“How’s Belinda doing in high school? Is she allowed to go out?”
“It’s a flippin’ nightmare. The boys come along – all smiles and hormones and gelled hair. Under the pretext of returning a book, or wanting to borrow one, or God knows what crappy excuse, and they stay for a quick coffee or a cooldrink. Sometimes I want to chase the whole lot away and lock the gate.”
Ellie laughed. “You can’t do that. We all have to start somewhere. What were you like at that age?”
“Not as full of hormones as today’s lot.”
“And you and Ansie?”
He wiped his face with his hand. “What can I say? Occasionally we still take out our frustrations on each other; she still thinks I should find another job before I’m no longer the man she married. Sometimes I wish she’d just chill and not take everything so seriously. If she’s not supervising homework, she’s cooking or cleaning or doing laundry. It would be nice if she’d leave the house and the kids sometimes and come sit with me, listen to some music and talk shit. I think that’s where marital problems begin, when you stop talking shit. At some point everything gets so serious. The mortgage and the car payments and the kids … you have no idea how much time we spend talking about the kids. Are they still okay? Are they doing drugs? What if they start? Are they drinking on the sly? Should we let them go to this or that party? This one needs shoes and that one needs a dress, but it costs the same as a month’s groceries. It never stops.” He paused, almost out of breath. “You asked.”
Ellie reached out and touched his hand. “Hell, I’ve missed you.”
“That’s what they all say.”
They looked at each other as if each was waiting for the other one to open a door.
The waiter brought the coffee. Clive added sugar and stirred for a long time. Then he sat back and took a sip. “Why Montagu? Do you know anyone there? Were you there the entire time?”
“Yes, and no. I don’t know anyone there. It happened to be the place where the sun went down after I’d left Cape Town. I stopped to get something to drink and started talking to the owner of a small restaurant and decided any place is as good as the next. It was close enough to Cape Town if my mother needed me, and with all the weekend visitors a newcomer doesn’t draw too much attention.”
“And the organ?”
“One morning I walked past the church and heard someone playing, so I went in. I struck up a conversation with the organist and when he heard my dad had played and I could press a few notes he invited me to play whenever I liked. Sometimes we play together, at other times I play alone. I like playing the organ. There are so many things you have to focus on that you don’t have time to think of anything else. It’s a lot like this job. You have to hold a lot of strings in your hand, or you’ll never solve a case. If you don’t get the fingers and the footwork right with the organ, there’s no music.” She smiled. “Short question, long answer.”
“What do you do all day?”
“I work in my garden and some nights I work in the bar of a small restaurant and when the organist is away, I play on Sundays. For the first time I have a simple life. I have a hammock and a swing under a tree, where I spend many hours. I have a dam that’s my pool in summer. And I read.”
“Where do you live?”
“I rent a house on a farm just outside the town. From lovely people.”
He shook his head.
“I think one of the ministers is falling in love with me,” Ellie added.
Clive put his cup down, folded his arms and sat back in his chair. Then he picked up the cup and took another sip. “A minister?”
“Why do you sound so surprised? Did you think no one would ever show an interest in me?”
He shook his head. “Fuck, now I’ve heard everything. You, a minister’s wife! The man has hardly known you five months.”
“Sometimes you just know.” When she saw his eyebrows go up, she smiled. “No one is talking about marriage. I said I think he’s falling in love with me. That’s all. Maybe he’ll never ask and maybe I’ll say no.” She widened her eyes.
“Sweetheart, if he’s a minister, he’ll want to get married. Trust me.”
“I might make an excellent minister’s wife.”
“Does he know about your previous life? And that you’re working in a bar? Does the man even know you?”
“He knows I am or was in the police service. The details aren’t important. He’s not too happy about the bar, but the patrons are his flock, so he can’t say too much. It’s not as if it’s a dive. The owner reminds me of Joe. A straight shooter. You know where you stand. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably have kept going that first night.”
“Does he …” He stopped talking and she saw his gaze move briefly to her breasts before he focused on her face again.
“I don’t know. We haven’t reached that stage.”
“The man wants to ask you to marry him but he hasn’t seen you naked? What, do you switch off the lights?”
Ellie laughed out loud. “I’m not going to discuss my sex life or lack thereof with you.”
“Maybe you should go and see a shrink before you say yes to the man. You don’t sound all there to me. Or maybe you should both see one, because he doesn’t sound all there either.”
“I saw Albert,” Ellie changed the subject.
“And?”
She told him about their conversation, but not about her visit to Williams. Neither did she mention hearing about Clara’s kidnapping from Happy.
“Evidently, it’s not news to you. Did you know about it last night?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I phoned you?”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t stay away.” He raised his hand when she opened her mouth. “But if I had known that bloody Greyling had told Williams where you were, I would have told you.”
“Who told you about Clara?”
He shrugged. “A contact.”
“Do you still see Albert?”
Clive nodded. “I’ve seen him once or twice, but it’s not as if the two of us have much to say to each other any more.”
“How are things at the office?”
“What do you think?”
“What are you busy with?”
“Exactly what we were busy with when you left. Except that new fuckers come along every day who have to be checked out.” He raised one eyebrow. “If you’re not coming back, what’s the point in telling you?”
“Who said I’m not coming back?”
“You’ve just told me you’re thinking of marrying the minister.”
Ellie laughed. “That’s not what I said.”
“Mac …”
She knew that tone of voice. “If you’re going to apologise again, I’m leaving.”
He shook his head. “I fucked up.”
“We all did. It’s one reason why I had to go. If I decide to come back, I’ve got to make sure something like that never happens again. Not to me or anyone else.”
“I was responsible for you and I knew we were being too hasty. Setting up an undercover operation like that takes planning and training. It was your first time. We should have equipped you better, but I let myself get swept up in Greyling’s bravado and the need we all felt for some form of success. Lord knows, you can only get knocked down so many times before you give up.” There was a moment’s silence. “I still want to know exactly what happened that night. Greyling’s hands aren’t as clean as he wants everyone to believe.”
“It’s water under the bridge. Tell me what you know about Clara.”
“Only that she’s been missing since Friday night, and that Williams hasn’t reported it to the cops. Evidently, his own people are out looking for her.”
“What do you think happened to her?”
He shook his head. “She could have run away.”
“I know, but I bet she didn’t. She’s difficult at times and a spoilt brat, but she loves her family. However strange
it may sound.”
“Do you really think you know her so well that you can guess what she’d do or wouldn’t do?”
“I didn’t know her long, but that’s not always important. What’s important is what I saw and heard when I was with her. I once asked her why she didn’t simply move in with Allegretti. She was twenty at the time, and didn’t need her family’s permission. She said that her family, especially her uncle and aunt, were good to her and she didn’t like to disappoint them. And she was serious when she said it. Remember, the Williamses don’t have children. She’s like their own.”
“You’ve always been selectively blind where she’s concerned. It’s probably the reason I didn’t tell you. I know you too well. I can actually see your mind has already started to work. Believe me when I tell you, if she didn’t run away, this case may be a lot more complex than it seems, and you’re not ready for it. Go home and get your head straight. The fact that you came at once when it seemed someone was looking for you says a lot. You haven’t gained enough distance from it yet.” He got up. “I must go.”
When he stopped at the office, they looked at each other.
“Go home and keep gardening, or play with the minister.”
“I worry about her.”
“I know, but she’s not your problem.”
She leaned across and kissed his cheek. “Take care of yourself. Give my regards at home.”
“Phone me now and then!” he called after her.
She raised her hand.
“And send me a wedding invitation …”
Ellie stuck her middle finger in the air.
CHAPTER 9
It was six o’clock when Nick got to the address in Milnerton. The house was one street behind the beachfront, surrounded by high walls. There were two garage doors and a gate that presumably led to the front door. Three vehicles were parked in front of the house. He rang the bell. Barnard opened the gate. Nick heard muted voices coming from inside.
To the right of the front door was a spacious room that appeared to be a lounge. It was furnished with two desks and several armchairs. Barnard beckoned him deeper into the house, to a dining room with serving hatches giving access to the kitchen and the lounge.
Brigadiers Ahmed and Zondi were seated at a long table in the middle of the room. He recognised them from the meeting they’d had after his arrest, and other encounters afterwards. He shook their hands and sat down next to Barnard.
“I hear you have problems and you need our help,” Andile Zondi plunged straight in. “What can you offer us in return?” she went on without waiting for a reply.
“What do you want?”
“Information. Everything you guys have on the people we’re investigating. In other words, we want what you have. No excuses and no more withholding information. As you know, we’ve had some bad luck recently and one of our more opportunistic operations failed. Partly because of you. We’re in trouble, but we can’t afford to sit on our hands and wait for our internal problems to be sorted out. There are some very dangerous people out there who need to be stopped. We’re all after the same thing. It makes sense to pool our resources.”
“I’ll have to speak to my superiors. Some of our intel is highly confidential. If it falls into the wrong hands, lives will be at risk.”
“I’ve already spoken to Monica. She understands the problem. We’ve reached an agreement.”
Nick wondered why Monica hadn’t said anything and since when she’d been on first-name terms with Zondi.
He nodded and Zondi looked at Ahmed.
“We,” Ahmed said, pointing at Zondi and Barnard, “discussed it and decided a joint operation would be best. I’ll give you two people I trust, and from their side you’ll get Barnard and two more men. We simply don’t have any more manpower. But I want to repeat what Brigadier Zondi said. I’m not Father Christmas. I don’t hand out gifts. If I discover you’re screwing us over, I’ll make it my mission to make sure you don’t get as much as a glass of water from us in the future. Let alone help of any kind. I give you my word that I’ll be available at all times, but if you fuck me around, you’re out.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “We set up this house for an operation we were forced to abandon. You’re welcome to use it. By tomorrow morning I want a provisional budget and a plan of action. And paperwork for the file.”
Nick straightened his legs under the table and nodded. This morning’s headache was back, throbbing at his temples. Before he could reply, there was the sound of the doorbell and Barnard got up to open the door.
Three men and a woman followed him inside and took seats around the table.
“Right, if we’re all here, we can begin. I don’t need to tell you that this meeting is top secret, as is all the info you’re about to receive. If I find out a word of what is said here today has been repeated elsewhere, I’ll personally put you behind bars.” Zondi looked at Ahmed. “Would you like to say anything at this point?”
He shook his head. “Please continue.”
Zondi pointed at Nick. “This is Colonel Malherbe from Interpol. He’s spent the last couple of years working undercover in the Allegretti family. Last night there was a shooting at Enzio Allegretti’s home and Allegretti has been missing ever since. A man who works for him was shot and was taken to hospital in a critical condition. That’s the first part of a very complicated story.” Zondi looked at Ahmed again.
“As Brigadier Zondi has said, it’s a complicated business. Allegretti’s fiancée of a few months, Clara Veldman, also appears to have gone missing on Friday night. Clara’s uncle is Nazeem Williams.” He ran his hand over his face. “We have reason to believe that both Williams and Allegretti have dealings with the Russian and the Chinese underworld. And maybe some of the other factions too. Your first priority is to find Allegretti and the girl. The reason you haven’t heard about it is that neither of the disappearances has been reported. Colonel Malherbe will lead the operation, but we’re a team. I require your full cooperation.” Ahmed looked at Nick and got up. “Right, we’ll leave you to get to work.”
Andile Zondi got up as well and Barnard saw them out. Nick looked at the faces around the table. He waited until Barnard had returned before he asked them to introduce themselves and state the unit they were from.
“Frans de Bruin, Crime Intelligence.” Frans was a tall, lean man. His shoulders were stooped as if he had spent his life ducking through doorways. He had a long face and big ears.
“Stacy Hendriks. Organised Crime.” Nick thought Stacy looked like someone you could tell your troubles to – soft and gentle, the corners of her mouth turned up in a perpetual smile. She exuded an easy, calm energy. Her dark eyes were clear, but Nick suspected that her apparent equanimity was misleading.
“Bonani Gaba. Organised Crime.” Nothing about Gaba was soft. He seemed to be all angles. He was considerably shorter than De Bruin; not fat, but with the shoulders and bulky torso of a front-ranker.
“Jeremy Jansen. Technical Services.” Nick didn’t know much about fashion, but he thought Jansen could pass for a model. Everything about him was in proportion; his face seemed perfectly symmetrical. He had large, dark eyes that had probably made quite a few ladies abandon their virtuous intentions.
“I take it most of you know each other and Captain Barnard?”
Everyone nodded.
“Firstly, thank you for being prepared to help. I know you all have your own dockets. From my side, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we solve the case as promptly as possible. Which doesn’t mean we should rush into it, of course. We’ll have only one chance.”
Nick began to fill them in on the shooting at Allegretti’s house and the kidnapping in Camps Bay on Friday night.
“We have no evidence that the two incidents are related, but the fact that Allegretti and Clara used to be engaged certainly makes one wonder. Of course we can’t exclude the possibility that Allegretti himself was involved in Clara Veldman’s disappearance. Though mo
tive is certainly important, for the moment we’ll focus on facts alone and get back to motive later.”
Nick turned to Jansen. “Cellphone records. Last place and time both their cellphones registered. I don’t have to tell you it’s urgent. Call in favours, make threats, anything. I know people always say they’re busy and it’s not their only case, but right now I don’t want to hear any excuses.
“De Bruin and Hendriks, contact the airlines. See if their names appear on any passenger lists. Some of the buildings near Paranga are equipped with CCTV cameras. I want Friday night’s footage. I also want a list of all staff members who worked that night. Call all your contacts tonight. Inside and outside the department. Find out if anyone has new information that’s not in the files yet.” Nick looked at Clive. “We need someone for admin.” His gaze swept over the others. “Every scrap of information goes into the files. Every piece of evidence. Every report. No one keeps anything to himself. Warn your families that they won’t be seeing much of you for a while. We meet here at four tomorrow afternoon and I want news by then.”
“By the way,” he added as they were getting to their feet, “my name is not to be mentioned. If there are enquiries or if anyone wants to speak to your boss, contact Captain Barnard.”
“Yes, Colonel,” they chorused.
“My name is Nick,” he said, and wrote down two cellphone numbers on a piece of paper, which he handed to Jansen. “These are the numbers we’re looking for.” He put a blank page on the table. “Your names and phone numbers. Make sure you have everyone else’s numbers.” He wrote his own number at the top of the list. “And remember, this is not an official investigation. Neither of these incidents has been reported. We’re not supposed to know about them. Be vague, say just enough for people to be willing to answer, but don’t give any details.”
When everyone had left, Nick and Clive walked through the rest of the house. A large living room with couches and easy chairs led off the dining room and kitchen. A flatscreen television set was fixed to the wall. Nick wondered what kind of operation the house had originally been meant for.
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