Endgame. Wilna Adriaanse
CHAPTER 2
When she had invited him for supper earlier this afternoon, Nick Malherbe knew there’d be more than pizza on the menu.
He wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t a woman for playing games or dropping hints. The plates with the pizza crusts had not even made it to the kitchen when she began to unbutton his shirt.
He slipped his hands under her silky blouse and felt her skin contract under his fingers. He couldn’t remember when last he had felt the touch of a woman’s skin. Better not to remember. He might start feeling sorry for himself.
He was undoing her bra with one hand when his cellphone rang. Her hands stopped moving and he groaned. He should have switched the damn thing off, or at least put it on silent.
He looked at his watch and then at the screen. It was Monica – senior analyst at Interpol, and technically his boss. When Monica Blake phoned on a Sunday night, you answered. Especially if you were waiting for good news. If the reason for the call was what he thought it might be, he was about to wind up the biggest and longest case of his career. In his imagination he saw the sign: Gone fishing. Maybe he should invite his neighbour along.
“Malherbe.”
“Can you talk?”
Nick felt warm lips on his neck. “The signal is weak, give me a second to go outside.” He got to his feet. “Sorry, I have to take this. Work.”
“As long as you come back.” She stretched out on the couch.
“Do you have visitors?” Monica asked.
“It’s just the TV.”
“When was the last time you saw Clara Veldman or heard from her?” Monica cut to the chase.
Nick hesitated a moment. It wasn’t the conversation he had been expecting. “I ran into her in the city a month or two ago, but Williams’s men were with her so we just exchanged a quick greeting. She seemed nervous. Why do you ask?”
“She appears to have been kidnapped outside a restaurant in Camp’s Bay on Friday night.”
The heat of a few moments ago seemed to evaporate and a chill passed through his body. With one hand he held the front of his shirt together. “Where did you hear this?”
“I still have a few reliable contacts down there. You know they don’t always have the details. They tell me what they hear. Sometimes it’s no more than rumour.”
“Was it reported to the police? Have the kidnappers contacted her family?”
“Steady now. As I’ve said, I don’t have all the information. It’s —”
“What did I tell you?” he interrupted her.
“I know.”
“Repeat what I said to you. I want to know if you remember my exact words.”
“You said Clara remains a risk.”
“Why didn’t you believe me?”
“It’s not that I didn’t believe you. You know how we battle to get support. I warned you at the time that this wouldn’t be easy.”
Silence.
“You still there?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like it when you go quiet. That’s when you get dangerous and I’m not sure what to expect.”
“Don’t worry.”
“And those are words I don’t want to hear at all.”
“We don’t always get what we want. I definitely didn’t want to hear this tonight either. How are you getting along with the paperwork?”
“Nearly finished.”
“And?”
“So far it seems as if everything is there. I don’t like the word ‘watertight’, but you did a good job. If we don’t succeed with this, we should change careers.”
“We can’t do anything without the final paperwork, so tell the guys to move their arses. I want to finish it this week, if possible.”
“I’ll tell them. Would you like me to try to find out about Clara?”
“No, leave it to me. We don’t even know if it was really a kidnapping.”
“Nick, technically her disappearance has nothing to do with us. We’re not responsible for her safety.”
“If you believe that, you definitely don’t understand what’s going on down here.”
“Okay. I’ll leave it in your hands, but I want to be kept in the loop. And let me know if you need help.”
“Do you want to come and hold my hand?”
“If it’s what you need.”
“It’s not. See that the paperwork is finished. I’ve had it.”
He heard her take a breath as if she wanted to say something more. Then she exhaled softly. “Goodnight.”
Nick ended the call.
Five months ago, when Captain Albert Greyling and his sidekicks arrested and charged him with kidnapping Lieutenant Eleanor McKenna and Clara Veldman, Monica had rushed down to Cape Town to come and explain who and what he was. A few weeks later, the big meeting took place. Everyone was there. Brigadier Andile Zondi, head of the Crime Intelligence Unit, with McKenna’s colleague, Clive Barnard. Brigadier Ibrahim Ahmed, who headed up the Serious Economic Offences Unit. Albert Greyling, and several other people he didn’t know. He’d felt naked standing there. The day you let yourself in for a project like that you definitely don’t tell the whole world about it.
Monica had wanted him summarily removed from the case, but he couldn’t just walk away from five years’ work. Even if it meant that his safety was compromised. There were others who now knew that he wasn’t actually the Allegretti family’s chief of security. At times he felt a shiver go down his spine, which he suppressed. It was just another daily risk. However bizarre it might seem, what counted in his favour was that police officers were charged with fraud on a daily basis. He could probably tell the Allegrettis that he was a cop and they wouldn’t bat an eye. On the contrary, it might make him a bigger asset.
Despite the luxury and the breathtaking view over the Atlantic Ocean, he’d no longer wanted to stay in Allegretti’s apartment. He had rented a flat in Tamboerskloof. It was in an old block, but the rooms were spacious and he felt he could reach out and touch the mountain. He could breathe more easily. He had bought a few pieces of furniture at a second-hand dealer around the corner. His favourite piece was a scuffed leather couch. The bed was new, because he didn’t fancy being woken up by a stranger’s nightmares. He had enough of his own.
He was not in his own flat at present, but at his neighbour’s. The two of them had met on the stairs one day and struck up a conversation. A few more chance meetings in the passage and on the stairs had followed. One Tuesday evening, she had invited him for supper.
Allegretti had been home and Nick had unexpectedly had a free evening. He’d always found Tuesday nights boring and without potential, which was probably why he’d accepted the invitation. Her name was Carin and she worked for an advertising agency in the city, liked to travel and was easy company, meaning that she didn’t ask unnecessary questions – not yet, anyway. She’d entertained him with stories about her work and her travels. It suited him. There had been more suppers, and a light flirtation had ensued.
When he came back inside and shut the sliding door, she spoke behind him. He turned. She was naked. Her figure reminded him of Gabriella’s. Slim but curvaceous, the breasts large and firm.
“It’s rude to take calls from other girls when you’re with me,” she said, smiling.
“I’m