a useful place to rest, and the climb made her feel revitalised, she notes.
“...and we're on watch tonight?”
“Yeah.”
There are some strange places, near high walls and grouped buildings, where the sound is focused; so that spoken words from somewhere rather far are all reflected to those places, amplified. Sitting at a place like that, it is as if you heard words from right next door to the speaker, even though
they are far away. Just where Lisa sits, two-thirds of the way to the windows, is such a place; it seems. The words spoken a few feet outside the door seem to collect here, so it is as if Lisa stood beside the guards. She tenses, listening to their talking.
“But...they'll be here at eight-thirty?”
“Yeah. There in the old works-hall at the bottom of the hill. Like usual.”
“They'll want us keeping an eye out there, then?”
“One of us can go. Only need one up here; to keep an eye on the door. Not much to do up here.”
“Yeah.”
Lisa's mind is whirling with the new information. Someone is coming here tonight, to have a meeting in the disused refinery. Who?
“So when the boss is done, you'll come back here?”
“Yeah. Shouldn't take more than about an hour, I reckon. Neither of our bosses are big on talking. Can't imagine they talk much to each other.” The South African accented man supplies, a laugh in his voice.
“Yeah. True”. The other man, the Indian-accented one, agrees.
Both our bosses. Patel, and someone from Brinkman Car assembly? Lisa thinks, fitting the new pieces into the puzzle she is starting to build in her mind.
“He'll come himself, though?” the South African man is asking.
“Always does. Never trust a second man. That's what he always says.”
“He trusts you, though, Sachin?”
“Not with the big things.” They chuckle.
“I don't think my boss trusts me with big things, either.” The other man reflects.
They laugh again.
“Well;no good standing talking, I guess.” The Indian man reflects.
“No, I guess not.”
“I've got to go and move some rubble out of the way down there; make some space to park where someone can't drive into anything in the dark.”
The men chuckle. Comments about fancy cars and rubble and their bosses ensue.
The men talk a little more, then one departs down the hill.
Lisa breathes out. Her mind is whirling with the new facts. Raju Patel and a man from the car company are meeting somewhere here. To discuss...what? If only she was there. If only she could get out of here and be there at that meeting. She would have all the evidence she needs to make clear what these men have done. If only she was out of here. She has all the information she needs, now, to accuse them both and save the case. This new information is a miracle of itself. If only she could be free of here, to use it. Any other thoughts of freedom, and Sue, she pushes down. Her mind is in the court now, making the case against Patel, and Brinkman cars.
From her vantage point a third of the way up the wall, she idly notes the sound of an engine; running hard and fast across the road along the ridge. She pauses, thinking. Listens.
Chapter 7
“Come on, come on!”
Sue is driving the BMW X5 up the hill, shouting encouragement to the engine. It protests, and pulls forward again, the small, streamlined body of the car shooting uphill on the rough track. The BMW is not made for offroad, but she pushes it on, shouting encouragement and deprecation in turn.
“Damn it! Go on.”
Sue lowers her foot and charges up the track. She is sure Lisa must be somewhere here. The man who saw the car that had Lisa said he thought they were heading this way. And it seems the best place to hide a person. The hills here are deserted. No-one travels out here; or if they do, it is to go to the new industrial area to the east of here. No-one comes to see the old, disused refinery buildings dotted along the hill out along the ridges. The forlorn, white-painted buildings, crumbling now, stand stark and pale against green grass; the chimneys of the main building stark, pale fingers reaching up, truncated, against the aching blue background of sky.
An old, wind-torn place. Forlorn and desolate. But now, the very rocks seem to sing with urgency and hope and Lisa's name.
“Come on. Go for it!'
Sue is shouting at the engine again. It coughs, splutters, threatens to cut out.
“Oh, for goodness' sake!”
Sue swerves, tightly, bringing the car around and sideways to stop at the base of the hill.
“I'll wait here, then; until it's cooled a little.” She says to herself, and turns the keys in the ignition.
She leans a little through the window, breathing the fresh, dry air. It smells faintly of dust, heat and the petrol and burning from the engine. Sue breathes deeply, her heart racing. The air fills her lungs, calming her mind. She sighs. The wind from the valley ruffles her hair and she lets herself breathe and still, regaining her equilibrium. It is not like her to be less than centered and composed; at peace.
She stops. Looks up the ridge. Looks with narrowed eyes. Looks again.
There are men on the ridge opposite; small dark forms against the greyed green of the grass. She saw them because one is climbing back up the ridge towards the building near the summit.; one of the disused refinery buildings; a warehouse.
“What are you doing there?” She murmurs it under her breath. Her heart is tight with tension and excitement, her body stiff with resolution and the slight tremor of joy.
Her hands on the steering wheel are gripped, and damp.
She turns the key in the ignition, a plan forming in her mind.
Suddenly, she is off.
The engine is quiet again, and for the first part, Sue drives fairly slowly; taking the small track up the back of the ridge, where the men are sheltered around the building.
Then, at the top of the hill, as she comes round from behind the building, just coming into sight of the men, she changes gear; puts her foot flat on the gas, pressing the pedal to the floor.
The engine roars and the men leap aside, one of them screaming in alarm. They lie flat on grass across the narrow hilltop; just off the track that comes past the building's front door.
Sue grits her teeth as she slams the brake on, the car skidding and spinning in the rough gravel of the path; spraying dust and pebbles everywhere. She has time to reflect on the damage to the body of the car, and then no time to think further, as she leans on the steering and wrenches the car to the side, then reverses, turning the car to be perpendicular to the track, almost in line with the door.
The men are shouting incoherently; gesturing and waving to her to stop.
Sue leans into steering again, to take the car sharply left, pointing it towards the doors. She closes her eyes.
The car roars and leaps forward, going full tilt.
The impact with the door is shattering; but the car does not stop. Sue feels the door buckle as the BMW rocks into it. Her arms shudder with the impact where she grips the wheel.
The car's airbags inflate, and Sue is temporarily blinded as she rocks forwards. She presses down with the brake, the movement the only conscious focus of her mind, taking all her concentration, and hears the scream of the tyres on concrete as the car loses the last of its momentum and skids to a halt.
The airbags deflate. Sue blinks, her head pounding. Changes gear and reverses. The shock of the impact and the tension of what she is doing are making her feel weak. With the last of her strength, she guides the car slowly back through the door. She waits a second, her arms on the steering wheel, her hands trembling uncontrollably; breath drawn in slowly to heaving lungs.
She looks up.
Out of the dust and smoke and clouds of drifting sand around the door, a woman's figure has emerged; darting through the smoke.
“Lisa!” She breathes it in wonder.
Lisa is crossing the carnage at the door, when one of the guards is running into the building. The other is running at Sue's car; desperate to reach it.
Lisa looks ahead, sees the men; runs straight forward; straight into the oncoming guard. He is moving more slowly, and is knocked off balance. He falls over.
Lisa runs to the car, her hand at the doorhandle.
“Sue!”
Sue leans across, unlocks the door. Lisa slides in and shuts
it behind her. Sue turns the keys in the ignition and starts up, even as the other guard reaches them.
Sue turns the car.
“Lisa!” She is staring at her, relief and awe and pure love on her face.
“Sue!” Lisa looks at Sue, her smile a picture of elation, joy and love.
Lisa's hand reaches across to Sue's. Sue grabs it and they hold hands tightly, fiercely; a grip that could outlast time.
The BMW limps slowly onto the main road; the men far behind on the hill, one of them calling someone both gesturing frantically and futilely after the, now-distant, car.
The engine is wheezing a little as they ease around the corner and onto the tar again, the scent of oil and burnt rubber and sheared metal a haze around them as Lisa and Sue stare at each other, tears of joy, elation and love running down both their cheeks.
Chapter 8
“...but how did you know how to find me?” Lisa is asking.
She and Sue are sitting at the table in Sue's kitchen, a plate of steaming stew on the table in front of her. The kitchen is darker now, the shadows of evening lengthening and the windows shaded over. The smooth dark gloss of the kitchen table catches the last of the light and the flames of the candles Sue has lit and spins them out brighter, making the room warmly-lit and close.
The Longest Time Without You (Gold Streaks Book 3) Page 3