Deception!

by Elizabeth Ducie

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ she said. ‘We’ll just have to take a different approach to things.’ Damien looked at her in surprise.

  ‘You mean you’re willing to carry on?’

  ‘Absolutely! After all, if he had nothing to hide, why did he react so badly to my presence?’

  ‘Er, maybe the fact that you were there under false pretences and virtually accused him of dealing in dangerous drugs?’ murmured Charlie. But Suzanne threw her a grin and shook her head.

  ‘No, I think it’s more than that. And I still want to know what’s in that locked room.’

  The call came in not long before midnight. Suzanne was settling down to read before sleep, and put her book down with reluctance. What does Charlie want at this time of night? she wondered. But it wasn’t her sister’s voice at the other end.

  ‘Miss Jones?’ The caller was male and his voice sounded like it could make rock splinter just by telling it to: ‘Miss Suzanne Jones?’

  ‘Yes, this is Suzanne Jones. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Miss Jones, you’ve been poking your nose where it’s not wanted. People are not happy!’

  ‘People? What people? This is ridiculous.’

  ‘Not ridiculous. Very serious. You need to stop asking questions. Or people will suffer. You will suffer.’

  ‘Now look here. I don’t know who you are—’ but the dialling tone in her ear told her she was talking to thin air.

  Telling her companions about the call over breakfast, she felt as indignant as she had the night before, although secretly she trembled slightly at the thought of what the voice had suggested.

  The three bounced around ideas for the next hour or so. The rest of the tables had emptied and the sun was halfway to its zenith when Charlie came up with her bombshell.

  ‘You know, sis, I think it’s probably time for you to go home!’ Suzanne felt a surge of frustration and, from the look on his face, Damien was more than a little surprised.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about, Charlie?’ Suzanne said through gritted teeth. ‘Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying? We’re pretty sure Nigel Atkinson is dirty; and the fact that I’ve been threatened proves we must be on to something. And if he is dirty, he mustn’t get away with it. How can we possibly give up and go home now?’

  ‘Yes, I understand all that,’ said her sister patiently, ‘but I don’t think you were listening. I didn’t say we should go home. I said you should go home.’ Suzanne didn’t believe what she was hearing, but Charlie held up her hand and started ticking things off on her fingers. ‘Firstly, your cover is blown. Atkinson knows who you are and what you’re looking for. He’s going to be on the lookout for you at every turn.’ Damien nodded at this, although Suzanne glared at him and he didn’t open his mouth.

  Charlie went on: ‘Secondly, you have a huge network of contacts back in Europe. Couldn’t you call in some favours and find out what’s going on by some back doors? Thirdly, Damien has told us the incidents associated with Super Fit have been observed not just here and in the States, but in Europe too. You’d be able to set up interviews much more easily over there, than here where Atkinson will be watching out for you.’ By now, Damien was nodding hard and even Suzanne was beginning to think that maybe her sister had a point; well, several actually.

  ‘I suppose you could be right...’

  ‘Of course I’m right. And I’ll be a lot happier if we can get you safely out of the country,’ Charlie finished and sat back, smiling at her sister.

  ‘Do you really think so?’ said Damien, ‘After all, Atkinson doesn’t strike me as the violent type—’ but Charlie rounded on him fiercely.

  ‘Trust me, Damien. I know what I’m talking about. The quiet ones are often the most deadly. And even if our Nigel is above a spot of assault and battery, I suspect he has lots of friends who have fewer scruples. Including one with a habit of making late-night threats.’ Damian stared at her in silence.

  She suspected Charlie still hadn’t told her the full story about what happened after she left the army in disgrace all those years ago, but Suzanne knew enough of her sister’s past to take her comments at face value. She sighed and looked around the beautiful surroundings.

  ‘I guess you’re right, Charlie. What a pity. I was just getting used to the life here.’

  ‘I’ll book two more tickets on tomorrow night’s flight to Dallas with me,’ said Damien. ‘You guys can fly back to the UK from there.’ Then he looked in surprise at Charlie who was pulling a face.

  ‘Now you’re not listening to me, Damien,’ she said. ‘Suzanne needs to go home, and you’ve got to go back to college. Plus, Atkinson would probably be able to link you two together quite easily. And you can make contact with some of the affected athletes in the States. But I’m staying put for the moment.’ Her two companions looked at her in surprise. ‘He doesn’t know me; he’s never met me. I think I can probably do more good if I hang on here for a while.’ She looked at Damien with a wry look on her face. ‘That’s if you’re happy to keep paying the bills for the moment, Mr Client?’

  Suzanne wasn’t completely convinced by Charlie’s arguments for staying and strongly suspected it was more to do with her desire to continue investigating Michael Hawkins, rather than Nigel Atkinson.

  ‘Okay, Charlie, I’ll do what you suggest. But, on one condition.’ Charlie looked puzzled, but gestured that her sister should continue. ‘We’re going to level with Damien and tell him exactly why we, or should I say you, were so keen to take his commission.’

  But Damien had a surprise for both of them.

  ‘I suppose you’re talking about Michael Hawkins?’ He burst out laughing. ‘Oh, if you guys could only see your faces!’ Then he became serious again. ‘I know about Banda; I know about Sir Fredrick Michaels and I know you don’t believe he’s dead.’

  Suzanne and Charlie stared at each other—and then, just as they had in their first meeting with Damien, they came to the same conclusion at the same moment:

  ‘Francine!’ they both mouthed.

  ‘Spot on,’ Damien said, nodding his head. ‘Francine listened to my story about Sunshine Supplements, heard the word ‘Brazil’ and realised it was an ideal opportunity for you to continue your investigations. So, yes, Charlie, I’m happy to continue paying the bills. And if we can bring down two bad guys instead of one, so much the better.’

  CHAPTER 18

  The rest of the day was taken up with making travel arrangements and plotting their next moves, both on the Sunshine Supplements job and the Michael Hawkins investigation. And although Charlie didn’t go to the airport to see her companions off the following day, by the time they’d left, it was well past lunchtime. So it wasn’t until the end of the week that she found herself sitting once more in the bar of São Paulo Runners Club, scanning the crowds for a familiar face. And she didn’t have long to wait.

  She spotted the tall African woman as soon as she entered the room. Head and shoulders above most of the others, she caused a ripple of interest wherever she went. But once again, Charlie observed, the interest was reserved, rather than friendly, and Mercy didn’t seem to have any friends among the people milling around her.

  Mercy bought her lunch and then stood scanning the room. Charlie had the distinct impression she was looking with purpose, rather than aimlessly searching for a table. And this suspicion was confirmed by the smile that lit up the other woman’s face when she spotted her. She headed through the crowd, straight for her table.

  ‘Hello, Rose, how are you? I was hoping I would see you. Where have you been?’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve not been able to get over here for a few days,’ she replied. ‘I was up to my eyes in research. I’m just having some lunch then I’ve got to get back to work,’ she said with a grin. ‘Are you going to join me?’

  Mercy sat down and started eating her salad. She seemed to be much more relaxed than the first time they’d spoken. And
afterwards Charlie had difficulty remembering what they talked about. They chatted, as any friends do, about this and that; inconsequential things, the sort of conversation Charlie was not used to having. After about half an hour she stood, brushed the crumbs off her jeans and smiled at Mercy.

  ‘Well, time to get back to work, I guess,’ she said. ‘This has been fun. See you again soon.’ And as before, she walked away, feeling the other woman’s eyes boring into her back as she went.

  Charlie returned to the bar daily the following week. She made a point of being there before Mercy arrived each day and always left before her, citing a visit to the library, a meeting or other research. And in between, she carried on the investigation into Nigel Atkinson.

  And finally her work paid off. As she was about to leave on the Wednesday afternoon, Mercy caught hold of her wrist.

  ‘Have you ever been to Iguaçu?’ she asked.

  ‘The waterfall?’ replied Charlie.

  Mercy laughed.

  ‘Well, I think it’s a little more than just a waterfall, but yes, that’s the place. Have you seen it?’

  ‘On screen yes; looks impressive, but I’ve never been there. Why do you ask?’

  Mercy bit her lip and smiled shyly at her.

  ‘My father’s got a business meeting there at the weekend. He’s flying down in a private jet and suggested I go with him. I’d love to see it, but that sort of thing’s no fun on your own—and he’s going to be too busy to do any sightseeing. I wondered if you’d like to come with us and keep me company?’ Charlie paused before replying and the other woman pulled her hand away, a rueful expression on her face. ‘Sorry, sorry, it was a silly idea. You hardly know me...’

  ‘Mercy, it’s not that,’ Charlie replied, sitting down at the table once again. ‘I’d love to come with you—and seeing something of this country would be wonderful too. It’s just that I don’t have much money, being a writer on a study trip and that—’ She broke off as Mercy grabbed her hand once more.

  ‘You don’t need any money, silly. You’ll be my guest. My father suggested I bring a friend so he’ll be fine about it. We’ll fly down on Saturday morning, stay overnight in the Hotel das Cataratas and come back after lunch on Sunday.’

  ‘Well, in that case,’ said Charlie, squeezing her hand, ‘I’d be delighted.’ Then looking at her watch, she said, ‘but I really do have to rush now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Mercy stood and took Charlie by the shoulders, kissing her on both cheeks.

  ‘It’s going to be great fun. Thank you so much.’

  As Charlie walked away her thoughts were a churning mess. This was a huge step forward in her quest to bring Michael Hawkins to justice, but was it a step too far? She was really glad Suzanne was no longer in Brazil; she would have a fit at the thought of Charlie getting into a plane with the man responsible for so many deaths in the past. And was she right in assuming that although Hawkins knew Suzanne very well, he’d no idea of Charlie’s existence? I guess we’ll find that out on Saturday, she thought.

  But at the back of her mind there was another thought niggling her. Just what sort of a friendship was Mercy looking for? The way she’d reacted to Charlie’s agreeing to visit Iguaçu could just have been a lonely woman in a strange land, happy at the thought she’d found at least one friend to spend time with. Or it could have been something quite different. Charlie wondered what the sleeping arrangements would be on Saturday evening.

  Either way, it would be a great pity if Mercy was disappointed when she found out, as she would eventually, that Charlie was not the innocent writer she was pretending to be. And as this thought slipped across her mind, she remembered she’d promised to ring Annie over the weekend. That was going to be difficult. Charlie sighed inwardly and decided, on reflection, it was a good thing both her sister and her partner were half a world away and unable to see what she was getting up to at the moment.

  CHAPTER 19 (Cape Town, October 1960)

  As I went home from that first supper with Stefano, my mind was buzzing. There was a message for me, pinned to the board next to the public phone in the hallway of my lodging house: Amelia Marks called. She prays you will feel better soon and hopes to see you at tomorrow’s class. I stared at the words for a few minutes, before screwing the paper up and dropping it in the waste bin. I would be meeting my new friend again tomorrow evening and I had a feeling I was going to be too busy to play schoolteacher for a while—if at all.

  The next few days were the most exciting of my life so far. Each evening I hurried over to the hotel as the sun started to sink towards the horizon and, taking the path around the back, met Stefano in the garden. We chatted, he told me all about his travels, his hunts for fossils—and the fees people were willing to pay him for undertaking those hunts—and the other things he got involved with. He was only ten years older than me, but he seemed to have packed so much experience into those ten years. We always ate in the hotel. I suggested one night we might go elsewhere, so I could show him around the city I had adopted as my home, but he refused.

  ‘I like the cuisine in this place, my boy,’ he said, ‘so why go looking elsewhere, where we might well be disappointed?’ I nodded and decided I wouldn’t make that sort of suggestion again.

  Then one day, about two weeks after I’d first met him, Stefano turned up at the railway station. He had his little sample box with him, but no other luggage. It was just before noon and the train to Jo’burg was puffing on the platform, due to leave in five minutes time.

  ‘Come, walk with me, Michael,’ he said. I hadn’t seen him go to the ticket office, but he had a piece of cardboard in his hand which he absentmindedly waved at the inspector as we strolled through the barrier, deep in conversation.

  We stood on the platform together as the final few passengers scurried to find places. To be honest, I wasn’t really listening to what he was saying. I was keeping an eye on my lads, making sure they were satisfying the passengers. After all, happy passengers are good tippers. But suddenly his words wrenched my attention back to him.

  ‘I’ve got to leave town for a while, my boy,’ he said, ‘and I don’t want you to go anywhere near Mount Nelson while I’m away.’ I looked at him in surprise and he shrugged. ‘A little dispute over the bill. I think it would be better if they didn’t see my friend for a while.’

  Before I could ask any more questions, the guard blew a whistle, and the train gave a lurch, its wheels slowly beginning to turn. Stefano darted forward, pulled open a door, and jumped through, slamming it behind him. He waved to me through the window and then in a cloud of steam, the train moved off and he was gone.

  For the next few evenings, I stayed at home, lost for ideas and uncertain what had happened or why. Then one evening as I was walking out of the station, Frank called me over to his newsstand.

  ‘Haven’t seen you for a while, boy.’

  ‘No, Frank, I’ve been busy,’ I replied.

  ‘Hmm, yes I heard. Too busy for Amelia and Joe, too busy for class.’ I didn’t say anything; just hung my head, kicking the dust at my feet. He cleared his throat and then continued. ‘I’m having supper with them tonight. They said to bring you along. They said they’d love to see you.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Frank...’ I began, but he put his hand on my arm to stop me.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, ‘I know you let them down—and you probably feel a bit stupid, but these aren’t people who hold grudges. These are your friends.’ He stared at me as I struggled with my feelings, then let out a sigh of relief as I grinned and nodded at him.

  ‘Okay, Frank, you’re on. I’ll see you over there just before seven.’

  As Frank had promised, Amelia and Joe were nothing but perfect hosts that night. They welcomed me back into their home and never even mentioned that I’d been missing for a couple of weeks and had let them down. As we were leaving, Amelia gave me a quick hug.

  ‘I’m going to class tomorrow evening,’ she said, ‘a
nd the pupils would love to see you. Do come with me.’

  Life went on as normal for the next ten months. I carried on with my own studies; tutored a few of the richer kids as they prepared for their exams; and continued to run the gang of porters at the station. And all the time, I was looking out for that one opportunity I needed to get myself into a better position within society, a job in an office somewhere.

  I never went near Mount Nelson again. I met Sammie in a bar one evening a few months after Stefano had left and he filled me in on what happened.

  ‘Your mate really stiffed everyone!’ he said. ‘Managed to talk his way into the best suite in the hotel, ran up huge bills in the restaurant,’ I felt myself go hot at these words, ‘and then ran out on us without paying a penny.’

  ‘But how did he get out with all his luggage?’

  ‘Oh, he left that behind!’ I remembered Stefano had only been carrying his sample box when he got on the train. ‘But, you know what? When we searched his room, all he’d left behind were suitcases! And they were empty. I reckon he only had them for show in the first place. No clothes or anything in them.’

  Reluctantly I had to face the fact that my so-called friend wasn’t the rich adventurer and traveller he’d made himself out to be, but was little more than a conman; and by the look of it, a conman who’d run out of luck—in Cape Town at least.

  One morning, about a month after my twenty-first birthday, the station manager called me into his office as I was walking onto the concourse. We’d had very little to do with each other in the past. My regular payments to keep our gang in place were made each month to his deputy and although we nodded when we passed each other from time to time, we rarely spoke. Now, he sat at his desk and looked at me over the top of his glasses. In his hand, he held a thick white envelope.