The Monster's Daughter

by Michelle Pretorius

  Adriaan waited, watching Jakob’s eyes slowly travel to the bottle.

  A noise dragged Tessa out of a deep sleep. Was it that girl again? Alet carried on at all hours, not caring who she disturbed. Tessa regretted taking her on, but she needed the money, now more than ever. She couldn’t think why Tilly liked her so much. Tilly. This generation, born free of the blame of what happened, but still having to live with the aftermath, angered and saddened her. Instead of reaching out, they were self-centered, rude, ignorant of the past, only interested in profiting in the present. That her daughter had grown up to take advantage of the poor shamed her deeply. And Jeff … she blamed herself for not realizing it sooner, hiding away in this house like an ostrich with her head in the sand. Well she’d be damned if she’d let this carry on. Especially on her land.

  Tessa’s annoyance at being woken subsided only marginally when she realized that the phone was ringing. She fumbled around for the bedside lamp and glanced at the clock. It was after ten. Who would call this late, unless … Tessa hurried to the phone in the kitchen, panicked at the thought that something had happened to Tilly. The girl sped on the roads as if they were her personal racetrack. It was only a matter of time before—

  “Rakgadi?” The sound of Jacob’s voice sobered Tessa. “Sorry, so sorry.” His words slurred.

  “Jacob? Are you okay?”

  “If you don’t come it’s too late for Jakob. I’m scared, Rakgadi.” Sobs made Jacob even harder to understand. “… hurts bad.”

  Tessa tried to make sense of his words. “Who is hurting you? Is it Boet Terblanche?” She had long suspected that Boet liked to throw his weight around. If Boet had found out that she planned on putting the farm in Jacob’s name, there would be hell to pay. The thought that he might already be assaulting Jacob to get back at her made her furious.

  “Too much, too long. It’s tickets for Jakob. He says you have to come now, or else.”

  “You tell Boet Terblanche—”

  “Sorry, sorry, Auntie. Time to chaile.”

  “Jacob, wait.” A high-pitched dial tone was the only reply.

  Adriaan took the burner cell away from Jakob and pressed the disconnect button. “Good boy,” he said.

  Jakob struggled to his feet, staggering, barely catching himself. Adriaan watched dispassionately as Jakob stumbled out the door, his legs barely able to support his slight frame, threatening to crumple beneath him with every step. Kalo was supposed to have gotten rid of Jakob all those years ago. Adriaan should have done the job himself. He pulled his gun, pointing it at Jakob, just as the askari turned the doorknob.

  “I didn’t say you could go, Jakob.”

  Jakob turned around, his eyes glazed over, slow to focus on the Makarov in Adriaan’s hand. “Is right, Baas,” he whimpered. “I is just wanting to go check if she come.”

  Pop. Jakob ducked. He scrambled out the door before Adriaan could pull the trigger a second time. Adriaan cursed as he flung the door open. In front of him lay pitch blackness, the sound of Jakob’s footfalls dissipating into the distance. Adriaan trained his Makarov in the direction of the sound and fired. The shot echoed over the valley. Dammit. If he kept this up, someone would notice, and he might lose his chance of getting Tessa Morgan.

  Adriaan followed Jakob a short distance up the mountain. Memories of the Zimbabwe bush flashed through his mind as he gave chase through the trees, branches hitting him in the face, blood pumping through his ears as he followed De Beer and the trackers, the enemy on their heels and closing in. “Bliksem!” Adriaan’s foot caught on a small bush, his rage boiling over as he realized the futility of what he was trying to do. Jakob had the advantage, the knowledge of the terrain. All he was doing was wasting energy. “I’ll get you, hear, boy?” Adriaan shouted at the mountain. “We’re not done, you and I.” He turned away reluctantly, and made his way back to the light in the hut’s windows.

  A quiet knock rapped at the hut’s door half an hour later. “Jacob?”

  A wave of electricity rippled through Adriaan’s nerve endings as he locked eyes with Tessa, the thing itself much more striking than the picture he had had in his mind. In the photographs Tokkie Mynhardt had e-mailed him, she had been pasted down with makeup, but in her haste, Tessa hadn’t bothered with concealment today. Adriaan could see the resemblance she carried to all of the dead girls, the round face and porcelain skin, high cheekbones and delicate nose, but it was the eyes that wiped any doubt from his mind. The other girls had light-colored eyes, but not as ethereal, as silver-pale, as if they belonged to the realm of the dead. He had seen those same eyes staring out from his bitterest enemy and his greatest nightmares.

  “At last we meet.”

  “Where is …?” Tessa was stunned to shocked silence when she noticed the gun. “What? Who are you?”

  “You’re the one he’s been looking for all this time,” Adriaan said by way of explanation. “And I’ve been looking for him.”

  “Look here, where is Jacob?” Tessa burst through the door, disregarding the threat he posed. She stood in the middle of the empty room, dumbfounded by its emptiness.

  “He …” Adriaan searched for a way to describe the relationship. “… used to work for me.” Adriaan was not prepared for the blow as Tessa lunged at him. She was fast, if not strong, her body bulldozing into his, disorienting him for a moment, but he managed to grab on to her. She reached for his face, her nails digging into the soft flesh on his neck as he turned his head to the side, the scratch stinging with sweat. Adriaan dropped his gun while fending her off, clamping his hands around her wrists. She fought him all the way, kicking at him, her knee aiming for his groin. He managed to shove her to the ground and scrambled to retrieve his gun. For a moment he doubted her sanity, but he pointed the gun at her and she backed off, crouching down like an animal.

  “There’s a good girl.” Adriaan backed a few steps away from her in case she tried something again. “Jakob ran away before we could conclude our business, Theresa. But you can find him, can’t you?”

  “Never.” Tessa bared her teeth, a look of disgust on her face.

  A sarcastic smile played on Adriaan’s lips as he sat down in the rocking chair opposite her. “You have a daughter don’t you? Mathilda, I think?”

  Tessa’s face twisted into a snarl. “You stay away—”

  “I’ll make this very simple. It’s Jakob or your girl. If you don’t take me to him, I’ll put a bullet in you right now. Zebra House will be my next stop.”

  “What makes you think I can find him? There are kilometers of land out there.”

  “I’m not in the mood for games. I know what you are. You and De Beer. I know what you can do, how you see in the dark.” At the mention of De Beer, Tessa’s body stiffened. Adriaan got up. “So, what will it be?”

  Adriaan held on to Tessa’s arm, the Makarov pressed into the small of her back as they struggled over the veld. Tessa led him up a winding path bordered by patches of trees and long grass. At places the path narrowed so much that he had to let her go ahead, his gun trained on her, ready to fire. A rustle in the underbrush caught his attention. He heard a low animal growl somewhere nearby and backed away. When he looked back, Tessa was gone.

  Adriaan raced up the path, the predator at his back making him jittery. Once he got to higher ground, he crouched down, listening for anything that would betray the girl or the cat. Slow seconds turned into minutes. Furtive movement suddenly stirred the bushes ahead of him. He wasn’t sure if he could trust his eyes, but he thought he saw the outline of something human darting across the plateau, barely visible as a cloud swept across the slivered moon. Adriaan raced toward the rocky outcrop, where the figure once again melted into the dark. He had gone a few hundred meters beyond the ridge when he realized that he had lost it.

  Adriaan retraced his steps, his breathing labored. He slowly backed down to the bottom of the outcrop, following along its base, dry underbrush crunching under his feet. He pulled his flashlight from his belt
and trailed the beam over the rock, aware that he was giving away his position, but it couldn’t be helped. Broken roots and branches up the rock face caught his attention. Adriaan’s body was not as lithe as it had once been, but his memory was sharp enough to scale the rocks without the aid of the light until he reached a narrow ledge. He inched along, parting branches and foliage until he reached the entrance to an old war lookout protruding from the rock face.

  Adriaan’s flashlight caught wild silver eyes in its beam. She charged at him, raging, a wild animal, but he was ready for her this time. He grabbed her by the shoulders and drove her into the rock wall. She went limp for a moment from the impact, her skull reverberating with a dull thud. Adriaan forced her to the ground and knelt next to her, his hands around her neck. The girl squirmed and writhed under him. She pulled her legs to her chest and dealt him a deft kick in the stomach. He reeled for a moment, clutching at her. She was gasping for air, struggling to get up. Adriaan beat her to it, pushing her facedown on the ground and straddling her hips. She tried to swat at him, but he put both his knees on her shoulders.

  “There is no place for you and your kind here.” Adriaan’s voice rasped, his breathing as labored as hers. She whined under him. He put his hands around her throat again, but he could not exert enough pressure, his hands pulsing from the strain. She screamed, a rasping sound of despair.

  “Shut up.” Adriaan slammed his fist into the side of her head, feeling his knuckles bruise as they made contact with her skull. She was dazed for a moment, her movements weak. He took the fishing line from his pocket. Pulling her head back by her hair, he wrapped the line around her neck.

  Once he was sure it was over, Adriaan slowly eased his grip, red welts striping his palms. He rolled the small body over. A raw gash ran across her neck where the line had cut into her white flesh. Her dull eyes stared at him, her sweaty face covered in dirt and trash from the lookout’s floor. Adriaan carefully dusted it off, as if he might wake her from a slumber. Could it be that these monsters were mortal after all? He touched her a little harder, slapping her cheek to see if she would rise like in some old horror movie, feeling somewhat dissatisfied when she didn’t. He hoisted her over his shoulder, her body limp as a slaughtered lamb. He had to move her into the open, put her on display so that the message would be clear. And then De Beer would come for him, there was no doubt in Adriaan’s mind. The end was near, and he relished it. At last he would have the chance to finish the enemy.

  16

  Thursday

  DECEMBER 23, 2010

  The hazy threat of first light struggled through a veil of distant smoke. The rain had stopped somewhere around midnight, its violent outburst too short-lived to quench the damage that years of drought had inflicted on the area. Alet’s lungs felt raw. She touched her shoulder with her left hand. Hot pain flooded to the spot. “Eina! Moer.” Her voice was raspy, her throat like the Sahara. She rolled to her left side and pushed herself to a sitting position, her body protesting every move. She was light-headed, cold, her joints stiff. She waited a few moments to catch her breath, then propped herself against the wall, surveying her surroundings.

  Shapes slowly distinguished themselves in the darkness of the ruin. The room was claustrophobic, low-ceilinged, the window squares too small for an adult to fit through, the thick walls blackened by ancient soot. The dirt floor beneath her was littered by rags, clothes, and a multitude of shoes without mates, as if a family of one-legged people had once lived there. A chair with a broken back stood in the corner, liquor bottles and trash strewn around it. And he was there too, in the shadows. Mike … Benjamin. The breaking dawn cast a half mask of light across his pale face, stripped of all disguise. Alet wondered at the resemblance between him and Trudie. The nagging feeling she’d had every time she looked at the old photographs suddenly made sense.

  Benjamin had guided Alet around the fire to the west side of the mountain the night before, using her own gun to ensure her cooperation. By the time they reached the other side, fire trucks and emergency blue lights had swarmed the roads below. Alet had tried to break away, run toward them, but Benjamin pinned her down, holding the cocked gun to her head. He forced her back up the mountain. They sheltered in the first old ruin they could find, listening to the sirens and the low humming of the fire helicopter repeating its run between the farm dams and the fire. Benjamin never said a word. Alet could feel his gaze on her in the dark. She was disgusted that she had once thought him attractive. The Devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape. She couldn’t remember what that was from, but she was tired of waiting for this devil to make his move.

  “It’s day,” Alet announced to get his attention. Tension soured her stomach. “Now what?”

  “Alet. So impatient.” One corner of Benjamin’s mouth lifted in a lopsided grin.

  “What the bloody hell is so funny?”

  “You, demanding when others would beg for their lives.” Benjamin stood up and looked out the window. “You understand so little.”

  “Enlighten me, then. Start with Trudie.”

  Benjamin turned around, a strange look on his face. He took a step toward her. “Her name was Tessa,” he said tersely, his head low, his posture threatening. For a panicked moment Alet thought that this was it.

  “Fine. Tessa,” she said. “Look, this mountain is crawling with people. There’s no way you’re getting out of here.”

  “Then I have nothing to lose.”

  “They’ll find out what you are.”

  “Nobody will believe you without Koch, and he … Let’s just say the doctors weren’t terribly hopeful.”

  “You did that? He figured out what you were, and you … you tried to kill him?”

  “I have nothing to gain by his death, Alet. Ask yourself: Who had the most to lose from Koch talking to you?”

  The man who had attacked her in Koch’s office was looking for something in the safe, possibly the book Koch had been writing about her dad’s cases. Perhaps whoever did it thought he had incriminating evidence. But Koch hadn’t testified at the Truth and Reconciliation hearings, hadn’t applied for amnesty when he’d had the chance. If evidence surfaced now that he was covering up murders for death-squad commanders, he’d be prosecuted, especially the way the political landscape was changing in the country. People were unhappy, most of them still living in poverty, and few of the promises made by fat politicians had materialized in the years since apartheid ended. Criticism of the ANC and its leaders was being censored on television, and what the government really needed was a way to remind people of their past victories, of what they’d been rescued from. A careful nudge with a sledgehammer. An old apartheid bad-guy finally getting his comeuppance would do the trick nicely.

  “How do I know you weren’t behind all of this? You were my dad’s commanding officer in Zimbabwe.”

  “I parted ways with Adriaan Berg long before you were born.”

  “He investigated the Angel killings.”

  “He interfered with my work.”

  “Your work? You mean killing all those women for your perverse pleasure?”

  “Pleasure had nothing to do with it.”

  “Then what?”

  “I was chosen.” Benjamin hesitated and turned away. “You wouldn’t understand God’s plan.”

  “Are you telling me God wanted you to kill blondes?” Alet couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. “They’re quite a threat, those blondes. Man, I tell you, going around and being all pretty and shit. We can all sleep at night now. Thank you for your service.”

  “They were abominations.”

  “Must tell you, Ben, I’ve heard it all now. Know what I think? I think God is an excellent scapegoat. Hell, I blame Him for stuff all the time. Stupidity, warm beer … Haven’t quite graduated to murder yet, though. You’re way ahead of me on that one.”

  “Don’t you blaspheme—”

  “Why don’t you just admit the truth, hey? You like killing, and those women were e
asy targets.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” Benjamin whispered the words, his voice barely audible above the din of the approaching helicopter. “Men cannot presume to know God’s plan, to take His work into their own hands. I had to undo the work of my father.”

  “But isn’t that what you’re doing with your research? DNA manipulation?”

  “Because I questioned, God abandoned me. He took Tessa from me.” Sorrow filled Benjamin’s eyes, raw and infinite.

  “You don’t know, do you? Koch tested all your other victims’ DNA. Everything we could find, at least. Those girls, they were just regular people. You and Trudie were the only ones who were … Well, whatever the hell you are.”

  “You’re l-lying. God revealed them to me.”

  “You couldn’t have known what they were without running DNA, and the technology wasn’t around back then.”

  “I thought it was over. I counted the b-births in the journals. I was s-sure they were all gone.”

  “Except Tessa.”

  “We w-were going to b-be t-together.”

  “But she didn’t want you, did she, Benjamin? That’s really why you killed the others. In your mind, you were getting back at her.” Alet recognized a look of desperation in Benjamin, the same one criminals got when she had them cornered, when they couldn’t explain away their guilt anymore. She usually reveled in that moment, but now she doubted herself.

  “Tessa was the o-only thing that ever m-mattered.”

  “Then why the romance job on me? I don’t get it. I’m really not your type.”

  “A-Adriaan. I realized wh-who you w-were.” His stuttering was growing worse. Alet knew she had to keep him on the defensive, keep him distracted. She inched toward the door.

  “You’re going to kill me because of my dad? Stop looking for excuses, Ben! You’re a cold-blooded killer. It’s because of you that Tessa is dead. You killed her!”

  Benjamin let out a yell of frustrated anguish, clasping his hands to his head. Alet dashed for the door. He was on her as soon as her fingers brushed the frame, his hand digging into her injured shoulder. Alet screamed, the pain shooting through her body. She swung around, catching him off-guard, trying to grapple her gun from his belt. Benjamin grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm. Pain blinded her. She fought with everything in her not to pass out. In a sweeping motion Ben lifted her into the air, his body pressing hers against the wall.