Hot Ice (28 page)

She signs the cheque,
Christine TAD Winters
, hoping someone might pick up the TAD as being Trans-Africa Diamonds. Jim would, she knows, but will he see the cheque? Will the bank cash it?

Presumably they do. Marta is absent for several days. When she returns she is wearing a new dress and her hair has been cut and shaped. She keeps glancing at herself in the washroom mirror.

‘Sienna’s father is a millionaire, did you know that, Marta?’ Chris whispers in the washroom. ‘I was promised a fortune to find her. When the police free us I shall be rich.’

Marta watches Chris through the mirror. ‘You will never be free. Never! How could you get out of this place?’

What cold eyes she has.

Marta stays away and the girls become desperate. Chris is suffering more than Sienna. She has always been active, now she is becoming claustrophobic.

When the Armenian woman returns, she is more furtive than usual. Her pockets are stuffed with fruit which she gives to them.

‘I need more money,’ she demands when they
reach the washroom. You must give it to me. My son is in trouble. He has to get out of Armenia. He’s on the run from the police.’

At last! Chris has been waiting for this for weeks, guessing that Marta’s demands for cash would soon become excessive.

‘I have no more money, but I know how you can get half a million pounds. That is the amount that Sienna’s father has offered as a reward for news of his daughter. You must go to him. Here is his name and London address. I have written it all very clearly for you. If you can’t find him, then go to this address, or call this man.’ Chris gives Marta the address of Mohsen’s detective. ‘Tell no one but him, otherwise these thugs will steal the money from you. Just give him this address which I have written here and tell him we are in the bottom basement level.’

Twenty-four hours pass and nothing happens. Marta returns the next morning.

‘You ask too much. I can’t do it. They will kill me.’

‘They will kill you if you don’t go…I shall tell the guard about the money you took from us…the cheques you cashed…the credit card you used. All these things have told the police where we are. They’ll be here soon. It’s your choice. You can be a millionaire, a heroine, everyone will praise you. Or you can go to prison for life, if the gunmen don’t kill you first.’

‘She’ll go,’ Sienna says. ‘I feel it. I know it. It’s going to work.’

When longed for events suddenly happen, it’s hard to get to grips with reality. At eight p.m. the lights switch back on. Chris blinks and tries to see her watch, but it takes a second to get used to the light. This is it, she thinks. And then again…this is it!

Sienna jumps to her feet. Her eyes are wide and she’s biting her lip. ‘Listen…listen,’ she whispers. ‘What is it?’

Chris doesn’t answer. They’ve invited this, but it might not mean their salvation.

‘Didn’t you hear something?’

Chris rushes to the wash basin to splash cold water on her face.

‘Listen, for goodness’ sake. There it is again.’

Chris is putting on her shoes. She feels naked without them.

Gun shots. Or a tyre exploding, and then hammering…at eight p.m.? Chris begins to tremble.

‘Something is happening,’ Sienna whispers.

They hear shouts above. Then the door slides silently open. David stands there looking wild and almost unhinged. He’s pointing a gun at Chris. His expression frightens her more than the gun. He looks sorry for her, like a hunter faced with shooting his favourite horse.

‘I warned you, Chrissie. Why didn’t you listen to me? I begged you. I never wanted to harm you.’

Her rage erupts and with it a surge of adrenaline. She yells and propels herself forward, leaping high, shooting her heel into his face, as he fires straight at her. She feels a burning sensation in her thigh, but it’s nothing. Her rage is everything as her foot kicks out again and again. Three hammer punches in quick succession with the steel heel of her shoe.

His head jerks back and in that split second she goes for his gun. She’s not going to get it out of his grasp, he’s too strong for her. Instead she presses her finger over his, letting the bullets fly harmlessly down the passage while they grapple and fight. Six…seven…then empty clicks. He may throttle her, but he’s not going to shoot her. She leans against the wall, feeling sticky wetness trickling down her thigh. She won’t look. The pain must keep away.

David is dazed. He’s rubbing his face. He looks at his hand which is covered in blood and swears. The lift is coming. As he turns towards it, she grabs the gun from his hand and smashes it over his
temple. He falls back against the wall and she does it again…and again, with all her strength.

He’s out on the floor. Chris is shocked to learn how easy it is to knock a man out.

Turning, she finds Sienna close behind her. Two of their guards rush out of the lift. ‘Down the passage…both of you…fast…’

‘Leave them,’ the second goon says.

‘We need hostages.’

They are manhandled down the passage to a door, which unlocks at the touch of the gunman’s fingers. Surprisingly they find they’re in the car park. They are pushed into the back seat of a BMW, which lurches forward with screeching brakes as they speed around the sharp bends up to street level. The driver turns right towards the Thames and Chris senses they are being taken somewhere where they can be disposed off. They are the only evidence of any criminal activity.

The goon is keeping them covered with his gun while he wipes his forehead with a dirty handkerchief. He has twisted half around to face them. The muzzle of his gun rests on the back seat. It’s pointing right at Chris, who motions to Sienna to get down on the floor, but she can’t see her chance to act.

Something behind them catches the thug’s attention.

He swears. ‘We’re being followed. Go faster!’

The car weaves through the traffic, shooting
across red traffic lights, leaving a trail of hoots and shouts. A police car with its blaring siren keeps up with them.

Chris sits tense and upright, every nerve poised for action if a chance presents itself. The car is dodging and swerving…the minutes pass.

Five minutes later, the police car draws abreast. ‘Pull over to the left,’ comes a tinny voice through the loudspeaker.

The goon grabs Chris by her hair, pulls her up and forward, ramming his gun at her temple. He gestures to the driver to fall back. The driver brakes and they surge on. Chris topples back on to the seat. They’re moving towards Docklands. That figures. They will kill them there and dump their bodies, Chris shudders.

It seems hours later when they hear a helicopter hovering over the road. Their driver swerves. He rams a car that’s suddenly appeared abreast of them and the car skids off the road. The gunman is leaning forward, peering up at the night sky. The muzzle of his gun has momentarily swung away from her.

Chris lunges forward and knocks the gun around, gasping for strength as she presses his trigger finger. The report seems loud enough to shatter her eardrums. The driver slumps over the wheel and the car skids out of control. Veering across the road, it mounts the pavement and crashes into a railing. Chris is flung head first over
the front seat. She sprawls over the gunman and goes for his gun. She’s failing badly, swearing, fighting, seeing the gun twisting towards her. There’s pounding in her ears, and she’s losing her grasp on the gun and reality as her strength fails her and the muzzle touches her forehead.

A sickening blast dazes her. This is it! But then she sees blood trickling from the man’s mouth and the gun slips from his limp hand. Bewildered and frantic, she looks round and sees Sienna holding the driver’s gun. She’s shaking violently. Her mouth is open. She’s trying to say something, but she can’t get the words out. Chris lunges over the seat and grabs the gun from her, throwing it on the floor.

Dazed and shocked, she hears running footsteps and the roar of the helicopter landing nearby. She blinks several times and sees Jim, of all people, racing along the road. Sienna is shouting at her: ‘Free…we’re free,’ but Chris’ world is spinning off into oblivion.

Chris opens her eyes. She feels absolutely vile. A man in a white coat is bending over her and there’s a strong stench of disinfectant all around them.

‘Where am I?’ Can he hear her whispered croak?

‘Must we play this scene again…and again. You’re in the recovery unit of the University College Hospital, Christine. I’m Tim Rose. Remember me? You have sustained a painful flesh
wound, but the bullet was merely passing by. I’ve stitched you up. You’re going to be fine.’

The male nurse is new. He wheels her to the lift in sombre silence. They wait for a long time. Eventually the lift arrives and they creep up to the fifth floor. Chris is wheeled along a beige corridor to a two-bed ward with a floral curtain hanging between the beds. Sienna is sitting there, huddled in a large overcoat. Chris can see her prison pyjamas sticking out below. She’s wearing hospital slippers.

‘Sienna, oh, Sienna,’ Chris croaks. Her mouth is too dry to talk. ‘Water…please.’

‘Rinse your mouth and spit, dear,’ the nurse says.

‘Are you all right?’ Chris croaks hoarsely.

‘Yes. Thanks to you. I can’t stay long. Father’s waiting in the TV room. He sends you his love. He’s coming to see you when you’ve recovered a little. He wanted to take me home, but I had to see you first. The goons didn’t die, by the way. They’re in hospital under police guard. The police have been here, too. They’re coming back to take your statement later. I’ve done mine.’

Sienna rubs her cold hands. ‘Dearest Chris! I’ve missed you so much. We lost touch. That was wrong. I never want to lose touch with you again. Promise me it will never happen. Not even after we’re married. By the way, Hamid and I have decided to go ahead with a quiet marriage at my home.’

‘Good for you,’ Chris whispers. ‘Hamid? Would that be Hamid Khan the bogus detective?’

Sienna giggles like a schoolgirl. ‘Yes, but of course he was no such thing. He’s my father’s marketing manager and he was helping to find me.’

‘Do you love him?’

‘Yes,’ Sienna flushes and then smiles.

‘I’m so happy for you. Would you call the nurse? I feel terrible. My thigh’s on fire.’

Sienna stood up and went outside. ‘Please give her something for the pain,’ Chris hears her say in the corridor.

Moments later she returns with the nurse bearing an injection.

Sienna is talking and Chris struggles to concentrate. ‘The police told me that David Marais has been formally identified as Herman Visser,’ she’s saying, as the nurse injects the morphine. ‘He’s been arrested for kidnapping and for a 25-year-old murder. Your father brought all the evidence they needed.’

‘My father?’ Chris says wonderingly.

‘Yes, he’s staying in London. Everyone was here this morning, but the nurse told them to come back later. Look at your flowers. Your mother brought these. Aren’t they lovely. I’ll see you tomorrow. Come and stay with me for a few weeks to recuperate.’

‘No chance,’ she hears a voice from the doorway. ‘I’m taking her far away from London. We’re leaving for a long holiday.’ Jim’s voice.

Chris closes her eyes and smiles…and falls asleep.

It rains in the late afternoon. It always does at this time of the year: heavy, pulverising rain that revives the earth after the noonday heat. By six, the clouds have rolled away, the sun has not set, yet it’s cool and fragrant. The leaves drip noisily and the glowing twilight suffuses the veld with a soft, golden haze. This is the time that Chris loves best of all.

Slowly, gently, with hardly a sound, the paddleboat drifts along the wide river. Hanging over the railing, Chris gazes at the graceful impalas grazing on the river banks. Four giraffe stand with their feet splayed, heads close together, staring curiously as the boat moves silently past. A
bat-eared
fox slinks through the grass and once again she sees the massive baobab tree she loved so much the first time she saw it. Elephants are herding their young into the water to bathe. Scores of twittering weaver birds are diving into their colony in the Acacia trees as they prepare for the night.

‘Are you cold, Chris?’ Jim pushes her stole around her shoulders.

He’s become absurdly protective. She knows he feels guilty. In his view the rescue was a disaster.

‘Let’s sit down. You need to rest as much as you can.’

They sit on a bench by the rails, under a thatch roof, open on all sides, and watch the African bush preparing for the night. Soon the baboons make for their rooftop sanctuary, a hyena jogs past, swaying
from side to side in its ungainly posture, preparing for the night’s hunt.

‘Jim, thank you.’ She reaches for his hand. ‘It’s been wonderful.’

‘It’s not over yet, Chris.’

She watches the birds roosting and stares at the purple clouds piling up on the horizon.

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘I was thinking about Dad. Did you know that Mohsen Sheik persuaded him to go public with a minority interest in his new mine, so he can buy the equipment he needs? All the shares were taken up as soon as they came on offer. They were bought through various nominees, but I suspect that Dad and Sheik are partners.’

‘Could be great for both of them.’

‘There’s so much I don’t know, Jim. You promised to tell me all that happened while I was in the cell.’

‘When you’re better.’

‘As you can see, I’m better.’

‘Do you really want to talk about work on such a lovely evening?’

‘That’s what you always say.
Yes, I really do.
’

‘Shall I start from the beginning?’

‘It’s as good a place as any.’

‘All this talking makes me thirsty.’ He grins and gestures to the barman.

‘When you didn’t arrive at work, I realised something was wrong. That was a bad time…the
worst.’ He places his hand under her shawl to fondle her shoulder. ‘Nowadays I never stop saying: “Thank God”. Rowan Metcalf told me you had called him the previous evening, but you hadn’t arrived in London. I checked with British Airways and found that you’d arrived that morning. I went to the police and they made out a Missing Persons file, which wasn’t going to get us far in a hurry.

‘I decided that the diamond launderers were the most likely guys to have you, but I didn’t know who they were. I called Petrus Joubert and he flew out to Kelly. Your father tried to remember everything you’d said and done in the last two days before you left. It was your flight to
Shimpuru-64
that intrigued Petrus…that and a statement you made to your father. Do you remember? Kelly asked you what you expected to find there and you replied: “a derelict mine”.

‘Petrus and Kelly got through to the Chamber of Mines and found that all of Kelly’s old marginal mines were in Trans-Africa Diamond’s portfolio. I faxed Kelly some photographs of Marais and he was sure he was Visser.’

‘So quickly, and it took me two months.’

‘We were following in your footsteps…that’s all.’

‘Petrus felt that there wasn’t enough evidence to entice the Met into raiding the mining house. Besides, if you weren’t there, what was the point? They could have hidden you anywhere.’

Watching his face, Chris realises how afraid he
was and how angry he still is. That’s why he can’t bear to talk about it.

‘Petrus is the real star here. He got his superiors to reopen the investigation into the death of the skipper of
Rainbow’s End
…and he did it fast. The next day, Petrus arrested Skoog for attempted murder and persuaded Skoog to turn State Evidence. Skoog gave a sworn statement that Visser had killed the skipper. He said Visser had knocked him out and left him to die when the boat sank. Only later, Petrus told me how much it hurt him to let Skoog escape justice. He wanted to get him back for what he did to you. He’s waiting for the
go-ahead
to arrest him for trying to murder you. You have a real fan there, Chris.’

‘I like him, too.’

Jim frowns at her, but soon thinks better of it.

‘We had a breakthrough. Kelly remembered that some of Visser’s possessions were left in his cottage near the mine they lost. He’d packed them in a trunk in the loft. Kelly had forgotten about them until Petrus asked. There were clothes, hairs on the clothes, a hairbrush…so at last we had Visser’s DNA. David Marais’ DNA proved that he and Visser were one and the same, so Petrus applied for his extradition, but still the police were hesitant. Evidently he is on the latest honours list.’