The Fallen (12 page)

Apartheid may be over in South Africa, but a culinary equivalent was still practised regularly in the De Jong kitchen.

‘What does 813 mean to you?’ David asked suddenly.

Jade gave the pot a stir and turned around to face him.

‘In what context?’ she asked.

‘It was on a postcard in Amanda’s room. The card was sent to her by a guy called Themba, from an address in Yeoville, Johannesburg. He wrote that he hoped she was
OK
after 813.’

‘Why don’t you send someone round to ask him, if you know where he lives?’

‘I’m going to get Moloi onto it tomorrow. It could be nothing, but it struck me as worth following up. She didn’t have much personal stuff in her room at all, but she kept that postcard for some reason. And I’m curious to know what 813 means.’

‘When you first said it, I thought it was a date. Like 9/11. It sounds similar, doesn’t it? Could it be the thirteenth of August? Something to do with something that happened on that day?’ Jade hazarded.

‘It isn’t written like a date. Just three numbers, one after the other.’

Jade shrugged. ‘Maybe they’re old friends and it’s a personal code of some kind.’

David nodded. ‘I’d like an explanation, just to stop those damn numbers bugging me. It’s not urgent, though. At the moment we
have other, more important issues to pursue. Like where Monique’s disappeared to. And finding your unknown man.’

Turning back to the cooker, Jade deftly transferred half the curry into another pan, added the chillies and breathed in their eye-watering aroma.

‘If the vagrant’s got any sense, he’s probably far away from here,’ she observed.

At that point, David got up and walked over to the front door. He locked it and fastened the bolts that had been screwed onto the wood earlier that day. Then he drew the curtains, shutting out the dark.

In the neighbouring chalet, Elsabe and Craig weren’t doing anything about supper. Elsabe had told Craig she was too upset to eat, and Craig, although he could have done with some food, was also upset, and in any case was feeling too tired to cook.

He was making do with a pack of peanuts that he had bought some time ago while filling up with petrol on a journey through Zimbabwe, and which had remained, ignored and then forgotten, in his glove compartment ever since.

He sat beside her on the couch, eating the peanuts slowly, one by one. Elsabe, her face half hidden by her long hair, was reading a historical novel, but he didn’t think she was focused on the story at all. Normally a fast reader, she hadn’t turned a page for minutes.

What a thing to happen, he thought, wondering if he should turn on the television.

Suddenly, Elsabe raised her head, sat up straight and glanced nervously at their tightly bolted door.

‘Did you hear that?’ she asked.

‘Hear what?’ The plastic crumpled as he dug inside the bag’s small opening, searching for another nut.

‘There was a noise outside. I’m sure of it. Would you please stop rooting around in that bag?’

Craig put the bag on the table as carefully as possible. Now he too stared at the door, and for a while there was a tense silence.

As hard as he tried, Craig couldn’t hear a thing. Not that that meant there was nothing to be heard, though. He knew
from experience that Elsabe’s hearing was far more sensitive than his own.

‘What did it sound like?’ he asked quietly.

‘I don’t know. I’d need to hear it again. A sort of rustling noise. That’s why I noticed it—because there’s no reason for it. It’s very still tonight.’

Craig moved over to the window and pushed the curtain back just far enough for him to be able to see outside. He’d spent some time in Johannesburg a few years ago, and one of the security tips he’d been given by a friend during his stay was that opening the curtains wide and staring outside would present a potential assailant with a large and obvious target.

As he had expected, there was nothing to be seen in the darkness. But he could hear the tremor in Elsabe’s voice and he couldn’t stop himself from looking once again at the two new steel bolts on the front door.

‘I could go and …’

‘No!’ she hissed, clenching her small hands tightly. ‘Don’t go out. That’s how people get killed. Somebody could be waiting there.’

Exasperated, Craig found himself wanting to snap at her, ‘Well, what do you want me to do then?’, but thought better of it. Then he had an idea. The powerful
LCD
torch that he’d used so often on his field trips, and again the night before, was in the chalet, in the box with the towrope, the orange traffic cone and the reflective vests that he always took along as a precaution, but had never needed to use. In fact, a couple of months ago, he’d had to give one of the vests to a customs official in a central African country who, for some reason, had taken a liking to it and refused to let him through without a ‘donation.’

Grabbing the torch from the box and turning it on, he hurried back to the window. The beam of white light looked dazzlingly bright, even in the well-lit chalet.

In one swift movement, Craig pulled back the curtain and shone the flashlight through the glass, scrutinising the sudden pool of brightness.

‘There’s …’ He was going to say, ‘There’s nothing there.’
But then, suddenly, he saw there was. The beam had picked out a faint shape near the tree-line above the beach.

Breathing more rapidly now, he stared at what he saw. Bracketed between the pinpoint glows of two newly installed outdoor lamps, and now caught in the strong gleam of his torch, there was something that looked very much like a man. He could see the faint smudge of greyish-looking trousers and, above that, what might be tanned arms. Tall and thin, standing stock still, as if he knew that if he moved now he would give his presence away completely.

‘I think I can see something …’ he said in a voice that, even to him, sounded strained.

‘What?’ Her response was high, tense, panicked. ‘What can you see?’

Hurrying over to the window, she grabbed at his arm. His right arm; the one holding the light.

‘Wait! Careful …’ he told her.

His warning came too late. Her anxious grasp jerked his elbow down, and the beam of light swung away from the intruder and went arcing up into the sky, where it was swallowed by the darkness.

Jaw clenched in annoyance, Craig redirected the beam and scanned the tree-line, trying to find the greyish form he’d just seen.

But however hard he gazed at the boundary, no matter where he aimed the beam, there was nothing to be seen. The man—if there had been one there at all—had vanished.

The call came just as David was digging his fork—with some trepidation—into the steaming bowl of lentil curry that Jade had dished up for him.

‘Oh, dammit,’ he said, in a voice that Jade thought didn’t sound altogether sincere. Putting his fork down, he pushed his chair back and went to find his phone.

A minute later he was back, his face serious.

‘Problem, Jadey.’

‘What?’

She lowered the piece of naan bread she’d been holding. Her mouth was burning from the spicy food, but she didn’t find the feeling uncomfortable. In fact, she found it enjoyable. Who was it who had told her once that chillies were addictive? Her father, most probably. The stern Commissioner De Jong had routinely eaten dinner—whatever it might be—with a small bowl of chopped raw chillies by his plate. He would add one or two chunks to every mouthful, nodding with pleasure as he chewed, and it wasn’t long before she had asked to try them too.

‘Guys next door think they’ve seen an intruder.’

‘Whereabouts?’ she asked, already on her feet.

‘I’m not sure. Somewhere close, though, because they saw him from their window. They’ve already phoned the police and they’re getting hold of Neil. I’ll go over there via the staff quarters and ask the domestic workers to come along too. Safer that way, I think. We’re going to do a search.’ He stopped, looked again at Jade, this time seeming to notice that she was no longer eating her dinner. He let out an impatient sigh. ‘You want to come along, I suppose?’ he asked in a tone that suggested she would be wiser to do the opposite.

‘Of course I’m coming,’ Jade responded, with some irritation. ‘What else am I going to do—sit here and wait for you? You do realise if this is the same intruder that was around last night, I’m the only one who’ll be able to
ID
him.’

Jade hurried into the bedroom and took her holster from the top shelf of the cupboard. David was already opening the safe and removing their guns. He held out the Glock to her, but when she tried to take it from him, he held onto the barrel, causing a brief tug-of-war. Looking at his face, Jade guessed he wanted to say something. A warning, perhaps? But he didn’t. Just gave another of his annoying sighs, let go of her gun, and strapped his own service pistol around his waist.

Then he collected his Maglite from the kitchen counter.

‘Let’s get going,’ he said. ‘See if we find anything out there.’

They stepped out into the night.

Elsabe looked terrified. She was huddled on the couch, hugging her knees with her slender arms. Craig had his arm around her, obviously trying to offer her some comfort. When he saw Jade walk in, he quickly removed his hand from her shoulder.

They were soon joined by David, who brought Nosipho and Vusi the handyman with him. Nosipho looked exhausted and scared, ill at ease among the people whose rooms she cleaned. Despite Craig’s offer, she didn’t sit down, but stood near the door, rubbing her eyes and adjusting her headscarf.

‘Where’s Neil?’ David asked.

‘I called him,’ Craig said. ‘He said he wasn’t going to come along.’

‘Not coming?’ David frowned. ‘Did he say why?’

‘Nope.’

David’s frown deepened. ‘Oh well. It’s his damn resort. We’ll go out in pairs, then. Nosipho, will you stay here with Elsabe? Vusi, if you’d like to come along on the search, you can pair up with me. Craig, you can go with Jade.’

It was a sensible way to split their available resources, Jade thought. One light for each group and one gun for each, because neither Vusi nor Craig had a firearm.

‘Lock the door and bolt it as soon as we’re outside, and if you hear or see anything suspicious, phone one of us immediately. Understood?’

Elsabe craned her neck to look up at the tall police superintendent. Under her mane of hair, her face looked very pale.

‘Understood,’ she said in a small voice.

‘Let’s all head over to the place where you thought you saw him,’ David said. ‘We can split up from there.’

Before she left Craig and Elsabe’s chalet, Jade walked over to the kitchen sink, squeezed some Sunlight washing-up liquid onto her hands, and carefully washed away every trace of grease that was left on her skin from handling the buttery naans. Slippery fingers wouldn’t help her if she needed to use her gun fast.

As she moved towards the door, Elsabe muttered something she couldn’t make out.

‘Sorry.’ Jade turned around, wondering if the comment had even been directed at her. ‘What was that?’

‘Huberta.’

The red-haired woman was staring at the wooden key ring carved in the shape of a smiling hippo that dangled from the hook on Jade’s belt.

‘What about her?’

‘She died.’

Jade blinked. ‘How do you mean?’

Now Elsabe looked up, straight at her. Her freckled face was as narrow as a rat’s and deep rings formed purple smudges under her eyes.

‘She was shot. Did you know that?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I overheard you telling the story to your boyfriend yesterday.’ She emphasised the word ‘boyfriend’ slightly and Jade wondered with a guilty pang if she somehow knew, or if Craig had told her, that they’d slept together. ‘But you didn’t tell him the end of the story.’

‘I didn’t know what the end was.’

‘Well, she was shot dead by three hunters a month after she arrived in King William’s Town. Someone saw her bloated body floating down the river. The hunters were found and fined twenty-five pounds each for destroying royal game.’

‘Oh.’

‘Later, she was stuffed and put on display in a museum. But it
couldn’t bring her back, of course. Nothing could. That’s the tragedy of murder, isn’t it?’

Jade didn’t know what to say in response to that, so she said nothing. She simply walked outside and set off towards the tangle of shrubs and bushes where the men were heading, moving as quietly as she could.

Recalling what Craig had told her about the horrific crash that had brought them together, she thought it quite likely that Elsabe’s odd behaviour was shaped by grief.

All the same, why did she have to tell her about the damn hippo being killed? Jade would much rather not have known. She’d thought the story had had a happy ending, but she’d been wrong.

Behind her, she heard the rattle of bolts as Elsabe locked the door.

She hurried past the first of the two new outside lights that Vusi had installed near the chalets.

Then she jogged over the uneven grass to catch up with the others.

Craig was standing near the back wall of the staff quarters, roughly halfway between the two lights and a good twenty paces from the perimeter.