He rose from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’ve got a room next door,” he told her, “so I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“What about Vivienne, her things – shouldn’t we ...?”
“Be good enough to pack it all up, would you? I’ll make all the arrangements tomorrow with the Consulate.” With that he left the room.
Amie sank onto the bed and put her head in her hands. This nightmare was never ending but first, she had to dispose of the ruined case; if Ken saw it, he might guess that Amie had access to money and her passport. She’d hide those for the time being, give Ken the large case and hope he wouldn’t remember that Vivienne had left Apatu with two.
The idea of just packing up and leaving crossed her mind, but it was unlikely she could organize a taxi at this time of night. What if she called Gerrit to come and get her? Or drove off in the hire car? No, Ken could easily report it stolen and then she’d be picked up by the police – more complications. She’d be caught long before she had time to get on a plane, and even if she went all the way to Johannesburg it was at least six hours away by road. It would be just her luck if the early planes were fully booked. No, for now she would play his game and see what happened. If she really was going back to England, then escape would be a lot easier from there.
Then, she remembered the ruined case. She’d noticed some rubbish bins at the back of the Spa, it wasn’t the best place to throw it away, but she wasn’t going to go wandering around in the dark outside the hotel grounds again. Amie emptied everything out making sure to rip out the lining completely, crept over to the door and opened it a fraction. The hallway was empty, so she tiptoed towards the reception area. She pulled on the large glass entrance door and was about to close it behind her when it occurred to her she might not be able to get in without ringing the bell, and none of the staff would be around to answer, they wouldn’t be coming on duty until 6 am. She cursed, remembering Vivienne saying they wouldn’t be needing a front door key. She backtracked into the reception area and looked around for a door stop. The only things that weren’t tied down were some magazines on the foyer table. Grabbing one off the top, Amie rolled it up, and as she stepped outside, she wedged it between the doors.
She dared not go around to the right of the building, as that would take her past her room and Ken’s. He’d told her he was staying next door. The last thing she wanted was for him to look out of the window and see her sneaking past, so Amie turned left – the long way round.
Weaving through the ornamental hedges and landscaped flowerbeds, Amie eventually reached the back of the buildings, only to hear voices. She froze. She could smell cigarette smoke, and peering around a tree, she saw two men standing by the bins. She guessed they were the Spa’s security guards, but they’d been nowhere in sight when she needed them. Should she just put the case in the bin, or wait until they’d gone? If she did that, then someone might remove her doorstop because it looked decidedly suspicious.
She would have to brazen this one out. She took a deep breath and marched over to one of the bins, nodded to the startled smokers, and lifting the lid, dropped the damaged case inside. She walked smartly back the way she’d come without even a backward glance. She had a good idea the case wouldn’t remain there for long.
She scurried round the last corner of the building, and gave a sigh of relief when she saw the front door was still propped open. A minute later she was back in her room. Waves of fatigue swept over her as she dragged off her clothes and crept into bed.
At breakfast the following morning Amie found she was ravenous and piled her plate high at the buffet. She hadn’t slept very well in spite of her exhaustion the night before. Her dreams had been punctuated by chases over sand dunes and dodging bullets in the shopping mall. But now the bright sunlight streamed in through the pretty paisley curtains, and the elegantly laid circular tables with matching tablecloths lifted her spirits.
“Good morning, Miss Mansell,” a voice interrupted her reverie. She looked round to see where Miss Mansell was and realised with a start that Ken was addressing her.
“So now I’m not married,” she hissed under her breath.
“It doesn’t say either way on your passport.”
She hated the sardonic look on his face. “What? The passport I don’t have?”
“I’ll get that sorted this morning. All you need to do is sit by the pool and wait until I get back. Enjoy your last day here.”
“You don’t need me?” she was surprised.
“No. I’ve got spare photographs and I should get a little preferential treatment don’t you think?”
Amie ground her teeth; the man was infuriating. She turned her back on him and piled more scrambled eggs onto the already full plate.
It was too much to hope that Ken would sit at a separate table, and to her dismay he chose the chair opposite her.
“You’ve got a healthy appetite for such a small person.” He eyed the mountain of food she’d taken while he buttered a slice of toast.
“Must have been all that running last night.” Amie snapped. She noticed her overflowing plate and all of a sudden, didn’t feel hungry anymore. The thought that she was now a Miss and not a Mrs had caught her unawares again. The insufferable pig across the table had brutally reminded her. She squeezed her eyes tight, she was not going to cry in front of him. Maybe it was unfair of her, Ken hadn’t been unkind, he was not to blame for the situation she was in, but some instinct told her to be wary. She couldn’t help blame him for forcing her into a life she didn’t want, but she felt like a deer in the headlights, with Ken behind the wheel of the car.
Ken must have noticed her tone of voice. “Ah, I didn’t think ...”
“No, you bloody well didn’t, did you? You never actually do.” Amie hissed. She grabbed the paisley tablecloth and bunched it in her hands to stop her nails from drawing blood. She blinked rapidly and switched her gaze to the green lawn and the sparkling blue swimming pool beyond. She still hadn’t taken it all in. How had she changed from a young, carefree, married girl on the outskirts of London to a single person who no longer existed? Her desperate fight for survival had seen her through some harrowing adventures and altered her beyond all recognition. She was still wondering how it had all happened when Ken’s cut-glass voice interrupted her thoughts.
“You have one more day to sunbathe by the pool while I sort out the paperwork and then we’ll be flying out. You might want to go shopping too. Get something warm to wear?”
Amie realised with a jolt that Britain would be cold at this time of the year. It would actually be cold at any time of the year after living in Africa. She wasn’t looking forward to that, to any of it in fact. It felt safe in Durban, which was a curious mix of Africa and the first world, at least here in the city. She wondered briefly if her deep love for this land would have been quite the same if she and Jonathon had been sent here instead of Togodo. But did that matter anymore? She would never be able to go back there again, not now she was officially dead.
Ken got to his feet, smiled his irritating bright white smile – the one that never reached his eyes – and giving her a nod, he left the dining room leaving her to her own devices for the rest of the day.
Amie went back to her room and decided she would spend part of the purloined money getting a few warm clothes. Ken hadn’t thought to offer her any cash. Could he have guessed she had access to plenty? No, it was more likely that he’d assumed Vivienne had given her some to spend.
While Amie got ready to leave, she decided there was no way she could go back to the same mall where Vivienne had been killed, it would give her the creeps. A thought that she should ring Gerrit crossed her mind. What would she say to him? She felt a twinge of regret, he’d been nice to her, kind, caring. Could she take him shopping with her? No, of course not. How would she explain that she was suddenly being dragged off to Britain? And, he said he was working until midday. She shook her head and hopped into the hire car. Another time maybe. A
nother life.
She’d only gone a few kilometres towards Durban when she saw the familiar shopping trolley logo on a signpost and took the off ramp marked La Lucia. She parked the Toyota on the roof and made her way into the centre. It was much smaller than the other one, but had plenty of shops selling thermal vests, warm jerseys and even winter coats. She could only guess that it got chilly here in the winter as well.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. When Amie arrived back at the Spa, the young girl named Eleanor beckoned her to the Reception.
“Hello, Miss Mansell,” she smiled. “A young man came looking for you today, at about midday and left you a message.” Amie cursed under her breath immediately regretting not having rung Gerrit, but she took the envelope with a smile and thanked Eleanor.
Amie hurried to her room to open it.
‘Sorry to have missed you, Felicity. I thought we’d hit it off rather well yesterday, in spite of your harrowing day. Your absence tells me I was mistaken. Shame. I hope you enjoy the rest of your holiday here in Durban. Call me if ever you need a medic! Gerrit.’ And there was a phone number scribbled at the bottom.
Amie ground her teeth and tore the message into little pieces. Blast, blast and blast again, she huffed. Damn you Ken, you have to spoil everything!
Then she collected up the little pieces and found the phone number. She pulled her stash of passports and money from under the bed and placed the number in the back page of the passport. You never know when that might come in handy, she thought.
She turned her attention to her purchases and set about packing both her case and Vivienne’s before hitting the jacuzzi. If the government intended to foot the bill, she was going to take full advantage of it while she could, so she ordered the full treatment.
While the young beautician worked on her nails Amie had to stop herself from laughing. She had never, except for her wedding day, spent money on luxuries like these. Apart from a hairdresser, she’d never paid for pampering like some Hollywood starlet at health and beauty centres back in England. This must be how the other half lived. She couldn’t imagine Helen from the game lodge visiting such places. She found Apatu overcrowded and couldn’t wait to get back to the bush. Given a choice, Amie felt much the same. But now, other people had taken charge of her life with the power to make her do what they wanted, and she wondered if she would ever have the courage to fight back and take control of her life again. One day at a time she told herself.
That night she ate dinner on her own in the hotel, grateful that Ken had not appeared, but when he did, it was to tell her to remove any and all labels from her clothes before she packed. He even offered her a pair of scissors.
“How thoughtful. You could’ve told me before I packed, I did it all this afternoon – as you requested.” She wondered if he would notice the sarcasm but didn’t care either way. She was starting to loathe the black British embassy envoy.
She left the table, went back to her room and upended Vivienne’s clothes onto the bed. She wasn’t surprised to see there wasn’t a single label on any of them, not even the underwear or the new clothes she’d bought in Durban. When she opened her own case, she was surprised to see that everything she’d brought from Apatu also had all the labels removed, so it was only the new clothes she had to deal with. She set to with the scissors, feeling she was cutting away part of her identity, part of her life. It really was like the stuff they did in those spy novels, leave no trace of where you had been, or at least bought your clothes. She swore as the scissors slipped, puncturing her finger.
The following day Ken knocked on her door on his way to breakfast. “Are you up?” he called through the door.
“Yes.” His voice was the last thing she wanted to hear first thing in the morning. She scrambled out of bed and made for the bathroom.
“We’re leaving right after breakfast.”
She didn’t bother to reply. She was feeling decidedly rebellious, fearful of the future and not looking forward to it one little bit.
14 THE RESIDENCE
The trip to the airport was uneventful with Ken taking control of the hire car. Amie scanned the area while he handed back the car keys, and she felt her muscles primed ready to make a run for it. This might be her very last chance to break free. What if she raced off, hid out in one of the toilets and sneaked out later to catch a flight? She might get away with it. Then she looked at the bags on the floor by Ken’s feet and remembered she’d split up the money between her handbag, her carry-on case and the larger suitcase. The last thing she needed was for the little metal strips on the notes to set off an alarm and smuggling illegal currency would be yet another law broken. Had Vivienne brought it in with her? Or did she get it when they visited that bank on the first day at the mall? Amie had reasoned that if one of her bags got lost then she would still have access to funds, now, it cut down her options.
While she was dithering Ken had finished at the car hire desk and was picking up their luggage. Her window of opportunity had closed so she trudged after him along the walkway and into the terminal building. Her head was itching from wearing the wig which matched her passport photo. She wished she’d asked Ken if he could have arranged a new photograph of her without it, but the thought had never crossed her mind. She also felt bad about Gerrit. From his note it was obvious he believed she wasn’t interested in him and that was not so far from the truth. She had genuinely liked him – as a friend. She’d not been there to meet him nor had she called him. She would keep his phone number – just in case. She should at least have tried to phone him from the front desk, but not with Ken around. That was yet another lost opportunity – she should have bought herself a mobile while she had the chance. Brilliant spy I’m going to be, she thought dragging her feet behind the man she couldn’t warm to, uncertain if he was friend or foe.
As they strode past the airport shops, Amie realised she would have more opportunity at Johannesburg to acquire a phone. Durban’s airport was still quite small even though it was new.
Ken didn’t stop at the check in desks, but made for the other side of the building into another car park where there was a large black limousine parked by the entrance. He motioned for Amie to climb in, while he put the luggage in the boot.
She hesitated for a moment, she’d been so sure they would be flying out, so what was going on?
“Get in,” Ken instructed, curt and business-like.
Amie shrugged, opened the door and climbed into the back seat, while Ken sat up front with the driver. Where were they going?
She didn’t have too long to wait. They set off back towards the city centre again and then took a side road left towards the beach. The sign said Virginia Airport. The driver, who hadn’t said a word or even looked in the rear-view mirror, pulled up outside a hanger.
“We get out here, Miss Mansell.” Ken alighted and opened the rear door for her.
The driver retrieved the luggage while Ken led Amie over to a small two-engined plane sitting on the tarmac. Its engines were already whining.
Amie stopped in her tracks. “I may not know much about flying, but I’m not stupid Ken, we’ll never get to England in that. So where are we going?”
“No, not all the way to England. This is just for the first hop.”
“And where is that going to be?”
“Look Amie, stop asking questions. You’ll know soon enough. Just cooperate will you.”
Amie took a few more steps towards the plane and then stopped again. “No. Ken, wait. This isn’t right. I came into South Africa on a passport. They’ll notice if I don’t fly back out. They’ll be searching for me, listing me as an illegal alien or something.” Amie wasn’t quite sure how things worked, but she knew you couldn’t just fly into places and then stay, even though she’d considered gate crashing America before deciding it wouldn’t work.
“And,” she continued, “there were two of us remember, we’ll both have disappeared. So how will you explain that?”
“Pe
ople often disappear without a trace here, it’s not unheard of,” he growled, pulling her towards the little plane.
Amie’s blood ran cold as he dragged her up the metal steps. Inside there were only eight seats, and once Ken had buckled Amie in and the driver had stowed their luggage, the plane taxied down the runway.
Amie was kicking herself. No good would come by being difficult. She must cooperate. She had to remind herself that her life was in their hands. However hard it would be, she would have to play the part of the helpless female for now. She only hoped she’d be able to keep up the charade. Who was she kidding? She was a helpless female.
The flight lasted about three hours then they put down at what looked like a military airport. Amie had no idea if they were still in South Africa. Their next leg was in a huge, grey, transport plane with very few internal comforts. She huddled on a bulkhead bench wearing a harness like a paratrooper heading for the front lines. Ken handed her a packed lunch and she wriggled around to get as comfortable as possible. She’d imagined flicking through the in-flight magazine to choose a couple of films to watch during the ten-hour journey, but that wasn’t going to happen. She felt like a fugitive without a parachute. No luxury here.
With a roar the plane moved forward and in no time they were airborne. In spite of the discomfort, Amie fell into an exhausted sleep, her head nestled on her handbag against a bulkhead strut. She reckoned she must have slept for most of the journey, only jolting awake as the aircraft began its descent.
When she was told to disembark, she found it hard to move her legs which had cramped up. She undid the harness with difficulty, it was stiff and her cold fingers struggled with the large buckles. Ken helped her to her feet but she swayed dizzily for several seconds.
She huddled in the warm coat with the hood she’d bought, and was surprised when Ken handed her a pair of thick, leather gloves, something she hadn’t even thought to buy.
Amie in Africa Box Set 1 Page 80
