Sacrificed
Page 22
He nodded. A man of few words.
The stairs creaked in the usual places. In the bathroom the door of the medicine cabinet above the hand basin was slightly open. In the mirror she saw the reflection of the locksmith behind her.
She had never used the cabinet, so she couldn’t tell if anything was missing, but it appeared as if all Tieneke’s toiletries were still there. Surely she would have taken some of the items along if she had left by train or bus on Thursday or Friday?
She had never been in Tieneke’s bedroom. When she opened the door, she noticed a strange smell. Almost like that of the iron supplement she had once taken.
The room was bigger than Fien’s, but still not spacious.
Built-in wardrobes took up one entire wall. There was just enough room left for a chest of drawers under the window and a bedside table. Tieneke slept in a three-quarter bed, covered with a double-sized comforter. One corner touched the floor. Caz couldn’t imagine that Tieneke would make her bed in such a slipshod way. Maybe she had been in a hurry.
On the bedside table lay a cellphone connected to a charger. It’s easy to forget your cellphone that way. You think it’s in your handbag and forget that you were charging it. It had happened to Caz on more than one occasion.
When she turned, she stumbled over a shoe that had been hidden under the corner of the comforter. A comfy but ugly orthopaedic shoe. The slip-on kind that Tieneke wore. Caz knelt and looked under the bed. There was no second shoe.
She opened the built-in wardrobe. There were five more pairs of shoes on the bottom shelf, but none matching the orphaned shoe. It didn’t look as if any clothes were missing from the hanging section. On the shelves, sweaters and other items lay stacked, some of the piles slightly jumbled. She closed the wardrobe door.
Fien’s bedroom smelled of mould and medicine. Combined, Caz imagined, they smelled of death. The bedside table was empty but the wardrobes and drawers contained Fien’s belongings. The plant on the windowsill looked slightly wilted.
“Only the attic is left,” she told the locksmith.
He sighed, but followed her up the steep staircase.
She tugged at the string that switched on the light. A pile of ironing had toppled from the top of the tumble dryer to the floor. The inflatable mattress and bedding were gone. Tieneke seemed to have removed everything the minute Caz left. She definitely didn’t want Caz to sleep there again.
Caz’s luggage was in the corner where she herself had stacked it as neatly as possible. The zipper of her lilac suitcase was not closed all the way. The envelope Tieneke had given her lay on the floor. It had been inside the case.
The key had kept slipping out of the envelope, so she had put it in her wallet when she packed to leave for Doel. She had left the note with the address and other details in the envelope. Not very clever. She should keep everything in the same place. What if she lost either of the two? But how had the envelope got from her case to the floor?
Could Tieneke have gone through her things? Had she changed her mind about the key to the strongbox? If so, why not keep the envelope? Not that it was worth anything without the key, but the opposite was also true.
Caz picked up the envelope. The shape of the key was clearly imprinted on the front, almost as if it had been embossed. The note with the address in Pretoria and the other details was still inside. She put it away in her handbag and turned to the locksmith, who was standing a few steps below her on the stairs. Only his head and shoulders were visible.
“I’ll be okay now. I’ll use the spare front door key on the hook in the kitchen to lock up. Thank you for your patience. What do I owe you?” She unzipped her handbag and took out her wallet.
Her eyes widened when he mentioned the amount, but she counted out the money and gave it to him. “Thanks again.”
He nodded before going down the stairs.
On the key rack in the broom cupboard she found the spare front-door key she had occasionally used. There were three other sets of keys. Among them, Tieneke’s car keys. She was certainly not going to try to figure out what fitted where now. She would leave her luggage for the time being. She’d had enough. The place gave her the creeps.
What Tieneke’s reaction was going to be when she found out what Caz had done was anyone’s guess. Accuse her of breaking in, most likely. But she’d worry about that later.
Caz used the spare key to lock the front door behind her.
Outside she paused to take a deep breath. She only realized now how tense she had been in there.
The missing key of the French doors bothered her. Even if there was a spare key on one of the bunches in the broom cupboard. She’d gone out into the garden a few times during her stay and she was sure there had been a single key in the lock. Not one on a bunch.
If Tieneke wasn’t back by Monday she would go to the police, Caz decided.
At least she could get to her luggage when she needed to. Or when she had found the courage to go back inside. At the moment she didn’t feel up to it.
If it wasn’t for the key and the lone shoe, she might be able to relax. But she did feel slightly better now that she’d made sure nothing had happened to Tieneke in her home.
Luc
Damme
Hell, no, he couldn’t carry on like this. He would have to reread everything.
He looked at his cellphone to see what the time was. Not even twelve. He looked in his inbox again. No acceptance from Caz Colijn on LinkedIn. He went to the LinkedIn site, but there was no message. He was probably overreacting. Maybe someone simply happened to dial the number just before midnight last night. Someone with private settings on his phone.
Unlikely, but not impossible. He would like to make sure he wasn’t being paranoid. But how?
Ten minutes later, not at all certain he was doing the right thing, he sent the message.
Twenty
Caz
Ghent
Caz heard the sound of her cellphone but finished the kriek she was enjoying on the terrace before she went inside and dug the phone out of her handbag.
A text message from TU. Reluctantly she opened it.
Can you meet me in an hour at De Witte Leeuw at the Graslei? I happen to be in Ghent. TU.
Now? Today? Damn it, she wasn’t ready. On the other hand, she would probably never be ready to learn more about Ammie Pauwels. The sooner she got it over with, the better.
The message was sent ten minutes ago. She looked on her watch. It was after twelve. No wonder she felt peckish. The previous night’s pea soup, rich and delicious as it was, was long forgotten. With her anxiety about Tieneke, she hadn’t even given breakfast a thought.
Maybe it was better to meet the woman here, on more or less equal ground. It would also save her a train ride to Leuven.
It reminded her that she still had to look for a flight home.
Tieneke’s disappearance had upset all her plans, and this TU business didn’t help either.
With Tieneke weighing more and more heavily on her mind, her attention was divided. Maybe it was a good thing, or she would have had only Ammie Pauwels to worry about.
The fact was, she couldn’t leave without knowing what had become of Tieneke. Tieneke might not be at the top of her prayer list, but she had to know she was safe. Maybe she was a touch neurotic, coming from a crime mecca, but she had a bizarre feeling that the house wasn’t as it should be. As if someone other than Tieneke had been there.
There she went again—feeding the neurosis.
Was she going to meet TU in a little less than an hour, or not? That was the question she had to focus on. The answer was a counterquestion. What did she have to lose?
Thank you, yes. How will I know you?
Caz made certain she had everything she needed in her handbag and took a light sweater. It was still warm, but last night it had grown col
d at the waterfront. After the meeting, she could carry on worrying anywhere she chose. Or she could explore the city. It was no good sitting on this terrace day in and day out.
Luc
Ghent
Luc was already on his way to Ghent when the message came through. Just as well he didn’t wait for her answer before he left Damme. Now he was hoping he could prove that he had a screw loose and that no third party was reading Caz Colijn’s messages.
He parked at the Blandijn next to the Boekentoren and caught a tram. If he did manage to find a parking spot in the old city centre he would have to walk miles anyway. At least here at the university he had free parking. He just hoped his plan worked—whatever the outcome.
Erevu
Ghent
He had nearly missed the message.
Dove should have been here. He was the one who should have gone to the Graslei. Posing as a student, he would attract less attention. The Caz woman wouldn’t be suspicious if she ran into Dove at the Graslei again. But he hadn’t replied to the messages Erevu had left and there was no time to go and look for him at his hideout.
Erevu moved through the crowd as fast as possible, stopping some distance from De Witte Leeuw to collect himself. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
His hand was trembling as he took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t the heat that was making him perspirate. This country didn’t have what it took to make an African sweat. It was the tension. He had been caught off-guard. Bloody Dove.
Somewhat calmer, he turned the corner. Without looking at anyone in particular, he tried to find a seat. His options were limited. There was one table that hadn’t been cleared yet and at another table people were getting ready to leave.
He chose the table that was already vacant. He had to remain as unobtrusive as possible. Once the waiter had removed the used glasses and taken his order, he looked around him, instantly averting his eyes when he saw the Caz woman approach. It was unlikely that she would recognize him from Dampoort, and even if she did, it shouldn’t arouse her suspicion. They had been at the same station and on the same train by chance. That was hopefully what she would think. Ghent wasn’t a big city.
When he glanced up again, she was standing at the table that had just become available, searching the crowd. The waiter approached and spoke to her. She nodded, said something in reply and sat down. Amid the general noise he couldn’t overhear the conversation.
A tall man with a thick mop of graying hair sauntered up and stood at the waffle stand across the street. There were lots of other people too, but the man’s height and hair had caught Erevu’s eye. It was not only that, though. He looked familiar.
Something drew the man’s attention. Something in the vicinity of the Caz woman. Maybe she herself. She was certainly eye-catching with her long gray curls.
Erevu tried to think where he had seen the man before. Then he remembered. The photo Jela had sent. It had been quite blurred, but he could swear the man standing over there, looking at the crowd, was Luc DeReu.
TU of the messages was in fact Professor Luc DeReu, Erevu instantly realized.
Luc
Ghent
Luc couldn’t believe his eyes. The attractive woman with the long gray curly hair was smiling at the waiter as he put a kriek in front of her. Lord knows, if it hadn’t been for bloody Caz Colijn he would have seen it as a sign. He would strongly have considered asking her whether he might share her table. There were no others available.
But he wasn’t here to chat up one of the few women who had recently caught his eye. Unfortunately not. He had to find out who in this crowd was Caz Colijn. And whether the person who was intercepting her messages was anywhere close. If there was such a person, mind you.
He turned his back on De Witte Leeuw and pretended to be studying the selection of waffles on the board. He keyed in a smiley, held the phone to his ear with his thumb on the send button and turned back to De Witte Leeuw. He sent the message and crossed the street, pretending to be talking on the phone. His eyes swept over the people at the tables. The curly-headed woman picked up her phone and looked at the screen.
Was it possible? Luc was so surprised that he nearly failed to notice the man who also took his cellphone from his shirt pocket.
Caz
Ghent
Caz frowned. A smiley? What did TU mean? Was the woman making a fool of her? Or was there a hidden meaning?
She studied the crowd but didn’t see anyone standing around, smiling. The only person that attracted her attention was a tall man with a mophead and a deep frown who had his cellphone against his ear. He peered at it before putting it back to his ear and resuming his conversation.
A second smiley came through and moments later a third one.
No one seemed to be trying to identify a face in the crowd. TU couldn’t have made it clearer. She might as well have texted: Caught you, sucker.
If the waiter hadn’t put the kriek in front of her at that very moment, Caz would have got up and left.
Happened to be in Ghent? My arse. Annoyed, she put down her cellphone. The thing could ping all it liked. She had no desire to play games with an unstable woman who had trust issues with her husband or boyfriend.
Yet even that didn’t make sense. What could anyone win in that kind of game?
Erevu
Ghent
Erevu didn’t understand the three smiling faces coming through at short intervals. He didn’t see anyone texting. A young girl was sitting with her cellphone to her ear, laughing. Another youngster’s thumbs were flying across the keys, a bored expression on his face. He was certainly not sending one smiley after another. The professor was pacing up and down, talking on his phone. Could it be that DeReu and TU weren’t the same person after all? TU was supposed to be here to meet the Caz woman and DeReu was not making a move, even though he had noticed her. But TU had also said DeReu couldn’t be contacted.
There was a snake in the grass. He beckoned the waiter over, paid for the coffee he hadn’t drunk yet and got up. He passed as close to the professor as possible.
The professor was focused on his conversation. “If you can’t manage the research, you shouldn’t have handed in your dissertation. I’m sorry, Miss, but postgraduate studies call for dedication and precision.”
The professor’s voice faded as Erevu walked away. He looked around one last time. Into the eyes of the Caz woman. She gave a slight nod. She had recognized him. Damn all people with good memories. He frowned and turned away.
Caz
Ghent
She might be mistaken, but she could swear it was the man who had offered to help her with the train timetable on her way to Doel. The one she had seen getting off at Sint-Niklaas as well.
Maybe he hadn’t recognized her. Middle-aged white women were a much more common sight in Belgium than smartly clad black men with shaven heads.
The man and his short memory were unimportant, though. The fact remained, she had fallen for a bad joke, concocted by a neurotic. It was all she could assume. Even though it made no sense.
While she drank her kriek, she glanced at the menu. The food looked delectable but the prices were beyond her means. Even the kriek was a euro more here than just a short distance away. At least they served snacks with the drinks—even if the portions were miniscule.
When she looked up, the mophead who had been so engrossed in conversation on his cellphone was gone. New people were seated at the dark-skinned man’s table.
Her cherry beer was hardly finished when the waiter appeared at her side. “Another one?”
Caz shook her head. “Only the bill, please.”
“Four euro fifty.”
She gave him five euros and took the slip he was holding out to her.
“I’ve been asked to tell you to read this, but not he
re.” The waiter smiled and left.
Caz got up and walked away slowly, the slip of paper in her hand. What the hell now?
She stopped at a safe distance and unfolded the note.
Change your phone and SIM. Present phone being monitored. Text only with new phone to this number. After the number the person had written: See LinkedIn. TU.
The note had been written in bold but hasty capital letters. She looked around her, but she couldn’t see De Witte Leeuw or its patrons from there. TU, whoever she or he might be, must have been there, watching her. The handwriting looked masculine. Maybe the black man? But no, the timing between his departure and the arrival of the note didn’t match.
The only other person she had noticed was the mophead on the phone. Because of his height but, to be honest, also because she had found him attractive despite his grim face.
It couldn’t have been the waiter. He had served others as well. TU must have asked or bribed the waiter to deliver the note written on the back of a till slip before he came to ask if she’d like another kriek.
She could only assume that TU was completely bonkers.
Shit, what if it was true? That her phone was being monitored? But that was academic. Where would she find another phone and SIM card?
She headed for the street café where she’d had the pea soup. It was much cheaper because it was slightly off the beaten track. Still at the waterfront, but walled in by buildings on either side. She looked around, not quite sure where the place was. Just past that cannon, if her memory served her correctly. The enormous thing was called Dulle Griet according to the plaque.
She was lucky enough to find a table at the water’s edge. She knew by now that it was the Leie River, though it still looked more like a canal to her. A long boat filled with tourists went past and a few waved. She waved back at them.
“Back for more pea soup?”
The man was the owner as well as the chef, she had gathered the day before. He had proved that he had a sense of humor, calling all the women Grietjie and all the men Dullerd. She had also heard him teasing a guest, who seemed to be an old acquaintance.