Now he gazed out of the window, glancing at office workers and tourists as they sauntered across and around the square. There was no one who struck him immediately as being out of place but, if they were on to him, then Farentino was already one step ahead. The game was too important to lose. He had his exit strategy planned. He unwrapped a Montecristo cigar, taking pleasure in its aroma and texture before heating the tip with a match: it was going to be a case of holding his nerve and playing it out until the final moments, before making his escape. It would take at least half an hour to smoke this fine Havana cigar-more than enough time to alert friends-important friends. He just hoped that Max had found his father’s secret before it became necessary to run, because then there was a risk that could suddenly escalate; and if Max was still alive, then an all-out effort would be made to finish him before he discovered the vital information that Tom Gordon’s enemies craved. Farentino gazed out through the window. He blew a smoke ring. They were not on to him yet. There was still time.
Once Kallie had escaped from the docks, she returned to Mike Kapuo’s office as she had told Thandi she would. The senior policeman smiled when he saw her and gestured for her to wait outside the room. A steady stream of officers was coming and going, so she sat patiently until he beckoned her in from the hard bench she was occupying in the hallway. Sitting amid the hubbub of the busy police headquarters gave her time to think things through. Could Shaka Chang, or people who worked for him, be involved in Anton Leopold’s death? Had Leopold been killed while he was with Max’s father at the docks? Maybe not. Leopold saw something he shouldn’t have, then? Max’s father had sent his assistant to Walvis Bay-that was where the letters to Max were posted. Why? Because Max’s dad was either injured or close to discovering another piece of the jigsaw puzzle, part of which lay at the docks. Yes, that made the best sense, because!Koga’s people had taken the field notes from way up north, and that’s where Tom Gordon was-somewhere. Perhaps Max’s father did not even know that Leopold was dead. If Shaka Chang’s company was doing something illegal in connection with shipping, then he was bringing something into the country that he shouldn’t, and that something might be what this was all about.
“Kallie, come on in,” Kapuo called.
She sat down as he poured coffee for them both and settled himself back into his swivel chair with a sigh of unburdening his feet from the weight they had to carry. “You were out of the house early,” he said casually, watching her over the rim of his cup.
“I can’t sleep in, you know what it’s like once you’ve lived in the bush. Cities don’t agree with me. I had a good walk and looked at the shops when they opened.”
“Uh-huh. You didn’t buy anything, though?”
“No, don’t really need much.”
“First girl I’ve ever heard say that.” He smiled.
“Mike, I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s a bad sign in my household, it usually means I’m going to be dragged into something I don’t want to be dragged into. Go on.”
“Anton Leopold is dead, isn’t he?”
Kapuo was too old a hand to show any surprise that she had found out and he wondered if it was just a guess.
“Why do you think that?”
Kallie couldn’t admit she had seen his report in his office at home because then he would know that she might have seen the note about telling Peterson. “Because you haven’t mentioned him once and I told you that he was here in Walvis Bay. So, I presumed the worst. I guess you didn’t want to upset me.”
Kapuo nodded. “Yes, he’s dead. He drowned. He was found in the harbor. We think he got drunk and fell in.”
“What did the postmortem say?”
“Why are you asking? Don’t you think that’s all a bit gruesome?”
“I’m interested because of Max-not that I can do much about it,” she added quickly.
“He had traces of prescription drugs in him-sleeping pills and antidepressants. That and the booze wasn’t a great idea.”
Kallie nodded and lowered her face to the cup; she had to hide her eyes in case Kapuo noticed her alarm. She knew plenty of men who worked in the wilderness, some of them with a liking for strong liquor; but no one needed their senses dulled by either sleeping pills or antidepressants-that was for people living in the rat-race cities. Anyone hoping to survive in the bush needed their wits about them, and the sheer physical exertion of being out there was enough to make anyone sleep like a baby.
“Was he on a doctor’s prescription?”
Kapuo realized she had thought it through quickly and that she was not someone to be fobbed off with any glib explanations.
“He wasn’t local.”
“But he must have had his pills on him, that way you could trace the doctor who prescribed them.”
“No, he didn’t. They must have got washed away when he drowned. And before you ask, we haven’t traced any family doctor in his background-not yet. He didn’t have a definite base he worked from. He was a freelancer who acted as a geological guide for visiting mineral exploration people and scientists. People from universities, things like that.”
“He was well thought of, by the sound of it,” Kallie said. “I mean, serious people like Tom Gordon, well, they’re not going to hire anyone with problems, are they? Their lives might depend on someone like Anton Leopold.”
Damn. This girl was interrogating him. She was building on his answers and taking a logical line of questioning. She was making a case out of it!
“Kallie, what am I going to do with you?”
“I’m going to fix the plane, then go home.”
“You came to me for help.”
“I think maybe I panicked. Your imagination can get out of control when your engine fails.”
“So now you’re saying no one was trying to kill you?”
“No, I don’t think they were. Sorry, Mike, it sounds a bit hysterical, doesn’t it?”
“What about the fuel injectors and the plastic pipe that melted?”
“The injectors could have worked loose, I suppose, and the plastic pipe might have been put there by an inexperienced mechanic. It’s just that, the more I think about it, the more I convince myself that I overreacted.”
Kapuo had the kind of penetrating look that made it difficult not to wilt when it settled on you. “I have to decide whether to tell your father or not. It’s my duty as a police officer but, more importantly, as his friend.”
“Dad told me to come to you in case I felt in danger. All right, I did, but I think maybe I was wrong. And if you tell him all of this, he’s going to abandon his safari, lose clients, lose money, and have his reputation as a first- class guide questioned. Dad’ll drop everything to come home and be with me. Don’t do it, Mike. Please. I can deal with what’s happened.”
“You’ve got yourself involved in something bigger than you think. A dead man, a missing scientist and a boy running loose in the wilderness. I’ve had requests from people in England who have powerful connections, asking me to keep them informed about anything unusual happening in relation to Tom Gordon.”
“So you don’t think Anton Leopold’s death was an accident, then?”
“I never said that. Your imagination is running riot again.”
They stared at each other. Kallie could play the unblinking game despite the turmoil boiling inside her, but she lowered her eyes in submission. There was no point antagonizing Kapuo, who would decide whether he would be happier sending her home and so getting her out of the way, or insisting that she stay with his family until her father could return.
“What kind of thing
“I can’t tell you that. Let’s just say that what happened to you worries me.”
Mike Kapuo fell silent. He had spent hours being tormented about Kallie van Reenen’s story. First of all, he believed her story about the attempt on her life, and her denial these last few minutes convinced him that either she knew more than she was saying, or she had discovered something new. And she was right about one thing. If
