Stolen Lives

by Jassy Mackenzie

  “This doesn’t sound like something that’s been organised by the syndicate working inside the building,” she said eventually.

  “Why?”

  Because Jade’s gut was telling her so. Opening her eyes, she struggled to articulate her feelings in words that David, and she, could understand.

  “I don’t think the syndicate would be powerful enough. It must surely be a small-scale operation. A few people who have good jobs at Home Affairs, earning an extra couple of grand a month putting through a few fake passports. If you’re in that situation you’re not going to have the means or the manpower to organise something like this, and you’re certainly not going to have the motive to do it either. Not during a security clampdown, not if you want to keep your job as well as the chance to earn extra money on the side. A month from now people will be getting fired because of this. So, they must have been forced to do it, just like Naisha herself. Chances are there are a couple of frightened people working in those offices today.”

  David nodded slowly. He walked back to the table and sat down again.

  “Jadey, you’re right.”

  “So, Naisha’s clampdown interrupted the plans of whoever is behind this. They need to get out of the country in a hurry.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “And the person—or people—can’t travel on their own passports.”

  “Why not?” David asked. She knew that his rather obvious question was simply a prompt, an encouragement for her to continue with her train of thought.

  “Because they must be known to the police. Wanted criminals can’t travel under their own names.”

  David slammed his fist down on the table, but this time not in anger.

  “Dammit, Jade, we need to follow up on this.”

  Then he looked at her more closely, as if he were really seeing her for the first time that day.

  “’Scuse me for asking, but what’s that on your head?”

  “Oh, shit,” Jade said, clapping a hand onto the crackly silver paper that she’d forgotten all about since arriving home. She jumped up, grabbed the packet Raymond had given her and bolted for the bathroom.

  37

  Jade wrestled her clothes back onto her still-damp body, and wrapped a towel around her dripping hair after obeying the hairdresser’s instructions to shampoo twice and condition once. Never mind that she’d done it at a speed that she was sure had broken all records for that particular procedure.

  She hurried back into the kitchen, the floor cool against her bare feet.

  David was standing by the door, grim-faced, gripping his new cellphone and speaking in a tight, strained voice.

  “Yes,” he said. “Absolutely. I’ll get onto it right now.”

  He snapped the phone shut, then leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead on the cream-coloured plaster.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to get through today,” he said. “I’ve got a day from hell, starting now. Meetings at the office, meetings at or Tambo, the Bez Valley raid tonight. Right now, I can’t imagine having a coherent, focused conversation with anyone. All I can think about is my son.”

  “Can’t you reschedule the meetings?” Jade asked. “Spend the day following up on Kevin instead?”

  David turned to her and she saw a flicker of hope in his eyes, but it was swiftly extinguished.

  “No,” he said. “Not now. I’ve already confirmed that I’m going to be at the OR Tambo meetings, and there’s no way I can tell my team what’s really going on. Not after the threats the kidnappers made.”

  Jade bit her lip. David’s words made logical sense, but she knew that for him to battle his way through a long working day in these circumstances would be torture at best, and impossible at worst.

  The kidnappers had said that Kevin would be returned unharmed at the end of the day. But that had been before David’s unexpected arrival at his wife’s house. If they had somebody watching the place, Jade knew Kevin might now be dead.

  Didn’t they say that outliving your children was the fate that every parent feared the most?

  Jade had taken the framed photograph of her mother out of the box and put it up on the D-shaped arch that separated the kitchen and the sitting room. She glanced over at it automatically.

  Elise Delacourt, née de Jong, hadn’t outlived her daughter, but she hadn’t lived to see her grow up, either.

  Jade wondered if that was the second fate that every parent feared.

  Thinking of her parents reminded Jade of something her father had once said when he’d investigated a kidnapping case involving a young girl from a wealthy family. The parents had been warned not to call the police, and they had only done so in desperation, after they had paid the ransom and the deadline for their daughter’s return had passed.

  “One of the worst things about this type of crime is the isolation the parents feel,” her father had explained to her when he’d arrived back late that night. “Whatever happens now, at least their burden has been shared. They can get help from us, and comfort from their family and friends. It doesn’t sound like much, Jade, but believe me, it’s far better than dealing with something like that alone.”

  The young girl’s body had been found the next day, dumped in a field, shot execution-style through the back of her head. Two weeks later, her father had arrested the suspect who would eventually plead guilty to the crime.

  Now, her father’s words echoed in Jade’s head.

  Share the burden. It’s better than shouldering it alone.

  “Please let me help you,” she said to David.

  He turned round to face her and she could see a glimmer of relief in his eyes. Then he shook his head.

  “I don’t think there’s much you can do.”

  Jade shrugged. “There must be. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help him come home safe. What about trying to get a description of the people who grabbed him?”

  “No. If anybody contacts the school again, the secretary might realise something is going on.”

  Jade thought it over and then had an idea.

  “You told me that a domestic worker had seen the car. Perhaps I could get her details, saying that you wanted to thank her for her help, and then speak to her about what she saw. That’s a plausible story, surely?”

  David’s eyes lit up again. Properly, this time.

  “Jadey, I can do better than that,” he said. “I know where she works. Kevin pointed out the house to me. It’s just round the corner from Devon Downs. Pass me a pen and paper and I’ll draw you a map. If you could drive there and get a description from her, I can compare it to our open case files, and we might just be able to get an id on the people who snatched him.”

  “I’ll go there straight away,” she said.

  But Jade didn’t. Barely a minute after she had let David out of the gate, she heard the roar of a powerful engine and the drumming of tyres travelling at speed over the rutted road.

  She peered out of the kitchen window, and saw the streamlined bonnet of a red Ferrari approaching. The car skidded to a stop outside Jade’s gate, tyres digging deep gashes in the sandy soil.

  The loud blast of a horn shattered the quiet of the afternoon.

  Jade took a deep breath, closed her eyes and offered up a brief prayer for patience.

  She buzzed open the gate and watched as the Ferrari shot through. It went too fast over the metal rim of the gateway, and she winced as she heard an unpleasant scraping noise from the undercarriage.

  Pamela climbed out and slammed the door. She teetered over to the front door of the cottage, wobbling on yet another pair of strappy high-heeled shoes.

  Her face was pale and her hands were trembling. She wasn’t wearing her dark glasses, and her eyes were red-rimmed and vulnerable-looking.

  “I’m hiring you again,” she said in a hoarse voice.

  Jade opened her mouth to say no, that she wasn’t available, that she didn’t give clients like Pamela a second chance, especially
when they didn’t offer an apology or an explanation. But the blonde woman didn’t give her the opportunity.

  “I’ve just had a call from Netcare Milpark hospital to tell me my husband has passed away from his injuries. And Tamsin is still missing. I went to see the girl that—whoever it was, that bloody fake aunt—substituted in her place, and it’s not her. It’s not her. I’m a widow now, and I have no family left in the world apart from Tammy.” She took a deep breath and continued in a pleading tone.

  “Oh, God, Jade, please. I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I’m going to go to prison, I know it. The way that black detective was looking at me and the questions he was asking, I’m going to end up behind bars, and I just want to be sure my daughter’s safe before I do.”

  With a despairing yowl she launched herself at Jade, who staggered backwards as Pamela flung her arms around her and started sobbing, her face buried in Jade’s shoulder.

  Jade’s cuttingly worded rejection dissolved on her tongue.

  She patted Pamela’s back rather awkwardly.

  “It’s ok,” she found herself saying to the blonde woman. “We’ll find her. I’ll do my best to make sure that Tamsin comes home safe.” She realised that her soothing words were a disturbing echo of what she had said to David just a quarter of an hour ago.

  Guiding Pamela back into an upright position, Jade stared at the bright, copper-hued horizon.

  Two missing children. One kidnapped; the other simply vanished.

  Who had taken them, she wondered, and where were they now?

  Xavier Soumare turned off the highway and, after a few more turns, headed down a narrow tarred road. The car bounced over the uneven surface, dry grass hissing and swishing along its side as he swerved to avoid a large pothole.

  The distant hills swam, mirage-like, in the fierce heat.

  He kept his gaze fixed in front of him, watching the road, looking out for the place they were going. Not once did he turn his head to check on the child sleeping on the back seat.

  The establishment that he and Mathilde had contacted that very morning, after some careful research, was in a run-down cul-de-sac, which in turn was located in a shabby suburb not far from an informal settlement. Xavier had been surprised to learn that an establishment like this existed in such a place—and particularly a setup that specialised in children—but he supposed that everybody had needs.

  And needs, as Xavier knew well, begged to be fulfilled.

  At this hour the place was all but deserted, baking quietly in the fierce afternoon heat. He was sure that as the afternoon cooled down, the activity inside would warm up.

  He parked inside the walled property after making a phone call to announce himself. The front door was open to allow air inside, but it was guarded by a heavy security gate.

  Xavier scanned the area around him; he wanted nobody to see what he was about to do.

  He opened the back door of the car. The boy lay curled up on the seat, his breathing deep and regular. He lifted him out. He was light, but even so, Xavier found his arms trembling more than he would have liked as he stood upright.

  “Xavier.”

  Panting with the effort of holding the boy, Xavier turned towards the sound of Mathilde’s voice.

  “Wait. Don’t do it.”

  She spoke with some urgency.

  Xavier frowned. They had settled on this plan yesterday. It was foolproof, watertight in every way. She had handled the kidnapping professionally, immaculately, like the seasoned criminal she had been and, he had thought, still was. But now, what was happening? Had she lost her nerve?

  “Why not?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, to stop it from shaking with the effort of holding the boy.

  Mathilde walked around the car. Her sunglasses prevented him from seeing the expression in her eyes, but she was wearing the small, fierce smile that he remembered from the past, when a job was going well.

  “Because it will be better if I do it,” she said.

  Xavier almost sagged with relief as she took the boy’s weight in her strong arms and set off, brisk and business-like, towards the entrance. He got back into the car and turned the air conditioning up high, drying the sweat that had sprung up on his forehead.

  A moment later and Mathilde was inside.

  Xavier could see her speaking to the dour-faced receptionist. There would be some negotiation, he guessed, before money changed hands. In a place like this, though, rates were never going to be top dollar.

  A wave of exhaustion washed over him. It was so cool in the car, so peaceful. He blinked, slowly and heavily, and, to his alarm, found himself jerking awake with his head resting on the steering wheel, an inch away from activating the horn.

  The painkillers. Until now, Xavier had never taken medication when he was on a job, and he was remembering exactly why. But this week, without his medication, he could hardly function.

  He struggled out of the car. The heat felt like a furnace. He didn’t want to go inside. It would be unwise to interrupt Mathilde during her discussions. Better to walk.

  He made his way around the side of the building, where a row of young karee trees provided a thin layer of shade. He passed a few windows, noticing that all except one were shielded by thick navy-blue blinds.

  Cupping his hands against the glass of the uncovered window, Xavier could just make out a small, shabby room with a black boy who looked a little younger than Kevin lying on an oversized bed. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the boy’s wrists were attached to the metal sides of the bed, effectively holding him prisoner.

  Then the door opened and a tall, middle-aged man walked in. He turned and closed the door behind him. Xavier moved away, into the shade. He didn’t want to see what was going to happen next, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking back.

  When the boy saw the man, he began to cry and struggle against his restraints.

  The man stared down at the boy with an expression on his face that could almost have been sympathy. He took hold of the flimsy sheet that covered him and tugged it back. Then he moved to the window and closed the navy blinds. Perhaps he’d sensed Xavier’s presence; perhaps he’d simply felt exposed.

  The boy’s cry still sounding in his ears, Xavier hurried back to the car. Mathilde was already sat in the passenger seat, tapping her feet and checking her watch.

  Mathilde’s business here was finished now. She’d done all that she had to, and now he wanted her to leave. He would handle the final part of the job on his own. Her flight out of South Africa was departing in four-and-a-half hours. They had just been to pick up her passport from Eunice at the Home Affairs office, and had then phoned a travel agent and booked an international ticket in her new name. It was time to take her to the airport and say goodbye.

  Xavier went round to the driver’s side. As he opened the door, a stab of pain made him double over and clutch his gut.

  “All done?” he asked, when he could speak again.

  She smiled again, that same hard, brisk smile.

  “All done,” she said.

  38

  David’s day was inching past so slowly that time seemed to have stopped altogether. Now, back in the office after his final meeting of the day, he felt incapable of working, unable to do anything except watch the leisurely progress of the hands on the wall clock.

  His thoughts were paralysed by the sickening knowledge that his son was in the hands of criminals.

  David couldn’t let himself acknowledge the terror the boy must be feeling. Had his captors hit him, abused him, threatened him with violence? He was gripped by the fear that the incident would leave Kevin with lasting scars—physical or mental; that even if the boy was returned to his mother at the end of the day, he would never be the same as the boy who had been snatched from the grounds of the expensive private school.

  Stay safe, hero, he urged Kevin silently, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he tried to project his emotions to wherever his son might be. Do what they tell
you, cooperate with them. Be strong, be brave, for God’s sake, stay alive.

  Guilt gripped him again, the emotion so powerful that David uttered a low groan of despair.

  He had to accept the fact that, thanks to his own actions, Kevin might already be dead.

  Naisha had texted him a couple of times, brief messages to say that there had been no further communication from the kidnappers. No phone calls at all, although she was waiting just a few steps away from the phone at all times.

  Suffering through the endless day, just like him.

  Now, with eyes half-closed and hands clenched, David did his best to project mental waves of compassion onto the kidnappers.

  “He’s only a boy,” David muttered, feeling his fingers bruising his palms. “He’s just a boy. Please don’t harm him.”

  “Sorry, Sup?”

  David opened his eyes to find Captain Thembi staring at him, in some concern, across the open-plan office.

  With an effort he tried to relax his face and hands, but he feared the attempt would be as unsuccessful as it had been during his two earlier appointments at OR Tambo airport. He’d battled through the meetings somehow, but several times he’d been asked if anything was wrong.

  “Just got a lot on my plate,” he’d barked, and instantly realised that he had made a mistake in saying that, because it gave the impression he was not coping; that he was overwhelmed by his workload.

  Not a great way to inspire confidence in the members of the public he was supposed to serve.

  Now David tried another angle.

  “I didn’t hear you come in, Thembi. I wasn’t speaking to you. I was thinking out loud.”

  Thembi nodded, but the captain’s quizzical expression showed David that he was still puzzled. He sat down at his own desk and glanced over at his boss again before pulling a case file towards him and picking up the phone.