Deadline

by Zaheera Walker

  “Is there anything I can do to make this easy for her?”

  “Keep your love for her alive in your heart. It is the only thing that is going to give her the strength to find her way back to you. I will also call on my spirit guides to lead her back to us.”

  Charmaine remained quiet in the corner, but couldn’t help herself anymore. “I shall never forgive myself if something happens to her. Like Mr Black said before, I should

  have paid more attention to her last request.” She melted like a raging flood.

  “No one is to blame.” He smoothed his hand up and down Charmaine’s quivering back. “We’ll get through this and in no time Feriyal will be back with us.” Did he really believe that?

  “You must get the police to act quickly. This is a dangerous person we’re dealing with. The more time that passes, the less chance we have of finding her alive.”

  Shane’s head fell into his hands. He was not crying, but he was terrified. For the first time, he realised the situation was bigger than he had imagined. “So help me God, when I find this person, I am going to...”

  “Hush. That is no way to behave at this crucial time. Give me a moment to finish my reading. Please?”

  “Go ahead. I’m sorry. It’s just not like me to sit idle while nasty things might be happening to the ones I care about.”

  “There isn’t much more to tell you, except... this person is bitter. And poor Feriyal is stuck in this web of anger. Leave now; go and find her. You can’t afford to lose any more time.”

  Charmaine thanked Bonita and passed a wad of notes to her. “Thanks for your time.”

  “There is no need for payment today. I did this because I wanted to. Love and light, darlings. Keep me updated.” She blew them both a kiss and shut the door.

  “I’d better call Smith. He’s being trying to reach me. Jump in. I’ll drop you off at the office before going to the police station. It’s been more than twenty-four hours. I have to report her missing.”

  ***

  “God be with you, Mr Black. You don’t have to come inside. Just drop me off on the roadside. I’ll cover for you.”

  “You’re a sweet lady. I should appreciate you more. We can’t keep this a secret for long. Once the report is made, there will be headlines everywhere. She was a Chimes reporter; not just anyone.”

  Shane reversed into his parking bay and turned off the engine. Charmaine reached for her door, then hesitated. She turned to face him. “I might be your personal assistant, but

  I’m also old enough to be your mother.”

  “Where’s this coming from?”

  She didn’t answer him. “Come here; let me give you a hug. I know you need one.” Yes, he needed that. For too long, he had pumped his energy into building a newspaper empire. Feriyal had walked into his life and tugged at his heartstrings. That had changed him. He had a soft spot and now wanted more from life. Money was not everything. He had enough. Now, he wanted to settle down and complete his family.

  “Thank you for being so giving. I don’t believe in heaping praise on anyone, but today that changes. I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for you.” He gave her a bear hug. “And I mean that.”

  “Oooh that makes me wanna cry. Thank you. Now off you go.” She emerged from his car feeling like a celebrity. “And don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll handle it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Masses of people were swarming in the charge office at the CR Swart police headquarters. It was mid-morning. All the complaints from the previous night were streaming in. A well-dressed man with an air of noble blood, Shane felt squeamish. He followed the queue to file a missing person’s report.

  “What a coincidence! I was just leaving for the newspaper building.” Smith had just finished with the morning parade. “Been trying to call you for ages now. Where have you been?”

  “Captain Smith! How nice to see you again.” Shane was relieved to see a familiar face. “I’ve been tied up in meetings since 7:30am. I was going to return your call, but decided to come here anyway. Has there been any news?”

  Smith was pulling on his chin, searching for the patch of hair he had shaved off months ago. “It seems like Feriyal got into a man’s car at the La Lucia Mall that morning.”

  “What!” Dread filled him. “That’s not like her. Is there a registration number? With that, you can trace the owner and maybe get somewhere, right?”

  “Wish it was that simple. You haven’t reported her missing yet, but I got a few informers to ask around. Nothing official. The hawker selling vegetables on the roadside saw her get into a Golf. It didn’t look like she was being forced, so he didn’t pay much attention.”

  “What about the security cameras at the mall? Surely the number plates would have been captured?”

  “I looked into that. Afraid the cameras were being serviced that morning, so there is no footage of her movement.”

  “Hell no. We have nothing. Absolutely nothing to go on!”

  “I wouldn’t say that just yet. Let’s open a missing person’s case and then we can get the ball rolling.”

  “Smith. Please be honest with me. I need to know.”

  “Always. I’ve never been anything but. Fire away.” He folded his arms and waited for the big question.

  “Do you think Feriyal is being held captive by the serial killer?”

  “I was expecting that. Look, anything is possible. From what we know about him, his modus operandi and bits of information we picked up, it is very likely she walked straight into his trap.” He seemed hesitant to go on. Right there in the charge office was not the ideal spot to discuss the case. “Come. Let’s chat in my office. Much safer there.

  Less noise too.”

  “Now it all makes sense. Damn this. How could I have been so blind?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We roped her in to help find him. She became obsessed with the assignment. I saw how rattled she was the last few weeks. Begged her to stop tracing his steps.” He reached for a chair.

  “You might not want to hear this, but she is stubborn. She changed the SIM on the cell phone I gave her. Seems she wanted to pursue him on her own.” He pushed a glass of water at him. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  “She was going to play the part of a prostitute. It makes sense now about the stash we found in her drawer.”

  “Look. I’m not supposed to tell you about the investigations. But you’re a good guy. I know you’ll keep it to yourself.”

  “Yes, I will. I’d be grateful for anything you can share.

  Every bit helps to find her.”

  “This is a dangerous man. I pray to God there is the tiniest bit of softness in him. Then at least Feriyal stands a chance.”

  “Oh dear God! How can you say that? She doesn’t stand a fighting chance against this monster, then.”

  “That woman helping the police. What’s her name? Never mind, but you know which one I talking about.

  Anyway, she is helping to build a murder organogram.”

  “What’s her take on this?”

  “She reckons he is an intelligent man. The way he places the shoes next to them is significant. Even the photos taken at the crime scenes show so much. Blood on the grass. Deep cuts in the throat.” He remembered the victims’ broken bodies, but kept it to himself.

  “What’s going to happen to my Feriyal? I feel so helpless.” Only time could answer that.

  “Have you called the newsroom yet? Just to see if your personal assistant has any more information?”

  “No, I haven’t. I’ll do that right away.”

  “While you make that call, I’ll just go and inform my guys to put out a missing person alert. See you now.”

  Shane paced back and forth. Everything was too much for him. After wearing out his soles, he decided it was time to call Charmaine. “Any news?”

  “I’ve looked at the leasing request she made. I found the landlord’s details and gave him a call
. Seems like she never set foot in that building.”

  “That’s a dead end for us now, isn’t it?”

  “Not quite. Turns out she placed a sex advert in our newspaper. Said it was for a client who left in a hurry.”

  “What? It just gets worse, doesn’t it? Well… have you seen the advert? What does it say?”

  “I have. Talks about the mistress of spice and a woman named Indira. Somehow…” She paused. “Somehow, I think it was Feriyal pretending to be someone else.”

  “I think so too. Just between us, Charmaine, she was working on the serial killer assignment. She was meant to lure him into the police trap.”

  “Gosh! That is so dangerous. Especially for a young and naive person like her.”

  “Is there anything else you haven’t told me yet?”

  “I called the number, Mr Black. There is no ring tone; no voicemail. Like the number doesn’t exist.”

  “Now we’re doomed and it’s all my fault.” The phone went dead. Smith returned with two cups of watered-down coffee.

  “Here. Looks like you could do with a bit of something to wake you up.”Shane washed it down in three gulps. He had missed breakfast and hunger pangs were making him burn inside. “I have news, but it isn’t good.”

  “Spit it out. I’ve been around long enough to handle the good and the bad.”

  “My personal assistant did a follow-up on the lease Feriyal requested. Turns out she never went to the building at all.”

  “Then it means he is holding her captive elsewhere. I know we’ll nab him. Can just feel it.”

  “It gets even worse.”

  “You mean you have more bad news?” He chuckled, because things always went from bad to worse before they became better for him. “I’m listening.”

  “She might have placed a sex advert in the newspaper to lure him in.”

  “Very smart of her. I didn’t even think about that.”

  “Trouble is, the contact number might have been cancelled. You can dial it, but it doesn’t get through to anyone.”

  “Don’t panic just yet. Get me the number and I’ll get my guys to investigate.”

  Shane nodded. Should I tell him about the tarot? Psychics have been called in to help solve criminal matters in the past. Somehow, Smith didn’t seem to be the type who entertained airy fairy information. No.

  Just keep it to myself for now.

  “Are you good to drive back? I can get someone to drop you off. You look unsteady.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll manage. Speak to you later.”

  “Oh, before I forget, we have drawn up a missing person alert. It should go out in the next hour.”

  “Thank you.”

  The men parted ways, each one with diminished hopes of a breakthrough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  MISSING

  We are increasingly concerned for the safety of a missing Durban journalist. Feriyal Adam was last seen getting into a Golf at the La Lucia Mall on Saturday, 4 October at 9am. Anyone with information should contact Captain Smith on 008 765 0909.

  There is a R100, 000 reward for positive information.

  “Seems like your lover is trying to find you.” Beads of water danced across Vishen’s forehead.

  Finally. Finally, someone is looking for me. Thank you, God. Feriyal struggled to sit up on the bed. Her strength was abandoning her. “What are you talking about?”

  “The police put out a missing person notice. There’s even a reward. R100, 000! Imagine what I could do with that money.”

  “Then let me go and you can have the money.”

  “Never!” He grabbed her hair and whacked her across the face. “You will never leave this place alive. Best part is, you will never be found here.”

  “Stop taunting me this way.” She licked her cracked and bleeding lip.

  “I can’t fight you. A man like you must want a challenge. I don’t have the energy to take you on.” She lowered herself onto the pillow. “And what do you mean I’ll never be found here?”

  He flashed an evil grin. “There’s something I have to tell you. I don’t think you will believe me, but it’s true.”

  “Nothing you say will surprise me now. What is it?”

  “I’ve been raping and killing women for a while now.” “I kill them, then I bury the bodies in shallow graves in the sugarcane fields. A sweet end!” A glint of lust flashed in his eyes. “It’s a waiting game after that. Waiting for the cops to find it.”

  Feriyal gasped. “And you’re so calm about it! Why are you so evil?”

  “Like I said on the way here. Women. Are. Whores! Don’t you agree?”

  “No! Am I a whore? Look at me!” Feriyal was screaming at him like a banshee, but it did nothing to move him.

  “Tut. Tut. Women are all the same. You’re a prostitute, for crying out loud.”

  If only he knew. A wallflower pretending to engage in the flesh trade.

  “I’m soft and kind and friendly. I’m gentle enough to be your sister. Please don’t hurt me!”

  “My heart turned to stone when my father bashed my mother’s legs in with a baseball bat.” His voice rose. “She dropped to the floor and he did nothing to help her!”

  “What does it have to do with me?”

  “Everything.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “He was fucking a prostitute who turned him against his family. Today, my mother is in a wheelchair.”

  “Your mother didn’t raise you to be a killer! You’re a good man. Yes, you’re angry with women because of one hooker, you’re upset with the world and you hate your father. That’s all good. You have every right to feel that way.” She raised her hands and reached for his face. Everything inside her stomach did a somersault.

  “And now you want me to think there is some good in you.” He brushed away her hands.

  “Let me help you. I want to be there with you when you care for your mother.”

  “And what about lover boy?”

  “He’s a good man. He’ll understand that it is all right to stand beside you. To help you heal.”

  “You think I’m some fucking fool. I’ll let you go and you’ll run straight to the cops.”

  “I promise I’ll never leave your side. But the reality is you killed other women. How many?”

  “Too many; I lost count.” He pushed out his chest like a charged hero.

  “You’ll be next. I’m just keeping you alive because you are interesting.”

  Oh. My. God. He is planning to kill me. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You have a good job and then there’s your mother.”

  “Don’t you want to know how the others went to Heaven? No, wait… Hell. Whores go to Hell.”

  “Tell me.” Her eyelids shut out the image before her. “Then I’ll be prepared when my time comes.”

  “Smart answer. I like that.” He lowered himself onto a rickety stool in the corner. “I go after Indian women. They’re easy; beautiful too. I don’t have to close my eyes when I fuck them. Dead or alive. I don’t have to do it, but hey. Sex with them is a bonus for me.”

  Feriyal cringed. What satisfaction did he get by invading a dead woman? Sick bastard. “How do you feel when they stop breathing?”

  “Absolutely fucking fantastic. I even smile. Makes me feel like I am free from my controlling mother. ” He punched the air with his fist.

  “I’m satisfied, because it is one less home wrecker in the north. Did I tell you my idiot father ran off with that bitch? She just milked him for his money. When everything ran dry, she kicked him out.”

  “Where’s your father now?”

  “Does it look like I care? Last I heard, he was shacking up with some domestic in KwaMashu. Serves him right.”

  “That is so sad. You’ve been through so much. You lost your innocence through all this. Your father hurt you and it was wrong. But you are worth more than he could ever be.” Was that the right thing to say? This was her plan to win him over to her side. “You cared
for your mother and I know it must have been difficult.”

  “My father always went for beautiful Indians. The ones who dressed well. He admired their shoes and the dresses they wore. Smitten by anyone who pranced around like a peacock.”

  “That’s the reason you kill them. Just because your father admired them?”

  “Yes. Exactly. And I leave their pretty shoes beside them as a trophy.”

  “What do you do after you kill them?”

  “I go home, kiss my mother and help her cook. It makes me sick to smell the cocoa butter on her cheek, but I have to pretend that I love her. We have supper and then watch the news. When another body is found, I pretend to be shocked. Angry that this Phoenix serial killer is playing a game with the cops. When I can’t fake it anymore, I just say ‘I hope they catch that bastard’.”

  Feriyal felt for him, but she hated him too. “You can kill them any way you please, but you choose to strangle them. Why?”

  “That’s the best part. The piece of trash who stole my father gave him a coin pendant. A heavy piece, but it wasn’t worth much on the market. My old man wore it around his neck. His garland. He wanted my mother to see it.”

  “Do you strangle them with the same pendant and chain? How did you get hold of it if your father wore it all the time?”

  “He was packing his suitcase and cursing my mother the day he left. He took a shower before and took it off. I found it lying on the pedestal next to his bed.”

  “Please come closer. I want to hold you. Your story is so sad.” Her innocence was inviting.

  “Guess it won’t hurt to sit next to you. In a bit, I am going to rape you and then you’re gone.”

  “That’s fine. My life growing up was sad and it hasn’t got much better since,” she lied. “Maybe you’ll be doing me a favour by ending the misery I feel.”

  “Why is your life sad? Is lover boy not treating you well?”

  “I’ve only just met him. My sadness comes from my younger days. I wasn’t lucky enough to know my father. He was stabbed while returning with a loaf of bread for the family.”