Stolen Lives (30 page)

He struggled out of the car. The heat felt like a furnace. He didn’t want to go inside. It would be unwise to interrupt Mathilde during her discussions. Better to walk.

He made his way around the side of the building, where a row of young karee trees provided a thin layer of shade. He passed a few windows, noticing that all except one were shielded by thick navy-blue blinds.

Cupping his hands against the glass of the uncovered window, Xavier could just make out a small, shabby room with a black boy who looked a little younger than Kevin lying on an oversized bed. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the boy’s wrists were attached to the metal sides of the bed, effectively holding him prisoner.

Then the door opened and a tall, middle-aged man walked in. He turned and closed the door behind him. Xavier moved away, into the shade. He didn’t want to see what was going to happen next, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking back.

When the boy saw the man, he began to cry and struggle against his restraints.

The man stared down at the boy with an expression on his face that could almost have been sympathy. He took hold of the flimsy sheet that covered him and tugged it back. Then he moved to the window and closed the navy blinds. Perhaps he’d sensed Xavier’s presence; perhaps he’d simply felt exposed.

The boy’s cry still sounding in his ears, Xavier hurried back to the car. Mathilde was already sat in the passenger seat, tapping her feet and checking her watch.

Mathilde’s business here was finished now. She’d done all that she had to, and now he wanted her to leave. He would handle the final part of the job on his own. Her flight out of South Africa was departing in four-and-a-half hours. They had just been to pick up her passport from Eunice at the Home Affairs office, and had then phoned a travel agent and booked an international ticket in her new name. It was time to take her to the airport and say goodbye.

Xavier went round to the driver’s side. As he opened the door, a stab of pain made him double over and clutch his gut.

“All done?” he asked, when he could speak again.

She smiled again, that same hard, brisk smile.

“All done,” she said.

38

David’s day was inching past so slowly that time seemed to have stopped altogether. Now, back in the office after his final meeting of the day, he felt incapable of working, unable to do anything except watch the leisurely progress of the hands on the wall clock.

His thoughts were paralysed by the sickening knowledge that his son was in the hands of criminals.

David couldn’t let himself acknowledge the terror the boy must be feeling. Had his captors hit him, abused him, threatened him with violence? He was gripped by the fear that the incident would leave Kevin with lasting scars—physical or mental; that even if the boy was returned to his mother at the end of the day, he would never be the same as the boy who had been snatched from the grounds of the expensive private school.

Stay safe, hero, he urged Kevin silently, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he tried to project his emotions to wherever his son might be. Do what they tell you, cooperate with them. Be strong, be brave, for God’s sake, stay alive.

Guilt gripped him again, the emotion so powerful that David uttered a low groan of despair.

He had to accept the fact that, thanks to his own actions, Kevin might already be dead.

Naisha had texted him a couple of times, brief messages to say that there had been no further communication from the kidnappers. No phone calls at all, although she was waiting just a few steps away from the phone at all times.

Suffering through the endless day, just like him.

Now, with eyes half-closed and hands clenched, David did his best to project mental waves of compassion onto the kidnappers.

“He’s only a boy,” David muttered, feeling his fingers bruising his palms. “He’s just a boy. Please don’t harm him.”

“Sorry, Sup?”

David opened his eyes to find Captain Thembi staring at him, in some concern, across the open-plan office.

With an effort he tried to relax his face and hands, but he feared the attempt would be as unsuccessful as it had been during his two earlier appointments at OR Tambo airport. He’d battled through the meetings somehow, but several times he’d been asked if anything was wrong.

“Just got a lot on my plate,” he’d barked, and instantly realised that he had made a mistake in saying that, because it gave the impression he was not coping; that he was overwhelmed by his workload.

Not a great way to inspire confidence in the members of the public he was supposed to serve.

Now David tried another angle.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Thembi. I wasn’t speaking to you. I was thinking out loud.”

Thembi nodded, but the captain’s quizzical expression showed David that he was still puzzled. He sat down at his own desk and glanced over at his boss again before pulling a case file towards him and picking up the phone.

David’s own phone rang, providing a welcome distraction. The caller was the security manager at Cell C, an acquaintance of David’s who he’d contacted earlier that day about the cellphone number which had been used to access Salimovic’s messages.

“Good afternoon, Superintendent.”

“Afternoon,” David replied. “Have you received the subpoena for the line tap yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’ll be served tomorrow.” The man sounded sympathetic. David knew that if he’d had a choice, he would have begun tapping the line immediately, but procedures had to be followed.

“I do have some information on the number for you in the meantime, though.”

“Great. Fire away.” He reached for his pen.

“It’s a cellphone contract that’s been running for three years now.”

David’s eyebrows rose. “Not a pay-as-you-go?”

“No. A contract. I don’t know if this will help you, but it’s in the name of a Miss Tamsin Jordaan.”

“Tamsin Jordaan?” David repeated, so loudly that Thembi, who was now busy on a call, clapped his hand over his own phone’s mouthpiece to muffle the sound.

“That’s the one. I hope it helps, Superintendent. I’ll let you know as soon as we get the tap up and running.”

David thanked the man and rang off. For a moment this new discovery distracted his attention, allowing him a brief reprieve from the acid worry burning in his gut.

In all probability, Salimovic himself was using Tamsin’s cellphone.

“So there is a connection between the two disappearances,” David muttered. “He’s got Tamsin, for sure. Has he got Kevin as well?”

He let out another frustrated sigh and saw Thembi replace his receiver and look round again in concern. The black detective cleared his throat in a hesitant way that made David think he was about to ask him if anything was wrong, but before he could speak, they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Looking up, David saw Jade standing in the doorway. Her face was strained, and her hair was escaping from the ponytail she’d scooped it into and hanging in shiny locks around her shoulders. The reddish-brown lowlights gleamed among the darker strands.

She nodded distractedly to Thembi, then turned to David.

“We need to talk,” she said in a soft voice. She didn’t say the words “in private” but she didn’t need to. Thembi was already on his feet.

“Got to go and check some information in the archives,” he said, heading for the door.

As he hurried out, he glanced at Jade and then at David, in a way that made David realise the captain had just reached a somewhat erroneous conclusion about what was troubling his boss.

Problems on the domestic front.

Jade pulled up a chair and sat opposite David. Its vinyl seat was hard, and it squeaked when she sat down.

“Have you got any news on Kevin?” she asked, although she could see from David’s face that he’d heard nothing. He shook his head and rubbed his forehead.

“Did you speak to Francina?” he asked.

“Yes, I did.” Jade had spent fifteen minutes chatting to the domestic worker in the kitchen of the house where she worked. “I couldn’t fool her with the “thank you” story, though. She’s a sharp lady, and the family she works for have made her very aware of security threats in general and kidnapping in particular. She was in no doubt about what she saw. I made her promise to keep it a secret.”

“What did she see?” From David’s deliberately casual tone, Jade guessed he was trying to suppress his anxiety about the answer.

“She saw Kevin walking back from the school towards the parking lot with a woman that she didn’t recognise, but who looked like a teacher. Or so she thought at the time. She had dark brown, jaw-length hair and a navy-blue skirt, and was carrying some books.”

“So they intercepted him on the way into the school,” David said.

Jade nodded. “You know that long paved walkway that leads up to the school buildings? I reckon the woman must have been waiting there, looking out for him. I’m sure she was ready with a plausible story. My best guess is that it was something to do with you. “Come with me, Kevin. We’ve just heard your father’s been in an accident and we need to take you to the hospital straight away.” I would have believed that if I’d been his age. It would explain why he followed her so willingly.”

David nodded, feeling a cold fist squeeze his heart.

“The woman opened the back door of a white Mercedes, and after that, Francina says, everything happened very fast. The next moment the door slammed and the car pulled away. Francina wasn’t sure, but she thought the driver was black. She didn’t manage to get the car’s number plate, but she did notice it had a Cape Town registration.”

David blinked, narrowing his eyes in the way that he did when he was thinking hard.

“This sounds as if it could be the same woman who was at Tamsin’s house,” Jade said. “Raymond’s description of the hair was similar, and I know the Cape Town number plate isn’t conclusive, but he mentioned it as well. Do you think …?”

David turned away and took a cardboard folder from his filing cabinet. He slid it across the desk.

“I do think it’s the same person. Or rather, the same people. Xavier Soumare and Mathilde Dupont. They’re fugitives, wanted by Scotland Yard. Dupont resisted arrest during a brothel raid and Soumare helped her get away. They’ve been playing catch-up with a lowlife called Salimovic, the brothel owner and a human trafficker, who’s also fled here. Here’s the file. Their photographs are inside, and you’ll find some interesting info on Salimovic as well. Seems he has a history of torturing people with hot coals, so there’s a probable link between him and Terence Jordaan. It’s all in there. Open up and have a look.”

Jade took the folder from him, trying not to show the shock she felt at David’s words.

The photo of Xavier Soumare was blurry and heavily pixellated. The man’s features were in shadow, his eyes a vague smudge of hues in the darkness of his face. Jade shuddered as she examined his face, but it was more because of the evil he represented than because of what she could see on the printed page.

Mathilde Dupont’s image was clearer. An attractive-looking middle-aged woman with strong features and a self-assured demeanour that reminded Jade of Pamela’s moneyed confidence.

The rest of the file contained a fair-sized wad of printed and handwritten notes. The information was confidential, but Jade knew that David could, at his discretion, share it with a private investigator if that investigator was helping him with the case.

“Can I read through all of this?” she asked. “I’ll be quick. I don’t have much time, because I’ve got to get back to Pamela. She’s waiting for me at the cottage.”

David made a “go ahead” gesture. “You won’t be wasting your time.”

Propping her forehead on her hands and pulling the pages closer towards her, Jade began scanning the contents of the file.

When she had finished, she lifted her head and stared at David in shock.

Everything was connected.

Pamela’s missing daughter, Terence’s torture, Kevin’s kidnapping, and the fugitives who had fled to South Africa and were now trying to evade the police.

The four different cases were one.

39

As Jade pulled up outside her gate, she heard shrill and familiar barking.

It was Bonnie, the little Jack Russell. It seemed the dog was becoming a national champion at fence-burrowing. Jade had found her in her garden again that morning. This time, she was happily roaming the empty plot on the opposite side of the road. Jade’s mouth twitched as she opened the driver’s door.

“Come here, girl,” she said, trying not to sound amused.

Bonnie sat down in the sandy soil and started barking.

With a sigh, Jade climbed out of her car and went over to fetch her.

She picked her way through the dusty soil and coarse, scratchy grass, only to have Bonnie scamper deeper into the undergrowth.

“This is not a game,” Jade called. “Come here, you silly dog. I don’t have time for this. We are not going for walkies.”

She ducked under the branches of a shrub, disturbing a roosting bird that flew out with an annoyed squawk and a clumsy flapping of wings.

What kind of bird? She had no idea.

She’d been able to tell the difference between a Beretta and a Glock when she was still in primary school, but her father’s interests hadn’t included an appreciation of the country’s fauna and flora. Jade didn’t have a clue what kind of shrub it was, either. All she knew was that it had dark green leaves with a waxy sheen … and that, in the pool of shade next to the shrub, where Bonnie was now sniffing around intently, the grass was oddly squashed and flattened.

Jade also noticed a distinctive pattern in the sandy soil nearby, which Bonnie thankfully had not disturbed.

A large footprint.

Nearby, another series of marks. Three small but clear indentations in the ground. They formed a neat triangle, with one of the dents pointing towards the window of Jade’s cottage. Jade realised what they were in an instant. The ends of a tripod.

My God, somebody had been crouched in the shade, concealed by the overgrowth, staring at Jade’s kitchen window and aiming … pointing … something at it.