'Yes, sir.'
'Are you sure? Have you thought of all the implications?'
'I have.'
'Good.'
As he put the cell phone in his pocket he saw the police helicopter flying across Table Bay directly towards him. He kept his eyes on it until it flew past, low over the city.
Chapter 27
The uniforms stood outside with machine pistols and bulletproof vests. Vusi alone was inside with the complex administrator. She reminded him of bread dough, pale and shapeless; even her voice had no character.
'De Klerk is in A-six. He is not a renter; he owns. I don't see him often. He pays his levy with a debit order.'
She had fitted out one room of her townhouse as an office. She sat at a small cheap melamine desk. There was a computer screen and keyboard in front of white melamine shelves for files, one of which was open beside the keyboard. Vusi stood at the door.
'Is he here now?'
'I don't know.' A bald statement of an uninteresting fact.
'When last did you see him?'
'I think it was in November.'
'So he was last home in November?'
'I don't know. I don't get out much.'
'Are there phone numbers?'
She checked. 'No.'
'Can you describe him?'
'He's young.' She put a podgy index finger on the document. 'Twenty-six.' She looked up at Vusi and saw the question on his face. 'Tallish. Brownish hair.'
'Where does he work?'
The index finger moved across the printed document in the file. 'It just says 'consultant' here.'
'May I have a look, please?'
She shifted the file. He took out his notebook and pen, put them down on the file and studied the form. Initials and surname
There was a hurried signature underneath a declaration that he accepted the rules and regulations of the complex.
'Does he drive a Land Rover Defender?'
'I don't know.'
Vusi pushed the file back towards her. 'Thank you very much,' he said and then hopefully: 'Do you have a key to his place?'
'I do.'
'Could you open up for us, please?'
'The regulations state I must have a search warrant on file.'
Benny Griessel sat in the radio room of the Caledon Square stat ion with a map of the city on the table, his notebook and pen on top. He listened to the young sergeant talk to every patrol vehicle about the streets they had covered. He made hurried notes, trying to form an image of where she might be, where she might be going, what they ought to do. He struggled to get his head around it all - too many permutations and uncertainties.
His phone rang. He motioned the sergeant to keep the radio quiet for a moment, quickly checked the screen and answered.
'Vusi?'
'Benny, we need a warrant to get into the house.'
'Isn't he there?' 'I don't think so. We are going to knock, but the caretaker has a key ...' A woman's voice spoke in the background. 'The administrator,' said Vusi. 'She has a key.'
'We don't have enough for a warrant, Vusi. Three numbers of a registration ...'
'I thought so. OK. I'll call again ...'
Griessel put down the phone, picked up his pen and motioned the sergeant to carry on. He studied the map, moving the tip of the pen towards the Company Gardens. That was where she was.
His instinct told him she was there, because he knew De Waal Park, he knew Upper Orange, it was his home, his territory, his cycling route. Upper Orange Street, Government Avenue, the Gardens. If he were in her shoes, if he had to run from there, afraid and unsure, roughly aiming for Long Street, he would run that way.
'I want two teams in the Gardens,' he told the sergeant. 'But first they must come and collect photos.'
Piet van der Lingen heard sobbing inside. He stood slightly stooped outside the bathroom door with his hand lifted to knock softly. He didn't want to frighten her.
'Rachel,' he said softly.
The sobs stopped abruptly.
'Rachel?'
'How do you know my name?'
'The policewoman told me. You are Rachel Anderson, from Lafayette in Indiana.' There was a long silence before the door slowly opened and he saw her with tears on her cheeks.
'West Lafayette, actually,' she said.
He smiled with great kindness. 'Come, my dear. The food is almost ready.'
Fransman Dekker told fat Inspector Mbali Kaleni about the money that had been paid to Jack Fischer and Associates, to the sum of ten thousand rand. At that moment he realised with brilliant clarity and insight how he could solve a whole number of problems. He planned his strategy while he briefed her. He must be careful how he held out the carrot. She was known for her ability to smell a rat.
'The Bloemfontein affair is the key,' he said, careful to keep his voice neutral. 'But Fischer and Co. are clever. Are you up to it?' He had chosen the words with great care.
She made a derisive noise in her throat. 'Clever?' She rose to her feet. 'They're just men,' she said, already heading for the door.
He felt relieved but gave nothing away. 'They're old hands,' he said.
She opened the door. 'Just leave Bloemfontein to me.'
After Vusi had tried knocking on the front door and the back door, he sent the uniformed police to ask the neighbours if anyone knew de Klerk. He stayed behind on the back patio, trying, from beside the large barbecue drum on wheels, to peer through the only gap in the curtains.
He saw an open-plan room with a small kitchen right at the back and an empty beer bottle on a cupboard.
