An Ordinary Day (24 page)

The late afternoon sun gave the Durban skyline a golden hue, and a gentle breeze rocked the yachts at their moorings in the basin. Paul Scott sat at the table closest to the water’s edge at Wilson’s Wharf, partly because he loved the sea and partly because it was the furthest away from the other tables. He disliked sitting too close to Vitoli and talking softly; the man always smelt of beer. Joe Vitoli arrived on cue, and as he sat down, Scott noticed his normally cheerful demeanour was replaced by a distinctly sullen one.

‘I need a beer.’

Scott raised his eyebrows and then his hand to call a waitress. ‘I thought you’d have good news for me.’

‘The rat’s bolted.’

‘Ali? Bolted where?’

‘Dunno. He didn’t call – the sign of life – he didn’t call today. I got someone to phone his office; they say he’s been out all day. The police are lookin’ for him.’

A waitress arrived and Scott ordered a Castle and a John Lee. He leaned forward towards Vitoli and spoke softly. ‘His contact for Libya is here in Durban, now. He can’t screw us around, we don’t have time for that. We need a situation report, and we need it quick.’

‘Paul, I know it. There’s an alternative channel of communication, only for emergencies, but I think this qualifies. I’ve got his home phone number.’

‘That’s risky, Joe. If the locals have his phone wired, you’re compromised, buddy. Think of something else. Let me give you a heads-up. His contact, Leila Elhasomi, is in Durban, staying in Morningside.’

Vitoli rubbed his chin. ‘I dunno. He was mum on that one.’

‘She’s here. We’ve got people working up her address right now. We’re assuming Elhasomi’s the paymaster for this shipment so she’ll have to meet with Ali before she goes back.’

‘Yeah, Ali told me he only takes cash up front.’

‘How do we know he hasn’t already taken the cash and made a run with it? It would have been a couple of million dollars?’

‘Nah, I doubt it. Wouldn’t be worth his while. Why the hell are the police lookin’ for him?’

‘Maybe the local service has picked up on the link between Ali and Elhasomi.’

Scott’s phone rang and he answered, spoke briefly, and returned it to the table. The colour had drained from his face. ‘That’s my contact in the Metro Police. Elhasomi’s dead.’

‘Dead? How?’

‘Murdered. A jogger found her body near the Umgeni River this morning.’

‘Shoot!’ Vitoli shook his head. ‘Didn’t know the black ops guys operated this far south.’

Scott didn’t smile. ‘The only lead they have is a card with a cell number on it. Could be a good lead. The cops are on it.’

‘You guys need to talk to law enforcement – officially, I mean. Dunno if we have control over this thing any more. Ali mighta popped her.’

‘Yeah. They take him in, twist his ears and he says, “The Yanks made me do it.”’

‘I need an id on the mobile number she had. An enemy of hers is a friend of mine.’

‘The Libyans coulda also pushed her off her perch. Or maybe she went for a walk and someone decided they wanted her purse.’

The waitress put the drinks on the table in front of them. Scott stood up and put a fifty-rand note on the table. ‘They’re both yours. I need that cell number traced before Baker gives me the 101 on sharing again.’

Ahmed Yusuf looked up from his office desk with a raised eyebrow as Amina appeared in front of him, her arms folded.

‘Something terrible happened last night.’

‘Salaams to you too.’ Yusuf sighed and looked at the papers strewn across his desk. ‘Is this business or private? If it’s business I’ll talk to you here. If it’s private, I’d prefer to discuss it at home.’

‘Ahmed … I feel terrible. Somebody died last night on my watch.’

Yusuf looked at her, small and vulnerable, and thought he should hug her, but his hands were caked in grease and he’d bought her outfit in Malaysia and didn’t want it soiled. ‘Sorry to hear that,’ he said.

‘You called me home.’

Yusuf shrugged his shoulders scornfully. ‘That’s too bad. At night, you belong at home.’

Amina felt cold, the kind of coldness you feel when your world is collapsing all around you and the last lifeboats have left and you are abandoned. ‘I don’t know you to be like this, Ahmed. You’re heartless sometimes.’

‘Heartless?’ Yusuf looked at Amina, his lips pursed. ‘Maybe because the heart I should have in my chest which pounds for my beautiful wife has grown tired and worthless. That’s what happens when you neglect something; it loses value and becomes redundant.’

‘I’ve given you my best, Ahmed, you know that.’

Yusuf stood up, walked to his office door, and closed it. ‘You’ve given your other love your best. You’ve given the Agency your best. I only have the crumbs.’

Amina looked at the man beside her, his hands black from the grease of the machines which whined in the factory outside, the deep furrows on his forehead testimony to the strains and pressures of keeping those machines turning day and night. Ahmed’s honour had been earned in the grease and ink of the printing machines. He worked so hard to give them a good life. Amina hung her head in shame.

‘You’re the centre of my universe, Mimi. Everything I’ve done, all of this, it’s for you.’

Amina couldn’t stop the tears; she didn’t want to stop them.

‘I never wanted any of this. All I wanted was to be with you, that’s all.’

Yusuf put his arms around her and squeezed her tight and when his cheek touched hers, she felt it too was wet. She knew her blouse was full of grease, but she didn’t care.

‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked.

There was a moment of silence. In this moment, Amina closed her eyes, afraid to hear Ahmed say what she knew he would say.

‘I want you to be at home. I want to be your first love, your only love. I’m jealous of your work. I can’t compete, I know it’s unfair, but I need you more than they do. Leave that place before it destroys your soul and mine.’

The forensic team had completed their work by seven in the evening, and by then Durant was convinced Salem wouldn’t be returning. There was no trace of Salem’s clothes or personal effects and there was also very little evidence of Elhasomi’s murder. The crime scene investigators hadn’t found any blood particles or signs of a struggle; any blood had fallen onto the loose mat which Salem had removed. Durant told the police that a covert source had provided information that the murder had occurred in the dining room, and encouraged the investigators to focus on that area. There were fingerprints everywhere, and these were carefully lifted. Durant noticed a forensics officer lifting fingerprints from the bronze figurine and then placing it into a plastic bag.

Durant answered his phone in one ring. He spoke briefly and then turned to Masondo. ‘They found the hired car.’

‘Salem?’

‘Abandoned. It was found in KwaMashu, burnt out, stripped of its tyres, battery, radio and a few other things.’

‘What do you think, Kevin? Don’t tell me Salem is also a car thief and arsonist?’

‘What he did, and I’m guessing, is park the car somewhere where he knew it would be stolen. We know there’re places in Durban where you park your car and it’s guaranteed it will be stolen within a few minutes. A good tactic. He may have been worried about a tracking device fitted to the car, or he may have just wanted any evidence in the car destroyed.’

‘Did they find anything in the car?’

‘Nothing. I’m just wondering why he took Elhasomi’s hired car and not his own. I wonder if he didn’t go to a meeting which Elhasomi was meant to go to, and the car was the identifier.’

‘A meeting with who, though?’

‘What about Ali?’

Masondo shook his head. ‘Salem doesn’t know about Ali. Remember, she kept the conversations only to tourism business.’

‘Which makes me wonder if Salem doesn’t know more than we think. That’s why I’m starting to get the feeling that Ali might be the next target.’

Masondo sighed and shook his head as his cellphone rang. He spoke for a few moments, and Durant could see the news was not good. ‘The Libyan ambassador has had a meeting with our Minister of Foreign Affairs. Apparently, a representative of the Libyan government is on his way to Durban to keep an eye on the investigation and the director-general wants me personally to escort him around. They’ve admitted Elhasomi was in Durban on business relating to the Tourism Indaba. They complained about how our government couldn’t even protect foreign diplomats from the armed bandits who prey on innocent foreigners, and blah blah blah. So we can see who’s going to get the blame.’

‘It’s going to get damn tricky, chief. I see why we can’t let them know about the murder tape – cameras and bugs all over the townhouse one of their diplomats hired.’

‘They can’t ask a lot of questions either because they know they were involved in something … extra-legal. What they’re probably really interested in is getting their money back and doing damage control. Damn new South Africa. At least in the old South Africa we knew who our enemies were.’

Masondo left the townhouse as Amina arrived.

‘My friend Mrs Meer from the shop phoned. She was worried that her neighbours – the Libyans – had been expropriated. She said they’d packed everything onto a big container truck and left within an hour. The building’s empty.’

‘They’re shutting down. Are we too late?’ Amina nodded.

‘We’ll need to have a look at that building and try to figure out what they were doing there.’

‘I’ve done that already; you looked a bit busy. The building’s rented by an Italian-based company, Trans-Africa Investments. Their stated business is imports and storage. A bank transfer paid the rent every month. Mrs Meer identified the main guy there as Mohamed, but it’s a bit of a dead end.’

‘Mohamed. A local guy?’

‘I don’t think so. I went inside and it’s deserted.’

Durant looked at Amina; she was short and skinny, but incredibly brave. ‘Who went with you?’

‘I went alone.’

‘Ami, be careful. Don’t do silly stuff. You should have had backup there.’

‘I was fine. There were a few empty boxes lying around, but nothing indicating what they were storing or where it’s gone.’

‘Good work. But next time take me or Mike with you. Right now we have to focus on finding Salem – he’s the key to this whole thing. If he leaves without our finding him, we’ll never figure it out. And believe me, he’ll leave soon.’

Amina frowned. ‘You think he’s done what he needed to do?’

‘I’m sure of it. I’ve flagged him at the ports of entry, but I doubt whether he’d be idiotic enough to travel out on the same passport. I’m tasking all my sources at the airports and border posts. I’ll grab a picture of him off the video to send to them and then hope he’s spotted.’ Durant checked his watch. ‘It’s eight, I need to visit Stephanie at the hospital, she’s not doing so well.’

Durant thrust the video tape of the murder into his jacket pocket and walked to his car.

The Elhasomi murder scene was not particularly shocking. Detective Inspector Bradley Heath had seen worse in his five years at the Serious and Violent Crimes Unit. The young woman looked quite serene when he lifted the police tape and scrambled down the muddy embankment to the brown water where she lay, her legs still partially submerged. He had been there earlier, when the jogger first called it in, but had now returned with a forensic kit which was usually in his car, but today had been at his office. Uniformed officers stood around the perimeter, deliberately averting their eyes from the body and casually talking about the poor performance of their soccer teams over the past weekend.

Heath kneeled beside the body, the back of his pen in his mouth and his glasses resting on his forehead. He guessed that Elhasomi had drowned; the pink froth at her lips a giveaway. Her dark hair was caked with blood at the base of her skull, but her features were still striking, even in death. It had been over an hour since his gloved hand had pulled a small purse from her jeans pocket where he’d found a few hundred dollars, some folded pieces of paper with hand-written Arabic writing on them and a business card with the name Kevin and a cell number on it. Heath had slipped the articles into a plastic bag, but not before entering the cell number into his notebook. His first thought when he reached the office was that the name on the card was possibly a next-of-kin, but the man who answered the phone seemed a little evasive. He needed further investigation.