Cry of the Firebird

by T. M. Clark

  Quintin stalked back to the bed and kissed Lily loudly on the mouth. ‘There are going to be disadvantages to having someone else in the place, and me having to remember to put clothes on in the morning is going to be one of them.’

  ‘I don’t know about the view from our window that Bessie said was worth it, but I sure like the view inside!’ Lily said.

  * * *

  ‘Watch your step,’ warned Quintin.

  Lily avoided a large boulder that projected out into the pathway. ‘Thanks,’ she said, stepping around it as Quintin loosely adjusted his grip on her hand.

  ‘It’s warming up,’ he said.

  Lily put her face to the sun. ‘Once the coldness of the morning’s burned off, the day’s going to be pleasant. I love the lack of humidity here compared to Brisbane.’

  Quintin looked around. Ian’s demand for space was obvious. Not a thing on the property was crowded, and nothing was close to the freestanding main homestead, yet even with the illusion of so much land, the property seemed a little claustrophobic to Quintin because of the huge fence that wrapped around the entire perimeter, reminding him that he was fenced in for security as much as the bad people were fenced out. He’d still be calling in an independent security company. There had been disturbing reports of farmers being attacked on their farms and the re-emergence of ‘one-boer-one-bullet’ within a far-right wing of a political party. He needed to make sure that they, and the staff, were safe.

  A pleasant surprise had been finding that one side of the property bordered on a game farm, so that part of the shared fencing was even higher—it was double-fenced with predator wires and had eight strands of wire to keep the large antelope and other game on their side of the fence. The game farm must be well stocked, as they’d seen eland, zebra and wildebeest grazing in the distance.

  ‘I hope that no big cats come for a visit,’ Lily said.

  ‘I doubt it, they must have to be vigilant with them. Besides, I’m sure that a zebra tastes much better to a lion than one of the scrawny chickens running around this place.’

  Lily grinned. ‘Those are our scrawny chickens for at least six months, so if you think they need feeding, then go ahead and play farmer while you’re here. Just a reminder that you do have an album to finish. You’ve promised your record label that it’ll be done by June next year.’

  They stood near the wooden fence where a small but fat pony ate from a trough, and a grey donkey stood close by, as a little dirty-brown foal ran amok, kicking the air and racing from one end of the paddock to the other as if it was totally unaware that it was chasing its own shadow around. The animals looked happy, but he could see on the donkey where old scabs had healed up on its withers, and on its chest where scarring didn’t quite fit with the smooth hair, a sure sign that this donkey had seen its share of troubling times.

  Remembering Bessie’s comment about them being used as payment for bills, Quintin frowned. Payment for debts. Commodities. Not rescued. He thought about how many animals Lily had saved during their time together. For him, saving things was a distraction from his music, but he always got roped in when his wife’s big heart drove her to protect them.

  Ian hadn’t been like that. Everything here at his little Hacienda El Paradiso was professionally staged, the picture manipulated. Exactly what had Ian been up to this time?

  Something was bothering Quintin. From the discussion with Marion at the World Health Organization, she had said that Médecins Sans Frontières were the primary beneficiaries of Ian’s estate, which is what had made it possible for them to move into it, rather than having the property sold off. They’d been given free rein to do what they wanted, as long as it didn’t devalue the place.

  Ian’s job hadn’t been connected to the small farm, but they’d suspected that he’d have kept most of his files in his study there. It was something that Lily often did too when she was working on a perplexing problem. It would make it easier for her to continue his research. To their surprise, however, they had found not one notebook or file. Nothing.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Lily said as they walked back towards the house, past the sheep pens, with their neat shelters and stacks of hay that the sheep nibbled at. There wasn’t much natural grass left in the paddocks as it was the middle of winter, but the trees that shaded the brown dirt were still green and cast their shadows wide.

  ‘I’m thinking that you knew Ian well enough to recognise those annoying habits of his, and I was wondering if this will work to your advantage when you find his research’ Quintin said.

  ‘Good question. Big point being when I find his research notes and files.’

  Quintin smiled. ‘I remember how mad his shorthand made you at Zam Zam.’

  ‘I had no idea how to read his charts until you bought me that old Pitmans book. It’s strange that he has no paperwork at home.’

  ‘We can ask Bessie when we get back. Perhaps she’ll know where it’s all been put.’

  ‘Perhaps. She didn’t seem overly upset when I mentioned Ian’s passing. I think that this wasn’t as cosy a set-up as it looks on the surface. Something else was going on here, we just need to figure out what,’ Lily said.

  ‘Something here got Ian killed, and until we know what it is, whether simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time or something more sinister, we’re going to have to tread carefully with everyone.’ Quintin squeezed her hand and drew her closer to him. He’d be there to protect Lily’s back, as always.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I promise to try to step as carefully as I can.’

  They got back to the house and were standing near the Land Cruiser, looking towards the garage that didn’t house vehicles.

  ‘What do you think of redesigning the garage and making it into a music studio?’ Quintin asked. ‘Six months is a long time for you to put up with my practising in the spare bedroom, and I know how it drives you nuts when I write something new and play it over and over. If we have a studio here at the house, then you won’t have the noise, and I can compose at any hour without disturbing you. Instead of finding a studio in the city and being away from you. I really don’t want you here alone.’

  Lily smiled. ‘Let’s go see how hard that’s going to be before I agree to any grand design plans.’

  Quintin threaded his arm with hers, and they walked together towards the garage. There was a padlock on the door.

  ‘That’s weird,’ said Lily.

  ‘Lincoln,’ called Quintin. ‘Lincoln, are you around? We need the garage opened.’

  Lily shook her head. ‘Since when do you yell for someone like that?’

  Quintin said, ‘I saw him looking at us coming out—he pretended to be working in the garden. Give him a minute and he’ll be here.’

  ‘Can’t believe that you shouted for him like that,’ Lily said.

  ‘Pot. Kettle. Black. You used to do that all the time. Besides, look, it worked,’ said Quintin. ‘Less than a minute …’

  Lincoln was breathing heavily when he arrived in his blue overalls with some keys jingling in his pocket. ‘Baas, Madam,’ he greeted.

  ‘Can you open the garage? We want to see inside.’

  ‘Yebo, but Dr Ian, this is—was—his special place.’

  Lily reached for Lincoln’s arm. ‘I’m sorry about Ian, but as you know we’ve permission to use this property, treat it like our home. Yesterday you told us it was for plants, and that the Cruiser had to stay outside, so we’d like to see the plants that must be very precious to have the whole triple garage and a lock on the door.’

  ‘Yebo, Madam,’ Lincoln said as he opened the padlock and slowly pushed the door inwards, before stepping inside.

  The fluorescent lights flickered on slowly one by one. Row upon row of greenery became visible. The lights gained in brightness as the interior of the garage lit up, and the red glow that had been the heat lamps dimmed to a lighter pink.

  ‘Wow,’ said Lily, ‘look at all those.’

  Lincoln made his w
ay in front of them as they admired each flower, and as he explained where Ian had got each of them, Lily came to realise how much the collection had become Lincoln’s.

  ‘Did you grow orchids before you came to work for Ian?’ she asked.

  ‘Yebo,’ Lincoln said. ‘I used to be the gardener at the Orchid Society. But Dr Ian, he talked me into coming and working for him instead.’

  ‘These are impressive,’ said Lily. ‘What do you think, Quintin?’

  ‘I think the flowers are beautiful, but this room would be ideal as a studio. The only thing it needs is a door into the house so I don’t have to come out on a cold morning or during the night to access it.’

  ‘There is a door that the garden hides,’ admitted Lincoln.

  ‘Where?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Here,’ said Lincoln, taking them to the corner of the room.

  Here were plants that were definitely not orchids. The plants had distinctive fingers to them and were very green. Lush, as a tropical plant should look.

  ‘Are those dagga plants?’ Lily asked.

  ‘For the medicine,’ said Lincoln.

  ‘Medicine?’ Quintin said. ‘These could get us thrown in jail. Maybe you can move them off the property. I know that Ian probably kept his eyes closed to these growing in his hothouse along with the orchids, but Lily and I don’t do street drugs.’ Quintin’s voice was loud and determined.

  ‘These are not mine; these are Dr Ian’s. He used to make medicine with the oil. For the cancer patients.’

  ‘Medicine?’ Lily asked, frowning. ‘What oil?’

  ‘We grow it nice and healthy. Then he used to cook it and mix it in oil, and then he would give it to his patients who are dying.’ Lincoln walked to the corner and showed her a five-gallon drum of olive oil sitting on the bench. ‘The oil, Madam, this is part of the medicine that we make.’

  ‘Is it still illegal in South Africa?’ Lily protested.

  ‘Yebo, but Dr Ian always says that it’s no good being a doctor if you can’t help people, and sometimes his patients are past what modern medicine can help with. Many of these plants are almost ready to harvest again, so the new oil can be made and put into the new bottles with the special droppers. It is important to keep the patients on the oil.’

  ‘What? You planning on continuing to cook drugs? Here?’ Quintin asked.

  ‘There are people who need the oil, and the stocks are low. There is hardly any left.’

  Quintin ran his hand through his hair and cursed.

  ‘Of course,’ Lily said. ‘Ian was making CBD oil for his patients. Oh my, Ian. What were you thinking?’

  ‘What happens to us if we keep these plants? What if the police catch us?’ Quintin asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lily said, ‘I need to find out what Ian was up to. I need to find his files and read his notes—and the quicker, the better.’

  ‘All the papers, they were taken. After Dr Ian was killed, they broke into the house and they stole everything. All the files in his office and his computer. There are no papers at this house anymore,’ Lincoln said.

  Quintin moved closer to Lily. ‘Who broke in?’

  ‘The police could not tell us. Even Klein-Piet, he came and looked and could not follow them. They got into a bakkie and drove onto the tar road, so he couldn’t track them, and he is the best tracker the police have.’

  ‘Last night, Bessie mentioned keeping people out,’ Lily asked. ‘That was why Marion had the alarm system put in. There was a break-in?’

  ‘Yebo, after we were told Dr Ian had been hijacked, and then that night, skabengas broke in and they made a big mess. They damaged a lot of the furniture, too, and lots had to be fixed and replaced. Like the mattresses in all the bedrooms and the pillows. Klein-Piet said it was like they were looking for something. They even climbed into the ceiling to check in there.’

  ‘Did the police think they found what they were looking for?’ Quintin asked.

  ‘They did not tell us, but Klein-Piet said he did not think so. He said there was too much glass smashed downstairs for them to have found everything. Like the people who broke in had a temper.’

  Lily shook her head. ‘Have they come back again?’

  ‘Aikona. From then, we slept in the main house until the alarm was installed. Marion had a separate alarm installed into our ikhaya, too. Only then, when we knew that there was armed response monitoring, did Bessie and I sleep easy again.’

  Quintin nodded. ‘The danger is still here. Nice of Marion to forget to tell you all this.’

  ‘Typical though,’ Lily said. ‘Remember how little they told us about Zam Zam and what we faced when we got there? At least we know now.’

  ‘We need to make this place more secure, Lily. I’ll call in a security contractor this week and fortify. These plants are going. Ian probably got himself involved in a drug war and wouldn’t shut up as usual. Now at least we know what the artificial lighting was for.’

  ‘No one sees the lights in the garage. The plants here need the warmth and humidity in the cold of winter. This is why they are inside.’

  Quintin blew out a breath.

  Lily reached for him and touched his arm. ‘There’s research showing that there are a lot of benefits from CBD oil. It’s been known to help patients with cancer, autoimmune diseases, fibromyalgia and even epilepsy in kids. I’d like to keep them until we know if he was using the oil in his research.’

  ‘There is much that Dr Ian did that was like the medicine man, the sangoma. He learned from Klein-Piet. He is a policeman as well as a medicine man, and he knows that the plants are here. But you also need to know about the other herbs in the garden. Come see by the animals,’ Lincoln said, motioning for them to follow.

  Lincoln led them down the path, back to the stable area, before turning and spreading his arms wide.

  ‘It’s a vegetable patch,’ Lily said, looking around.

  Lincoln shook his head. ‘You are not a gardener, Madam?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I understand. To you, and to others who do not know plants, it looks like a garden with pumpkins and winter beans. But then look closer. There are Dr Ian’s poppies, for pure opium, and that scraggly bush, is called ma-huang, it is used in Chinese medicine. See the willow that is at the end of the garden? That too is what the doctor planted to help his patients. And over there are his moringa trees. Beech for mental people, and cinchona trees for quinine—to stop malaria. This is also Dr Ian’s natural medicine plants. Dr Ian grew lots of plants here to help his patients with being healthy, or comfortable, not in pain anymore.’

  Comprehension dawned on Lily. ‘You could’ve hidden these from us. We wouldn’t have been any the wiser.’

  ‘Yebo, but you are also a doctor, and perhaps you too will learn the plants of Africa now-now. Learn the old traditional medicines. I do not know you yet. You do not know me. But I hope that you will let me and Klein-Piet teach you,’ Lincoln said. ‘Dr Ian—he told me if something happens, and he dies, and they sold his house, that I must then burn everything. But you are not a sale. Mrs Marion, she said you were another doctor. So, I did not burn anything. My father is one who uses the oil, and I have seen the difference in his life; he has the cancer, and no drugs from the doctor were helping, but now the pain is gone. When Dr Ian died, I could not do as he asked, I could not burn his plants, because I hoped the new doctor would like the plants and continue to help the people of my town like my father and those in the old-age homes.’

  ‘Lily is not a doctor who’s ever prescribed non-pharmaceutical drugs, she’s—we’re both advocates against using recreational drugs,’ Quintin said.

  Lincoln scratched his neck. ‘No, these are not for fun; these are to help people. People in pain. Bad pain.’

  ‘When did he give you those instructions?’ Lily asked.

  ‘A few weeks before he was hijacked. Maybe I should not have said anything.’

  ‘Being a hundred per cent honest with us was the right thing t
o do. Never be afraid to tell us what’s going on. We might get mad, but we’d rather know what’s happening. With the marijuana plants, it’s difficult. We live mostly in Australia, but we travel all over the world, and there are many rules and laws and we need to be careful we don’t get into trouble by mistake, as then we won’t have that freedom to travel anymore. Quintin’s music raises lots of money for people, and if we have our reputation tarnished even by a hint of a drug scandal, then it will hurt many, many people who rely on us to help them get money to help others. Do you understand?’

  Lincoln was nodding. ‘Mrs Marion, she told me that on the phone. She said that Dr Lily had African roots.’

  ‘What else did she say?’ Lily asked.

  ‘That I must look after you both, Dr Lily and the famous musician rock star Baas Quintin, that you are important to Dr Ian’s work. And if you are happy here and finish his work, then perhaps the house will not need to be sold and maybe I won’t need to find another job.’

  Quintin snorted.

  ‘You are going to destroy the plants?’ asked Lincoln.

  Lily looked at Quintin, and she slowly shook her head. ‘No. We won’t destroy them, not yet, not until I know more of what Ian was up to and I’ve seen some of these people you speak of. I wonder if this has anything to do with his being hijacked and killed? Having the local doctor as your drug dealer doesn’t exactly go down well in some circles.’

  ‘Dr Ian saved many people and helped many, many more with his oil and herbs. People might not like him, but he was a good doctor who let traditional people continue to use their medicines gathered from the land and blessed by the sangoma. He did not force the white medicine on anyone who didn’t want it. But he helped with cures for everyone. There are more herbs that he was looking at and that you can harvest from growing seeds and from cuttings that still need to be planted in the spring. You need to talk to Klein-Piet. He will teach you, Dr Lily. He will teach you like he taught Dr Ian.’

  ‘The one who is also a policeman? What if she doesn’t want to know?’ Quintin asked.

  ‘If Dr Lily speaks with Klein-Piet and still she does not want the plants, I will burn them. The sick people will be very sad, but it is what I will do,’ Lincoln said.