Authors: D. Hamilton-Reed
Royce was dreaming, he was standing there as bullets bounced in front of Joy the dust smoke rising. He saw her look at him and in slow motion began to fall. She landed hard on the ground. He ran to her and looked into her eyes and the life was gone, he screamed, “JOOOOOOYYYYYY!” Joy felt him moving and held on to him, “Oh baby, I’m here, I’m here,” she held him. He gasped and was awake. “It was just a dream baby,” Joy said.
More like a nightmare
, Royce thought, the image of her dead stare still haunting him. She took him in her arms, “It’s okay baby, it's okay, I’m here,” she said holding and soothing him. She would be there for him and she knew he needed her now. Royce snuggled in closer to her and she stroked his hair, “It's okay baby,” he put his arms around her and hugged her so close afraid to close his eyes.
Jameson had walked the premises and he saw the light in their bedroom, he wished he’d had time to set up. He knew they were making love, if Mr. Harrington needed her, tonight was surely a night for it. He thought of Joy, she was so perfect in her assessment of the situation, “You saved our lives, all of you,” and that was true, but he wished he’d saved it before a man in a helicopter came firing. But to have to shoot it out, he still shuddered at not knowing if he had saved her or not. His heart pounded as he shot at the helicopter thinking he’d gotten there too late and he’d yelled at her to get down, but the shooter got his first round off and his heart almost stopped, “She’s so…so smart, so pretty, so amazing.” Joy was all those things to him and he thought he’d lost her today and as soon as he had a new phone he was going to call Reggie and find out what the hell happened. He walked on and saw their light go out.
The next day they woke up famished to a frosty chilly morning and a loud buzzing. Jameson jumped up and ran to the kitchen. He saw a screen mounted on a wall and two African women in colorful African clothes with baskets in their arms standing outside the gate pushing the buzzer. “Penny, Naledi sir,” he pushed the button and opened the gate.
Penny and Naledi cooked breakfast of flat bread with jam, sausage and scrambled eggs and they dived into the food and after his hunger was assuaged Jameson couldn’t wait any longer he rushed out and managed to find his way back to Cape Town to find cell phones.
When he returned he went straight to his room and called Reggie, “Reggie, Jameson,” he said straight forward. “Oh Jameson,” Reggie said clearly he’d been sleeping. “Yes, I need answers, what happened?” Jameson didn’t care what time it was there, this was no time to be polite and wait for the proper time. Reggie cleared his head, “They made Tommy, I don’t know how but Jameson it’s bad,” and Jameson could hear him getting emotional, “He was tailing Gibeau. We’d gotten word he was on a flight from Toronto and Tommy wanted to finish up with him. See what he’d tell Mr. Harrington’s father. He managed to get a bug on him. Oh Jameson its bad and that’s how we heard it all…,” and Reggie told him when they found Tommy’s car they listened to what the bug had recorded and heard Tommy pleading for his life and then he paused, “It’s the father Jameson, it’s Walker Harrington Sr. behind this,” and Jameson sat hard on the bed, “Mr. Harrington’s father is behind this! His father!” He said in disbelief. “Yes, it’s his father. We heard him, he ordered them to finish Tommy and to finish this job,” and now Jameson knew why this case didn’t make sense, why they couldn’t find anything. They were looking in all the wrong places while it was right there in front of his face, and he was stunned. What would he tell Mr. Harrington? How would he tell Mr. Harrington? His father? Why would his father do this?
“Mr. Harrington,” Jameson said and Royce left Joy and walked outside and far out onto the grounds, “It’s not good. We found out who’s been behind this. They made our guy and he’s been eliminated, but we know who’s behind it all.” Even though it was hard Jameson knew he had to tell him, “What? You mean…killed?” Jameson nodded. Royce ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath, “Okay who is it?”
That fucking bitch Tammy I know it!
“It’s your father sir. He’s been behind this the whole time.” “So you’re saying my father called the hits?” Royce looked at him in stunned disbelief. Then he was angry, he paced away and came back, “I don’t understand, are you sure? My father?” Jameson nodded and Royce’s eyes flashed his anger, “This is my father we’re talking about you better be damn sure Jameson! But Why? This makes no fucking sense!” He yelled. “I don’t know sir, but my man is dead and it was your father’s men that killed him,” he said evenly. Royce was too stunned to think, too stunned to believe what he’d just heard. He could do nothing but stand there and stare at Jameson. He needed Jameson he knew that, but he’d lost trust in him, his nightmares proved his worse fears. Jameson was only human and humans make mistakes. Was this true, was it his father? There was a threat he was sure and he needed to protect Joy but he didn’t want to believe his father was behind this.
Jameson put his ear to the ground to find out if the search had reached South Africa. Apartheid had officially ended in 1994 with the election of Nelson Mandela as the country’s first black president, and now it was 2008. The new president was Thabo Mbeki, he took office after Mandela and now he was being challenged by Jacob Zuma. They’d arrived in a country going through a political upheaval. He left the politics aside and found Cape Town was a vast sprawling large cosmopolitan city of three and a half million people. People were going about their daily lives, and he had to concentrate to drive on the left side of the road. The city had all the amenities, a night life, social and cultural activities, beautiful sights and attractions, lots of fast food and a huge black market of everything from drugs, to diamonds, to guns, to anything exotic. Skins of poached animals like leopard, zebra, and carcasses of protected animals like cape vultures to baboons could be found.
He found diamonds in their raw form and everything else under the sun but he wasn’t interested in all that he wanted guns and when he found them he loaded up. He’d exchanged their Euros for rands the South African currency and he’d had to think fast at the exchange rate in his negotiations but in the end he bought Royce a 380 handgun, a thirty-eight and a shoulder holster and deadlier and more dangerous weapons for him and Valerie.
He sent Valerie to Europe and she seemed relieved to be going, and it wasn’t long before he got the first call, “I’m in Spain, it’s hot, Gibeau’s here,” she reported. “Okay, looks like we’re safer where we’re at. Come back,” if Gibeau was in Europe being a whole continent away helped. He went to Royce, “I hope you like it here because we’re digging in, it’s the safest place for now.”
Jameson sent the family on a safari and while they were gone he set up his surveillance equipment, cameras around the house and outside, he planted bugs and had a carpenter put up a temporary wall with a door to separate his wing from theirs and that night he sat down to listen and instead of hearing the sounds of beautiful love he heard small sounds like a whimper and he listened closer. “Joy, Joy,” then he heard more whimpers, “Joy, no, Joy,” Mr. Harrington was dreaming and it didn’t sound like a pleasant one either, the dream sounds were getting louder. “No!”, he cried out loud and frightened. He heard the bed move like someone was getting up, and because the house was bugged he heard Mr. Harrington walking the house.
Royce stood at the family room window and looked out into the dark, it was a full moon and he scanned the white wall. He was looking from one end to the other and when he was satisfied he walked to the front of the house and Jameson heard him, heard his bare feet on the floor. He stood at the dining room window and scanned the perimeter, focused on the white wall in front of the house, he stayed the longest watching the gate and when he was satisfied he went to bed. Jameson heard the bed move when he climbed in. Royce lay down next to Joy, if his father was after her he would protect her, he had the 380 in the nightstand and the thirty-eight in its holster draped over the back of the chair by his bed. Joy stirred and awakened a little, “Is everything okay baby?” “Yes baby, it is now,” he said and she took him in her arms.
They found they really didn’t need a tutor most South Africans spoke English so Joy registered the kids in the only school recommended by Mrs. DuShane, “For children of your class there is only the International Afrikaans School of Education in Cape Town. There are others, Dartmoore of course, but the best is the International.”
The International School of Education was one of several private schools in Cape Town, it had been around a long time and before the fall of Apartheid it was the school chosen by rich white South Africans and by the wealthy ethnic elite, the Middle Easterners, the Chinese, the outside groups that hadn’t sanctioned the country had a population who had made their wealth here, but with the fall of Apartheid it was still the best school except now it had quite a few wealthy black South Africans as well. South Africa had seen a huge rise of a black middle class, and of wealthy blacks who had moved in from other parts of Africa and America, all taking advantage of the now open society, so the school was still an international mix of ethnicities and no one batted an eye at other races walking down the hall.
Since they’d just come from Spain, Joy told the kids, “Just say you’re from Spain, it’s not a lie, it’s easier just to say you’re from Spain,” and even though they said they were from Spain they quickly shed their Spanish ways and adapted to Cape Town life. They went back to dinner being the largest meal of the day, they had too, first of all the kids didn’t come home for lunch anymore, Cape Town was too far, and Joy volunteered at the orphanage during the day and South Africans didn’t stop in the middle of the day to take a siesta, life moved on, so they adapted and changed.
Even though it was June, Joy learned it was winter here that’s why it was so chilly, summer was from December through February and they would have to get use to that, but other than the constant rain and the chilly mornings and cold nights the weather was still beautiful. Usually it was around sixty to sixty-five degrees so she took them out to learn about this beautiful country.
It was after touring Robben Island, the prison where Nelson Mandela was kept and visiting a township she discovered the orphanage when their guide said with the spread of HIV and Aids it had left millions of children orphaned more than any other epidemic.
Joy was spreading her wings and learning to live here. From Penny and Naledi she was learning to cook South African favorites. Their food was a mix of the English and Dutch that colonized them and the conquered indigenous people so the family enjoyed the new taste and exotic flavors. Deon loved Vetkoek, chicken chopped in small pieces and stuffed in dough and deep fried, and Deon and Jameson devoured Potbrood with goat’s meat, it was a flat bread stuffed with goat meat and folded like a sandwich then drizzled with sour cream or yogurt. And little Autumn loved fried bananas and she loved what they did with pumpkin, they chopped it and put it in stews, or mashed it and her favorite was just sliced grilled and sprinkled with salt and cinnamon. The local drink was beer or Mageu, a juice in flavors like lemon lime, strawberry cream and banana custard, the kids loved it and she kept a shelf in the refrigerator stocked with the little cartons.
While Joy was learning to accept and live Royce was not. His nightmares tormented and tortured him, and he was consumed with protecting Joy. During the day as she went about life he wouldn’t leave her side and to Jameson’s dismay became her bodyguard and at night he clung to her. He would lay in her arms and Joy would hold him until sleep came. And long after sleep had taken him the nightmares would come. They always came, sometimes the bullets are bouncing in front of Joy and it happens just the way it did in reality and he’s pulling her down and rolling, and other times the bullets are bouncing and he’s too late and she’s falling, landing in a heap on the ground and looking up at him with dead eyes and in the nightmare he’s screaming, just screaming, loud blood curdling screams.
He always wakes with a start, his heart racing and he has to get up, and his mind is filled with,
Why? Why? Why?
He walks the house, checks the white wall in back then front, and now he sucks on a piece of cinnamon candy to calm and relax him. Joy discovered the candy for the orphans, at first she would take little treats for them, but the director told her, “Please it is not necessary, the sweets, I know you mean well but for the children it sticks to their teeth and we must protect the teeth you see,” so Joy found this cinnamon hard candy, it was made with real cinnamon. She bought bags and bags of it and she’d fill little tribal bowls and place them around the house and he started taking handfuls and sucking on them. He liked to put them in his pocket, and when he wanted something to take his mind off his problems he’d pop a piece in his mouth, at first he’d suck on a whole piece but he found he only needed a little piece and now he broke the piece into little small pieces, then he’d open the wrapper and place a piece on his tongue.
Penny would laugh when she washed and was always careful to check his pockets she always found wrappers and broken pieces of candy and she’d shake her head, “Mr. Royz is always worried about something,” but Mrs. Royz doesn’t seem to mind the candy the way she did the cigarettes and the drink she thought. Penny and Naledi had watched amused as he tried to drink and smoke a little, but Mrs. Royz would have none of it.
He’d come home from the orphanage with her and bought a pack of cigarettes and stood by the window and lit one enjoying the calming smoke. Joy saw him puffing away and went in and took it away from him and smashed it out, and then took his pack and tore it up, “You will not ruin your health over this! I won’t have it!,” and angrily stormed away. And she did the same with the drink, not long after the cigarettes she saw him at the bar filling a glass with whiskey, and she took it and poured it down the sink then she poured out the rest of the bottles, and at the time all Royce could do was laugh, “That was not ours, that came with the house,” he chuckled and said, but she didn’t care, “You will not go there! I’m here baby, I’m here,” and at night she took him in her arms and held him, “I’m here baby, I’m here,” were always her words. He’d lay his head against her breast and she’d stroke his hair and wrap him in her arms with her legs around him and soothe him. Sometimes he sucked her breast for the sheer pleasure of it because they were in close proximity and sometimes it was because he needed it, needed to feel like a helpless baby and knowing that his mother was there to love him.