He got out of the driver’s side and quietly closed the door. He listened, but there was no noise coming from inside the house. If anyone was still in the house, they must be down towards the back where the library was. He took out his mobile phone and quickly scrolled down to find Mike’s number. He was about to dial when he heard voices—loud agitated voices, speaking in Afrikaans. He moved further along the veranda hoping to be able to see who it was. He reasoned that if they were speaking in Afrikaans they were probably white and this was therefore not a simple robbery.
He snuck up to the library window and saw that its contents had been turned upside down. All the books had been pulled out of the shelves and lay half open on the floor. Drawers had been emptied and paintings pulled off the wall. All the carpets lay rolled up untidily in one corner. The two men in the room were concentrating all their attention on the safe that they had found behind one of the pictures. Christian noted that both the men were white; although they were wearing ski masks and gloves, he could see the colour of their skin in the gaps of their clothing. He thought it was strange that they had left the gate wide open, signalling to anyone passing, as well as the security patrol that frequently passed, that something was amiss. They must be supremely confident that no one was going to disturb them, he thought, and they were therefore capable of dealing with any situation.
Christian decided to retreat and call Mike. ‘Mike, it’s Christian,’ he said very softly from behind the giant palm in the back of the garden.
‘Christian, I can hardly hear you. Can you speak up?’
‘Mike, I arrived home early from Isabella’s and there are two men inside ransacking the house.’
‘Stay exactly where you are. Don’t move. I’ll call the police. We’re on our way back from Hermanus but won’t be there for another twenty minutes.’
‘I left the car in front of the house when I came home, and so they’ll know that there’s someone here when they come out,’ whispered Christian.
‘Don’t worry; hopefully the police will arrive before they come out. Just make sure you’re behind something solid in case there is any shooting. And put your phone on silent so that I can update you if necessary.’
Christian crouched down behind the palm tree and quickly switched his phone to silent. Sitting in the dark at the bottom of the garden, his thoughts went back to Isabella and what she must be feeling at this time and he wished that he was there to comfort her. He was thinking about sending her a text when he felt his phone vibrate and saw a text message from Mike. ‘Police delayed for twenty minutes—leave the keys in the car,’ it read. Christian quickly deleted the message and looked up. Leaving the keys in the BMW meant they would probably take the car and not worry about searching for anyone. Mike was obviously also thinking it would be easier to trace.
Perhaps he could get back to the car unseen through the back of the garden. There was only one point where the light shone through one of the windows that might make him visible. He made his way forward and when he got to the one area where the light shone into the garden, he waited. Although the men were no longer visible, he could hear the sound of drilling and hammering and knew they were still preoccupied with the safe. He opened the driver’s door and slid the keys into the ignition. The remote control for the front gate was sitting between the two front seats; instinctively he grabbed it and retreated back into the darkness of the garden. From behind the large hydrangea bush, he aimed the remote at the gates. If the police were going to be delayed for twenty minutes, closing the gates might slow them down.
Nothing initially happened, not even the slightest movement of the gates. He must be too far away, he thought, to activate the gates. However, to move closer meant exposing himself to the light from the front window. As he was contemplating creeping forward to try the remote again, he became aware that the noise inside had stopped. He looked up and could see one of the men agitatedly throwing books around the library. They had obviously not found what they wanted and could be leaving sooner than he thought. While they were distracted, he decided he had a few minutes to get closer to the gate. He moved forward quickly just visible in the light from the front window and aimed the remote control at the gate again. He pushed the close button and held it down for what seemed like an eternity until it started to creak. He then retreated quickly to the relative safety of the hydrangea bush.
He peered through the darkness, trying to see whether the gate was closing. As he moved closer with the remote, he could see that the gate had been damaged. Perhaps it now would not close. Then, like some behemoth awaking from slumber, it gave a mighty creak and shook its foundations, the sound reverberating all the way round the garden as it attempted to close.
The house suddenly went silent; the men inside had clearly heard the noise from the gates. Christian felt he needed to be as far away from the car and the gates as he could possibly be. Crouching, he quickly made his way along the side wall in the darkness to the safety of the giant palm. From that position, he could just see the edge of the veranda and hear the agitated discussion in Afrikaans and the cursing as the men stood on the front step. The gate made a final crunching sound as it engaged and locked closed. One of the men appeared at the end of the house and shone a torch over the back lawn and through the garden. As he started to advance towards Christian’s tree, he heard the sound of the BMW start-up. He looked around the tree to see the man with the torch retreating, and with the tyres screeching, the BMW rammed through the gates dislocating them from their mountings.
As Christian watched from the garden, he could hear the BMW and the gates scraping along the road for a few minutes before everything went silent. In the distance, he could hear a police car and decided to retreat back into the garden and phone Mike.
‘They left,’ he said.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yeah, but they took your BMW and collected the gates on the way out.’
‘Have the police arrived yet?’
‘I can hear them in the distance. They sound like they’re about five or so minutes away.’
‘OK, go and sit on the front step. I’m phoning them to tell them that it’s you.’
‘The house is a mess, Mike,’ said Christian as he made his way towards the front of the house. ‘I wonder what they were looking for?’
‘I suspect it’s the folder, which I took with me in case something like this happened. Hang in there, my friend. You’ll be fine. Sian is on the other phone and is telling me that the police are two minutes away—they know that you’re sitting on the front stoep.’
Shortly after, the police drove in. Christian, sitting on the top step, waved vigorously as the light was trained on him from the police car.
‘Are you all right, son?’ said the first police officer.
‘Yes, I’m OK,’ said Christian, standing up as Mike and Sian drove in.
Mike quickly got out of Sian’s Audi, greeting the first policeman in Afrikaans before looking Christian over and giving him a hug.
‘Maybe not something to tell your mother about,’ said Mike, giving Christian a knowing smile. ‘Glad that you’re OK. Maybe it’s time to find out what’s in that folder and decide what to do with it.’
‘What about the BMW?’
‘That’s parked ten minutes down the road, with the gates jammed underneath. I locked it on the way past and it will be picked up in the morning, although the wheels will probably be gone. I’ve already called one of the security firms to supply a guard for the front gate until we get that fixed tomorrow.’
‘Darling, we’re going to need a lot of help to clean up this mess,’ said Sian, returning from inside the house to join them.
‘Ruby has lots of friends who can come and help. Why don’t we just tidy up as much as we can and try to get some sleep,’ said Mike, before looking at Christian and adding, ‘It’s been quite a day for you, young man.’
Christian looked at Mike and half smiled wishing he could talk to him about what happened at
Isabella’s but realising he would have to wait until some other time.
Chapter 30
Christian had woken several times during the night, firstly hearing noises and then imagining that Isabella was lying next to him, conflicted by the awful thought that she was now his sister and he could no longer think of her in that way. When he finally heard the birds chirping, he decided to get up and try to find the Rwandan coffee that Ruby usually made. As he made his way down the stairs, he walked past the library and saw that Ruby was already at work with two of her friends cleaning up the mess from the day before. He poked his head in through the door to say hello, but before he could greet her Ruby looked up, smiled and walked over and hugged him.
‘I’m so glad to see that you’re OK, Master Christian,’ said Ruby as she held on to him tightly.
Christian was a little embarrassed and unsure how to best respond, but managed, ‘Thank you, Ruby. Where will I find that lovely coffee of yours?’
‘That’s in a secret place. We can’t have just anyone making coffee; don’t you know that it’s Ruby’s touch that makes it taste so good?’ she said, releasing him from her embrace. ‘You just go and sit out on the stoep; it’ll be ready in five minutes.’
Christian sat at the long table and saw the security guard that Mike had hired now positioned in the driveway. The sounds of the coffee being made and its smell distracted Christian from the thoughts of the previous day. Then, as he began to consider all that had happened, and how so many people had been affected, he wondered whether he should return to Australia. It seemed to him that he had learnt enough about his father and caused enough anguish. He thought he would Skype his mother and see whether he could get his ticket changed.
‘Hi, Christian. Why so glum? In Africa, you get used to occasionally having your privacy invaded and life turned upside down, but Ruby and her friends will have everything back to normal shortly. Everyone, it seems, is OK and so we’ll just get on with life.’
‘I think I’m going to go back to Australia, Mike.’
‘I wouldn’t blame you, but you still won’t have the answers that you’ll need at some stage to allow you to get on with your life.’
‘Well, not only was there the break-in yesterday, with your house being trashed, but I found out that Isabella is my half-sister, all of which is related to my trying to find out more about my father.’
‘I understand how you feel,’ said Mike, strangely unfazed by Christian’s revelations, ‘but before you make your final decision, let me tell you that I had an early phone call this morning from Isabella. She wants to support you and now feels it’s even more important to find out about your father, as it’s also her father. I suggested to her that she come over for breakfast this morning and we talk about all that’s been going on and look at the folder.’
Christian wondered whether he should object and stick to his original plan to return to Australia when he heard the sound of Nadine’s car entering the driveway. He looked down from the stoep as Isabella opened the door and stepped out. She was wearing jeans and a rugby top, her hair in a ponytail, dressed in a much more businesslike manner than he could remember. Nothing seemed to accentuate her femininity; she had made the transition to sister already. Isabella looked up at him smiled and waved before taking the stairs two at a time, placing her hands on his shoulder and kissing him on the cheek.
‘Good morning, brother,’ she said, before sitting next to him.
Christian was uncertain whether he was ready to be her brother; part of him recognised the reality but part of him still existed in the dream that had been yesterday.
‘Christian, this is our journey now. It’s an unpleasant fact. You’re my half-brother, and we need more than ever to find out what happened to our father.’
Christian looked at her as she gazed directly into his eyes holding his stare, confirming that she had made the transition from girlfriend to family member.
‘I’m not sure that I can make the transition as quickly and as successfully as you have.’
‘Nonsense! You just need to apply your mind to it; there’s nothing to stop us being great friends. Let’s go to Johannesburg as brother and sister and try to find out what happened to our father. Sibokwe has organised for us to see the head of the National Intelligence Service to view some of the old apartheid government secret files, which might tell us how much our father was involved in BOSS and give us a clue as to the genetic research he was doing.’
Christian considered the situation. She now had a real reason, as good as his, to find out a little bit more about their father. Mike was right; if he left now, there might be many questions that he wished he had sought answers to.
Isabella was waiting for his reply. ‘Alright then,’ he said. ‘Let’s go to Johannesburg and see what we can find.’
‘Why don’t we first have a look at the folder because that may help you with the questions you have for the head of the National Intelligence Service,’ said Mike as he got up and headed in the direction of the garage.
He returned holding the folder that Christian had found in the Wynberg Garden. Mike put the folder with the plastic wrap in front of Christian.
‘Let’s take you inside, away from prying eyes,’ said Mike, looking in the direction of the security guard. ‘Although I guess the people who wanted it last night are the only ones we need to be concerned about.’
Christian followed Mike and Isabella into the main house. As they entered the living room and Christian headed towards the big table, he heard Mike lock the door behind them. Christian took a pair of scissors from the sideboard and slit open the plastic cover, revealing the brown manila folder, which looked remarkably well preserved. He blew off the dust before picking the folder up and opening the first page. At the top of the page was written ‘CLASSIFIED—Presidents committee only.’ Underneath in bold print was ‘SUMMARY’ with chapter headings.
1. ARMSCOR
2. Enriched Uranium/suppliers
3. Jericho Missiles
4. Nuclear Fusion/Fission development programme
5. Red Mercury
6. International Arms Agreement
7. Covert treaties
8. Chemical/biological and germ warfare programmes
9. Genetic Research
10. SAA Helderberg
Mike, who had been looking over Christian’s shoulder, took a step back, before he spoke. ‘Well, there’s obviously material in here that would embarrass foreign governments today and which is still relevant. Some would kill to have access to that information so that it could be sold to the highest bidder.’
Christian wondered if Isabella, too, had been shocked by what she had seen, and the implications that had for their father.
‘Mike,’ said Christian, ‘do you know what ARMSCOR stands for?’
‘Armaments Corporation of South Africa—the government created an arms industry in South Africa, when some of the major suppliers of arms such as Britain, France and the United States refused to continue dealing with a racist government.’
‘How do you know all that stuff, Mike?’
‘I’ve always been anti-apartheid and am now used as a consultant by some departments.’
‘Which departments, Mike?’ said Christian, curious that Mike seemed to have another string to his bow.
‘Christian, look at this,’ said Isabella, distracting Christian before Mike could answer, showing him a loose page from the section on genetic research.
‘That looks like my father’s, sorry our father’s, handwriting.’
‘What are all the numbers with associated letters? It’s like some kind of hieroglyphic,’ she said.
‘That is strange, it is obviously his handwriting, but why would he put it in here in this folder?’
‘Perhaps he didn’t want anyone to have access to the genetic research once he realised that they could misuse it. He may have encoded it and this is the key to the code, or part of the key to the code,’ said Mike.
‘
There’s a photo back home in Australia that I can remember has numbers and figures like this on it. I often tried to work out what they were. They could be the missing key to his work?’
Christian looked again at the page that Isabella had found, but he could remember no similarities with what his father had drawn on the back of the photo in Australia. He was about to suggest that his mother could have a look at the photo when he heard a muffled cry. He looked at Mike and Isabella, but they had not apparently heard anything. Thinking he was imagining things again, he took the page from Isabella to examine it more closely. In the printed section, where the loose page had been lying, was his father’s name, and an asterisk which indicated he was not to be trusted. ‘De Villier’s research encoded,’ it read—‘code unknown.’
His father must have buried at least part of the code with the folder, knowing that if they ever found it that he had denied access or severely compromised their ability to understand his research. As Christian scanned down the page to find more information, there was a loud crash and the living room door burst open. Two men with guns drawn entered the room.
‘Get on the floor, face down, hands behind your back.’
Christian looked at Mike, who nodded to both of them. As they lay on the floor they were quickly and expertly tied, hands and feet bound together with gags placed in their mouths. The two gunmen issued no other commands. They gathered up the folder and left through the ruptured door.
Mike was the first to start moving, a sort of wriggling motion as he looked across at Christian. Finally, he turned the wriggling into rocking from side to side, until he rolled up on to his left side and positioned himself closer to the table, which had the scissors still on it. Christian watched closely out of the corner of his eye. Mike kicked the corner leg of the table so hard that it broke knocking the scissors on to the floor, a move he looked like he had practised previously. He then kicked the scissors toward Christian. Christian rolled over twice and partly picked up the scissors in his right hand. Half rolling back the other way, he positioned himself to cut the ties around Isabella’s wrists.
Does it Hurt to Die Page 27