“Serious?” Joey gripped the wheel so tightly his fingers hurt.
“When I took a closer look, there were clear signs of a needle prick on the back of the thigh. So I took blood, and submitted the samples. I’m waiting for the results, which should come back this evening. If they’re positive, the police are going to want to interview you again.”
“You sure about the needle prick?” Joey asked, astonished. Khosi had been tough, alert, and experienced. He wouldn’t have submitted to an injection without fighting hard.
“I’m certain,” Paul confirmed. He added, as if reading Joey’s mind, “I didn’t pick up any visible signs of defensive injuries. But in the back of the thigh like that, an intramuscular shot would be fast and easy to do, and would take effect within a minute or two.”
“So you think trickery, rather than force?”
He imagined Paul nodding, his lips pressed together as he did when thinking hard.
“Yes. I would say it’s more likely. Trickery, distraction, something like that. But until we get the results back, it’s all hypothesizing.” The line started to crackle as the rain worsened again.
“We’ll speak later,” Joey said, and disconnected, his mind reeling from this latest bombshell.
There had been foul play involved; the suicide was not, in fact, what it seemed. That word he saw on the poster, COINCIDENCE?, had stuck in his mind for a reason; his subconscious had known what he’d been too shocked to consciously understand.
Chapter 8
Isobel discovered the lounge window had made the crashing noise. Loose in its frame, it had slammed so hard that a pane of glass had fallen out and smashed on the floor. The wind was howling through the gap, billowing out the dirty net curtain and sending rain spattering over the tiles.
“Hell!” Isobel pushed the bedroom door wide and ran over to the disaster zone. The thin soles of her trainers crunched on broken glass. Reaching for the window, she found she couldn’t close it properly; the wooden frame had warped, and she was unable to pull it hard enough. The wind snatched it right out of her grasp and slammed it again. There were five panes left in the window, one had cracked, and another two looked loose.
“Oh, damn it!” Isobel shouted. She needed to do some urgent damage control. What would happen if the window broke completely? Scenarios spun through her head, each more chilling than the last, underpinned by the fear that she might have to spend the night here alone.
Perhaps pushing the window back into its frame from the outside would be easier than pulling from the inside. Isobel rushed back into the bedroom, unzipped her suitcase, and grabbed the colorful red-and-white floral raincoat that Dave had given her for Christmas. Like all of Dave’s gifts, it was top-of-the-line, a designer garment. Hastily, she pulled it on.
She unlocked the front door and stepped into the gusting rain. Turning, she locked it behind her. It felt like a paranoid action, considering she was only going to be in the garden for a few minutes, but she couldn’t risk leaving it open. The warning from the woman at the baggage reclaim kept playing in her head. “These robbers watch the homes closely. They wait for a chance, and then they attack. All it takes is one careless moment.”
Better to be careful, especially with her instincts prickling. Isobel pocketed the key and sprinted around the house.
She grabbed the window frame to steady herself. The rain hammered on the tin roof, streaming off its edge and splattering directly onto her head. Shaking it away, she focused on the task at hand. Lifting the window would fit it back into the frame, and then she could wedge it all the way shut. Of course, the unwelcome truth was that it would be just as easy to force open again, especially with one missing pane. But if she closed it tightly enough, maybe she could find some wire or twine to secure it from the inside.
Isobel grasped the window and lifted it, pressing her face against the murky pane as she maneuvered the frame into place. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought she saw movement inside the room. She drew in a fast breath, blinking water out of her eyes and telling herself not to be stupid. It was nothing more than the rain on glass, which was also causing the optical illusion that light was coming in through the closed front door.
The window slotted back into place with a bang, but horror gripped her as she stared into the house.
No illusion, no mistake. Impossibly, her fears had become reality.
The front door was open, and a tall, lean man was moving stealthily toward the bedroom. He was dressed in black, wearing a beanie. He must have heard the sound the window made, because he turned to face her. It was then Isobel saw the unmistakable shape of the gun in his hand.
Chapter 9
Shock slowed Isobel’s reactions. It was only when the tall man raised his weapon that her astonished brain caught up. She dove down, sprawling on all fours in the muddy water, as two shots exploded through the glass above her.
Go! Go! She had no idea whether she was screaming out loud or in her head, but she knew that running for her life, as far and fast as she could, was her only option.
Which way? Adrenaline pumped through her veins, quickening her decisions as she jumped to her feet. Back the way she’d come? He’d catch her at the front door. Straight out the gate? No; she could see a car hood there, and what if there was a second man inside?
Only one choice left…over the wall.
She raced to the precast concrete barrier and launched herself at it in a desperate leap. The rough surface snagged the raincoat, ripping the sleeve open and grazing her skin, but she didn’t notice it. Her arms shook with the effort; she’d been neglecting the gym in recent weeks and spending time on her investigations instead. Using all her strength, tendons burning, she hauled herself higher and hooked an elbow over the top. A final scramble and she had made it. She flung herself over, slamming down onto the pavement before struggling to her feet again.
Where to now? The instinct to flee overrode all logical decision-making. In a blind panic, she veered down a narrow side street, but found it offered no cover. On either side of the road was empty ground with sparse grass that wasn’t long enough to hide in.
Farther ahead, she saw rows of shacks, patched together from corrugated steel and uneven bricks. In the rain, she had no idea if they were empty, abandoned, or occupied…but they were her only chance. If she could reach the shacks in time, there might be somebody who could help, and at the very least, she could duck out of sight and maybe even lose him there.
But then, behind her, she heard the sound she’d dreaded…the roar of a powerful engine and the splash of tires, coming fast toward her.
Chapter 10
Some people were born with natural beauty, or musical ability, or a photographic memory. Steyn had a different talent. He was gifted with the ability to kill. Not just to commit the act of murder, although this was an exceptional skill that few people could carry out in cold blood…but to create a plausible scenario for each job he did.
He liked to think of it as helping the police. After all, with South Africa’s high crime rate, they were all overworked and demoralized. Making their task easier saved on paperwork and time, freeing them up to hunt down criminals more careless than him.
He always did his homework carefully. It was essential to be properly prepared. After all, the more time he took over the preparation, the less time the detectives would need to work out what had occurred.
And, of course, he always had a backup plan. Having a Plan B was absolutely essential.
When he swiftly forced the front door of Isobel’s lodgings and moved calmly into the house, nothing about his demeanor gave away the fact that this was already Plan B. His lean face was intent, and the hand holding his pistol was steady.
Plan A had been to do the job on the road, to make it look as though the woman had been shot in a carjacking. However, the rainy weather put an end to that. No carjacker would work in such a storm. With the heavy traffic and poor visibility, there was too much risk of a botched getaway. So,
thinking like the criminal he was, albeit a different kind of criminal, Steyn had decided on his second plan. After all, a violent house robbery would be nothing unusual in this impoverished community. The word could easily have spread that an overseas traveler was booked in.
Steyn’s instincts were already telling him the house was empty when he heard the window slam. Spinning around, he saw her looking in, and suddenly the scenario made sense—she’d gone out to try and close it.
He fired two shots, but to his annoyance she was quicker than he’d expected; he would have thought she’d freeze, cry, beg for her life, as most of his female victims had done.
Quickly, he strode outside. The chase was on now, and he didn’t intend to lose. At such moments, he always smiled, the left side of his mouth quirking up; but it was a joker’s grin that never reached his eyes.
Gun at the ready, he moved to the corner of the house, blinking rain away. She would be crouching down, on the ground—he aimed low, then rounded the corner.
Another shock…she wasn’t there. In fact, she was nowhere in sight. Could she have hidden? The overgrown garden, small as it was, offered some opportunities. He was about to search through the bushes, but then remembered the flash of red he’d caught as she ducked down behind the window. A bright garment like she was wearing would be visible; she couldn’t hope to hide. Implacably, the computer in Steyn’s mind came up with another solution and he scanned the area. His mouth curved higher as he saw it.
There, on the wall.
A fluttering swatch of red-and-white material, tugged by the wind.
She’d gone over, and would be fleeing down the side street, the one with all the shacks.
Steyn ran for his car. A moment later, he was accelerating around the corner, tires wailing.
Chapter 11
Isobel raced down the narrow road. Her legs were pumping, her lungs burned, the stupid raincoat was flapping, its brightness a beacon that was guiding him to her. She couldn’t outrun her terror—fear consumed her, but at the same time, she knew she had nothing to lose in trying anything that might buy her an extra few seconds.
If she could reach the shacks, she’d have a chance. In the maze of tin roofs and tumbledown walls she could lose her pursuer and they would shield her from his bullets. If she screamed now, could anyone hear her?
But she was still too far away, and she knew that meant she’d never reach the shacks. The car was catching up too fast. The engine’s roar filled her ears. What would the shot feel like, when it came? She felt a burning in the small of her back, where she expected the bullet to hit.
And then the car pulled level.
“Isobel?” the driver shouted.
The urgency in his voice made her turn to look. This car wasn’t the silvery sedan whose hood she’d seen. It was a big black SUV with the driver’s window all the way open. She could see there was only one person in the car, and it wasn’t her would-be killer. This man was tanned and tough-looking, with close-cropped dark hair.
“Get in, quick,” he urged her, and the passenger door swung open as the car skidded to a stop. “I’m Joey Montague.”
Chapter 12
It had been pure luck that Joey had driven that way; he knew the area and he remembered the shortcut from the highway. He’d thought the advantages of the shorter route would outweigh the fact that it was a terrible road.
When he saw the woman sprinting through the heavy rain, her red-patterned raincoat flapping behind her, he guessed it had to be Isobel, and that something was wrong. Instead of driving straight to the house where she was staying, he swung the car left and sped after her.
Now, ten seconds later, his new client had collapsed on the car’s passenger seat, gasping, “Get out…of here. He’s chasing…me.”
“Who?” Joey was already accelerating away, checking his mirrors to see if anyone was following.
“I…don’t know. He broke into…the house.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall, thin, wearing…a black beanie and carrying a gun.”
“Did you see a vehicle?”
“Silver sedan. Not sure…what make.”
Checking his rearview mirror again, Joey felt a coldness in his stomach as he saw that a silver BMW had turned onto the road.
“Fasten your seat belt,” he told her. This pursuit was likely to be dangerous.
Chapter 13
Joey slalomed the car through the potholes. A crossroads ahead…at this hour, it was usually quiet. Taking the gamble, he barely touched the brakes before speeding through. Even though he was using every skill he had, he was aware with every passing second that his heavy SUV was not ideal for the job.
His firearm was holstered under his jacket, but it wouldn’t do him much good at this moment. Trying to use it would be dangerous, ineffective, and would slow them down. For now, he needed to concentrate on his driving, because the BMW following was faster and more agile, and it was gaining ground.
“He’s catching up!” Twisted around in her seat, Isobel helpfully informed him of the obvious.
“I know.”
“Can you go faster?”
“If I could, I would.”
“Maybe there’s…a side street, or something?” But her voice lost hope as the road unrolled ahead, devoid of intersections.
“There’s one at the top of the hill!” Her tone brightened.
“We want to avoid that. It’s a dead end.”
“You know this place so well?”
“Like the back of my hand. We recently did a major assignment in this area.”
Joey checked his mirrors again and saw how much ground the BMW had gained. The driver had both hands on the wheel, his face drawn into the rictus of a grin. He was taking his time before shooting, knowing his quarry was trapped on the road and all out of options.
But time for him also meant time for them, and suddenly Joey realized where they could go.
Parallel to this road was a dirt track that led to one of the vulnerable mine entrances where Private had placed security guards. Once before, in better weather, he’d managed to cross the veldt and access that road. In this weather, it would be a huge gamble, but there was one certainty he could rely on.
The SUV would get farther than the low-slung sedan behind them.
“Hang on tight,” he warned Isobel.
She glanced at him, blue eyes wide, her short, platinum hair in spiky disarray.
“To what?” she asked him breathlessly.
“To whatever you can find. We’re heading off-road.”
A final glance in the mirror. He was only just in time. The man behind was right on their tail now. His window was open and he was ready to shoot.
Wrenching the wheel to the right, Joey stood on the brakes.
The tires screamed as the big vehicle slewed sideways. Joey fought the wheel, aware that Isobel had grabbed the dash with one hand, and his shoulder with the other. He’d swerved right to avoid a collision with the car pursuing them, hoping the BMW would accelerate ahead, but he hadn’t bargained on their hunter reacting so fast. A second shriek of tires told him he hadn’t gained any ground from this maneuver. That damned kidney grille was still looming behind them.
Joey scanned the embankment, desperately looking for a place to turn that wouldn’t gut the car instantly. There…the ground was more even in a spot just ahead. Not much smoother, but enough to give them a chance.
“Now try and follow us,” Joey snapped. He swung the wheel, and the big SUV sped over the embankment. There was a harsh scraping sound, which he’d expected, but the rain worked in their favor, softening the ground so that the heavy vehicle plowed through the top of the bank, instead of getting stuck. Then they were airborne, and Isobel’s grip on his shoulder tightened. They landed with a stomach-wrenching thud, and went bouncing across the muddy veldt beyond.
A whiplash crack from behind, and a hole punched through the middle of the windshield. A few inches left or right, and one of them
would be dead.
“Down,” Joey urged. Isobel, face white, flattened herself. He couldn’t risk doing the same—this going was treacherous and there was too much risk of hitting a rock or ending up in a ditch. He swerved around a massive termite mound jutting out of long grass that could hide other obstacles.
Another shot from behind, but this one went wide. Now, every second that passed took them farther out of range. In his mirrors, he saw the tall man, standing at the top of the embankment. Realizing he couldn’t follow them, the man had climbed out of his car to get a better shot.
Then Joey glanced at Isobel. She was sitting up again, even though he hadn’t told her to. On her face, he saw only fierce concentration, and felt a sudden surge of admiration for her toughness, which he hadn’t expected.
“Ditch on the left,” she warned, and he altered course to avoid a gaping channel in the ground, well camouflaged by overgrowth.
“By the way,” she added, “thank you for saving my life.”
“I was only just in time,” Joey said. “Whoever was chasing us is a professional, for sure, and he will still be on the hunt. So, tell me what’s going on. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?”
Chapter 14
It was unusual for Steyn to be frustrated. But now, he felt his control slipping away. Standing in the mud and staring at the SUV’s receding brake lights, he clenched his fists as pure, killing rage overwhelmed him.
She’d escaped again. Who had picked her up? Her bodyguard had been canceled—he had made sure of that. But someone had rescued her, and random knights in shining armor were in short supply around here. So she must have booked somebody else. With this man’s help, she had outwitted him.
Breathing hard, he stared into the rain until the SUV disappeared from view. He was soaking wet. His beanie was drenched. He ripped it off and shook out his brown hair, cut into a neat and unremarkable style.
Private: Gold Page 3
