Endgame

by Wilna Adriaanse

  “Sometimes you have to go out and look for her.” Nols put his bag in the study. He looked at the papers on the desk. “Still busy with the Italians?”

  “Yes. Hopefully not for much longer.”

  “We didn’t think it would take this long, or take so many turns, did we?”

  Nick shook his head. “Those first few weeks we reckoned we’d wrap up the case in a month or two. It’s five years later.”

  “We thought it was just a few car theft syndicates. Fuck, we were wild.”

  “And arrogant.” Nick looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I have to run.” He gave Nols a bunch of keys. “For the security gate downstairs and the front door. See you later.”

  Nick hit the brakes, but he’d already passed the lamppost. Man dies in Table View shooting was what he thought he had seen. He passed four lampposts before the poster appeared again. He had been right the first time.

  At the traffic light he beckoned the newspaper vendor over. The man came running. Nick had just enough time before the traffic began to move again to see that a Chinese businessman had been shot and killed in front of a restaurant in Table View the night before.

  He’d wondered why the story had drawn his attention. Now he knew.

  At the next red light he phoned Clive Barnard.

  “I only just got the news. One of Mang’s relatives. He worked for Mang.”

  “I need access to the scene.”

  Clive sighed. “Okay. I’ll meet you there.”

  At the crime scene, Nick kept his distance and only moved closer when he saw Clive. Nick saw the officer on duty stiffen when Clive showed his ID and asked a few questions.

  “No one’s going to take your job,” Clive said. “We suspect the shooting may be connected to a case of ours. We just want to ask a few questions.”

  The man nodded and his shoulders relaxed a little. “We picked up a number of spent cartridges. They’ll be sent for ballistic tests.”

  “Any eyewitnesses?”

  “Yes, but they’re all reluctant to talk.”

  “Sometimes you just need one person,” Clive remarked.

  “I’m not being unduly negative. Just saying. It’s not the first time I’ve come across a scene like this.”

  From where Nick was standing he could hear the other man get on his high horse. He was itching to climb over the yellow tape and ask his own questions. If everyone thought it was pointless, no one would go to any real trouble. He had seen it too many times.

  When Clive walked over to the front door of the restaurant Nick stepped over the tape and hoped people would presume he had permission to be there.

  A few people were sitting at tables inside. Nick assumed they were staff. Two investigating officers were questioning them one by one. There didn’t seem to be much progress.

  A young girl was sitting head down, inspecting her nails.

  Nick went to stand next to her.

  “Do you work here?”

  “I’m a waitress.”

  “Did you work last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where were you when the shooting took place?”

  The girl began to pick at her nails. She glanced at him briefly, then half turned to keep the others in view and shook her head. “Inside.”

  “Do you know the person who was shot?”

  “No.”

  “I mean, had you seen him here before?”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t work every night.”

  “What time do you start?”

  The girl shifted on her seat. “About five.”

  “What time were you here yesterday afternoon?”

  “I didn’t check, but I scheme just before five.”

  “Do you remember what time it was when you heard the shooting?”

  “No. I didn’t check.”

  “Do you have to sign in when your shift starts? Or clock in with a card?”

  The girl began to fidget again. Then she looked up and whispered: “The manager told us not to talk to anyone about last night, so don’t make life difficult for me.”

  “I don’t want to make your life difficult. I’m just asking if you have to sign in when you arrive. I presume you get paid by the hour. Surely a record is kept of the hours you work?”

  “I was a bit late last night.”

  “How late?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know, but it was past five. My boyfriend couldn’t pick me up in time. I had to walk.”

  “Do you live nearby?”

  “Not really. About two kilometres away.”

  “The shooting was just after five. If you arrived just past five you must have arrived about the time it happened.”

  “I think you should speak to the manager.”

  “I’ll talk to him as well, but first I want to know if you were inside by the time it happened.”

  “I wasn’t here yet.”

  “Why didn’t you say so from the start?”

  She shrugged.

  “You were outside, weren’t you? You saw what happened.”

  She shook her head hastily. “I didn’t see anything. When I arrived, it was all over.”

  “You must’ve been close. Did you hear the shots?”

  “Listen, I don’t have to talk to you if I don’t know anything.”

  “But I think you do know something. It’s easier to speak about it now than it will be later, when we find out that you do know and we have to come back. Then we won’t be smiling.”

  “I was on the corner when I heard something that sounded like shots. The next minute a white car came racing past with tyres screeching. That’s all I saw.”

  “Could you see the make of the car?”

  “A white Toyota Corolla. I don’t know much about cars but I recognised it because my mom has one like that.”

  “Could you see how many people were in the car?”

  She sighed. “Two men.”

  “Would you recognise them?”

  “Are you crazy? They were going fast.”

  “But you’re sure there were two men inside?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you remember anything about them?”

  She closed her eyes. “White men. One in a black shirt. Both wore sunglasses.

  “Are you sure you never saw the deceased man around here?”

  Again the sigh. “I’ve seen him, but I don’t know him. I only know his surname, because I once booked a table for him.

  “Is he usually on his own, or in a group?”

  “In a group. Often with girls. They’re a group of Chinamen who usually come together. Sometimes on their own, but they often bring girls.”

  “Oriental girls?”

  “Yes. Stunning girls. Very petite.”

  Nick wondered where her fear of the manager had disappeared to.

  “Thank you. We might want to talk to you again, so don’t go away.”

  “I told you, I don’t really know anything.”

  “Yet you’ve helped us a lot.”

  “As long as you don’t tell the manager I said anything. He doesn’t like us to blab. He says we owe it to the clients to protect their privacy.”

  “I understand.”

  Nick went out and walked to a spot from where he could see the corner. Then he walked slowly back to the yellow tape. The victim had been getting out of his car.

  He walked some distance in each direction. Since he had seen the poster on the lamppost he’d had a nagging feeling that this business had something to do with Allegretti and Visser. Next to the restaurant was a laundry and on the other side a bank.

  He entered the laundry. A middle-aged woman asked if she could help him. Nick identified himself and asked whether anyone had seen anything.

  “No, sir. We just heard shots being fired and the next minute tyres screeching.”

  “Nothing else? No one running away from the scene?”

  “I can’t say. Quite a few people were running.”

&
nbsp; “Thank you.”

  “Goodness, sir, what’s going on? Cape Town is like the Wild West these days. No one is safe any more.”

  “We’re trying our best to catch the people who do this kind of thing, but for that we need people like you.”

  “Well, I’m really sorry I didn’t see more, but I’ll keep an ear to the ground. If I hear anything, I’ll report it.”

  Nick went back to the restaurant and signalled to Clive that he was leaving.

  For a moment, Ellie was confused when she woke up. Then she heard the birds in the trees in front of the house and remembered that she’d returned the previous night. It was Tuesday. She stretched, put on her running clothes and shoes, and set off.

  It was after eight when she got back. She showered, and had coffee and a bowl of muesli and yoghurt.

  Wynand was just coming through the door when she stopped behind the house on the bike.

  “So, you’ve decided to come home? I thought I’d have to report my bike stolen to get hold of you.”

  “Unharmed and in one piece. Thanks a lot. Tell me what I owe you.”

  “Don’t disappear like that the moment strangers come looking for you.”

  “I won’t do it again. Can you give me a lift to Manie’s to fetch my car?”

  “Yes, come.” They got into his bakkie, which had known better days. “Did the people who were looking for you find you in the end?”

  “Yes. I don’t know why they had the whole town up in arms. They never do anything the normal way.”

  “And you’re okay?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Her car had been serviced and was gleaming.

  “Thanks, Manie, you’re a darling.”

  He fumbled with a dirty rag between his fingers. “It’s fine.”

  Before she went home, she stopped for groceries. She’d had to drink black coffee that morning.

  She was at the till when Marius Steyn came in. He frowned when he saw her, then gave a lopsided grin. She waved and he waited for her to finish.

  “You’re back,” he remarked when she came over.

  “I came back very late last night. Are you busy, or can we grab a quick coffee?”

  He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting, but you can invite me to dinner.”

  “I’m not a good cook.”

  “A sandwich will do, or I could come over and make something.”

  “Okay. I’ll cook, as long as you don’t criticise.”

  At home she opened the windows and doors and began to sweep up the worst of the dust. She tried her best to do a routine task every day, even if it was just cleaning and tidying up. Sweeping, washing floors, sometimes weeding, or watering the garden.

  When the house looked tidy, she sat down at her laptop and read the news headlines. There were no stories that drew her attention, and after a while she got up.

  Her thoughts kept returning to Clara. In South Africa, kidnapping for ransom was still relatively unknown. Serial killers often kidnapped their victims, but she couldn’t imagine Clara had been captured by someone like that.

  She fetched her cellphone in the bedroom. Back at her desk, she opened the phone and inserted her old SIM card. The one she had been using the past few months was pay-as-you-go.

  She punched in Nazeem Williams’s number. He answered the call himself.

  “Miss McKenna, do you have any news?”

  “No, Mr Williams, I’m afraid not. I wanted to hear whether you have any news. Maybe someone contacted you about ransom?”

  “Nothing. I sleep with my phone on my pillow. I don’t know which way to turn.”

  “I’m very sorry. I truly hope she’ll be back soon, unharmed.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your call.”

  Ellie leaned back. Thirty years ago kidnappers had to rely on public phones, written notes, telegrams maybe, to make their demands known. With modern technology they could send them within seconds via cellphones or encoded emails. There were many options, and no reason why they should not have made contact seventy-two hours after the kidnapping.

  Unless she was wrong and it had nothing to do with Williams. She felt a chill inside, and sent up a quick prayer.

  Ellie remembered a conversation she’d had with Clara about her use of social media. Ellie had asked if she didn’t think young people revealed too much about themselves on social platforms. Their lives were like open books that could be tracked every minute of the day. If not on Facebook, then on Twitter or Instagram.

  Clara had been surprised. “Why can’t we share with each other? It’s exciting. When I see or do something, I immediately think about sharing it. It’s our way of documenting our lives.” She had laughed. “That’s a quote I read somewhere.”

  Ellie was not surprised that the kidnapper or kidnappers had known where Clara would be that night. If she’d been kidnapped, mind you. She thought of her last visit to the Williamses before she left Cape Town. Clara had been in tears because she couldn’t go back to Allegretti. She had begged Ellie to return so that her uncle would allow her to move back.

  She looked at her phone again. It was a slim chance, but sometimes slim chances pay off. Enzio Allegretti’s phone was switched off. Ellie doubted that he would tell her if Clara was with him, but she would have kept wondering if she hadn’t tried to call.

  She got up and walked through the garden. She tugged at the odd branch, picked up a few autumn leaves from under the oak tree. Inspected the water level in the dam.

  After a while she went to the kitchen. She had decided spaghetti bolognese was the safest option. Not much could go wrong. While the onions were frying, she switched her cellphone back on and called Clive.

  “Please don’t start making a nuisance of yourself again,” he said before she could speak.

  “Ha-ha-ha! Very funny.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cooking. The minister is coming for supper.”

  “Damn, it must be serious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a kitchen.”

  Ellie laughed. “It was good to see you again.”

  “Hmm … what do you want?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you use that candyfloss voice, you want something. What is it?”

  “And then you ask why you didn’t hear from me for five months?”

  When he said nothing, she continued: “Have you heard anything more about Clara’s disappearance?”

  “Like I said, the candyfloss voice always wants something. No, I don’t have any more information. It’s not an official investigation yet, so I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Will you tell me if you hear something?”

  “Yes, but only if you promise not to do anything reckless.”

  “Like what?”

  “Use your imagination. I don’t want you anywhere near the case. If there’s something you want to know, you call me. You don’t phone around.”

  “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  When they said goodbye, she knew she should have told him she had been to Williams’s home, but she also knew what his reaction would have been. She didn’t have the strength for an argument.

  “I want your feedback about Friday night,” Nick said when everyone was gathered around the dining-room table at the Milnerton house at four that afternoon.

  Hendriks went first.

  “Clara Veldman was at Paranga with her friends. They left just after midnight. The guys who look after her and drive her around were parked on the opposite side of the street. She was just about to cross the street when another vehicle rammed into her bodyguards’ car. Everyone was focused on the collision. The next thing they knew, Clara was missing. One of the waiters noticed a black delivery van just behind the car that caused the accident but no one else could confirm it.”

  “What happened to the bodyguards and their vehicle?”

  “The car was badly damaged. Both guys were admitted to hospital for whiplash.”

  “And the
car that crashed into them?”

  “Drove away.”

  “Did anyone notice the make?”

  “The waiter who says he saw a black delivery van says it was big four-by-four. But he didn’t see the registration plates.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No. That’s all I’ve got. The CCTV cameras near Paranga were positioned so that they didn’t pick up the collision. All you can see is Clara and her friends leaving the place.”

  Nick looked at De Bruin.

  “No reservations or air tickets in any of their names.”

  Gaba confirmed what the other two had said, adding that a four-by-four had been found on Baden Powell Drive on Sunday morning.

  “Do you know who the owner is?”

  Gaba nodded. “The owner lives in Somerset West. Seems the car was stolen last Wednesday and reported at the Somerset West station.”

  “Go talk to the owner. Ask him exactly where and when the vehicle was stolen. Maybe he saw someone. Where is it now?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Make sure it doesn’t go back to the owner before Forensics have gone through it.” Nick turned to Clive. “Phone Phillips and Mossie.”

  “Is there a chance that Clara could have been in the vehicle?” De Bruin asked.

  Nick shook his head. “I doubt it, but you never know what could turn up.”

  “Anything else?” Nick looked at Jansen.

  “I’m waiting for the cellphone records. I should get them today.”

  Nick looked at them all in turn. “I don’t have to teach you your jobs. I don’t want you to rush and make mistakes but we don’t have time to sit around, twiddling our thumbs. If they cross a border somewhere, we’re going to have a hell of a time getting them back. We’ve already lost valuable time.”

  They all nodded solemnly.

  The club in Green Point was busy when Nick walked in at six. Waiters were setting tables in the dining section, and everywhere staff were preparing for the evening. Before he had reached the stairs, Paul approached him from behind.

  “Did you find Allegretti?”

  Nick saw the hope in his eyes. Paul was a man whose world was black and white. That he had agreed to help them with the case was a miracle, really. Nick hadn’t thought he would last this long but he’d known for a while that the man’s patience was wearing thin. He had actually hoped Paul wouldn’t be here today.