‘But there’s no chance we’ll do anything as stupid as that again, is there?’ du Toit asked.
‘Not while I’m around,’ said Visser. ‘But much as I like Freddie, and admire his cunning, he does have an old-fashioned view of the world. He would like to see an Afrikaner country somewhere, be it a corner of the Free State, or Perth, or Argentina, some little patch of the southern hemisphere that we can fence off and declare white in perpetuity. But that’s not practical, it’s a dangerous dream. Don’t you think, Dirk?’
Du Toit nodded his agreement. ‘We might win a battle against the blacks, but in a war we’ll always lose: they outnumber us eight to one.’
‘We’ve done quite well so far,’ Visser said. ‘Twelve years on and they haven’t turned on us yet. But we have to be ever vigilant; use our funds to manipulate and influence. That’s why Drommedaris is so important. And this phase of the operation is the culmination of all I have been working for since I became chairman of the Laagerbond.’
‘Speaking of which,’ du Toit said, glancing at his watch, ‘I think it’s time to see a man about some money to buy a newspaper.’
‘Here, let me dry.’
‘Be my guest.’
Anne picked up a dish cloth and began working on the breakfast plates. It was Saturday morning, and she had arrived with her family late the night before. They had all had a leisurely breakfast and then William had driven the two children off to take them swimming in the pool at Hunstanton.
‘I didn’t know William was coming up,’ Calder said. ‘He’s very welcome, of course, but from your message it sounded as if it was just you and the kids.’
‘It was originally,’ Anne said. ‘William told me he would be working all this weekend. I was pretty pissed off and that’s when I decided to take the kids up here. You know how they love it and I needed to get away. But, to be fair to William, he got the message. He dumped all his work on his associate and said he’d come too. I couldn’t really say no.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t,’ Calder said. ‘Are you OK?’ His sister was looking tired. The lines in her thin face had deepened.
She sighed, and ran her hand through her short black spiky hair. ‘I don’t know. Not really, but then what do you expect when you’ve got two small kids and a husband who has to work all the hours God gives him? There are lots of other couples who are suffering just as badly. Or worse. If I were still working the whole thing would be a nightmare.’
‘Do you regret giving up?’
‘Yes, frankly. But there was no choice. Other women who are super organized might have managed it, but you know me. The family is in permanent chaos as it is. Which William doesn’t like.’
‘You must have been organized as a barrister.’
‘I suppose,’ Anne grinned. ‘Actually, not really. The clerk of chambers hated me. I was never in the right place at the right time.’ She rubbed away furiously at a coffee cup. ‘I dunno. We’ll be OK. I do appreciate him coming with us this weekend. As long as we’re able to make gestures to each other like that, we’ll make it.’
‘Heard anything from Father?’
‘I spoke to him on Thursday. And no, he didn’t say whether he had just come back from the horse races.’
‘Sorry. You know I’m worried.’
‘Yeah. But there’s nothing much we can do. He did talk about Mrs Palmer again.’
‘Mrs Palmer? Didn’t she teach at the high school?’
‘She still does. Her husband died a couple of years ago. It suddenly struck me he seems to mention her name rather a lot.’
‘You don’t think …’ Calder looked at his sister.
She smiled slyly and shrugged.
‘That would be weird,’ Calder said.
‘Seriously weird,’ Anne agreed. ‘But it’s just speculation. We’ll wait and see.’
‘Huh.’ It had never occurred to Calder that his father might remarry. It was nearly twenty years since his wife had died, and although he was constantly being invited to dinner parties as a spare man, he had never shown any indication that the matchmaking was having any effect. But why shouldn’t things change? He was a popular doctor in Kelso and his twinkling eye and reassuring smile were famous.
‘How’s Todd van Zyl doing?’ Anne asked.
‘Still in a coma, I’m afraid.’
‘Has his wife gone back to the States? I thought she was staying with you.’
‘She’s still here in Norfolk. She’s taken a room at the pub. That seemed to work better,’ Calder said.
‘I hope we didn’t kick her out?’
‘Oh, no. When she realized she was going to be here for a while, she decided she would prefer somewhere private.’
Calder was tempted to tell his sister about the mess with Kim and Sandy, but couldn’t bring himself to admit to what they had done. His sister was forgiving, but not that forgiving. He wasn’t that forgiving. If only it was as easy to hide what had happened from himself.
He had driven Kim to the car park at the hospital in silence, and transferred her stuff into the boot of her car. She had returned to the pub in the village, while he had waited for Donna.
The art teacher arrived eventually, in her own hired vehicle, and parked facing the hospital entrance. Calder had walked over to her car. He had asked her quietly but firmly to leave, to go back to the US. She had argued at first, then she had pleaded and then she had burst into tears, but he had been firm. He told her that Kim could insist that the hospital forbid her from seeing Todd. He took her phone number and promised her that he would call if there was any change in Todd’s circumstances one way or another. He found his own anger with her had subsided. How could he be angry with her after what he and Kim had done?
‘I can’t imagine what it would feel like if something like that happened to William,’ Anne went on. ‘It must be simply awful for her. Have you had any luck finding out what happened to the mother? The one who was killed all those years ago?’
‘Not yet,’ Calder said. ‘But we haven’t given up.’
‘I wish you would.’
‘What?’
‘Give up.’
‘Why?’
‘All that kind of stuff is dangerous.’
‘It’s just asking questions.’
Anne snorted. ‘That’s what you said last time and you nearly got yourself killed. If the van Zyls do have enemies, they are probably powerful ones, and you’re better off staying well clear.’
‘Well, it’s nice to know my little sister is looking after me,’ Calder said.
Anne flicked the dish cloth in his face. ‘Someone’s got to.’
Calder grabbed another towel and flicked her back. She pushed him back against the wall and raised her knee towards his groin.
‘Now that’s a mean trick,’ Calder said. ‘I can remember you getting in big trouble for doing that before.’
‘That’s only because you went crying to Mum. Wimp.’
‘Hey, look out!’ Calder pushed past her to turn off the hot water, which was flowing out of the washing-up bowl.
They finished the washing up in companionable silence, and then Anne started opening cupboard doors.
‘What are you looking for?’ Calder asked.
‘Butter. Sugar. Eggs. Self-raising flour. Cranberry juice. Phoebe is determined to make you a cake when she gets back.’
‘Cranberry juice?’
‘I know. Phoebe swears it makes the cake taste better.’
‘Well, we’ve got eggs, sugar and a little butter. Probably not enough. No cranberry juice and no flour. They might have some in the shop in the village.’
Anne banged the cupboard doors shut. ‘I’ll go and see. Damn. William’s got the car.’
‘You can borrow mine,’ Calder said.
‘What, your Maserati?’ Anne’s eyes sparkled.
‘Sure,’ said Calder.
‘Will the insurance be OK?’
Calder shrugged. ‘It’s only to the village and back. Just watch
how hard you put your foot down. It can be a bit quick.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ Anne said, grinning.
Calder tossed her the keys, and she grabbed her bag from where she had slung it on the chair, and went out the front door.
Calder put the last of the breakfast things away. Could he trust Anne in his Maserati? How much damage could she come to on the road to Hanham Staithe?
He heard the familiar sound of the car door opening just outside the kitchen by the side of the house.
Then silence.
Then a huge explosion ripped through the kitchen window, tearing his life apart.
At that moment Colonel Kobus Moolman buckled his seatbelt as the captain on the easyJet flight from Stansted announced that it would be ten minutes to landing at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport.
17
She wasn’t dead. Somehow, by some miracle, she wasn’t dead.
Calder ran outside to find the mangled wreckage of his car in flames, shards of metal scattered all over the road and garden. At first he thought his sister was in there. He considered diving into the flames to try to drag her out, but there was no point. He looked around him quickly. The car door was lying on top of the hedge at the side of the road. And in the field next to the house, about twenty yards away, was a bundle.
He leaped the fence and ran over to it. It was Anne, and she was alive. Her eyes were flickering. The bottom half of her body was a mangled mess, her legs were splayed at an odd angle, her face was splashed with blood and her clothes were badly ripped, but she was alive.
Her eyes focused on him and her lips moved. ‘Alex?’
‘Yes? Yes, Annie, it’s me.’
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, although in truth he did.
‘My legs … they hurt.’
‘Be still. I’ll call an ambulance. I’ll be back in a moment.’
‘Wait!’ It was scarcely more than a whisper, but it was an urgent one. Calder waited. ‘Phoebe. Robbie. Look after them. William will need help.’
‘You’ll be able to look after them yourself once we’ve got you to hospital,’ Calder said stupidly.
Anne frowned. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t. She shook her head. Calder realized his mistake. ‘Of course I’ll look after them, Annie. Of course I will.’
His sister relaxed and closed her eyes.
Calder ran inside the house to phone an ambulance and to grab a couple of towels to try to staunch the flow of blood. He sat by his sister in the field, cradling her head on his lap, waiting for the ambulance, willing her to live, praying for her to live, her warm blood soaking his clothes and seeping through to his own skin.
The next few hours were a blur. He followed the ambulance in a taxi from the village and called William on his mobile to tell him to meet them at the hospital. The hospital itself was emotional bedlam. Anne went straight into the operating theatre.
They were in the same small relatives’ room that Calder and Kim had waited in when Todd had been admitted. William was distraught, as were the children. No one could say whether Anne was going to live or die. Then William started laying into Calder. He was a balding, thickening man in his middle thirties, prematurely middle-aged, and normally mild mannered, friendly and slightly dull. But not now.
‘You know that bomb was meant for you?’ he demanded.
Calder nodded.
‘Well, why weren’t you in the fucking car then?’
‘She wanted to fetch some baking stuff from the village,’ Calder replied.
‘Why didn’t you go?’
‘I let her borrow the car.’
‘You should have taken it yourself.’
‘I didn’t know what was going to happen, William,’ Calder said gently.
William had begun pacing in a tight little pattern up and down, running his fingers through the remnants of his hair.
The two children watched their father, wide-eyed with fear. Calder sat slumped in a chair next to them. A television babbled on low volume in a corner. Calder got up and switched it off.
‘This wasn’t a random event, you know, Alex,’ William said. ‘There was a reason someone planted the bomb, wasn’t there?’
Calder took a deep breath. ‘I suppose so.’
‘What was it? Eh? Was it something to do with this van Zyl business?’
‘Probably,’ Calder admitted.
‘Probably? Probably! Of course it fucking well was!’ William lowered his face to Calder’s level, spittle on his lips. ‘Do you know that your sister spends half her life worried sick that you’re going to kill yourself? Either in a bloody little aeroplane, or messing around with gangsters where you’re not wanted. Well, it looks like she was right to be worried, wasn’t she? Except it wasn’t you who was blown up as a result of your little games. It was her.’ He straightened up and tears began to run down his cheeks. Phoebe took her cue from her father and began to cry quietly. Robbie, aged four, stuck out his chin, his stare shifting from his uncle to his father. Neither of them really comprehended yet what had happened to their mother.
‘I didn’t know she was in any danger,’ Calder said quietly. ‘If I had known –’
‘You’d have carried on anyway!’ William shouted. ‘You make me sick!’
Someone touched William’s elbow. It was Kim, together with an anxious-looking nurse who must have fetched her from Todd’s room.
‘William?’ she said softly.
William turned to her, blinking.
‘William. I’m Kim van Zyl. I’m a friend of Alex’s. My husband’s in this hospital too. I’m very sorry about what happened to your wife.’
William opened his mouth as if about to berate her as well, but Kim’s smile, warm, sympathetic, reassuring, stopped him.
‘Do you want Alex and me to take the children down to the café for a drink?’ she said. ‘Perhaps it would be good to be alone for a moment. I’ll bring them back in half an hour.’
William looked at Phoebe and Robbie and at Kim, and nodded.
‘Are you OK?’ Kim said as she and Calder led the two children through the corridors by the hand.
‘Physically, yes,’ Calder said. ‘But William’s right. He’s bloody well right. It was my fault. First Todd and now Annie.’
‘Hey, I know Todd wasn’t your fault,’ Kim said sternly. ‘And you had no way of knowing there was a bomb in that car. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me for getting you involved in the first place.’
‘It should have been me,’ Calder said. ‘It should bloody well have been me. I wish it had been me.’
With her free hand, the one that wasn’t gripped tightly by Phoebe, Kim touched Calder’s arm.
They bought the children a cup of hot chocolate each, and then a man and a woman approached them: DI Banks and DC Wardle. They ushered Calder to another table away from Phoebe and Robbie to ask some questions.
At first Calder answered them dully. He explained where the car was parked, how he was the usual driver, how he had suggested his sister drive it to the village. Then DI Banks asked the obvious question. Had he any idea who had planted the bomb?
‘It has to be the same person who planted the bomb in the Yak, doesn’t it?’ Calder said.
‘We can’t be sure of that,’ Banks said. ‘At least not until our forensic people have had a chance to look at the evidence.’
Calder stared at her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I do know who blew up my sister. Or at least I know who arranged it, even if I don’t know if they planted the bomb themselves.’
Inspector Banks’s hazel eyes studied his face carefully. ‘Yes?’
Calder paused to think it all through. But there wasn’t really very much to figure out. ‘Cornelius van Zyl. Or his son, Edwin van Zyl. Or both of them.’
Banks’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have any evidence?’
‘You find the evidence,’ Calder said. ‘It’s your job. And do it before anyone else gets blown up.’
Banks sm
iled sympathetically. ‘It is our job, and we will. But it would help us do that if you could tell us what makes you so sure Cornelius van Zyl is responsible.’
So Calder told her all about the dinner with the van Zyl family and how vehemently Cornelius had opposed Kim’s desire to find out what had happened to Martha van Zyl all those years ago.
Banks listened. Wardle took notes. When they had finished they moved over to where Kim was talking gently to Calder’s nephew and niece. As they asked Kim questions, Calder did his best to chat to Phoebe and Robbie, but all the time his thoughts were with their mother, in the operating theatre fighting for her life.
Calder barely held it together over that long day. Mid-afternoon they transferred Anne from the operating theatre to intensive care. The doctors spoke to William rather than Calder, so Calder didn’t get the details, but two things were clear: firstly, Anne would live; secondly, they had amputated her left leg above the knee. They weren’t sure whether they would have to remove the right one as well.
Calder found the atmosphere in the hospital intolerable. Part of it was the hostility from William, part of it was the feeling of total powerlessness, of being unable to do anything but ask the medical staff stupid questions. Most of it was the guilt.
He decided to leave. Kim offered to come with him, but Calder said that would make things worse. She looked offended and Calder knew that she had made the offer from the best of motives, but he also knew that spending time with her would pile on the guilt. He had called his father, he had had no choice. He had explained that Anne’s injuries were a result of a bomb, not an accident. And his father said he would be down the next morning. That would be very difficult to face.
He took a taxi from the hospital straight home. Police tape surrounded his house and men and women in white forensic overalls were peering at the wreckage of the blackened Maserati. It brought home to Calder how lucky Anne was to have been thrown clear. It appeared that she had left the door open when she had turned on the ignition, presumably in case she needed to summon him to explain how something worked. Whatever the reason, it was a miracle. Had she strapped herself in and shut the door, she would have burned alive. If she hadn’t been killed instantly, of course.
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