Now I See You

by Holmes, Priscilla; Holmes, Priscilla;

  16

  28 June 2006

  ‘You look different,’ Bea said as I walked into the police station. ‘Why are you looking so twitchy this morning?’

  Damn Khumalo.

  ‘It’s got something to do with that sexy doctor, right?’ Bea asked. ‘There was a heist, and then we had to go to the hospital and interview the guards. They were unarmed, big problem. I’m not exactly smiling this morning,’ I said.

  Bea rolled her eyes.

  ‘Ja, right,’ she said. ‘But I bet you got some time with that sexy doctor. What happened?’

  Today Bea was packed into tight poison-green trousers and jacket. Her pink T-shirt had ‘Foxy Lady’ spelled out in sequins across her boobs. With her arms and legs crossed, and her foot jiggling impatiently in pink stiletto-heeled boots, she looked... well, eye-boggling was the word that sprang to mind.

  ‘Come on, Thabisa, how was the date?’

  ‘Good, he’s a cool guy.’

  Before Bea could continue her interrogation, Zak walked in. He looked at me, giving nothing away. His eyes held mine for a moment before he turned away. I was still furious with him – and myself– for last night. It had shaken me that I could have been almost ready to – no, I wasn’t going there. And what about his big secret, his hidden world? I wondered who he could be working for. What was his connection to the Eagles? I wanted some answers about my colleague, Zak Khumalo.

  Bea’s eyes widened. She missed nothing. As I walked past her desk, toward the director’s office, Bea hissed: ‘That guy’s so hot. If I were ten years younger...’

  ‘Bea!’ I warned. I made the zipped-mouth sign.

  ‘Okay. No talking. My lips are sealed. Look at me, I’m locking my lips and throwing the key away.’

  ‘If only...’ I said.

  As I passed the desk, I caught sight of myself in the make-up mirror on Bea’s desk. I noticed my embarrassed expression. It wouldn’t go away.

  Damn Khumalo. Damn him.

  The only interview room at the police station was small and stuffy. It held the body odours of dozens of previous guests. The windows were high on the wall. They didn’t open. On a small table sat a twin-tape deck, with a panic button behind it. A video camera was trained on the room from a bracket above the door. There would be no recording today. The five student interviews were informal. The first three had told exactly the same story in quiet, frightened voices. Now Zak, Mandile and I were about to interview the last two.

  ‘Take a seat please,’ I said.

  The girl, Anna Silvers, was short and blonde with a studded tongue and a semi-permanent scowl. The boy, Andrew Dent, looked as if he was always top of his class. Clever-looking guy. His intelligent face was framed by long hair and a smarter-than-you expression. His skin was pale, his eyes hidden behind round-rimmed glasses – a nerd with a tight mouth.

  I had dozens of questions on my list; they all had to be answered.

  The girl did most of the talking. ‘Look, I’m happy to help, but we were all pissed, returning from the festival.’

  ‘What time was that?’ I asked.

  ‘I dunno, after midnight I guess.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘Well, nothing really. We heard a shot, thought it was a gun, but the guy said it was a car back-firing.’

  ‘What man was this?’

  ‘There were two of them, on the other side of the street. I don’t know which one. It looked like two guys wearing beanies.’

  ‘Tell me exactly what you saw.’

  ‘We were fooling around, there were five of us. We’d been to this party, you see, with the actors from Red Mamba. Have you seen it, it’s great?’

  ‘Let’s stick to the facts. You were in Carlisle Street and you heard a shot, and then saw two men approaching you?’

  ‘They weren’t approaching. They were just strolling, quite slowly.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Andrew shouted, “Was that a gunshot?” didn’t you, Andrew? The man said, “It’s a car back-firing”, something like that.’

  ‘Did you notice anything about his voice?’

  ‘It was quite high. I thought it sounded a bit odd.’

  ‘What do you mean by odd?’

  ‘Like he’d got a sore throat or something.’

  Andrew Dent spoke for the first time: ‘It sounded like a woman’s voice.’

  ‘That’s crazy, Andrew, it couldn’t have been a woman,’ said Anna.

  ‘Thank you, Andrew. Do you remember anything else about this man?’ I asked, deliberately casual. Never make them think it’s important. If you do they’ll want to please, and their imagination will start filling in the gaps. ‘When you passed them what did you see?’

  ‘We were on the other side of the street,’ said Anna. ‘They were just two guys, in beanies, okay? We couldn’t see whether they were black, white or sky-blue pink.’

  ‘Were they carrying anything?’

  ‘I told you, we were pissed. We weren’t looking. Maybe one of them was carrying a bag... I dunno.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  Andrew Dent took over. ‘We walked along Cawood, came out at the side of Birches store. That’s when we saw the van and two guards. One on the ground, the other kneeling beside him. It was like... well, there was blood all over the place.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I sobered up fast. Tried to call Emergency Services on my cell phone, but there was no reception. So Peter – you talked to him earlier – he ran to the police station and that’s when the police arrived on the scene. And the ambulance. We thought it was a heist. They must have driven off in a getaway car.’

  ‘The guy was bleeding like a stuck pig. When the paramedics turned him over, the blood gushed out, like in the movies,’ said Anna. ‘It was obviously an armed hold-up and they got away before we got there. So why are you here, wasting time questioning us? Why aren’t you out there, setting up roadblocks, or whatever it is you’re supposed to do?’

  ‘Thank you, that’s all,’ I said, standing up and closing the file. The two students left.

  Zak and Mandile looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Mandile shook his head.

  ‘These privileged students, think they rule the world,’ said Mandile. ‘Isn’t that what all students think?’ I asked, barely suppressing a smile. ‘Isn’t that the point of being a student?’

  When we walked into the main office, it buzzed with activity, police officers working on computers and interviewees lining up to wait their turn.

  Bea approached and stood next to me. ‘Forensics just called in. They’re looking to see whether the bullet from Birches is the same as the one that came from Kenton-on-Sea. They’ve examined blood splatter and powder residues, ballistic angles, all that. They said that it was a clean shot, ripped through the flesh, missing bone and exiting again. This guard is one lucky fellow. They found the bullet lodged in the door of the armoured vehicle.’

  ‘Thanks Bea,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, one more thing, Thabisa. I phoned round the party shops where they stock helium. Usually they hire the big cylinders out, but one place in Port Elizabeth, Frolics, in Walmer Park, sold small disposable cylinders last week. She says they’re about the size of a smallish vacuum flask. Not very popular because they’re expensive. It’s unusual to sell them, especially so many. ’

  ‘Descriptions?’

  ‘She said two separate women. Each bought six cylinders. One a mother, the other a teacher. She remembers them because the one seemed flustered and left quickly. The other one didn’t even wait for her change and it was quite a big sum, she just left it on the counter and disappeared. It seemed a bit odd.’

  ‘That’s useful. Send someone to talk to Frolics. Thanks. Well done.’

  I turned to Zak. ‘Let’s talk to the guard next.’

  We returned to the interview room. Piet Kruger was a shattered man, trembling, pale and sweating profusely. ‘Look you ous, I’m a bit tired, and my ears are still fokke
n ringing,’ he said.

  ‘Just tell us what happened, please,’ I said.

  ‘We opened the door of the van and they were just sommer there. They came out of fokken nowhere. There was this explosion and Jan... he fell down. I’d been crouching down, opening the vehicle door, and when I looked up there was this moerse fokken weapon and two men.’

  ‘Yes, just tell us what happened next.’

  ‘The oke holding the gun was all in black. I kind of froze. Jan dived at one of them, but the bliksem shot him, and then, he just collapsed.’

  ‘Did they say anything?’

  ‘Just that we should bly stil and...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, that we could mos go back to the... well, the pub... later...’

  ‘Had you been drinking?’

  Silence.

  ‘Please answer the question.’

  ‘Ja.’ Piet hung his head. His life as a security guard was over.

  17

  28 June 2006

  ‘About last night. Don’t read anything in to it, okay?’ Sue said.

  Julia smiled. ‘Like what?’

  ‘It was only sex. I’ve had sex with women before. I don’t care about gender, but I prefer men. I like the apparatus better. With women it’s a bit too mechanical.’

  Julia said nothing. It hadn’t been her. Julia McEwen hadn’t been there last night. A new woman had taken over, an unbelievably sexy woman. A movie star. A porn star. Sue’s hands had caressed every part of her. She had covered Julia with her hot mouth. And Julia had panted, thrust, bit and cried out. She was wild, messy, wet. At the height of it, she’d heard her own applause thundering through the bedroom, for this sexy woman who wasn’t her at all. Who could have thought it could happen like that? That it could be so amazing?

  ‘Didn’t you enjoy sex with your rich husband?’ Sue asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you had lovers?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Nobody else?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Julia, what have you been doing all these years? Well, just remember, this thing now was only sex, it doesn’t mean much to me. Just the means to an end.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Julia. ‘I know.’

  They were having breakfast in the kitchen. Julia chopped fruit, percolated coffee and buttered toast. She felt light, weightless and energised. Last night had liberated her in some profound way. She was on a different path. After last night there was no going back. She hummed as she juiced oranges, scrambled eggs, sizzled bacon. The crossover had happened.

  ***

  Sue watched Julia through narrowed eyes. She had managed to destroy everything about Julia that reminded her of the British royal family. Now Julia was refugee-thin, her long red hair razored and dyed into black spikes, the cut-glass voice the only thing left of what she had been. To start with, Julia used to slide her eyes away when Sue spoke to her, but that nervous habit had disappeared.

  When they did a job, Julia was good. Really good, a natural. When the nervous energy slid into place and she was high on adrenaline, she was hot. It was only occasionally now that Julia’s cool façade slipped, showing how fragile and wounded she really was.

  Last night had surprised Sue. The ice queen had melted. The aloof, unattainable Julia had turned into a wild woman.

  Sue looked around the cottage kitchen. It wasn’t Buckingham Palace, but it was better than the beach shack and a lot better than the block of council flats where she’d lived in Middlesex. Rose Garden Close. Somebody had a sense of humour.

  She smiled as she thought how easy the heists were compared with working in the accounts department at Planet Cell. There her brain had been suspended for eight hours a day in a boring little office processing customer accounts. It was supposed to be trendy; everyone wore casual gear and went to the pub after work. Not that she gave a fuck. She had never stayed anywhere long. She was always restless, waiting for the next thing, whatever that might be.

  The next thing was the newspaper advertisement.

  Computer software-training expert required for South African company. Twelve-month contract. All relocation expenses paid. Bonuses.

  She wasn’t exactly a software-training expert, but she had grand ambitions. She was always writing off for jobs and usually didn’t get as far as an interview, but that day Sue had a feeling. She had emailed her details.

  Shortly after that her cell phone rang. A man with a foreign accent had asked to speak to her. He invited her for an interview the following day in the city. Sometimes, when she spoke to men on the phone, Sue would end up saying something cheeky, provocative, like, ‘Pity you can’t see me, because I’m really pretty’. It usually got a reaction. So she tried it out on him.

  There was a long silence before he replied. ‘Well, I’m certainly looking forward to meeting you, Miss Kellon.’

  She hugged herself. She knew she’d get the job if he did the interview. Blokes loved her. I’ll soon be out of here. I’m bright, I’ll get by.

  Back then Sue always felt she was about to go on stage and act out a part where she was the star. It was the same feeling that she got when she went into a club and pinpointed the bloke she was going to take home and fuck that night. They didn’t know who she was. They hadn’t even met her, but she had picked them out. It was her power game, just waiting to be played. She always did the choosing. They were the co-stars.

  Her wits, face and body were her means of escape. She knew that life throbbed more powerfully somewhere else. All she needed was nerve and confidence.

  Something should be happening. Something big. Time was passing; she was already thirty-two. She was ready for the big adventure. The days were whirling by. There was breathlessness in her life. She was standing on the edge of something. She just knew it.

  The offices of Phoenix Empowerment Investments were up-market and luxurious. She was looking good – not just good, bloody fantastic – in her black power suit and killer heels. A group of workmen watched her, their eyes following her with a slow burn as she walked past a construction site near Canary Wharf. She felt like a high-stepping racehorse, pawing the ground, while she waited for the starting pistol.

  ‘Come in,’ said a man.

  She opened the door and walked in. When she had told Julia about it, she hadn’t mentioned the sheer, physical impact of that first meeting, the melting sensation in her gut when she saw Sando for the first time. Huge black-and- white photographs hung all around the room, showing buffalos snorting, elephant charging, lions tearing little deer apart, but the most dangerous animal in the room was him.

  He was a tall, powerfully built, black man, dressed in a tailor-made dark suit, dazzling white shirt and silk tie. She had felt a sharp and thrilling lust just looking at him.

  ‘You are quite correct,’ he said gravely, his eyes travelling over Sue’s face and body like road drills.

  ‘What about?’ she asked.

  My God, was he a mind reader?

  ‘You are very pretty,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, that... Thank you,’ she said.

  She knew this wasn’t the way to open an interview, but it was all in her favour. She felt he sensed the real Sue, the restless, up-to-mischief, vibrant Sue. Bugger the qualifications, but they’d gone through them anyway, spinning out the moment between them. She was the actress again, preparing to step into the spotlight. She couldn’t stop wondering about him.

  While he described the job, telling her about South Africa and Johannesburg, where she would be based, what Phoenix was all about, she ran her eyes over him: full lips, shaved head, glossy eyebrows, brilliant teeth, hooded, sexy eyes. She looked at a wedding photo displayed on the desk. The bride was so young; Sue thought she must be his daughter, hanging on his arm, gazing up at him: ‘Daddy... buy me a wedding, Daddy’.

  ‘Yes, I’m fully qualified in all those skills,’ she assured him. She answered the questions with all the things he wanted to hear. Only a moment and Sue believed her own l
ies. She was good at that. She was descended from a long line of manipulators. Only problem was, she suspected she had met her match here. Sue watched his eyes move up and down her body, flicking over her breasts, skimming down her hips to her legs. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing her thighs. His eyes met hers. She smiled very slowly, and licked her lips. She knew how to turn men on.

  Later, in his hotel room, she had to admit he was a remarkable lover. He went through his paces to show her what he was capable of. First the deep sucking kisses, the nipple licking, his lizard tongue sipping at her, then the swift, practiced undressing. When he finally slid inside her she was astonished at the pleasure. Even when he’d whispered smugly, ‘Am I too big for you?’ she didn’t care how arrogant he sounded. He gave her the licence to be herself. However outrageous she was, she knew he would match her.

  Well, naturally, she got the job. What she’d told Julia was true; he was like a drug. She was mad for him, drugged with love, lust – who the fuck knew – but it was all madness. She discovered as soon as she arrived in South Africa that the girl in the wedding photo was his wife. They were newly married. She didn’t care. She never questioned his motives. She was enthralled by him. It was as if he had slid open her mind and climbed inside.

  For a while he was satisfied with all the sex tricks at which she was so skilled. But he wanted to heighten the sexual excitement and soon he suggested more dangerous activities, hooking her in from the start. The reality of breaking into a heavily alarmed and guarded apartment and stealing documents gave her the strongest rush of adrenaline she’d ever known. They had sex afterward, standing on the open veranda, in full view of the security guards – if they’d looked up.

  She had learned that altitude gave people a false sense of security. The higher they lived, they more secure they felt and the fewer security measures they took. She and Sando exploited this belief time and time again. She took most of the risks, climbing up the side of buildings, hanging from ledges and crawling up walls. Then she’d let him into the apartments and they’d take what they wanted. Sando was an expert safe combination breaker. They were usually so hyped up, they’d have sex then and there, wrestling on the silken bed covers of Johannesburg’s rich and famous. It was complete abandonment. She loved it.