I Stand With You (Gold Streaks Book 1)

by Sylvie Nathan

  Lisa is lost in her musing. She does not hear the door open at first; only notices the spread of light around it as it widens; a growing arc of gold upon the floor.

  A man's face appears; then his whole body, silhouetted in the bright door.

  “Excuse me?”

  Lisa raises her voice, which has gone weaker than she remembers, and harsh with two day's silence and nights in the cold air.

  The man pauses; about to shut the door. He has a bottle of water with him, which he was in the act of leaving on the floor for her.

  “Excuse me.”

  Lisa starts again. No harm in being polite. At first, at least.

  “Yes..?”

  The voice is hesitant. Whatever these men, her guards, were told; no instructions about talking to her were involved.

  “Could you tell me anything about where I am?”

  Lisa has walked over to the door; is standing in the widening pool of light it admits from the warm late morning sun. She is pale with lack of sleep; red-brown hair in dusty curls tumbling about her shoulders down her chest; the sunlight making it glow despite the dustiness of it. She is wearing her mustard-coloured office pants; a burgundy silk blouse with mustard speckles dusty now, and dark-stained with sweat and dust and a little blood where she cushioned her head on one upper arm.

  “No.”

  The man is looking at her suspiciously; clearly wary of doing anything his boss might not agree with.

  “Well, Raju Patel isn't going to come here soon, and find out you told me?” Lisa asks it, blankly.

  The man blinks. It is clear that he is surprised. It is also clear that she is right; they do at least know Raju Patel, and he must be involved. This man is the other guard, the one with the South African accent, who Lisa heard talking yesterday. He does not have a direct link to Raju or the Patel family.

  “You know him?” Lisa asks, her voice level.

  Her “lawyer” voice, “No. I've never even seen him.”

  The speed of the answer makes Lisa think that it must be true.

  “So, you don't work for him?” She presses.

  Her voice is so confident, so assured, he doesn't stop to think about why he is standing answering questions levelled at him by someone who is a hostage or a prisoner he is guarding.

  “Not...”

  The man stops. Looks at her out of the corner of his eye. A long pause. Then continues.

  “...hey, Lady. I don't know what you're playing at. But I can't answer your questions.” He pauses; indicates the water with his foot where he has left it inside the door; halfway between both of them.

  “I'm just here to bring you that.” He continues. “Not to die of thirst in here.”

  Lisa stops, her face neutral. Inside, her mind is calculating; thinking over the information; weighting it and comparing it to what she knows.

  “Thank you.” He voice is mild.

  “No worries.”

  The man closes the door.

  Inside, Lisa pauses for a moment, waiting to hear if he has gone. Then turns round once; a small gesture of excitement, a nod to the tiny triumph of new information gained.

  So. Of the guards, one of them knows Raju Patel. The other has never seen him. This guard must be working for the car company. They are in it together. Just as she had thought.

  Lisa pauses, looking into the darkness beyond the bar of sunlight from the windows; the gold light surrounding her. That means...that means that the third option is most likely the right one. Some agreement between Raju Patel and someone working in the car company requires that she lose.

  She pauses, her stomach tight and roiling with the new information and what it means. She has to find a way out of here.

  They have not killed her yet, so perhaps they only mean to keep her out of the way for the duration of the case. But when the case is finished? Can they risk letting her go, with what she might have figured out while here?

  Lisa pauses, looking into the darkness beyond the warm reaches of sunlight and lazy-drifting dust in the warm air.

  The golden light shines off the planes of her face, warms the wide-gazing dark brown of her eyes and the chiseled nose and brow. She has to find a way out of here, with all the information she has learned. To win this case.

  Somewhere in her heart, she thinks of Sue. Fights it down. She will get out of here. Will bring with her the information she needs to win the case. Will see Sue, again.

  Chapter 5

  “Gentlemen...I think we can conclude that shares in the new vein will appreciate over the next ten years? If we could consider our policy regarding the new-discovered Bismuth deposits?”

  Sue is sitting at the head of the table in her office. The light behind her streams in through the windows, making a pale aura of gold spark from her pale hair. It is styled loosely; drawn back off her face by a diamante hairslide; leaving the long fine strands of it loose down her back. Her white silk suit glows palely in the light; a white blouse of the same material beneath it.

  On her left, Bruce Spier, her financier, is sitting. His soft, rounded face is a picture of concern under dark blonde, thinning hair. His mustard suit glows in the sunshine too, but, unlike Sue, he is sweating. He is worried about her. She is the same as ever; an icy, flint-hard pillar of authority and control; but those who know her well and are here to support her can see the strain it takes for her to keep maintaining that.

  “I think...”

  One of the men around the table – the major shareholders in Gold Ridge Mines – is starting the conversation again.

  A small argument ensues about the worth of shares in the new Bismuth site discovered on the mine near one of the older galleries. Bruce has the figures he has found about bismuth and its worth, and is entering the discussion boldly, fighting for the best value. Sue is countering arguments as well, but she can feel the strain of it; of being here, arguing about something so seemingly trivial, when inside all she can think of is Lisa and her absence, and where and how she is now.

  She can feel a headache somewhere behind her eyes; pounding in time to her heartbeat; slow, steady, fluttering. She lifts her hand and holds her brow, her fingers gripping her temples to slow the bar of pain that is creeping slowly across, blocking out her thinking and making her gasp.

  Beside her, Bruce looks at her, concerned.

  “Hold it.”

  He almost shouts into the lively argument around the table. He gestures with his hands, flapping at the arguing men. Sue waves a hand at him in restraint.

  “No...no, Bruce.” She says, weakly, fighting the pain in her head. “I'm alright.”

  Around them, the argument still rages, oblivious. One or two of the shareholders are looking at Sue with questioning looks, but the rest seem not to have noticed.

  “I think...” Sue clears her throat. “I think we should call another session, with the construction people and the engineers. We need the facts about the expense of recovering this material first; before we can even start to evaluate its net worth.”

  There is silence for a moment; then the conversation rages again.

  “We could...”

  “Why are we waiting? The returns could be so great...”

  “What if...”

  “Has anyone checked the shareprices from Ewing Gold? They did a similar thing about five years ago. Has anyone checked how they're doing now?”

  Sue feels the blackness of the headache pulsing behind her eyes, blinding her. She is spiralling into the ache of it, her heart thumping steadily and painfully the only sensation she can feel besides the pulsing, flowing dark that obscures her sight.

  “Ms Montmorency?”

  Elspeth has come into the room. Sue has not noticed. The whirling dark is all she can see. She holds her head with one hand, fingers clasping the temples to try and stem the pain.

  “Susan?” Bruce touches her shoulder gently from where he sits next to her, concerned.

  “Yes?” She asks it weakly.

  “Telephone for
you, Ms Montmorency.” Elspeth replies, her voice questioning and lively. She is oblivious to Sue's distress; just delighted to have her back at work, heading up the company as capably as ever. She continues, smiling.

  “You'll take the call in my office?”

  “Yes. Yes, Elspeth.”

  “Very good.”

  Sue closes her eyes again for a moment; forces them open after a second or two. She puts her hands on the table, the joints white with the strain. Presses down and lifts herself up. She is shocked at how weak her legs have gone under her. She feels drained, the room whirling with the dizziness and exhaustion she feels.

  Elspeth leads the way, high-heels soft on the silky-soft pale carpet of Sue's office.

  In the office, Sue leans heavily on the front desk; lifts the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello Ms Montmorency? This is Inspector Zamoxolo from the Police department.”

  “Yes?” Sue's voice is suddenly urgent.

  “We think we have a lead your missing partner.”

  “Yes?” Sue's voice is practically singing with elation and relief. “Yes? What is the lead?”

  “We have a report from a man who lives on the edge of town; near the industrial area. He says he thinks he saw a car of the description you and Mr. Mokgotsi supplied; heading out to the old industrial area.”

  “What?” Sue's voice is at once relieved and concerned. “Has anyone been up there?”

  “We have a team moving through systematically; starting at the paper mill on Old Main Road.”

  “That...it could take days.” Sue breathes.

  “It could. But we have to do things thoroughly.”

  “Surely you must have some idea where they were heading?”

  “The man who saw the car said they looked as if they were heading to the ridges, where the old refineries were. But from where he lives, it would be impossible to tell. They could have headed in any direction at the edge of town. We just don't know.”

  Sue's heart is pounding. She can hardly think past the flooding relief. She feels lightheaded, the sudden release of tension crippling.

  “Thank...thank you for calling.” Sue manages. Her voice is light as well; lower in tone and soaring with relief.

  “Of course. We will keep you updated of our progress, Ms Montmorency.”

  They greet and hang up. Sue feels weak, lightheaded. She feels her knees give way.

  Elspeth wheels a chair over, concerned.

  “Ms Montmorency?”

  Sue collapses into the chair gratefully. Her head is whirling; the spots and swirls in front of her eyes blinding her as the blood-flow returns to her head. Inside, her heart is soaring, beating steadily with renewed intent.

  “Ms Montmorency? Are you alright?” Elspeth's voice, concerned, comes from a long distance away.

  “Yes.” Sue replies, firmly, through the whirling lightness and fog before her eyes. “Yes, Elspeth. I'm fine.”

  Now she knows where Lisa is. She will find her. This afternoon. Soon. Whatever the police say. She believes the man that the car was heading to the ridges, as it seems a logical place to go if you were planning to keep someone hidden. She will find Lisa. Whatever anyone says.

  The meeting.

  “Elspeth? Is there room to reschedule a session of the meeting to tomorrow? Something's come up.”

  “Yes, Ms Montmorency.”

  “I'll go in and round off, then.” Sue replies. She stands, almost effortlessly. Her legs tremble a little with relief, but she is resolute.

  At the door of the meeting room, she pauses and takes stock. Of all the seven men there, they should be free to continue tomorrow. She looks around the table. Will Laverock...he'll be there. Steve Wiseman...also. Zamoxolo Mketa...he'll be there. But...where is Cedric Brinkman? From Brinkman Car assembly? In all the excitement, she hadn't noticed his absence.

  Oh, well; she thinks. He'll be there tomorrow. So much the better, that we discuss again then, so he can catch up as well.

  “Right, gentlemen.” Sue clears her throat, her voice brisk. Authoritative and utterly, totally alive.

  “We will need to continue this meeting tomorrow. I trust that will be satisfactory for all?”

  Because something has come up. Because she knows where Lisa is. Because, soon, she can do something to change things. To find her and bring her back.

  Chapter 6

  The floor of the warehouse is pale cement; dusted lightly with straw and lit to pale gold in the patches of light from the high windows.

  Lisa looks down at it; thinking absently about the patterns of light and shade, of straw and cement and dust; concretely about the case and the people involved, fitting the pieces together into some sort of coherent picture.

  She is resting on a ledge about a third of the way up the wall. Climbing the wall in this place has proved easier, and has given her something to do, if nothing else.

  Lisa watches absently the floor across the room from her post on the front wall above the door; the dust rising in the shafts of light from the windows before her gaze. Her mind considering all the possibilities. The ledge is a useful place to rest, and the climb made her feel revitalised, she notes.

  “...and we're on watch tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  There are some strange places, near high walls and grouped buildings, where the sound is focused; so that spoken words from somewhere rather far are all reflected to those places, amplified. Sitting at a place like that, it is as if you heard words from right next door to the speaker, even though they are far away. Just where Lisa sits, two-thirds of the way to the windows, is such a place; it seems. The words spoken a few feet outside the door seem to collect here, so it is as if Lisa stood beside the guards. She tenses, listening to their talking.

  “But...they'll be here at eight-thirty?”

  “Yeah. There in the old works-hall at the bottom of the hill. Like usual.”

  “They'll want us keeping an eye out there, then?”

  “One of us can go. Only need one up here; to keep an eye on the door. Not much to do up here.”

  “Yeah.”

  Lisa's mind is whirling with the new information. Someone is coming here tonight, to have a meeting in the disused refinery. Who?

  “So when the boss is done, you'll come back here?”

  “Yeah. Shouldn't take more than about an hour, I reckon. Neither of our bosses are big on talking. Can't imagine they talk much to each other.” The South African accented man supplies, a laugh in his voice.

  “Yeah. True”. The other man, the Indian-accented one, agrees.

  Both our bosses. Patel, and someone from Brinkman Car assembly? Lisa thinks, fitting the new pieces into the puzzle she is starting to build in her mind.

  “He'll come himself, though?” the South African man is asking.

  “Always does. Never trust a second man. That's what he always says.”

  “He trusts you, though, Sachin?”

  “Not with the big things.” They chuckle.

  “I don't think my boss trusts me with big things, either.” The other man reflects.

  They laugh again.

  “Well;no good standing talking, I guess.” The Indian man reflects.

  “No, I guess not.”

  “I've got to go and move some rubble out of the way down there; make some space to park where someone can't drive into anything in the dark.”

  The men chuckle. Comments about fancy cars and rubble and their bosses ensue.

  The men talk a little more, then one departs down the hill.

  Lisa breathes out. Her mind is whirling with the new facts. Raju Patel and a man from the car company are meeting somewhere here. To discuss...what? If only she was there. If only she could get out of here and be there at that meeting. She would have all the evidence she needs to make clear what these men have done. If only she was out of here. She has all the information she needs, now, to accuse them both and save the case. This new information is a miracle o
f itself. If only she could be free of here, to use it. Any other thoughts of freedom, and Sue, she pushes down. Her mind is in the court now, making the case against Patel, and Brinkman cars.

  From her vantage point a third of the way up the wall, she idly notes the sound of an engine; running hard and fast across the road along the ridge. She pauses, thinking. Listens.

  Chapter 7

  “Come on, come on!”

  Sue is driving the BMW X5 up the hill, shouting encouragement to the engine. It protests, and pulls forward again, the small, streamlined body of the car shooting uphill on the rough track. The BMW is not made for offroad, but she pushes it on, shouting encouragement and deprecation in turn.

  “Damn it! Go on.”

  Sue lowers her foot and charges up the track. She is sure Lisa must be somewhere here. The man who saw the car that had Lisa said he thought they were heading this way. And it seems the best place to hide a person. The hills here are deserted. No-one travels out here; or if they do, it is to go to the new industrial area to the east of here. No-one comes to see the old, disused refinery buildings dotted along the hill out along the ridges. The forlorn, white-painted buildings, crumbling now, stand stark and pale against green grass; the chimneys of the main building stark, pale fingers reaching up, truncated, against the aching blue background of sky.