Jenny was the first to comment. “I don’t believe this ARGS group even exists.” She took her iPad and typed the initials into Google.
“Look! It’s an acronym for Alternate Reality Game. That’s a kind of Internet game where people can enter whatever input they want to change a story to influence the events or the ending. It’s just a made up name. I’m certain it has nothing to do with Rwandan retribution, just a gang of kidnappers trying to blackmail us into handing over a fortune of money. ”
Espinoza interjected, “They say they have proof of Leo’s birth. Is that possible, Emma?”
“Unless it’s written by Tony or Dr Constance, it’s impossible. Only you and Jenny have heard this story. I wouldn’t dare tell it to anyone else.”
“They may be bluffing, but they must have some knowledge of what happened in Rwanda. However, if they divulge whatever they have discovered they lose one of their bargaining points, so I don’t think that’s likely. What else can you read from the message?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s been written by the same person,” she said.
“You mean the elaborate English?”
“Exactly.” She forced herself to concentrate on the message again, even though reading the words made her feel physically sick. “Phrases like, make amends and words like decimated, instigator and impoverishment. This is very English. Really old school vocabulary. With texting and Twitter and the ineffective school system, the modern generation don’t use words like this anymore.”
“So, you’re suggesting it was written by an older, English person?”
“Yes. Someone who enjoys writing beautifully. Even though the content is untruthful, horrible and villainous, they want it to read like Charles Dickens.”
“It sounds like someone with a high regard for themselves.”
“Probably. Someone who feels superior to others. An academically qualified person, or someone born into money or power. Possibly a member of the aristocracy?”
Jenny said, “Now I suppose we have to ask for what they call, ‘proof of life’.”
“That’s right. It’s more or less a formality, but we have to let them know that we understand the rules of the game. And we may glean some additional information, as we did from the first photograph.” Espinoza looked at his watch. “It’s now after noon. I must get home to prepare for my trip and be at the airport on time. First, I have to take my dear wife out for lunch since she’s going to lose me for a while.”
“And we have visitors for lunch.” Jenny said. “We’ll reply to the email this evening when we’ve had time to think about it.”
They went to the door. “Oh!” Jenny added, “I forgot to tell you, Leticia’s coming home today.”
“Please give her my best regards. I hope to see her on my return. Goodbye, ladies.”
Emma squeezed his hand. “Please bring Leo home soon, Pedro. I’m putting all my trust in you.”
“Try to keep your morale up. Have confidence and I promise we’ll continue to move forward. I’ll be in touch as soon as I arrive in South Africa.” He embraced them both and went out to his car.
It was eighty-six and a half hours since Leo had been taken.
FORTY-TWO
Phalaborwa, Limpopo, South Africa
At his hostage’s request, Coetzee had ordered pizzas for lunch. Leo had decided to make the most of this enforced prolongation to his vacation. It might be years before his mother could afford another holiday. They were both in swimming trunk, sitting on the terrace under a canopy, having had a dip in a cordoned off area of the river in front of the lodge. He was thrilled to have swum in a river that Coetzee told him was infested with six foot crocodiles, although they hadn’t seen one.
Coetzee was studying the Mail & Guardian morning newspaper that had been delivered to the lodge. He stiffened noticeably and folded it up. “Leo, get me a beer from the minibar, will you?” He waited until the boy was inside then shoved the folded paper under the cushion of his chair.
The local news headline still burned in his mind. Suspicious Death in Mayfair. Packard Hotel Manager in 7th Floor Death Plunge.
Poor old Barry Lambert, he thoght. Nwosu got him before he left, just as I thought. It wasn’t the kind of item he wanted Leo to read, even though he had probably already worked it out. And the police sergeant would be looking for them as soon as he was fit to shoot a gun again. He thought back over the last twenty-four hours. There was no way they could be traced to the lodge. He’d paid for everything with cash, given a false name and bribed the desk clerk to forget the passport requirements. The guy probably thinks I’m a paedophile, he reflected. I’ve got two days, max., then we’ll move and keep moving until I see some money arrive.
Leo brought his beer. “Thanks,” he said. “I can’t eat all this, do you want a slice?”
He transferred half his pizza onto Leo’s plate and took a swig of beer. They continued their lunch in silence, both thinking about their situation. Both making plans.
Malaga, Spain
“Why are you off to South Africa, Papa?” Espinoza was lunching with his wife and daughter at his favourite tapas bar. It was a very hot day and they sat inside to avoid the burning sun, as most Spanish people did.
“It’s quite an interesting job, Laura. An abduction, a young boy. But I can’t tell you more than that, it’s rather complicated and confidential.”
“But it happened in South Africa?”
Espinoza said nothing, just gave his daughter a look and took a bite from his croqueta de jamon.
His wife interrupted, “Isn’t it to do with the nice English lady who was almost killed two years ago? Snra Bishop, in Marbella?”
“Please Soledad! How can I earn a reputation as an irreproachably discreet private detective if you keep guessing the names of my clients? Anyway,” he added, “it is not Mme Bishop, it’s another person entirely.”
“I was just thinking that it would be typical if the poor woman hadn’t seen the last of that business. There were some nasty people involved, I remember. And you should know better than I do that people like that have a way of turning up again, just like bad pennies.”
His wife and daughter continued to chatter on while Espinoza’s mind turned to a new track. Soledad was extremely inquisitive and intuitive and had a woman’s knack of sometimes seeing things that he missed. He reflected back to the cast of characters involved in the d’Almeida murder spree. Sadly, most of them were dead, but apart from poor Adam Peterson, not on his watch. He tried to remember anyone who had survived, anyone involved with the murderer. He dredged a name from the back of his memory, d’Almeida’s French girlfriend. Ellen, no, Ethel, no. Esther, Esther Rousseau, that’s it! He recalled with satisfaction. The woman who had never been found. The bank employee who had provided d’Almeida with information that permitted him to transfer the Angolan Clan fortune from the Swiss bank to no one knew where. The fortune that Jenny had recovered just a few months ago. Unfortunately there was no clear proof that she was involved in the Internet robbery and he had been unable to obtain an Interpol warrant for her arrest. Once the hue and cry had died down he knew that the national police and immigration personnel would have quickly lost interest in her and she could be anywhere in the world.
I wonder what happened to her? He asked himself. She knew all about the bank accounts, the diamonds and the keys. Did she know about Emma and Leo? Could she be the missing link?
Then another name from the past came to him. Vogel, Kurt Vogel. The accountant who stole a million dollars. He had an intimate knowledge of the Angolan Clan bank accounts and probably knew about the diamonds too. I always considered him to be a small time crook. An opportunist embezzler who took what he could then ran off before he was found out. Maybe I was wrong?
Espinoza leaned across the table and kissed his wife on the cheek. “Gracias amor mio. Thank you my love.”
“Is that so she’ll miss you when you’re away?” Laura laughed.
“It won’t work. We’r
e going to shop and spend his money until he gets back,” responded her mother. “That will stop him rushing about the world like Hercule Poirot.”
Espinoza poured some of the cold, delicious Navarra rosé. “Salud!” he said, “Enjoy the shopping.”
Marbella, Spain
“I’ve just had a good idea.” Jenny gave her sister a mischievous smile.
“What’s that? I could do with a good idea.”
“Since Leticia and Sam are joining us for lunch, why don’t I invite Patrice, her fiancé, as well.”
“No way. I’ve told you I’m really not up to seeing anyone. I’m likely to get upset and make a mistake. Just count me out, I’ll stay in my room with a migraine.”
“Nonsense. This way you’ll get to meet the whole group in one go, give the performance of your life and get it over with. You can’t put it off forever. Agreed?”
“Very well, Miss Schoolteacher Jenny, if you insist.”
“If we’re lucky, Fuente might join us too.”
“Ah, Fuente, the famous, but as yet, invisible cat! Obviously a TS Eliot mystery cat, like Macavity. When a crime’s discovered then Fuente’s not there.”
“Rather, when a crime’s prevented! But that’s another story. I’ll call Patrice now.”
Jenny called the bank and was put through to Patrice’s extension. “This is Victoria, M de Moncrieff ’s assistant. Who’s calling please?”
“Hello Victoria, it’s Sra Bishop, I’m calling Patrice on behalf of Leticia, his fiancée.”
“I’m sorry Sra Bishop, he’s travelling on business out of the country today.”
“I thought he was in Marbella today. Maybe I misunderstood. I’ll call his mobile. Thank you.”
She turned to Emma, a puzzled look on her face. That’s funny, I’m positive she told me he had to return to Marbella for an important deal at the bank.”
“Well that’s one less encounter for me to worry about today. Let’s go and give Encarni a hand.”
She went with her to the kitchen, going back over last night’s conversation with Leticia. Why would Patrice say he was coming back to Marbella if he wasn’t?
Phalaborwa, Limpopo, South Africa
Leo took the dishes into the kitchen and came back eating an apple. Coetzee was still sitting at the table looking pensive. He sat across from him and said, “Why did you split up from your wife and daughter, Marius?”
“What? Oh, it wasn’t my idea, it was Karen’s.”
“So what was the problem? People don’t usually split up without a reason.”
“It’s actually none of your business, Leo, but the answer is, I have no idea. Two years ago she just said she was fed up with the whole marriage bit and wanted to leave me and take Abby with her”
“Just like that?”
“Exactly like that, she moved out within a week and that was it.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?”
“Not as far as I know. She found a job and a place to live and went off with her daughter and her belongings.”
“Why do you say her daughter? Isn’t Abby your daughter too?”
“It’s more complicated than that and I told you it’s none of your business. Why don’t you tell me about yourself instead?”
“I thought you knew all about me and my mom. Isn’t it part of the Abduction for Dummies manual, Get to Know your Prey?”
“Very funny. I mean, for example, do you have a girlfriend?”
“There’s a girl I go to the cinema with sometimes. Not a girlfriend, but she’s good company. We like the same kinds of things.”
“What kind of things?”
“You know, stuff like computer programming and thinking up new applications and ideas. We like science fiction films, space stories, like Matrix, Lord of the Rings, that kind of thing. She’s the only girl I know who likes football and she’s got nine ‘A’ passes, one more than me.”
He’s smitten, thought Coetzee. “What’s her name?”
“Alice, but don’t start spreading rumours.” Leo laughed self-consciously.
“Sounds like a real catch and I promise not to say a word.” He picked up his mobile phone. “Time to be a film star. Come and sit here.”
“This for the reward message?”
“Yes it is. I want to show your mother you’re OK. I don’t want her to worry about you.”
“You mean any more than she already is?” Leo sat in front of the lodge wall as directed.
“Say cheese.” Coetzee took a couple of snaps. “Right, keep yourself busy for a minute or two. I’ve got stuff to do.” He went into the lodge.
At the desk, he opened up his laptop and transferred the photos from his mobile. He chose one and attached it to his draft message. After making a couple of changes, he read the message one last time, then taking a deep breath, pressed Send.
Leo waited until he was busy preparing the reward message then quietly extracted the newspaper from under the cushion and retired out of view of his abductor.
It took him only a moment to find the news item. It was true! Lambert was dead, undoubtedly murdered by Nwosu. Coetzee was right, the policeman was a vicious killer. I wounded him but we let him go free. His blood ran cold. And I made it worse by killing Blethin. Shit! What’s going to happen to us if we get caught?”
“You weren’t supposed to read that.” Coetzee was standing at the patio door, holding out his hand.
Leo folded the paper again and handed it to him. “You told me last night, remember? When you accused the sergeant of murdering him? It didn’t register with me then. Reading it like that in the paper, it’s different. It’s a really fucked up situation.” Tears came to his eyes, but he was determined not to blab, not to show weakness.
“We live in a fucked up world, Leo. Get used to it.” Although the South African tried to sound hard, Leo sensed a lot of emotion beneath the surface.
He lay back in the recliner, wondering how to get hold of Blethin’s mobile again to send another message to his mother. Now he knew where they were. Not the town or area, but the name of the safari lodge where they were staying. It was written on the top of the newspaper for the delivery boy, Olifantsrivier Lodge. Now he had the advantage. He had to use it.
FORTY-THREE
Marbella, Spain
Emilio was delighted to see his Aunt Jenny again. “Hola Jenny!” He cried, reaching up so she could hoist him into her embrace.
“You’re becoming far too heavy for me. It’s all that French food. We’ll have to put you on a diet,” she laughed.
“Je parle Francais,” he said proudly.
“Well, I don’t, so you’ll have to talk to me in English.” She turned towards Emma. “This is your other English auntie, my sister, Emma.”
He put his hand out politely. “How do you do, Auntie Emma.”
“Hello Emilio, it’s lovely to meet you.” She took the little boy’s hand and gave him a kiss. “You must be very clever, speaking lots of languages.”
“Don’t be fooled, Emma. He speaks very good Spanish, but only a dozen words of English and French. I’m Leticia. I’m so happy to finally meet Jenny’s big sister.”
“We’re helping Encarni with the lunch, so go and sort yourselves out and we’ll see you when you’re ready,” Jenny instructed. Lunch was the first priority. Sam would be arriving from the airport at three o’clock.
Leticia took her son along the hall to their apartment. “What a beautiful woman!” Emma admired Leticia’s graceful figure as she walked away. “She’s even lovelier than you described. Makes me feel quite dowdy, especially at the moment.”
“Well, she’s just as nice as she looks, so you’ll get on well together. Now, into the kitchen, pronto!”
“So, how was your trip to South Africa, Emma? Did Leo enjoy the World Cup?” Lunch was under control and Emilio was already in the swimming pool, under Encarni’s supervision. Sam was due in fifteen minutes and the three women were sitting on the terrace, enjoying a glass of Fino and getti
ng to know each other. Suddenly there was an air of tension around them. Leticia was immediately aware that she’d struck a raw nerve.
Emma looked worriedly at Jenny. How did she know about South Africa? She wasn’t on the list and Jenny hadn’t mentioned it to Espinoza.
“Did I tell you she was going to the football? I can’t remember doing so.” Jenny racked her brain, she had no recollection of such a conversation.
“We heard you talking about it on the phone last time you were down here. You invited Emma to stay while I was away with Patrice and she told you she would be at the game with Leo. Have I said something wrong? I didn’t mean to overhear. I’m sorry.” Leticia looked mortified. Jenny was her idol and she bathed in her approbation.
“Of course not, I had just forgotten all about it, that’s all.” Jenny looked at Emma and shrugged, just one of those things.
“It was a very eventful trip,” Emma replied carefully.
“Where is Leo? We can’t wait to meet him. Jenny says he’s a keen footballer, he can teach Emilio to play.”
“Leo’s staying just along the road in Estepona,.” Jenny said quickly, before Emma could react to the question. “His friend Nigel’s parents have rented a house there, down near the beach.” “It’s a nice coincidence both of them being here on holiday at the same time. You’ll see him before they go back.”
“Patrice keeps telling me we should go down to South Africa,” Leticia went on, “he says we should go while Mandela is still alive, because you don’t know what might happen afterwards. Was it quiet? Did you see any signs of trouble?”
Jenny saw her sister struggling and interjected again, “From what Emma told me they saw no signs of trouble in Cape Town, but Johannesburg has quite a different reputation. Is that right, Emma?”
“Yes. There’s a lot of problems in Joburg, but Cape Town is lovely and quiet. The football was a bit of a disappointment, but it was a very memorable holiday.” She took a deep breath. “And how was Nice? I’d love to visit the Côte d’Azur sometime, when I save up for another holiday.”
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