Man of Many Talents

by Adele Reynders

Chapter 11

  Lana and Henk cycled to the look-out point and there he took out two bottles of flavored water from his saddle bag.

  "Goodness, I was looking forward to spending a few minutes alone with you." He pulled her down next to him and placed his arm around her neck. "I love my children, but sometimes one has to come up for fresh air."

  "I suppose it will be a while before I see my two again. But they seem to be getting along quite well on their own." She took a sip of water, moved closer to him and started laughing. "Except for the fact that the neighbours keep complaining that their parties carry on too late."

  "Young people are like that." Henk withdrew his arm to take out his binoculars, looking through them at the game park. "We have seen lions in this area before. There is a territorial pride on the other side of the Crocodile."

  "Wrong side of the fence. I want to see them on this side." Lana gestured behind her back. "I came to live in a park to see live lions, and all I have seen and heard are lions on the other side of the fence. If I don't find lions inside the park soon, I am moving back to Pretoria."

  "If you encounter them in the veld, you will pray for a fence to separate you from them. One of our cyclists came upon a male lion one day. When he realized it would not help to stand still, he threw the bicycle at the bearded monster and climbed into a tree."

  "And so the bearded monster got onto the bicycle and cycled off?"

  "No, sweetie, the bearded monster destroyed the bicycle. There was nothing left of it. I suppose he had bad experiences with people on bicycles throwing bottles and tins at him," Henk warned her.

  "Did they shoot the lion?" she asked worriedly.

  "No, they sedated him and deported him, back to Kruger."

  "So one shouldn't stand still when one encounters a lion? What should one do?"

  "Obey the regulations. The rules of the park have been written for a reason. Don't move around on foot or on a bicycle before dawn or after dusk. Lions and leopards are nocturnal predators."

  "I know what the regulations should be, but have the lions read them as well?" she asked in a defiant tone of voice. "What happened to your sense of adventure? I wanted to come and find the lions that evening when I got lost. …"

  "When you were bending all the rules," he chuckled as he completed her sentence for her."You were looking for trouble."

  "Don't look at me as if I had thrown a stone through one of the stained glass window of the St Peters cathedral in Rome. However, I suppose the holier than thou, Henk would never violate a rule. You never step out of line. You are more sanctimonious than Wynand." Her last words wiped the smile from his face.

  "What made you say that? I really do not appreciate that comparison," he grumbled.

  "From now on I am going out every night on a secret expedition, on foot, to find the lions. I want to see proof that they are in Marloth Park and not in the Kruger," she taunted him, before grabbing her bicycle.

  "What was this all about?" He asked, shocked at her outburst.

  "Leave me alone. I am going. I liked you a whole lot more on that second day when you arrived barefoot, with a funny-looking hat on your head at my door, in the company of Chris." As soon as she had uttered the words, she knew that they were not true. He was the one who was always the same, exactly himself, without airs and graces.

  "I am sorry to hear that you feel that way, because I love you more and more every day." He had a hurt expression on his face as he picked up his bicycle to get on.

  Lana new she should be feeling like a dog. He did not deserve to be treated in that way, but she was tired and irritable after the weekend. She was tired of all the commotion around Wynand's notebook.

  She would have preferred to be alone with him. Not only alone, but also in his arms, safely in his embrace, with his lips on hers, and everything else connected with that …

  They returned home in silence and there they found one police man still in front of the computer. He pointed at a cell phone lying on the table.

  "Whose phone is this? A message came through."

  "It is mine. You could've looked." Lana picked it up and started reading aloud: "Tell the police they can close the case, because they will never catch me. By the time you receive this message, I will be on my way to Europe."

  "Who could've sent that?"

  "How should I know?" She replaced the phone on the table and the men grabbed it one after another to read it, as if each one wanted to make sure that she had read the message correctly. "Anyway, I warned Henk that nobody would be able to open that top secret file of Wynand's."

  "Top secret. Damn it, it is obvious! It is so simple, yet we all overlooked it!" Henk typed the words top secret in over the other man's shoulder and the next moment the file opened, and Wynand's top secret information appeared on the screen in front of them.

  "Scanned passports and Identity documents? These are the three men Steenekamp had been sending money to. Paul Hollander in London, James Freeman in the USA and Kees van Beneke in Belgium." The police officer turned to Lana. "Did you ever meet one of these men while you were married?"

  "No, never." Lana shook her head. The one man was blond, the other one dark, with a mole on his chin and a big moustache like an army officer. The third one was almost bald.

  "Perhaps it is one of these three that is on his way to Europe. I think it is time we asked Wynand's sister a few questions," the police officer said. "Do you have a number where we can get hold of her?"

  "She doesn't like flying. If she is flying to Europe today, I will put Tobasco Sauce on Henk's daughter's purple bicycle and eat it," Lana answered after she had given him the number. He dialed the number and started talking.

  A moment later he exclaimed, "She is dead …" He looked at the phone with an expression of horror on his face. "The woman is dead!"

  "Who? Wynand's sister?" Lana enquired distraughtly. She had known the woman for many years and if something happened to her, it would be bad news.

  "No, not her," he answered. "Jamima Fernitos! Wynand's fiancé. And you wouldn't believe how and where she died." He kept quiet and looked at them, as if to draw out the tension, to see what effect it would have on them.

  "Out with it," his senior grumbled.

  "A car accident last night, between Nelspruit and Machadodorp. The borrowed car, belonging to Wynand's sister, had gone off the road and caught fire. Therefore, lady and gentlemen, the computer she removed from Lana's house has perished in the fire."

  "Lana, bring the purple bicycle and the Tobasco sauce," the senior man teased. "If Jamima was using Wynand's sister's car, she was part of the conspiracy."

  "You have made up your minds that she is guilty! I think she would have a heart attack from shock to know what her brother was busy with and what you are suspecting her of. The woman has been a librarian for thirty years. Doesn't that tell you something about her?"

  "Yes, that she had a lot of time on her hands to devise evil plans with her brother. It is high time somebody investigates her and sees what pops out. Will it be Batman, Spiderman, Cat woman or doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde?" the detective asked glibly. "Look, the work I am doing has shattered my illusions. People sit in church on a Sunday, singing hymns, and on Monday they do worse things than stealing pencils from their offices."

  "Well, I have to go to Nelspruit now to buy a computer; otherwise I will have to steal a pencil to write my next article with." Lana felt as if she had to get away from everything. "Good bye and enjoy your research and team building."

  "Would you like me to go with you, to make sure they don't bamboozle you?" Henk offered as he walked with her to her house.

  "No, thank you, I can do this on my own." She looked at him smugly. "Or do you think you are clever because you are computer fundi?"

  "No certainly not, but we have got an appointment," he tried once more to keep her there. "With the builder who is going to build the houses on these two empty plots between your house and mine. You have such wonderful ideas."
<
br />   "Ideas?" She removed the book containing building projects from the shelf and put it in his hands. "Take this. I get all my ideas out of here. Now, please leave me alone."

  "Thank you." He turned away miserably when she closed the front door in his face.

  Lana had a quick bath and got dressed. When she drove off ten minutes later, she could see Henk running up to her with her book in one hand and a CD in the other, but she decided to ignore him. She drove off without looking at him again.

  Her phone started ringing and when she saw it was him, she switched off the phone.

  She was looking forward to spending the day on her own.

  It was very pleasant to do shopping in a bigger town for a change. She bought a new computer and took out a cell phone and internet contract, and browsed through one of the centres. At two o'clock she decided to go to a movie, something she hadn't done since she had been in Pretoria. When she came out of there, her mood had lifted and she was feeling better.

  When the sun started setting, she started missing Henk, crazily!

  Close to Malelane she remembered that the phone was still switched off. She switched it on and keyed in the PIN code, while driving. As usual, it started beeping. She realized that there were quite a number of messages and voicemails to attend to and decided to stop for coffee in Malelane. Perhaps Henk or someone needed something and she was close to the shops.

  The first message was sent soon after she had left home. Henk had found a CD in her building projects book, and it was the one marked ‘Wynand Europe'. Then she remembered that she had used it as a bookmark while she had been reading through the book.

  The coffee came and while she stirred in the sugar she absentmindedly looked in the direction of where the bakkie was parked. She saw a man carrying an overnight bag and an executive case, standing next to the bakkie and looking in at the window. Luckily she had stowed her purchases behind the back seat, in case he would get it into his head to break the window and run off with her things. However, he just turned around and walked away.

  Her phone started ringing before she could listen to all the voicemails. It was Henk, scolding her.

  "There are urgent matters you should know about. Why did you not return my calls?" His voice sounded anxious.

  "I only started listening to my voicemails now. I went to the movies. Have the forensic guys left to go to their team building yet?"

  "No, they are still here."

  "Oh, no. When will they be finished?"

  "They have made a breakthrough. Are you busy driving?" Judging by his tone of voice she could hear that he was more upset than what she had though at first, but it was not because of their tiff this morning.

  "No, I stopped in Malelane. I am having coffee."

  "Wynand's CD. It contains photos of Jamima …"

  "I thought so. It doesn't bother me. Why should it bother you?"

  "Jamima with different men. The three men on the passports, with her, at different places in Europe." He was breathing fast and talked even faster. It sounded as if he wasn't sure of what to start with. He had a lot to say. Words just tumbled to her from his side of the cell phone. "It is all one man wearing different hair styles, and sometimes growing a moustache. Or a false moustache or whatever!"

  He stopped, probably to orden his thoughts, before firing away again.

  "The forensic people compared finger prints in Pretoria today. A person can disguise his face, but cannot change his finger prints. Lana, you would have to be very careful …"

  There was a moment's silence.

  In the meantime she noticed the man who had looked at the bakkie walking into the coffee shop, still carrying his bag and case. He looked somewhat familiar, but the thick spectacles and moustache confused her.

  "Lana, are you there?" Henk asked anxiously.

  "Yes." She looked up at surprise at the stranger as he pulled out the chair opposite her to sit down.

  "The finger prints matched the ones found in your house. Somebody tried to wipe them off, but a finger and thumb print stayed behind. That is the problem. It was Wynand's …," Henk continued.

  "Wynand, we all thought you were dead. What are you doing here?" Lana recognized him at last, in spite of the disguise. Her hand opened in shock and she dropped the cell phone on the table, from where it dropped on to the floor. Wynand picked it up, switched it off and put it in his own pocket.

  "No, not Wynand. My new name is Tony MacMillan. Doctor Tony MacMillan." He removed a false passport from his pocket and showed her his photo. "You can be glad that I am not Wynand anymore, because Wynand would have been very upset with you. You are costing him a lot of money. How did you find out? You were never interested in numbers or money."

  "I wasn't interested in the beginning," she protested, anxiously waiting to see what his reaction would be. "You know that I was using your notebook for my own articles after mine was stolen, but the memory was full, and I started taking your folders off to gain memory.

  "Which folders?"

  "Besides others the one that was marked ‘Wynand Europe'. I think it contained photos of your and Jamima's travels, but I did not even look at them. I knew it would upset me." It felt as if her heart was beating at a thousand beats per minute. Her ears were ringing from shock.

  "The little green monster coming out?" he asked maliciously. He was obviously enjoying her terror.

  "No Wynand, upset and hurt. You humiliated me." To her disgrace she could feel the tears burning behind her eyes."So you deleted that folder? Did you empty the recycle bin afterwards?"

  "Yes, of course I did. It used up so much memory that I couldn't do my work." That was the truth. It was not a lie. She only refrained from mentioning that she had saved it on a CD before deleting the folder. The same CD that had Henk and the forensic detectives so excited. "After your so-called death everybody tried to get hold of the computer, even SARS and the reserve bank. I am sorry I deleted your photos."

  "Sorry! If I still loved you, I would've kissed you now, I am so grateful. You see, I don't want anybody to know that I am still alive. Even you did not know that I was still alive."

  "No, I did not," she answered honestly. That was the truth. She still felt as if she was going to pass out from the shock.

  "You are not really excited to see me. I return from the dead and you are not even happy!"

  "I am sorry." She shrugged.

  "With Jamima out of the way, the dust should settle soon. I know my name has been drawn through the mud, and I feel sorry for my sister, because the newspapers are watching her like vultures to see if there is a story." He stood up. "Shall we go?"

  "Whereto?"

  "You are going to take me to the border and see that I arrive safely in Maputo. Our borrowed car's wheel came off with Jamima inside. What a pity."

  "There is a bus. You can get on the bus tomorrow. The border post closes at night."

  "That is why we are going to sleep over in Marloth Park tonight. He opened his jacket and showed her his revolver. "Carry my case and don't tempt me."

  "How did you find out where I was?" She picked up the heavy overnight bag.

  "I followed your sons, but when Jamima and I saw all your visitors, we booked into one of the rondavels for the long weekend. It was a well-earned holiday. On Monday morning, as we were having breakfast at The Water Hole, guess who walked in? Lana and sons, again with an entourage. You walked past me without recognizing me. Then we decided to collect the computer, because I could see that you were going to be busy for a long time."

  "You spend the weekend with a woman, and then you cause her accidental death. You are as cold and ruthless as a rock." She waited while he paid the bill. "Why are you drawing me into this? You don't need me."

  "Should I let you go?" His voice sounded incredulous. "So that you can stand on top of the walls and declare to everybody that I am on my way to Mozambique? Ha ha. You can drive, but don't take any chances. The revolver is loaded and the distance between us is short. Don
't even try running away. You will not get very far."

  Lana opened the bakkie, placed the bag on the rear seat and got in. She waited for Wynand to climb in next to her before driving off. A thousand and one thoughts raced through her mind. She knew Henk would have realized that something was wrong when the phone went dead so suddenly. If he believed that she was in trouble, he would have informed the police immediately.

  Between Hectorspruit and Marloth Park they encountered a road block. From the corner of her eye Lana could see Wynand tense up before taking out his revolver and pointing it at her side.

  "Lana, one wrong word. One wrong move …"

  "One wrong move and you will be sitting for a long time, because you will not get very far." She did not know where she found the courage to sound so brave, but she had to keep him calm. "I think it is one of the routine road blocks, held almost weekly."

  "Remember, if they catch me I will still be alive and be released one day. For you it will be the end of the road."

  "Is it not the end of the road, anyway?" she asked and stopped. A man in uniform leaned in at the window.

  "Your license please, Lady …" Henk Maritz! She could feel her heart bouncing in her throat. What would happen if Wynand recognized him as the man who had breakfast with her and her family?

  "Sure …" Her hands shook as she tried to find her license in her handbag, and then she placed it in his hand.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Komatipoort," Wynand answered in English. "I am Doctor MacMillan. I am on my way to lecture there."

  "I see. Would you please step out, Mrs. Steenekamp?" Henk tried to open the door, but Lana could hear Wynand cocking the revolver besides her and she sat still, biting her lower lip. On her right hand side she could see Henk tense up. Was there a small chance that he had heard the revolver being cocked?

  "Captain, please let us go through." Her hands clung to the steering wheel as Henk hesitated.

  "Wait." Henk walked away with her license in his hand. In front and next to the bakkie she could see uniformed men with guns in their hands. They would have no chance of outrunning them.

  "You had better hope he lets us go. Your life is worth less than that of a mosquito at this moment. They can shoot me, but you are going first," Wynand threatened her, watching Henk intently, where he was busy talking to another officer. Henk walked back to them and handed her license to her.

  "Thank you. You may go. Have a safe journey."

  The armed men stood aside and they drove off.

  "Turn off here," Wynand commanded at the Marloth Park sign.

  "Where to?" It was dark already, with only a glimmer of moonlight between the trees.

  "We will stay over at the green municipal huts," Wynand indicated and looked behind him.

  She had to give him some credit, Lana admitted to herself when they reached their destination. There were no other people in the camp and the bakkie would not be visible from the road. Nobody would think of looking here for them.

  While pointing the revolver at her, Wynand removed the keys from the ignition and placed them in his trouser pocket. He opened the door to the rondavel and Lana realized that her chances of escaping were getting slimmer. Once she was inside, he would lock the door and she would be helpless.

  "Bring my bag," he gestured with the revolver.

  Obediently she took the bag out and carried it to the door. Then they heard a helicopter approaching over the trees and Lana could see a spotlight searching the terrain. Wynand jerked up in shock, but when the chopper came closer, he looked at Lana.

  "Do you think they are looking for you? Even if it is the case, don't get your hopes up. They will never see the bakkie underneath the trees."

  "No, Wynand, they are definitely not looking for me. They are looking for you and I am going to help them find you!" With one movement she swung the bag and hit Wynand in his face. The revolver fell out of his hand, but she did not wait to see where it had landed. She started running away from him on the dirt road.

  "You scoundrel!" Wynand shouted and started following her.

  She new that she had never been able to run fast. Dear Lord, help me!

  On the road in front of her she could see a herd of animals that looked like zebras, but when she came closer she saw that one of them had a different silhouette than a zebra. His head was too big in proportion to his body. When the animal sat down on his haunches like a dog, turning his head inquisitively in her direction, she knew – they were lions!

  She was busy running straight at Marloth Park's territorial pride of lions.

  At that moment there was absolutely no doubt in her mind at all. The lions were going to kill her. There was just no way she could escape her fate.

  And that was her own fault, she thought for a fleeting moment, because she kept on taunting Henk with her obsession to see lions on this side of the fence. She had even insisted on seeing them at night, when they would be less lethargic and more aggressive!

  The lions were busy watching her with more than a passing interest. She stopped in her tracks and could feel the panic rising in her throat.

  If she turned her back on the lions it would be over instantly.

  "Lord, please," she started praying aloud. "I know this is what I wanted, but now I am in trouble and I need more than my usual portion of mercy. I need a miracle, if I am not going to be lion fodder tonight."

  She looked around her. There were houses everywhere. Perhaps someone would hear if she shouted.

  "Somebody, please help me! I am standing on the dirt road, with a pride of lions in front of me and a man with a revolver behind me." The sound carried well in the silence and she could see lights going on at a house close by. The lions started getting restless. They did not like the sound of human voices. It made them nervous. She could see that and shouted again. "Help me! Lions!"

  Behind her Lana could hear Wynand stop. He was swearing. She knew he had heard her and that he had also seen the lions. She stood still, as Henk had told her to, but heard Wynand turning around and running away.

  "Don’t run!" she tried to warn him.

  She could see that the attention of one of the lionesses was focused on him. The big cat crawled forward, before she started running. For one frightening second she looked into Lana's eyes before she shot past her.

  "Wynand, don't run!You can't out run a lion." Lana was stunned from shock. She saw a path on her left hand side and tore her eyes away from the lions to see if there was a house. Less than ten meters from her she could see a half-completed house, with a ladder going up to the roof.

  Perhaps it was an adrenaline rush, but Lana could not remember how she got there, and when the lions stopped below the ladder looking up at her, she was already climbing through the window opening on the third level of the house. The next moment she fell on the ground so hard that the wind was knocked from her. She tried to get her breath back and crawled to another window to look out.

  The lioness was probably not serious about Wynand, because she could have had him. By miracle he got away. Now the lioness returned and stood below the ladder, where all the lions were looking up to where Lana had disappeared into the house. Lana looked down at them, and withdrew her head, convinced that they would be able to jump up if they set their minds to it.

  Wynand approached in the bakkie, from the rondavel's side. Another vehicle came from the other side and stopped in the middle of the road.

  "Did you hear that?" they asked Wynand. "I don't know who the poor woman is, but I think the lions got her. One should never walk around after dark in lion territory."

  "I did not hear anything and I am in a hurry. Could you please take your car out of the way, so that I can pass?" Wynand asked nervously.

  "No, Sir, could you please also turn your bakkie so that we can see if we can still help the woman? You cannot drive off from a scene if you know there is someone in trouble." The strange voice sounded impatient. "I have already phoned the police and the security,
but perhaps we can see if there is anything we can do for her in the meantime."

  "My goodness, get out of my way, or I will drive you out of my way." Wynand was starting to panic as the chopper approached again. "I am warning you. My bakkie is stronger than your car."

  Then he did it. He climbed into Lana's bakkie and bumped the luxurious car out of the way. He drove off, but did not get very far, as he was confronted with two sets of blue lights. He could not even consider turning around, as two vehicles approached from the other side as well, of which one was a Touareg.

  "If anything happens to Lana tonight, you will have to pray that they would lock you up, because I am going to kill you." The next moment Henk pulled him out of the bakkie and threw him on the ground. The man with the damaged car was ready to swing a fist as well. He was highly agitated at the damage to his Mercedes.

  "Henk, hey, you two. Leave him. We have the matter under control," the sergeant protested and pulled Wynand up from the ground. He still tried to talk himself out of it, but his hands were already fastened behind his back.

  "Lana!" It seemed as if Henk wanted to run into the bushes, but the man with the damaged car prevented him.

  "There were lions. The woman walked right into their midst. Do you also want to die tonight?"

  "What? No!" Henk's legs gave way underneath him. "Where did it happen?"

  "The last time I saw the lions they were over there.” He pointed his flashlight in the direction of the house. It shone on the male lion and one lioness, still standing below the ladder. The light and noise was too much for the lions and they walked away, into the bushes.

  Lana got her breath back at last and tried to call Henk, but her voice disappeared in the pandemonium as Henk tried to break away. In the moonlight she could see the horror and grief on his face. If there had been any doubt in her mind that he loved her, she could see now that he was heartbroken at the thought of losing her.

  "Wait, Henk, don't make too many new tracks. We will bring in the dogs tomorrow," the sergeant tried to reason with him.

  "We have to find her now. Lana! She cannot be dead," Henk insisted in a broken voice.

  "Henk, I am here." She waved with her hands through the window opening on the second story.

  The man carrying the flashlight noticed her. "There she is! She got away. Can you believe it? Some way or another she made it."

  "Father, thank you. Here I come!" Henk struggled to free himself and ran through the door opening and up the half-completed staircase on the inside of the house. He grabbed her and held her so tightly that her breath was nearly knocked out of her again. He whispered repeatedly, "Lana, I love you. I am so grateful that you are alive. Thank you, Father, thank you!"

  As Chris, the master of ceremonies said at the wedding a few months later:

  "If there wasn't a door opening before Henk Maritz started running, he would have made ons on impact that night to get to his Lana." He lifted his glass in a toast. "That is only one of his many talents, to knock bricks out of a wall if he has to get to the love of his life to save her life. May they have a long and happy life together in their own piece of paradise – here in beautiful peaceful Marloth Park."