“So, it’s over? We have all we need to break this and get it taken care of?”
“As soon as we secure your secretary and find a cop we can trust to arrest people.”
“Is that what Greg was supposed to be taking care of?”
“Yes.”
“Which leaves us with finding a police officer. I’d suggest Sergeant Solongo, but I don’t think that would work. He’s too low in the food chain.”
“We can ask Julius who he suggests when he gets here. He knows who’s trustworthy and who isn’t.”
“How did you manage to work all this out when we’ve been working on it for weeks and couldn’t?”
“It wasn’t that difficult in the end. As soon as I started doing my own research it was all there in publicly accessible files. I just had to do the looking myself, rather than take it as gospel from Claudia.”
“Of course.”
“She’s sabotaged your investigation from the outset. You know that, don’t you?”
“It does make sense.”
“You need to be careful. If she’s as good with computers as it would seem, we need to ensure that she hasn’t been burying a trail that leads away from her and straight to your door. After all, your connection with her is a lot stronger than James Wilson’s.”
“You think she’s trying to set me up?”
“I think she’s a very manipulative, clever, and deceitful woman. And I think she’s very capable of doing that. Whether or not she has remains to be seen.”
“I’ll get Laura’s people to start digging. Now that we know what to start looking for, that should be easier.”
They stood in silence for a few moments as she tried to absorb everything Imogen had said. It wasn’t happening. There was simply too much for her to process. One betrayal after another, peeling back the layers of her soul and leaving her exposed. James had mentored her through her early days in office. Now she knew why. Guilt was a powerful motivator for some people. But not as powerful as money, it would seem. Claudia. She couldn’t reconcile the woman who had sat by her side, her supporter, her sounding board, her friend. She’d trusted her implicitly. Her duplicity shook Amahle to the core.
How could she be so wrong about someone? How could she trust so soundly and be betrayed so thoroughly? But it went even deeper, didn’t it? It went to her mother and her brother. The lies they’d told, the secrets they’d kept from her, all added to the disloyalty that surrounded her. Was there no one she could trust? Was there no one she could say, hand on heart, she was sure of?
From time to time over the years, she’d watched the clouds settle over Table Mountain, cover the flat top, and float down the side like a white linen cloth wrapping it up. She often wondered what it would be like to be up there at that moment. The second the fog came down and removed one’s sight, muffled the sound, and enveloped one in a cocoon of sensory deprivation. She wished she was inside that now. The idea of not feeling anything was so very appealing.
Right then there was only one thing that she was sure of any more. Imogen. She’d sent her away and still she’d worked to help her. Not just help but done everything in her power, on her own, to fix Amahle’s problems. She’d proven herself loyal and true, and she’d done so after being rejected. Amahle was disgusted with herself. That she could have treated her in such a way made her feel nauseous.
“I’m sorry,” Amahle said.
“What for?”
“For telling you to leave.”
She heard Imogen swallow. “Which time?”
“Every time.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Imogen turned around. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”
“Please don’t go.”
“I thought you wanted me gone?”
“So did I.”
“What changed?”
“Nothing. Everything. You.”
Imogen looked at her for a long time, and Amahle felt like an insect under a microscope. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m going to go and find a hotel I can check into later.”
“A hotel? Why?”
“The house at the vineyard is bugged. I don’t want to go back there.”
“They’ve bugged it? And you’re seriously thinking of leaving here? Are you crazy?”
“Look, Amahle, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted. Never have, never will. You made it clear you didn’t want me here. I needed to let you know what I learned so I ignored your wishes. I’m sorry for that. Truly, I am. But I’ve done what I needed to do now. I won’t impose. I’ll wait till Julius gets here and then once I’ve told him, I’ll leave you alone.”
It may have been what she wanted a few days ago, it may well have been what was in both of their best interests, but the idea of Imogen walking out the door again was more than Amahle wanted to contemplate. It wrapped around her brain like the fog over Table Mountain, enveloping her in a suffocating blanket of dread and confusion. Despite every act of perfidy she faced, despite the fact her whole world now stood in ruins, she knew she could handle it all. She couldn’t face Imogen saying good-bye. Not now. Not ever.
“Imogen, listen to me, please. I only wanted you to leave so that you weren’t in danger. That time has passed now. You are in danger. Leaving here will increase that. Don’t leave. You’re safer here with the team than in a hotel.”
“I’ve told you. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”
Amahle reached out. “You’re very wanted here.”
*
“I don’t think so.”
“Immy, you are. Everything I said was my attempt at keeping you safe. That’s all I wanted. For you to be as far from danger as possible. When I saw you on the ground on Monday, I truly thought you’d been shot. I thought you were dead. I flipped. Half the time I looked at you on the way home and I saw Grace, the other half, I saw your face on her wounded body.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t risk that happening to you.”
“That was my risk to take, Amahle. Not yours.”
“I know, and sending you away didn’t stop you from taking it. I know. Without you we wouldn’t have the pieces we have and this thing wouldn’t be almost over.” She reached out and took hold of Imogen’s hand. “You were right in what you said. I do want you, and it is more than just a casual attraction.” She bit her lip. “So much more already. I know we haven’t been in each other’s lives for very long, but a part of me feels like you’ve always been with me. And that scares the shit out of me. You scare the shit out of me.”
Imogen laughed at the honesty. “Me too.”
“But you’re braver than I am. You always were.” She ran her thumb over the back of Imogen’s hand, and Imogen couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran up her spine. “Since the minute I found out your father died I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Wondering if you were coming back. Wondering if you would even still remember me.”
“I never forgot you.”
Amahle smiled. “I know, and I never forgot you.”
Imogen shook her head. “I’m no one, Ami.” She tried to pull her hand away, but Amahle wasn’t letting go. “I’m nothing.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong.” She stepped closer and pushed her fingers into Imogen’s hair, scraping her fingernails gently over her scalp. “You’ve already become everything to me.”
She tugged Imogen’s head down to hers and pressed her lips against Imogen’s. Every hair on Imogen’s body stood up and reached out to Amahle. She desperately wanted to pull her closer, but she couldn’t seem to move her limbs. The smell and feel of her was so intoxicating she felt as though she had no control of her body. She felt as though every atom of her being was ripped asunder and re-created in that moment.
“How did you do it?” Amahle whispered against her lips before tugging the lower one between her teeth and sucking on it.
“Do what?”
“Make me feel again.”
“I didn�
�t do anything.”
“Yes, you did.” Amahle leaned forward and cleaved her body against Imogen’s. “You brought me back to life.” Amahle cradled Imogen’s face in her hands and stared deeply into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For hurting you. I did it on purpose because I knew it was the only way you’d leave me. I promise I’ll never do that again.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. But I’ll work on that.”
Amahle kissed her again, and Imogen felt tears on her cheeks again. “Why do you always cry when we kiss?” Imogen asked.
“I’m not crying, Immy.”
“I can feel it.”
Amahle softly wiped the tears away from Imogen’s eyes and then leaned in to kiss her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, and her forehead before seeking out her lips again.
“Please say you’ll stay here. I have plenty of rooms for you to choose from, or…”
“Or?”
“There’s plenty of space in my bed.”
There was nothing Imogen wanted more, but her pride wasn’t quite ready to let go without some kind of fight, regardless of her heart, body, and soul being ready to follow Amahle like a puppy dog. “What about your career?”
“I guess we’ll just have to see how much my voters really care about my sexuality. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Why now?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because I can’t stop wanting you. Because I can’t stop wanting to know what you’re doing, thinking, feeling, every second of every day. Because I hope to God you feel the same way.” Her kiss lingered as Amahle’s fingers explored the skin at the nape of Imogen’s neck. “Do you?”
Imogen didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. She pulled Amahle’s body tight to hers, smiling against her lips as Amahle devoured her mouth. She ran her hands up Amahle’s back, enjoying the way her muscles moved under her hands as her hips undulated while their desire bloomed.
“Mmm hmm.”
Amahle tore her mouth from Imogen’s with an audible pop. Her arms still wrapped around her neck, Imogen struggled to turn her head and see who had interrupted them.
“Julius just called from the airport. He’ll be here in twenty minutes,” Laura said. “Sorry to interrupt.” Imogen could hear the smirk in her voice. “Carry on.”
Imogen chuckled and clasped her hands around Amahle’s waist. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation later?”
“Probably a wise idea.” She leaned down and kissed Imogen’s lips once more. “Not a good idea.” And once again. “But a wise one.”
Chapter Forty-seven
“Hey, boss, his dick didn’t drop off yet, but I’m pretty sure it won’t fucking work again.” Tsotsi chuckled at his own joke.
Sipho tried not to move. Every time he did it only hurt more. Every nerve felt like it was on fire. There were brief moments of numbness, and he prayed those would last. But then the Professor would touch some part of him. He didn’t think it was with the crocodile clips, but it didn’t matter now. At least the heat and electricity had cauterized his mangled ankle and stopped him from bleeding to death. When he considered that, he wished it hadn’t.
“Has he said anything yet?”
“Just cried.”
“So you’re a hard man, eh.” The man crouched down, and Sipho was able to see his face clearly for the first time, and he hoped like hell that he didn’t realize he wasn’t unconscious. “I was a young man when my father-in-law, Johan, taught me this technique. He brought this guy in, already had the shit kicked out of him, and he showed me how to wrap ’em up. Like cotton on a bobbin, he said. Just keep wrapping it around.” He tapped Sipho’s cheek. “Know who that was, boy?” He gripped Sipho’s cheek and turned his head from side to side. “You’ve got a look of him after all.”
The words made sense, but at the same time they didn’t. He opened his mouth to demand what he was talking about, but the words never made it.
The man laughed. “You want me to make it easy on you? Okay, I can do that.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I was there when they did this to your father, boy. Me and my father-in-law, my fucking hero, lit your pops up like a firecracker. Sang like a fucking canary.” He stood up straight and laughed. “Since he’s not saying anything to us let’s send him back to his sister. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Cut out his tongue and dump him on her doorstep.” He sniggered. “By the time she sees him she’ll wish she kept her nose out of other people’s affairs.”
“Right, boss. You got a delivery address?” The door closed and Sipho could hear the Professor giggling gleefully as he held Sipho’s nose until he opened his mouth to breathe.
“Not here, you dumb shit. He’ll bleed all over my fucking car, man. We’ll cut it when we get there.”
They grabbed his legs and arms and the agony was too much. Liquid fire flowed over his body, through his veins, and escaped through his screams. The rough carpet on the bed of the boot prickled at his over sensitive skin. His body shook, his control gone.
“Fuck, man, he pissed all over your car, Tsotsi man.”
“Fucking pussy.” Tsotsi’s fist thrust his head into the floor and Sipho let go and allowed the comforting blackness of unconsciousness to envelop him.
Jostling brought him round untold minutes or hours later. It didn’t matter. With awareness came pain, and he tried to conjure up the blackness, the numbness, once again.
“Wakey, wakey, boy.” Tsotsi slapped his face and grabbed his flaccid jaw. “One last gift to remember me by.” He laughed as he tried to grab Sipho’s tongue. He was quick to clamp his teeth, protecting the muscle. Instead he tried to scream without opening his mouth, he tried to kick out, punch, anything.
“Tsotsi, someone’s coming.”
“Fuck. You got lucky, boy. He told me not to kill you.”
A flick of his wrist and Tsotsi was gone. Hot, thick blood ran across his lips, down his throat, and dripped audibly onto the concrete beside his ear. Giggles and laughter accompanied the sound of a car engine roaring into life.
Sipho tried to get his arms to work enough to press on his cheek, to stem the flow of blood, but they wouldn’t work. He tried to roll onto his side so he didn’t swallow the hot blood running across his lips, but he couldn’t coordinate the effort. Then he forgot why he was fighting at all, and stared up at the wrought iron gate, the razor wire, and the perfect blue sky above. A plane carved a white line into the blue hundreds of feet above him. I never got to go in a plane.
Chapter Forty-eight
The automated buzz on the security gate alerted them to activity outside. Amahle checked her watch.
“I thought you said twenty minutes till Julius got here?” she said to Laura.
“That’s what the man said.”
“He must have gotten the fastest taxi in Cape Town.” She stared at the transcript Imogen had given her of the Truth and Reconciliation hearing of Colonel Johan De Villiers. She knew she needed to know what was in here. She knew it was vital to proving the link between Wilson and PharmaChem was deeper than simply signing a piece of paper, but for the life of her she couldn’t force herself to read it. She’d grown up on the stories of the horrors contained in reports like this, and she’d been at the trial itself. She knew about the beatings, the torture, the rapes, and the necklacing. On both sides, people had confessed to their most heinous deeds in the hope of amnesty. Some confessed with no more thought than to retain or regain their freedom, some in the search of something more elusive, something even more precious and much harder to find. Redemption. Forgiveness. To reclaim their humanity, perhaps even their souls.
“What the hell is that?” Laura scowled into the monitor.
“It isn’t Julius?” Amahle asked.
“Not unless he’s IDing himself with the foot of a coloured man. Josh, Greg, go and take a look.” She glanced over her shoulders. “No chances, boys.”
Greg took his gun from his waistband, checked it, and held it ready. “Not one.”
Josh opened the door and Amahle stood over Laura’s shoulder, staring at the monitor as she switched the feed to as wide a shot as she could.
“What is that?” Amahle pointed to the screen. “It looks like rubbish.”
“No. That’s a foot there,” Laura said, pointing. “But that should look the same if it was a foot. That looks like a lump of meat or—” She punched keys on the laptop and zoomed in closer. “Oh fuck.”
“What? What is it?”
“Boys, make sure we’re clear out there, but I’m calling for medical help. We’ve got a casualty out there.”
“Roger.”
“Who? Who is it?”
“You can see as much as I can, ma’am.”
“We’re clear out here,” Greg said. “We need medical attention, fast.”
“On my way. Who is it?” Laura said as she jumped to her feet and grabbed the medical kit they’d brought with them. When they’d first arrived, Amahle thought they were being ridiculous with the amount of supplies they brought with them. Now she only hoped it was enough to help whoever was out there. Whoever had been left as her next message.
“It’s Sipho,” Josh said.
“No.” Amahle grabbed the door handle and dragged it open, Imogen and Laura right behind her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she cleared the driveway and rounded the gate. She stopped and pulled a huge breath into her lungs. “That’s not Sipho.”
“Are you sure?” Josh asked. “From the pictures I saw I thought it was.”
“No, it can’t be.” She stared down at the bloody, mangled body. Greg and Laura had rolled the man—she was sure it was a man—onto his side and held thick cotton pads to his cheek. They were talking so fast she couldn’t make out any individual words. He was naked. The lump of meat they’d seen on the monitor was all that remained of his right foot, and the plethora of cuts, bruises, and wounds told their own tale of everything the poor man had suffered.
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