Endgame. Wilna Adriaanse
is so boring. There are far more interesting things you could do for me.”
Nick smiled again. “Gabi, you’re becoming a cliché.”
She gave a hoarse laugh. “Nick Malherbe, you can insult me all you like, but we both know I always get what I want in the end.”
Back outside, he dialled a number and asked to speak to Captain Clive Barnard.
He held on for a while.
“Barnard.”
“Nick Malherbe. I’m —”
“I know who you are.”
“I’ve got to see you.”
“It’s Monday morning. I don’t have time.”
“Not even for coffee?”
“Not really.”
“I need your help.”
“There are channels for that.”
“I’m not sure who I can trust.”
“Should I feel honoured that you called me?”
“Call me crazy. I know I’m taking a chance, but I don’t have too many options at the moment.” When he stopped talking he expected Barnard to end the call.
“Where do you want to meet?” he said after a moment’s silence.
“Tell me what works for you. Preferably a place where we won’t run into too many familiar faces.”
They agreed on a coffee shop at the Canal Walk shopping centre.
When Nick arrived there an hour later, he realised again how he hated shopping malls. There was just too much of everything: people, shops, stuff. One day the world would be destroyed by all the shit being manufactured every day. How much does one person need? Even on a Monday morning there was too much of everything.
Barnard was already seated when Nick got to the coffee shop. They didn’t shake hands. Nick sat down opposite him.
He had found out only later that Captain Clive Barnard had been McKenna’s handler during the time she had looked after Clara Veldman. Nick felt his annoyance resurface. They had made his life very difficult.
A waiter approached and they both ordered coffee.
“I still can’t decide if I should feel honoured that you called me or if I should punch you in the face,” Barnard began. “Do you really think everyone who’s left is corrupt?”
“That’s not what I said. Listen to what I’m about to say and then tell me what you would have done.”
“Shoot. But remember, I’m not a priest. If you want absolution, you’re at the wrong place. I don’t do confessions.”
Nick told him about the previous night’s events at Allegretti’s home and that the Italian had presumably gone missing.
Before Clive could react, the waiter brought their coffee and they stirred in their sugar before they both looked up again.
“Have you reported it?”
“No, we can’t afford a fuck-up. But I can’t do it alone either. Firstly, I don’t know enough people around here and time is an issue. You should know, the longer it takes to get going, the colder the trail becomes.”
“Do you think Allegretti did it?”
“I considered it, but I don’t think so. Allegretti is capable of a lot, but he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty.”
“But it’s a possibility?”
“Anything is possible.”
“What do you need?”
“A team to work with. As soon and as discreetly as possible. Preferably before Organised Crime hears about it.”
“Where’s the wounded guy?”
“Christiaan Barnard.”
“They’re supposed to inform the cops when a gunshot or stab-wound victim is admitted. Did you ask the doctor and the staff not to report it?”
“No, I told them I was from the police and hoped they’d assume it had been reported.”
“And now you want me to tell you who can be trusted and who not?”
“In a nutshell, yes. Preferably as soon as possible.”
“What do I get for helping you?”
Nick folded his arms and sat back in his chair. “Are we talking about a bribe?”
Clive lowered his cup, wiped his mouth and began to push his chair back. “I’d better leave before I beat the shit out of you.”
Nick raised his hands. “What do you want?”
“I want to be part of the investigation. And I want unrestricted access to the information you’ve gathered so far on Allegretti and the others.”
“I can’t have it end like the last time. This is our last chance. We worked for years for all that information. In the wrong hands it could cause us untold damage.”
“It’s my condition.”
“Okay, but I’m running the operation. That’s not negotiable.”
Clive nodded. “As long as you know what you’re doing, I won’t interfere. I don’t have time, anyway, but I still want to be kept informed.” He got up. “Give me about four hours and I’ll get back to you.”
Nick motioned for Clive to sit back down.
“That’s one half of the story. The other half is that Clara Veldman has been missing since Friday night. She was at Paranga in Camps Bay with friends.”
Clive sank deeper into his seat, shaking his head. “Jesus, it’s a fucking circus.”
Nick nodded.
“What do her friends say?”
“I only found out last night, and it’s not as if I have access to any of her people to find out what happened.”
“It’s too much of a coincidence, she and Allegretti disappearing two days apart.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“Neither do I. And if I know Williams, this hasn’t been reported to the police either. He can’t afford it.” Clive got up.
Nick followed suit and they walked out together. “I don’t care if he’s your friend. I don’t want Greyling near either of these cases,” Nick said.
Clive stopped, looked at Nick. “You came to me for help. I’ll do what I can, but I’m not going to be dictated to. You’ll have to trust me to find the right people.”
He turned away before Nick could say anything else.
In the bakkie Nick cautiously moved his head from side to side. The headache had spread to his neck. It felt as if the tendons could snap at any moment. He pulled away but stopped at the first café, and bought a bottle of water and a sachet of four painkillers. He swallowed all four. Then he took out his phone and dialled a number.
“Riana Kellerman, good morning.”
“Riana, it’s Nick.”
Strange how much silence can say, he thought when she didn’t respond at once. He pictured her in his mind. The guys had been jealous when Nols had got her. Quite a few of them had had the hots for her. Fortunately he had been smart enough to know that his best friend’s wife was forbidden fruit. Even in his thoughts.
“I wondered if you’d remember.”
“How are you? Have you heard from Nols?”