Blindside

by Wilna Adriaanse

  “I can’t believe you were a cop.” Clara had put her phone back in her handbag and shifted so that she could look through the gap between the front seats. “You don’t look like a cop.”

  “What does a cop look like?” Ellie was still struggling to control her breathing.

  “I don’t know. Stronger, maybe. Tougher.”

  Ellie managed a smile. “That’s a misconception.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  Ellie automatically shook her head. “No, I was ready for a new challenge.”

  “You don’t like Enzio, do you?”

  My, what a childish thing to ask, Ellie thought. Could Clara really be that naïve, or was she being devious? She hoped it wasn’t the latter, because she couldn’t help liking the girl.

  “I don’t really know him.”

  “He’s not like people think. He’s actually very nice.”

  “What do people think?”

  “They think he’s a hard businessman who will take advantage of others to get his way.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Oh, I’ve heard Uncle and his friends talk.”

  “Maybe they just don’t know him either.” Ellie would actually have liked to say that the pot could hardly call the kettle black. She glanced briefly at the girl behind her. She was clearly tired after the long day, but still beautiful. There was something vulnerable about her and Ellie couldn’t help worrying. Did she really believe that Enzio Allegretti was a nice guy and that her uncle was her guardian angel?

  When they drove into the city, Clara put lipstick on, and ran her fingers through her hair and shook it out. She looked at her watch.

  “It’s only nine. Maybe we should pop in at the club. We don’t have to stay long.”

  Allegretti was nowhere to be seen, but one of the waiters pointed at his office. Ellie accompanied Clara up the stairs. Just as she did at home, Clara knocked and waited for Allegretti to answer. When she entered, Ellie stayed in the doorway.

  “What a nice surprise,” Allegretti said when he saw Clara. He drew her close and kissed her. Ken Visser was sitting at the desk and Gabriella Allegretti-Visser was lounging in an easy chair. She had taken off one of her shoes, and her bare foot was resting on Nick Malherbe’s shoe. Ellie remembered Allegretti’s warning that Ken Visser was a jealous man.

  Nick got up and came to the door. Clara looked over her shoulder. “Thanks, Ellie.”

  Ellie nodded and turned to leave. She heard the door close behind her.

  “How did it go?”

  She turned and saw that Nick Malherbe was walking down the stairs with her. He spoke close to her ear to make himself audible.

  “Fine. We would have been here earlier, but there was a roadblock on the N1.”

  He said nothing, just pushed his way through the crowd to a place where there was less noise.

  “Did you get the feeling you were stopped because the vehicle belonged to Enzio?”

  “No, it looked like a routine roadblock. They stopped a lot of cars and made the drivers take a Breathalyser test.”

  He nodded and walked to where Paul Smith was standing near the door.

  Ellie took her new cellphone from the pocket of her jeans where she usually kept it and walked out onto the terrace. First she phoned Brenda, who had nothing to report except that a woman had come in, looking for a private detective. She suspected her husband was cheating on her and she wanted him followed.

  “What did you tell her?”

  “To be naked when he comes home from work tonight. If he’s not interested, there’s definitely someone else.”

  Ellie laughed. “What did she say?”

  “She said she’d do it.”

  “What if he’s just too tired tonight? Then you’ve put her on the wrong track.”

  “Believe me, if she waits for him naked and there’s no one else, he won’t be too tired.”

  “As long as one of them doesn’t sue us if you’re wrong. In future, just say we don’t provide that kind of service.”

  “Trust me.”

  When they had said goodbye, Ellie phoned Clive. He picked up after three rings. “Howzit?”

  “Fine, and you?” Ellie turned so that she could see if someone came out onto the terrace.

  “You don’t really want to know.”

  “I overheard an interesting conversation. Do you have time to listen?”

  “Go for it.”

  Ellie told him about the conversation between Nick Malherbe and Allegretti.

  “Hmm … so you were right. Allegretti and Visser’s hands are in the cookie jar. Any dates?”

  “No, but if you can get me a bug, I might be able to tap in on more conversations. Allegretti and Malherbe like talking on the patio. It’s directly above my flat.

  “We can try, but if they find it, you’re dead.”

  “I’ll be careful.” She decided not to tell him about the alarm. “Any background on Malherbe yet?”

  “Yes and no. There’s not much available. Born and bred in Joburg. Became a cop straight after school, at age thirty-two the money called and he went into security. Surprise, surprise. Worked locally for a year or two, then went to England. Nothing much available about that period. He appeared on the radar again when he started working for Allegretti Senior two years ago.

  “Married, kids, family?”

  “Married twice. As far as I know, no kids. Both parents dead. One brother who lives in Australia.”

  “What do you think his job at the Allegrettis entails?”

  “He’s got a reputation for brooking no opposition, but as far as I could find out, he’s always kept his hands clean. When he was appointed, he cut back the staff drastically. He selected the entire security team.”

  “Keep digging. I suspect he’s more than just the minder.”

  “Just watch your step.”

  She kept silent. When he made no move to end the conversation, she asked: “Any news about my dad?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Will you tell me if you hear something?”

  “Mac, I know it’s a big ask, but for now, please just focus on the task at hand. If there’s anything you should know, I’ll tell you.”

  “You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

  Clive sighed audibly. “Yes, I do. This kind of job doesn’t take prisoners and there’s no medal for coming second. Remember that.”

  “I have to go.” She pushed the phone back into her pocket and stayed outside for a while. It was always harder when she had spoken to Clive. The longing for her dad was more intense. If only she could speak to him one more time. She imagined he’d be able to give her a plan. Step-by-step instructions. She was good with instructions. That was why she liked cooking from a recipe. She hated surprises.

  She decided to draw up some kind of plan the next day. She would rather deviate from a plan than have no plan at all. Before she went back inside, she took a couple of deep breaths.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Talk to me, Nicky. If you were prepared to wake me, it must be serious.” Monica Blake didn’t sound as if she’d been sleeping at all.

  It was after midnight and Nick was standing on the rocks in front of the apartment. He told her about his conversation with Allegretti and what Paul had told him.

  “Hmm … interesting. You know, one should actually admire them for their persistence. Don’t they tire of the constant scheming?”

  “Doesn’t seem like it.”

  “You sound tired.”

  “Short night, long day.” He told her about the alarm.

  “I found a few things out about Miss McKenna. Third-generation cop. Grandfather was a policeman in Dublin. Catholic. Thought to have had ties with the IRA. Father came to South Africa as a young man. She’s an only child. Mother lives in Goodwood. Father was recently shot dead at a roadblock.

  “If not for 1994 and affirmative action, John McKenna would have gone far. He was a phenomenal cop, though some say he w
as happiest on the streets and wouldn’t have done well in an office anyhow.”

  “What about her? Married, kids? Why did she resign? Did she resign, or is it a ploy?”

  “Apparently she did resign. They say the thing with her father hit her hard. There seems to have been a row with some of her seniors as well. She was in a relationship … also a cop. A Captain Greyling. Serious Economic Offences Unit.”

  Nick rolled the name around in his mouth and stored it at the back of his mind. For some reason it sounded familiar …

  “You say was – is the relationship also a thing of the past?”

  “Evidently. Are you interested?”

  “Do you really want an answer?”

  “Nicky, why is she bothering you? Give me the worst-case scenario.”

  “The way I see it, there are three possibilities. First, she didn’t resign and is part of an undercover op. Of all the possibilities, that’s the most dangerous, because it means someone else might pull the plug on Allegretti prematurely, and all our work will have been for nothing. I just can’t afford to make room for such a possibility in my decisions. If the shit hits the fan, I’m not going to presume that she’s a cop. Which means she might become collateral damage.”

  “And the other two possibilities?”

  “She did resign and is working for Williams. That presents problems too, but they’re not insurmountable. It means I don’t have to consider her. The third option is that she’s legit. Just another ex-cop in the security game. Which is also a problem, because I don’t have time to think about other people’s safety.”

  “You don’t buy the third option?”

  “No, but I can’t tell you why not. It’s a gut feeling, more than anything else.”

  “Could it be that you’re a little paranoid, now that the end is in sight?”

  The wind blew in from the sea. Every wave that crashed against the rocks sounded like the crack of a whip. He felt the spray on his face and tasted salt on his lips. “I’ve never been the paranoid kind.”

  “Would you like me to put out official feelers?”

  “No. Remember what happened to my predecessor when you started making official enquiries? Until this den of corruption in top management has been cleared up, I’d prefer not to trust anyone.”

  “Okay, but if she becomes a problem, speak to me, so we can take her out in time. There are ways of making her disappear for a while until we have more information. If they can’t get their house in order so that we can have a normal working relationship with them, we can’t be held responsible for their people. Sad but true. How long have I been warning against all these different arms and legs and heads and arses? No one can work like that. There’s no coordination. No one understands the bigger picture.”

  He waited until another whip crack had come and gone. “Let me know if you find out anything more. In the meantime, I’ll call my contacts in Limpopo and Zim to see if anyone knows anything.”

  “Just remember, we’re trying to catch Allegretti and Visser red-handed. Hearsay won’t get us anywhere.”

  “Are you teaching me my job now?”

  “Just saying. It’s crunch time and we must make sure our foundations are strong.”

  He ended the call and stood watching the spray blow into the air for a while before he walked back to the apartment. The lights of the buildings reflected in the water and lit up the pathway. At the last bend he noticed two figures behind a rock. His hand automatically reached for the Z88 under his arm. Then he heard the groans and heavy breathing, and for a moment he didn’t know whether to envy or feel sorry for them. Did they really have nowhere else to go? He hoped they had a blanket, at least, or there’d be sand in awkward places.

  He was unlocking the apartment door when the name Greyling popped out of a file in his memory. He stood still for a moment. Fuck. One of the cops who interviewed Allegretti after Richard’s death. Why would anyone from the Serious Economic Offences Unit be involved in a murder case, unless they suspec­ted there was a bigger picture? He went in, shut the door and stood still, again. If his feeling about Ellie McKenna was right, it was one of the messiest operations he had ever seen. Could they be that desperate for a bit of good PR?

  He took his phone out of his pocket and sent Monica a message: See if you can find a connection between Greyling and Williams. Don’t ask. It’s probably a very long shot, but it can’t do any harm.

  The reply came: Okay. Go to bed now.

  He took a shower and got into bed, but sleep eluded him. In his mind he began to draw a picture. McKenna, Greyling, Williams. His scalp began to itch. If his suspicions turned out to be correct, he hoped he would get a moment alone with Greyling. The arrogant bastard!

  He added to the picture in his mind. John McKenna. He had lied when he’d said he had met him. John McKenna had been a speaker at a conference he had attended. Fresh out of college at the time. The older man had impressed him for three reasons. Firstly, his red hair. Secondly, he had never seen eyes of that peculiar light-green colour before. As a child he’d had marbles that colour.

  Thirdly, of all the speakers at the conference, he’d made the most sense. He hadn’t tried to impress them with his superior knowledge, but had allowed them simply to talk to him. Ask him questions. Disagree with him.

  Ellie McKenna had her father’s eyes. He could kick himself. How could he not have seen the possibility sooner? Now he had approached it arse about face and put her on the alert. He got up and drank some water. He didn’t have time for this shit. Maybe he should just take her out of the picture and get it over with. The only problem was that he still wouldn’t know who she was working for. It might be time to call on Fast Security. And to have a friendly conversation with Nazeem Williams.

  It was eleven the next morning when Nick finally found Fast Security’s office in Darling Street. He had got the address from Clara. She’d had to phone her uncle. It took about half an hour to find parking. Nick was not in a good mood, and didn’t feel like walking. He should have done this long ago. Was he losing his focus? Concentrating too much on the finish line? He got out of the Range Rover, locked the door and walked across to the entrance. He rang the bell and waited. A young woman with a large bruise on her face opened the door. When she saw him looking, she tried to cover it with her hair. Someone had hit her.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I’m looking for the owner of the company.” He smiled and hoped he looked friendly.

  She unlocked the security gate. He entered and surreptitiously tried to look around.

  “The owner is at our head office in Johannesburg. The Cape Town manager isn’t here at the moment, but if you leave your name and contact details, I’ll make sure she calls you.”

  “Maybe you could give me the number of the head office, and I’ll call them directly.”

  “Sure.” She took a business card from a drawer and handed it to him. There was a nondescript logo in the left-hand corner, an address in Sandton, the name of the company and the name of the owner. Malcolm Brink. With a phone number.

  “Thanks. I’ll call him.” He was still trying to look around without making it too obvious. “You have a nice office.”

  “Thank you.”

  She was not the talkative type, so he decided it was time to go. He didn’t want her to get suspicious. He held up the card. “I’ll call him.”

  “You do that.”

  He was at the door when she spoke again. “Would you like me to tell my manager you were here, sir? In case she wants to call?”

  She wasn’t used to addressing men as ‘sir’, he thought as he shook his head. “No, thanks, I’m sure the owner will be able to help me.”

  Out on the pavement he stood for a moment, studying the card and listening for a voice inside. He would give anything to know whether she was phoning someone at this moment.

  He dialled the number on the card. The phone rang a few times before it was answered.

  “Brink, good mor
ning.”

  “Mr Brink, this is Hendrik Claassen from Cape Town. I need security for an international client. He’s going to be in Cape Town for a month. Are you available?”

  “Good morning, Mr Claassen. I’m not in the office at the moment, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Why don’t you send me an email with the dates and your client’s requirements? I’ll do a provisional assessment and get back to you. As soon as I have the dates I’ll see if I have any officers available in Cape Town at that time.” He gave an email address.

  “It’s actually for his wife. I was wondering if you might have a female officer.”

  “Unfortunately female officers are hard to come by, and the one I have in Cape Town is already contracted out at the moment. But send me the information and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Nick had got into the Range Rover in the meantime. He felt like beating his head against the steering wheel. The guy hadn’t missed a beat. Last night he was willing to bet an arm or a leg that all was not kosher. The night had brought some perspect­ive, but he was still convinced that, if he dug deep and long enough, something would come up. He didn’t like the fact that his prospects were fading. He would defer his visit to Nazeem Williams. There might be another way of finding out what was going on.

  Ellie sat outside the salon in Kloof Street where Clara was having her hair done. She looked at her watch. At half past twelve Clara had to be at the Waterfront for lunch with Allegretti. Their plans to lie in had apparently not materialised. Allegretti had had things to do and had left for the club early.

  It had rained a little during the night and the air was fresh. If summer didn’t come soon, she would have to fetch some more warm clothing at home. She watched the passers-by in the street and phoned her mother. She felt guilty about being unable to visit her.

  There was no reply at home, so she called her mom’s cellphone. Ellie was on the point of ending the call when her mom answered.

  “I was just getting worried.”

  “Do you know how many times, over the years, you and your father didn’t answer your phones when I called?”