The Longest Time Without You (Gold Streaks Book 3) (3 page)

Chapter 4

The sun is high, now; so that the light does not slant in through the windows, but filters down, making the place warm, but not unbearably so.

Lisa is sitting in the vast warehouse, knees drawn up; studying the space.

It is obviously an old warehouse; that much is clear. There is old, disused machinery along one side, but the rest of the vast space is empty; the floor cement; the walls soaring; high windows at the top letting in filtered, golden light.

There are no clear ways out. There is only one door; and that is locked. The windows are very high: twenty or thirty meters of sheer wall beneath them.

Lisa smiles to herself, wryly, as she thinks of some of the wilder options: digging a tunnel? Throwing something heavy at the door? Good ideas, but what will she do when the guards come running? And it is guarded. That is certain.

Lisa looks around the room; red-brown eyes lively; taking in everything. She is a lawyer, and has a quick, lively mind. But there is nothing she can see that suggests anything more to do, right now.

She looks round, inquisitively. Her hand dusts a stray curl across her forehead and behind one ear; her dark red hair loose and darkened slightly with dust and old sweat.

She stands, limbs still loose despite the cramped confinement and sleeping curled up to keep warm in the cold, dark space at night. No-one has thought to provide her with a blanket; she reflects, wryly; and the nights are still cold, even though the days are warm.

She walks across the floor to sit in the space of sunshine flowing through the top windows. She is restless with the confinement; and stretches; touching her toes. She considers scaling the walls; to keep moving, if nothing else. Goes over to the patch of rough blocks over the front door; experimentally grips the rough edge of some cement blocks near the door and lifts her weight; sliding her foot onto a rough rim of cement block that sticks out about half a meter from the floor.

She grins; grimaces with the cramp in her fingers, and drops again.

She crosses the room and paces in the filtered sunlight from the window; thinking.

The men who are keeping her here are clearly connected to Raju Patel. From what she has overheard them say, and from the look of one of them, whom she thinks she recognizes from a photograph of the Patel family; one of them at least is working for him.

If they want her out of the way, it can only be because she was close, in that conversation she had with Sue – Raju Patel was somehow linked to his wife's death.

Her mind reels, thinking about that. She paces in the light; lost in her deliberations.

But then, one of the men mentioned a link to the car company; the company she was defending. Brinkman Car assembly. If they are connected, too; what was their involvement? Did they sell Raju Patel a faulty car in exchange for a promise of greater rewards after Mrs. Patel's death? Did they help him arrange for the accident to happen? Or agree to take the blame, so that Raju Patel would remain clear of suspicion in his wife's death? In which case, it would explain why they want the lawyer out of the way. They probably want someone on the case who will agree to lose, so Raju can walk away spotless.

That last option does not bode well for her. They would probably kill her, to keep her from saying something that would go against their plans. She shakes her head; one eyebrow raised reflectively.

Lisa is lost in her musing. She does not hear the door open at first; only notices the spread of light around it as it widens; a growing arc of gold upon the floor.

A man's face appears; then his whole body, silhouetted in the bright door.

“Excuse me?”

Lisa raises her voice, which has gone weaker than she remembers, and harsh with two day's silence and nights in the cold air.

The man pauses; about to shut the door. He has a bottle of water with him, which he was in the act of leaving on the floor for her.

“Excuse me.”

Lisa starts again. No harm in being polite. At first, at least.

“Yes..?”

The voice is hesitant. Whatever these men, her guards, were told; no instructions about talking to her were involved.

“Could you tell me anything about where I am?”

Lisa has walked over to the door; is standing in the widening pool of light it admits from the warm late morning sun. She is pale with lack of sleep; red-brown hair in dusty curls tumbling about her shoulders down her chest; the sunlight making it glow despite the dustiness of it. She is wearing her mustard-coloured office pants; a burgundy silk blouse with mustard speckles dusty now, and dark-stained with sweat and dust and a little blood where she cushioned her head on one upper arm.

“No.”

The man is looking at her suspiciously; clearly wary of doing anything his boss might not agree with.

“Well, Raju Patel isn't going to come here soon, and find out you told me?” Lisa asks it, blankly.

The man blinks. It is clear that he is surprised. It is also clear that she is right; they do at least know Raju Patel, and he must be involved. This man is the other guard, the one with the South African accent, who Lisa heard talking yesterday. He does not have a direct link to Raju or the Patel family.

“You know him?” Lisa asks, her voice level.

Her “lawyer” voice, “No. I've never even seen him.”

The speed of the answer makes Lisa think that it must be true.

“So, you don't work for him?” She presses.              

Her voice is so confident, so assured, he doesn't stop to think about why he is standing answering questions levelled at him by someone who is a hostage or a prisoner he is guarding.

“Not...”

The man stops. Looks at her out of the corner of his eye. A long pause. Then continues.

“...hey, Lady. I don't know what you're playing at. But I can't answer your questions.” He pauses; indicates the water with his foot where he has left it inside the door; halfway between both of them.

“I'm just here to bring you that.” He continues. “Not to die of thirst in here.”

Lisa stops, her face neutral. Inside, her mind is calculating; thinking over the information; weighting it and comparing it to what she knows.

“Thank you.” He voice is mild.

“No worries.”

The man closes the door.

Inside, Lisa pauses for a moment, waiting to hear if he has gone. Then turns round once; a small gesture of excitement, a nod to the tiny triumph of new information gained.

So. Of the guards, one of them knows Raju Patel. The other has never seen him. This guard must be working for the car company. They are in it together. Just as she had thought.

Lisa pauses, looking into the darkness beyond the bar of sunlight from the windows; the gold light surrounding her. That means...that means that the third option is most likely the right one. Some agreement between Raju Patel and someone working in the car company requires that she lose.

She pauses, her stomach tight and roiling with the new information and what it means. She has to find a way out of here.

They have not killed her yet, so perhaps they only mean to keep her out of the way for the duration of the case. But when the case is finished? Can they risk letting her go, with what she might have figured out while here?

Lisa pauses, looking into the darkness beyond the warm reaches of sunlight and lazy-drifting dust in the warm air.

The golden light shines off the planes of her face, warms the wide-gazing dark brown of her eyes and the chiseled nose and brow. She has to find a way out of here, with all the information she has learned. To win this case.

Somewhere in her heart, she thinks of Sue. Fights it down. She will get out of here. Will bring with her the information she needs to win the case. Will see Sue, again.

Chapter 5

“Gentlemen...I think we can conclude that shares in the new vein will appreciate over the next ten years? If we could consider our policy regarding the new-discovered Bismuth deposits?”

Sue is sitting at the head of the table in her office. The light behind her streams in through the windows, making a pale aura of gold spark from her pale hair. It is styled loosely; drawn back off her face by a diamante hairslide; leaving the long fine strands of it loose down her back. Her white silk suit glows palely in the light; a white blouse of the same material beneath it.

On her left, Bruce Spier, her financier, is sitting. His soft, rounded face is a picture of concern under dark blonde, thinning hair. His mustard suit glows in the sunshine too, but, unlike Sue, he is sweating. He is worried about her. She is the same as ever; an icy, flint-hard pillar of authority and control; but those who know her well and are here to support her can see the strain it takes for her to keep maintaining that.

“I think...”

One of the men around the table – the major shareholders in Gold Ridge Mines – is starting the conversation again.

A small argument ensues about the worth of shares in the new Bismuth site discovered on the mine near one of the older galleries. Bruce has the figures he has found about bismuth and its worth, and is entering the discussion boldly, fighting for the best value. Sue is countering arguments as well, but she can feel the strain of it; of being here, arguing about something so seemingly trivial, when inside all she can think of is Lisa and her absence, and where and how she is now.

She can feel a headache somewhere behind her eyes; pounding in time to her heartbeat; slow, steady, fluttering. She lifts her hand and holds her brow, her fingers gripping her temples to slow the  bar of pain that is creeping slowly across, blocking out her thinking and making her gasp.

Beside her, Bruce looks at her, concerned.

“Hold it.”

He almost shouts into the lively argument around the table. He gestures with his hands, flapping at the arguing men. Sue waves a hand at him in restraint.

“No...no, Bruce.” She says, weakly, fighting the pain in her head. “I'm alright.”

Around them, the argument still rages, oblivious. One or two of the shareholders are looking at Sue with questioning looks, but the rest seem not to have noticed.

“I think...” Sue clears her throat. “I think we should call another session, with the construction people and the engineers. We need the facts about the expense of recovering this material first; before we can even start to evaluate its net worth.”

There is silence for a moment; then the conversation rages again.

“We could...”

“Why are we waiting? The returns could be so great...”

“What if...”

“Has anyone checked the shareprices from Ewing Gold? They did a similar thing about five years ago. Has anyone checked how they're doing now?”

Sue feels the blackness of the headache pulsing behind her eyes, blinding her. She is spiralling into the ache of it, her heart thumping steadily and painfully the only sensation she can feel besides the pulsing, flowing dark that obscures her sight.

“Ms Montmorency?”

Elspeth has come into the room. Sue has not noticed. The whirling dark is all she can see. She holds her head with one hand, fingers clasping the temples to try and stem the pain.

“Susan?” Bruce touches her shoulder gently from where he sits next to her, concerned.

“Yes?” She asks it weakly.

“Telephone for you, Ms Montmorency.” Elspeth replies, her voice questioning and lively. She is oblivious to Sue's distress; just delighted to have her back at work, heading up the company as capably as ever. She continues, smiling.

“You'll take the call in my office?”

“Yes. Yes, Elspeth.”             

“Very good.”

Sue closes her eyes again for a moment; forces them open after a second or two. She puts her hands on the table, the joints white with the strain. Presses down and lifts herself up. She is shocked at how weak her legs have gone under her. She feels drained, the room whirling with the dizziness and exhaustion she feels.

Elspeth leads the way, high-heels soft on the silky-soft pale carpet of Sue's office.

In the office, Sue leans heavily on the front desk; lifts the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hello Ms Montmorency? This is Inspector Zamoxolo from the Police department.”

“Yes?” Sue's voice is suddenly urgent.

“We think we have a lead your missing partner.”

“Yes?” Sue's voice is practically singing with elation and relief. “Yes? What is the lead?”

“We have a report from a man who lives on the edge of town; near the industrial area. He says he thinks he saw a car of the description you and Mr. Mokgotsi supplied; heading out to the old industrial area.”

“What?” Sue's voice is at once relieved and concerned. “Has anyone been up there?”

“We have a team moving through systematically; starting at the paper mill on Old Main Road.”

“That...it could take days.” Sue breathes.

“It could. But we have to do things thoroughly.”

“Surely you must have some idea where they were heading?”

“The man who saw the car said they looked as if they were heading to the ridges, where the old refineries were. But from where he lives, it would be impossible to tell. They could have headed in any direction at the edge of town. We just don't know.”

Sue's heart is pounding. She can hardly think past the flooding relief. She feels lightheaded, the sudden release of tension crippling.

“Thank...thank you for calling.” Sue manages. Her voice is light as well; lower in tone and soaring with relief.

“Of course. We will keep you updated of our progress, Ms Montmorency.”

They greet and hang up. Sue feels weak, lightheaded. She feels her knees give way.

Elspeth wheels a chair over, concerned.

“Ms Montmorency?”

Sue collapses into the chair gratefully. Her head is whirling; the spots and swirls in front of her eyes blinding her as the blood-flow returns to her head. Inside, her heart is soaring, beating steadily with renewed intent.

“Ms Montmorency? Are you alright?” Elspeth's voice, concerned, comes from a long distance away.

“Yes.” Sue replies, firmly, through the whirling lightness and fog before her eyes. “Yes, Elspeth. I'm fine.”

Now she knows where Lisa is. She will find her. This afternoon. Soon. Whatever the police say. She believes the man that the car was heading to the ridges, as it seems a logical place to go if you were planning to keep someone hidden. She will find Lisa. Whatever anyone says.

The meeting.

“Elspeth? Is there room to reschedule a session of the meeting to tomorrow? Something's come up.”

“Yes, Ms Montmorency.”

“I'll go in and round off, then.” Sue replies. She stands, almost effortlessly. Her legs tremble a little with relief, but she is resolute.

At the door of the meeting room, she pauses and takes stock. Of all the seven men there, they should be free to continue tomorrow. She looks around the table. Will Laverock...he'll be there. Steve Wiseman...also. Zamoxolo Mketa...he'll be there. But...where is Cedric Brinkman? From Brinkman Car assembly? In all the excitement, she hadn't noticed his absence.

Oh, well; she thinks. He'll be there tomorrow. So much the better, that we discuss again then, so he can catch up as well.

“Right, gentlemen.” Sue clears her throat, her voice brisk. Authoritative and utterly, totally alive.

“We will need to continue this meeting tomorrow. I trust that will be satisfactory for all?”

Because something has come up. Because she knows where Lisa is. Because, soon, she can do something to change things. To find her and bring her back.