“I didn’t say you were crazy before. Just that this was fucking dangerous. He’s a cabinet minister, for Christ’s sake, and she knows everything.”
“I wouldn’t care less if it was President Zuma himself, right now. As for her,” she shook her head, “I’m not sure how Amahle’s going to take that.”
“You still don’t have the evidence, Imogen.”
“No, but I know where it is now.” She pointed at the small pen drive sticking in her computer. “We need to make copies of this.”
“I’ve got a flash drive with my gear.”
“Good. I think I’ve got a spare one around here too.” She plugged in the drive and dragged the files across to copy before picking up her phone and punching in a number.
“Hello?”
“Julius, it’s Imogen.”
“Oh, hey. Listen I haven’t finished the article for Amahle to read through yet. Probably going to take me another couple of hours.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not at Amahle’s. Not yet anyway. I’ve got information you need to see. Meet me at her place in two hours.”
“I’m in Jo’burg at the moment. It’s going to take me at least three or four hours to get to the airport and get a plane over there.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“Give me a clue?”
“I know who’s behind PharmaChem, and I know who’s pushing the buttons for them in the ministry. I also know why he’s doing it.”
“I’m on my way to the airport. How did you get all this?”
“It was all in public records.”
“You’re joking?”
“No. It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet these days.”
“Isn’t it just. Later.”
She grabbed her phone and took a picture of the wall then collected the piles of reports, copies of transcripts from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and bundled them into her laptop case. She needed to take it to Amahle. She needed to show her what she’d found and she needed to explain it all in person. The threads were a little tenuous, and she needed to show her the research to back it up. But now that she had Marais’s research detailed, it was rock solid.
“Want me to come with you?” Greg asked.
“No, you should stay here and keep an eye on Mbali.”
“You sure? I don’t like that you’re leaving here alone, with the keys to cracking this wide open.”
“I’ll be fine. You’re the only one who knows.”
He gripped her arm and pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear. “Are we sure about that? Amahle’s office was bugged, Marais’s office was bugged, maybe his home too. How do we know here isn’t? That bitch has been here, after all.”
She’d never even considered it. She’d never thought it a possibility that they would consider her place as somewhere that needed to be monitored. How fucking stupid can you get, Frost? For fuck’s sake, that’s a rookie mistake.
“Can you sweep and see?”
He nodded. “Don’t leave before we know the results. I can have someone come over here and pick you up if don’t want me to take you.”
She sat on the stoop while she waited. Ten minutes later, he sat beside her and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. To anyone looking, it would look as though he were offering her comfort. He whispered against her hair to mask the movement of his lips.
“Audio bugs only. No video.”
“Shit. They know we have the recordings of Dr. Marais.”
“I don’t want to wait around for someone to turn up, Imogen. I’m taking you to Cape Town. Laura’s got another body en route to take over and watch Mbali.”
“Does she know I’m coming?”
“Laura said she wouldn’t tell her. We decided that we’d just deal with it when you get there rather than risk Amahle refusing to let you in. Right now, you’re in more danger than she is.”
“So are you.”
“No. I can’t tie this up like you can. All I’ve got is a vague idea that some old white dude’s not as squeaky clean as we’d hope he was, and that cops are fucking dirty bastards. Nothing new. You’ve got all the pieces to the puzzle.”
“I want to put this in the post on the way. That way—”
“I get it. If anything happens it’ll get to someone else. Don’t tell me whose name’s on that thing, okay? No one gets to know that from me.”
“Deal.”
“Okay, let’s get out of here.”
There was a flutter in her chest as she thought about seeing Amahle again, a movement that she hadn’t felt since she’d walked back in to the house on Monday evening. For the first time in days, she felt as though her heart were beating normally again.
Chapter Forty-six
Amahle sat on the patio and stared out to sea. She wished she was out there. Anywhere but where she was. The sun beat down on her skin, but she’d never felt so cold. She felt cold inside. Frozen to the core. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the last time she’d felt warm, but all she could see were Imogen’s eyes. Claudia was right. She couldn’t concentrate. All she could do was worry. She tried to focus on page after page, but every time she found herself distracted.
“Please don’t have them shoot me before you give me the chance to explain why I’m here.”
Amahle whirled around in her chair. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Imogen stood with her hands held up in surrender, a thin cotton shirt wrapped around her body, but the buttons were mismatched, her hair was dishevelled, and her shorts were crumpled. She looked like she hadn’t been to bed in days; the dark smudges under her beautiful eyes were testament to that. And the ice began to thaw.
“You’re so stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“Why are you here?”
“Who are you and what have you done with Amahle?”
Amahle simply waited. She didn’t want to even try to explain that this was what she made her. She didn’t even want to contemplate who or what she was anymore.
“I expected to be hung, drawn, and quartered.”
“Might still happen if you don’t start talking. You said you wanted to explain something to me.”
“We need to take a walk, away from the house.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I swear, Ami, I’m not being.” She lifted the bunch of papers. “But I need to make sure we can’t be overheard until Greg has something under control.”
Amahle narrowed her eyes but stood and followed her through the gardens. “Is this good enough for you?” She waved her hands indicating the abundance of foliage and the rocks at their backs.
“Yeah, this’ll do.” She positioned herself so that she was facing outward and continually scanned around her.
“Have you been taking lessons from Greg or something?”
“Huh, what?”
“Never mind. What have you got to tell me?”
“I’ve figured it out.”
“Figured out what?”
“Who’s behind it all. I called Julius. He’ll be here in a few hours. If you want me to wait and go through it all when he gets here, we can do that.”
“Do I hell. Start talking.”
“Have you seen who the shareholders of PharmaChem are?”
“Yeah, it’s another company. Well, three of them actually. Davit Imports, SecPlus International, and a company called Platinum Products.”
“Got any further into those?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s where it starts to get interesting. Davit Imports holds twenty-five percent of PharmaChem and is a shell company owned solely by one James Davitson.”
“Your lawyer?”
“Hmm. I’m only claiming him by default.”
“Whatever. How does he get involved with a pharmaceuticals company?”
“Through his best friend who owns the other twenty-five percent company, SecPlus International.”
“His best friend?”
“I knew I couldn’t trust that slimy bastard.”
“It gets worse.”
“Couldn’t possibly.”
“It does. The company that holds fifty percent, Platinum Products.”
“Another shell company?”
“Yes. Owned by Elizabeth De Fries and Claudia De Villiers.”
“Excuse me? What?”
Imogen didn’t say anything. She simply took hold of Amahle’s hands and waited.
“Did you just say De Villiers? Claudia De Villiers?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Ami.”
Amahle pulled her hands away. “But she would have told me.”
“Ami, you know that’s not—”
“She’d been a friend to me. She’s been here through every single—” Every moment of the investigation flashed through her brain. Her first meeting with Dr. Marais, she remembered how Claudia had made her question her safety with him. A feeling that had led to her asking Claudia to be there, taking notes, the whole time they had talked. Every bit of news she’d received she’d had Claudia document. Every report she’d read, barring the one from Dr. Marais, had been gathered or written by Claudia. Every move they made, Claudia was informed or with them. Every discovery they made, Claudia knew too. The words that they’d said on the phone came from her.
“How do they get to be the shareholders in a billion rand company? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does, but you’re going to have to follow this back a bit with me. Fred Pugh was married to a woman called Nicole. Did you know that?”
Amahle shook her head. “Why would I?”
“Old Stellenbosch family, I thought you may have heard of them. Nicole Pugh was born Nicole De Villiers.”
“As in Colonel Johan De Villiers?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone in Stellenbosch knows of that old bastard. Most of us watched his amnesty hearing.”
“You were there?”
“Yes. One of the atrocities he sought amnesty for was killing Mandla Nkosi.”
“He was the bastard who killed your dad?”
She nodded. “My father was part of the resistance. The police arrested him one night. Dragged him out of the house and just took him. We didn’t know where they took him. The police wouldn’t tell us. They didn’t have to. We were just another black family looking for another political prisoner.”
“How old were you then?”
“Nine, almost ten.”
“What happened?”
“My father never came back. When the TRC began the hearings, Gogo went to them. She wanted to know what had happened to her son. There was enough evidence to bring Johan De Villiers to trial, so he did what everyone did back then. He petitioned for amnesty.” She stared ahead of her, no longer seeing Imogen or the gardens where they stood. Instead she saw the town hall in Stellenbosch. Three tables set upon the stage, the dance floor covered with benches and chairs. As many as they could cram in.
“I was supposed to be in school, so I sat at the back of the hall. Mama and Gogo sat at the front. Mama was crying, like she always could for an audience. And this man sat there and told everyone what he did to my father. He told them how he beat him. He whipped him until the skin fell off his back. He told them how my father refused to give them the information he had, so they had to escalate his interrogation.” She snorted a bitter laugh. “Interrogation, that’s what the bastard called it. He had his body doused with water and cooper wire wrapped around his testicles. They electrocuted him. Over and over again.”
“Jesus.”
“No, he wasn’t there that night. But my father wasn’t the only wretched soul they subjected to that particular technique. Every police officer had their own signature move. De Villiers and his particular little gang loved the copper wire trick. He said most men talked very quickly when this technique was used. If they didn’t, it would eventually just drop off.”
“That’s a mental image I could’ve lived without.”
“Me too.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to read all of the transcript. Just enough to know that he never should have been granted amnesty.”
“Very true. But how does that explain those four being the shareholders in PharmaChem?”
“Nicole Pugh was a doctor. A pharmacologist. And Daddy funded her to start a small pharmaceuticals company with ill-gotten gains from his days as a corrupt policeman before the end of apartheid. Johan De Villiers owned the company until his death in 2000, when ownership passed to Fred and Nicole Pugh. From the looks of things, in 2004, the company ran into trouble and a third partner was taken on to help them out. Jim Davitson. Fred and Jim were at school together, university; Jim even tried out for the police before he went to law school and then sat the bar.”
“Okay, so that’s the history of the company.”
“Not quite. Nicole Pugh was a brilliant pharmacologist by all accounts. She was the one who developed the genuine Combivirine. She reduced the production cost and produced the required evidence to get it to the FDA, but she died six months before it was due to come to the review board. She never had the chance to get it out there.”
“Right, so who did?”
“When Nicole died her daughters inherited her share of the company.”
“Beth De Fries and Claudia De Villiers.”
“Correct. Neither of them are the scientist their mother was, but seemingly they have other skills. Beth, by all accounts, is an exceptional saleswoman and has a knack for talking people into doing what she wants. From buying drugs from her, to approving incomplete drug trials. Claudia apparently has more talent with computers. Anything from hacking to creating a software programme in the company’s ordering system that allows them to input the correct code for the Combivirine, and the computer produces replica pills made of aspirin, all the while no one knows any different on the packing floor, the delivery drivers, no one.”
“So how does a company like this manage to get a drug approved when their developer was already dead?”
“The drug was complete. The reports for the final trial just hadn’t been completed and signed off. I believe a little blackmail may have been utilized in this instance.”
“Blackmailed who?”
“Your boss, James Wilson.”
“With what?”
“You knew that before he went into politics he was a judge, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“He was the advocate who granted Johan De Villiers amnesty.”
“You think he was bought off.”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No.”
“But?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little odd that he never mentioned it to you?”
“Perhaps he didn’t want to rake up the past. I mean, I was there and I didn’t even recognize him. All I saw that day was De Villiers.”
“Maybe that is the reason he didn’t say anything. Maybe it isn’t. But Johan De Villiers was found dead, supposedly hung himself six months after he literally gets away with murder. I saw a news article where ‘friends’ said he couldn’t live with his deeds on his conscience. Even if the commission saw fit to forgive him, he couldn’t forgive himself. Does that sound likely to you?”
“I’m not aware of many people who were granted amnesty taking their own lives. No.”
“The day after, James Wilson declared his intentions to run for office.”
“Coincidence?”
“Maybe. But there was a query about where certain aspects of his campaign funding came from.”
“James Wilson is a sixty-five-year-old man.”
“Who’s about to retire and collect a very healthy pension for the rest of his life.”
“Who isn’t going to be going around chopping people’s hands off and burning down houses. Besides, have you forgotten that Isabelle’s account says it was a black man who put her out the window? James Wilson�
�s as white as you are.”
“Do you think it’s possible that people have been hired to do the dirty work? Do you not think that these men are more than capable and in supreme positions to find thugs to take care of things like that? A police major general and a lawyer?”
“You’re clutching to make your theory fit.”
“I’m not the only one to come to the same conclusion.”
“Who else?”
“Dr. Marais. He came to it a different way, but he got there too. He found all the PharmaChem FDA approval filings, and found that only one had been signed off by James Wilson. When he followed that he discovered that this was the only approval Wilson ever signed.”
“Not very clever if you want to keep your identity secret.”
“Without this, what reason would anyone have to question it even if they did find it?”
“How do you know he found that information?”
“He sent me his files. I got them earlier today.”
“But he only would have gotten those because Claudia gave him access. How do we know they aren’t corrupted?”
“Think about it. Claudia gave him what he was after, yes. On Saturday afternoon. Saturday night, he was murdered and his house…all the files…were destroyed. Everything gone. I spoke to him on the phone on the way back from the ball while you were talking to Julius. Claudia wasn’t there. That was the only time she wasn’t privy to the information that we got from the doctor. She left his link open so that she could distract from what was really going on. The link wasn’t to spy on you; it was to spy on him.”
“Then why leave it open?”
“Because closing it would look suspicious after the break-in.”
“Did Derek name them all too?”
“No. He had the shell company names and he found Fred and Jim. He got James Wilson from the FDA stuff.”
“But not the girls?”
“He was suspicious of Beth De Fries. She was the woman he met with from PharmaChem. He didn’t know anything about Claudia. He gives sworn accounts in video logs of his investigation and all his findings.”
“Are they admissible?”
“Given his death, the fact that we know now where his evidence is hidden, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be admissible in court. Despite what the defence will try to argue.”
The Chameleon's Tale Page 26
