Man of Many Talents

by Adele Reynders

Chapter 10

  "I had you confused for a while last night," Henk taunted her the next morning as he fetched her for the meeting with the builder. "You were convinced that I was planning to sleep here with you."

  "Nonsense, what gave you that idea?" She blushed.

  "You were so uncomfortable, and you did not know how to get rid of me." He took her hand and laughed. "Don't worry; I am not of the hit-and-run variety. I take bed matters seriously. That belongs in a committed relationship leading to marriage."

  "Good … Is the river full?" Lana took his hand and they walked to the fence. She hoped he would not notice her embarrassment. She hoped he would never know that if he wanted to stay over last night, she would not have been able to resist him.

  She had fallen for him long ago, even though she was waiting for him to pursue her.

  Luckily for her the subject was closed, because the builder stopped in front of the house at that moment. He climbed out, greeted them and walked up the stairs with them.

  "I've been telling you for a while you should renovate this house. You will make a killing if you sell it, and it seems as if Chris is interested." The builder knocked on the walls and touched the places where the paint was chipping. Then he started making notes on his cigarette box, while Henk explained.

  It was the first time Lana could see the inside of the house and she liked it. There was a kitchen, large dining room / lounge area and an en-suite bedroom on the ground floor. There were two more bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. Both bedrooms faced on to a large balcony overlooking the Crocodile River. It was from here that the 'spy' was watching her before grabbing the notebook.

  "How much do you want to sell the house for?" Lana asked Henk.

  "Perhaps I should set matters right. I am not renovating the house to sell it again. I want to live here," Henk protested. "What is the use of living next to the Kruger if I cannot listen to the lions roaring?"

  "My feelings exactly," the builder agreed enthusiastically. "If it is for you personally, I will do it at a special rate. Tell me exactly what you want done."

  "I want gates in front of the carport, and walls all round, to turn it into a proper garage. I have had the plans drawn up and made you a copy." Henk was obviously not impressed with notes on a cigarette box.

  "Yes, I agree. You cannot let your smart car sleep outside in the bundu. The hyenas will chew the tyres." The builder took the plans, and made more notes. Then he pointed at the kitchen."Do you want any changes here?"

  "Don't ask me. Talk to her. That is her department." Henk pointed at Lana. "A woman knows what she wants in her kitchen. A man makes a fire and braais his meat over the coals. Talk to me about my entertainment area. I want a nice cozy patio where ten people can sit comfortably, because the cell group will have to move here if they still want me to lead the meetings."

  "Of course we want you to. If Mohammed doesn't live on his mountain anymore, the mountain would have to come here to Mohammed. Where you lead, we will follow." The builder made some more notes and explained to Lana: "Henk is the leader of our cell group. He is a self-confessed Christian and a role model to all of us. Have you heard him pray?"

  "Yes, and I have come to the conclusion that he is quite eloquent."

  "Don't mock me," Henk protested and she could see more thunder in his eyes at that moment than in the grey clouds behind him. He was ready to defend his Christianity.

  "I am not mocking you. I mean it."

  She enjoyed watching the progress at the house next door. On the day they completed the garage, Henk arrived with two bicycles.

  "This one is mine." He pointed at the black mountain bike. "You may borrow the lilac one from my daughter. She has come to the decision that her cycling days are over. A part-owner of a Home Industry cannot behave like a tomboy and gallivant around on a mountain bikeanymore."

  "Yet you expect me to do that? Do you think I am a tomboy? You know, in Pretoria I would not even have considered getting on to a bicycle." She saw his face cloud up and added "But here in Marloth I would love to go cycling. Shall we go?"

  She got onto the saddle and made sure that her trousers would not be caught up in the chain. Then she waited while Henk locked the garage and fall in next to her.

  "Now you will have to keep your eyes wide open," he warned. "There have been lions who considered a bicycle a delicacy."

  "I am not afraid. There are worse predators in the streets of Pretoria. Your bicycle can be stolen from underneath your seat." They stopped next to the Crocodile River to look at hippos on the other side of the fence and she asked him as well. "Is it true that they found lions inside Marloth Park in December?"

  "They crawl in under the fence from time to time. Yes, it is true. A friend of mine was sitting on a bench not far from here on the twentieth of December, watching the sunset. The next moment he noticed a male lion and two lionesses approaching on the other side of the fence. He warned his wife and two friends to keep still, thinking that the lions would pass." Henk giggled.

  "And then?" Lana encouraged him to go on.

  "Two meters from where they sat, there was an opening underneath the fence caused by water damage. Without so much as a glance at them, mister Lion slipped in under the fence.

  "Into Marloth Park?"

  "Up to here where we are standing now," he confirmed. "With the lionesses immediately behind him."

  "What did your friend do?" Lana could feel the excited shivers in her neck, as if she was experiencing the adventure with them.

  "My friend assumed the members of his party were all sitting quietly with him, waiting for the lions to pass. But when he looked around, he was alone. The rest of the party had decided by then to watch the proceedings from the inside of a bakkie."

  "Here, where we are standing now?"

  'Let me show you exactly where they came in."

  "Great." She put her bicycle down next to his and walked to the fence. Right in front of her she could still see the damaged fence, big enough for a grown man to walk through.

  "You see."

  "I do. And the fence was not repaired in the meantime." She liked that.

  "You like it too much." Henk looked at her sharply, as if he could read her mind, before they picked up the bicycles to ride farther towards the look-out point.

  "Let us wait here until the sun goes down." Lana leaned against the sunbaked wall of the building.

  "No, you never ride around on a bicycle around here after dark. You don't go around on foot, either. There are lions, Lana. Did I waste my breath when I told you what happened in December?"

  "No." "It was obvious that he was not going to get the answer he wanted to hear out of her mouth.

  "As lazy and lethargic as they seem to be during the day, at night they turn into competent hunters treating any moving object as a prey. Do you understand?" he scolded her.

  "Yes, I understand. Don't get so agitated. What is the matter with you?"

  "I have come across people who do not understand the dangers of the bush. If ever an accident happens, the lions will be killed. This is the lion's territory, not yours or mine. Besides, a lion's attack is fatal in ninety percent of instances. The victim will be dead!" He stood in front of her with his finger in the air. "Lana, do you understand what I am trying to tell you? If anything happens to you, they can put me inside your grave as well."

  "Okay, okay, I understand! Could we please turn around, because you are scaring me when you carry on like that? It looks as if you are going to hit me." She looked at him with twinkling eyes and held her hands in front of her face.

  "I would never do that …' he mumbled with a hopeless tone of voice. Then he climbed on to his bicycle and waited for her.

 

  She knew he would never do that, because Henk was a real man, with steely self-control, Lana realized in the time he became her neighbour. They spent a lot of time together. She started attending the cell group meetings every Monday evening, seeing that it took place on her doorstep. Her
respect for Henk grew every day. Even if his kisses stopped just before becoming passionate, he never overstepped the line, and he only used his arms to cuddle her lovingly.

  She contemplated taking the first step to entice him to her bedroom, but decided against it. He was such a decent kind of person. She could see that he would not give up his Christian principles, or allow his feelings to run away with him.

  There were definitely feelings from his side; she had no doubt about that. She could feel his masculine response whenever he held her close and it was driving her up the wall.

  "My children are planning to come for a visit over the Easter weekend." Lana walked over to Henk where he was busy overseeing the paving being laid around his swimming pool. He was standing there in his shorts and flip flops and as usual he was a prime example of masculinity. She had to force herself to keep her eyes focused on his face only.

  "Fantastic. It is high time I meet the men in your life. They can sleep in my guest room, and then we can keep ourselves busy with manly occupations." Henk decided and embraced her. "It is important for your family to get to know mine. When should I invite my children? Friday or Saturday evening?"

  "You can decide … " Why was she so short of breath?

  "Good, Friday and Saturday evening, then. You can cook on Friday and I will make us a braai on Saturday."

  "Okay," she agreed meekly. She had actually been looking forward to spending quality time with her sons, but she could not … no, would not tell Henk that his family would be in the way, because she wanted to be alone with her boys.

 

  Henk went out of his way to make her sons feel welcome. The Crocodile-safari's vehicle was parked in front of his door since Friday afternoon. This weekend there would be little sleep and a lot of talking.

  Henk's family came on Friday and stayed until Sunday. Lana had to admit that her children enjoyed the weekend a lot more than what they would have if it had only been the three of them.

  Both houses were in a chaotic state, because all surfaces that were big and flat enough were used as beds. Henk's sister and daughter slept on Lana's sleeping couches.

  On Sunday evening Henk was in charge of the braai, as usual. He liked preparing food. Halfway through the meal Lana's youngest son asked a question that changed the whole atmosphere into one as cold as a Siberian winter.

  "Mom, do you still have uncle Wynand's notebook?"

  "Yes … Why?" she asked after wondering for a moment if she had heard him correctly.

  "Are you using it? One of his friends phoned me and asked about it. He wanted to know when we were going to see you again. I told him we would be coming to see you over Easter in Marloth Park."

  "What did he say?" Henk asked after he and Lana looked at each other in shock.

  "Thank you; give her my regards and good bye. I still wanted to ask him regards from whom, but the phone was dead already. I suppose he will contact me again after the weekend."

  However, it was the other son's words that made Henk feel claustrophobic.

  "Hey. Mom, speaking of uncle Wynand. I nearly got a fright the other day. If I did not know that he had died in Prague, I would've sworn that it was him sitting in a car in front of the house in Faerie Glen, especially when the man rushed off as I arrived."

  "How can you be sure that it wasn't him?"

  "Mom, we know that uncle Wynand is dead. Unless it was his ghost." The young man got up and dished up another piece of meat from the braai. "I am actually not hungry anymore, but the meat is divine. Henk, you are an excellent braai chef."

  "The chef's specialty!" Henk answered in jest. Moments later his face clouded up again and he pushed his plate away. "Please excuse me."

  Lana watched him as he picked up her keys, looked around to see if anybody had noticed it, and then he walked to her house. He jerked when she spoke behind him, just as he was busy opening the door.

  "What now, Henk Maritz? What are you up to?"

  "There is something I want to look up on the computer. I have a premonition." He pressed his fingers against his forehead. "I was concentrating on the figures to such an extent that I never noticed the other details. The names of beneficiaries sharing in his abundance."

  "Is that going to make the zebra mare foul tonight?" she enquired sharply. "It is our last evening together. You know yourself; once you get stuck behind a computer we will not see you again for the rest of the evening."

  "No, Lana, I suppose it can wait until later," he answered reluctantly.

  "Well, then you are definitely not going to spoil our evening by disappearing into the network. Come on, tomorrow everybody will be gone, and then you can spend the rest of the week with the computer." She closed the computer and locked it in a cupboard.

  "Why are you doing that? I wanted to take it with me tonight," Henk exclaimed excitedly.

  "Then you won't sleep at all. And we still have to spend some time with the familytomorrow."

  "I won't be able to sleep, anyway, with or without the computer," he persisted.

  "Drink a sleeping pill," she suggested dryly.

 

  She looked and felt like a wreck, Lana decided as she looked at herself in the mirror the next morning. Perhaps she should have taken the sleeping tablet that she had offered to Henk. Not that she ever kept any pharmaceutical products in her house. When she saw Henk later she could see that he had spent a sleepless night as well.

  As they had planned the previous evening, they went to have breakfast at The Water Hole. By the time the children were ready to leave, Henk was very impatient to get to the computer.

  "Come, I want to go and work! Somewhere there is a person who is desperate to get his hands on that computer and now he knows that you are living in Marloth Park."

  They knew that somebody would attempt the theft, but to realize that it had actually happened, came as a shock. While they were spending time with the family at The Watering Hole, somebody had been to Lana's house. The sliding door was broken and all her books had been thrown out of the shelves. Both of them rushed to the cupboard, but in vain. The door was broken and the computer was missing.

  "How could it have happened so quickly?" Lana whispered, distressed, while Henk phoned the police.

  "I suppose he followed your sons and waited until we had all left," Henk speculated. "But at least now they have what they were looking for, and hopefully they will leave you alone, now. However, what about your own work that was on the computer? You see, I should have taken it home last night."

  "Well, it is too late now. I have been saving all my own work on to CD's and memory sticks lately, because everybody tried to get hold of the notebook." She opened a toffee tin to show him. I have a CD for every magazine, and this one: "Back-up file LS" and "Back-up file TS." She burst out laughing. "I started deleting things from the computer so long ago, I wonder if what they are looking for is still on there."

  "I assume LS is short for Lana Steenekamp, But what does TS mean?"

  "I don't know, that was Wynand's stuff."

  "Never!" He took the CD from her. "Let us have a look!"

  "There is another one somewhere, with the title ‘Wynand Europe'. I assumed that it contained his personal photos, but I cannot remember where I put that CD."

  "Perhaps the thief had found it and taken it with him."

  "Can you see anything, Henk?" Lana asked sleepily. She had fallen asleep on the couch in his lounge while he was busy looking at the CD's on his computer.

  "Why are you sleeping?" He grumbled with his face close to the screen. "You were supposed to look out when my friends from the forensic department would arrive."

  "I am sure they will knock on the door. It is not my fault that your friends are so impressed with Marloth Park that they are coming here for the whole week for their team building event." She stood up and felt his arm going around her to pull her closer to him, without removing his eyes from the screen in front of him. He was fascinated by what he could see there.


  She was surprised at the effect his touch was having on her.

  "There will be no team building event if I am reading this correctly, because it would mean that they would be working," he mused.

  "What can you see?" She placed her hand on his neck and wondered if it was her imagination to see the movement of his chest skip a beat as he looked up fleetingly. Then he pointed at something on the screen.

  "Wynand Steenekamp was a genius!" he admitted. "I cannot open these last five folders. I am so frustrated I feel as if I could break the computer. Help me. You knew the man. How did he operate? What did he do what I haven't done yet? What else is there that I should know?"

  "Henk, accept it that we are not going to find out what is hidden there. Wynand was very thorough. Leave it be." Lana was surprised to see the pile of papers on which Henk had written down different combinations of the names he had tried out. "Shame, you are totally bonkers."

  "I hope that is only your personal opinion. Are you not interested to know what he had been up to?"

  "Yes, of course, but I know when I have been beaten."

  "I am not ready to admit to being beaten." He stood up and walked to the door. "They are here. Would you please make us some tea?"

  "Yes, I will. Which cups should I use?"

  "Goodness, my love, you are the woman. See what is in the cupboard and choose a set you like."

  My love! That sounded like music to her ears. She felt vulnerable and contented at the same time. Then it dawned on her.

  "Henk … I just remembered. That is the biggest difference between Wynand and you. He always wanted to be in control. He was always in charge, a real control freak. He would have told me exactly which tea set to use and how many tea bags to put in the tea pot. He used to boast of the fact that he was a total perfectionist, and that he never made mistakes."

  "Perfectionist?" Henk walked to the computer and typed in the word perfectionist.

  "Wow that was brilliant!" Lana stood stunned for a moment as two of the five files started opening on the screen, just as the forensic detectives walked in.

  "You should join the police, Henk!" The people were just as excited as he was, with no thought to the team building. "What are those numbers?"

  "Business bank account numbers, including, believe it if you can, secret codes and passwords to do transactions over the internet." Henk typed and mumbled. "The perfectionist was convinced that nobody would ever look in this folder. However, there is something bothering me. I have just been on the internet, thanks to his passwords, and I could see clearly that many transactions had taken place after his death. Look, this one was done last Thursday."

  "He transferred funds to the accounts of Paul Hollander, James Freeman and Kees van Beneke in Europe. And … look here, Wynand's sister!" One of the detectives became so eager that he nearly sat down on Henk's lap as he was trying to see what was going on, on the screen. "But who was Jamima Fernitos? She received a large chunk of the pie."

  "The late Wynand's fiancé, or wife or whatever." Henk gave up and moved aside. A man on his lap was making him nervous. He stood up. The other computer enthusiast could take over. "What I don't understand, is that if he can continue his work without the notebook, why bother to come back for it?"

  "To wipe his tracks!" The other fundi was enjoying himself at the keyboard, as if he was busy making beautiful music.

  "Well, please see if you can open the last two folders. Lana is busy making tea. After that we are going out for a stroll, or to cycle. We ate so much over the weekend, as if we were expecting a famine in Mpumalanga, and I can feel it on my clothes." Henk gestured at his belt.

  "Yes, we want to go cycling." Lana placed the tray containing tea, koeksisters and a milk tart down on the table, and the men turned into vultures at the sight of it.

  "Wow, who baked these goodies?"

  "Henk …" replied Lana.

  "Shucks," one man groaned, looking admiringly at the koeksister in his hand, and then at Henk, drinking his tea in a standing position, ready to go out cycling. "A forensic auditor who knows how to bake?"

  "No, not to bake. He has connections with the closest Home Industry," Lana explained smoothly. "He has the talent to select the best goodies on the shop's shelves."