“You don’t happen to serve cellphones with new SIM cards?”
He stared at her for a moment, then laughed. “Did yours fall into the Leie? You won’t be the first to lose a phone that way. Let’s get you something to drink, then I’ll see what I can do. A glass of wine?”
She needed one, but she asked for coffee instead, and the menu. It was rather limited, but everything looked appetizing.
“Were you serious about the cellphone?” the man enquired when he brought her coffee.
She nodded. “I don’t know how one goes about getting one here. At home it’s a big schlepp.”
“Well, not here. You simply buy one with a prepaid card. It will cost you about eighty euros before calls.”
One thousand two hundred rand. For a phone she was only going to use for a few days? No way.
“I have an old one, if that will help? Not all that old. I upgraded about three months ago. Give me fifteen euros for it and you can just buy a Proximus prepaid card. Or if you wish, you can sit back and I’ll send one of the lazy louts who work for me to go and buy it for you. I can put it on your bill and you can pay for everything with your credit card.”
Caz suddenly felt her lower lip begin to tremble.
“And now, Grietjie?”
Caz cleared her throat and tried to pull herself together. “I’m not used to people being so kind. That would be wonderful, thanks.”
The owner patted her shoulder. “You just relax, Grietjie, and enjoy your coffee. I’ll see to the rest.”
Luc
Ghent
He still couldn’t get over the fact that the curly-headed woman with the slim figure and striking face was Caz Colijn.
He understood now why he had noticed her. It wasn’t only the hair and the height, or the fact that he found her attractive. It was that defiant posture you saw in so many South Africans. Shoulders back, chin up. A sharpness of gaze too, as if they took in more than the average person—paid more attention to what was going on around them.
But if the woman turned out not to be Caz Colijn, if she had just happened to get a message from someone else at the same time he was sending his, he was in trouble.
She would think he was crazy. Or a pervert. Maybe she would think it was one of the weirdest pick-up lines she had ever come across. To make it worse, his cellphone number was on that note.
But there had been no alternative he could think of. Surely three messages, one after the other, made the possibility of a coincidence too remote? No, it couldn’t have been by chance. She had looked at her messages three times. And she didn’t seem very happy.
He hoped and prayed she would get another phone and not decide someone was playing a trick on her. And he hoped she would text him from the new number, or he wouldn’t be able to contact her.
Which could be a disaster. They had to change the place and time of Monday’s appointment in Leuven to mislead the person who was monitoring her phone.
For now he just had to presume it was indeed Caz who had received the note. To keep wondering about it was not productive.
Whether the man sitting near her was the one who had access to her phone was even less certain. He had heard no cellphone sounds, yet the moment Luc had sent the first smiley, the man had taken his cellphone from his shirt pocket and looked at it. It was probably set to vibrate, not ring.
He had looked closely at the phone and pressed buttons again immediately after the last two smileys had been sent.
His studies had taught Luc not to assume anything was true just because it seemed logical. At most, there could be a strong suspicion that the man was watching Caz and monitoring her calls. Why he had Caz in his sights was a mystery.
The fact that the man was black didn’t mean he was from the Congo, but if he was, it could have something to do with Ammie. But how did he know about Caz?
The whole business was a conundrum. All he knew was that Ammie wouldn’t have lived under an assumed name for fifty-three years if she hadn’t felt threatened.
Twenty-one
Caz
Ghent
On her way home Caz couldn’t believe she had nearly broken down in tears. Everything had just become too much for her: the shock of finding out about Ammie Pauwels, seeing Fien again after so many years and then Fien’s death, Tieneke’s attitude and now her disappearance, and an unknown person who thought her phone was being monitored.
One random act of kindness was all it took for the house of cards that was her fragile emotions to cave in.
When she let herself into Erdem’s house, she heard movement in the kitchen.
He turned from the stove, where he was stirring something in a pot. The kitchen smelled of exotic spices. “Hello, Caz. Did you enjoy your outing?”
Caz nodded. “Hi, Erdem. I need to ask you something. I have to stay longer than I anticipated. Is my room available?” Although she had the keys to Tieneke’s home, she would rather use the last of her nest egg than move in there.
“Let me see.” He took out his smartphone and got busy with his thumb. “The week is open. There are bookings, but I can put the guests in the other room. First come, first served. On Friday afternoon I have people who specifically asked for the room with the terrace. I could move you to the smaller room then.”
“Wonderful, but I don’t think I’ll be staying that long. If I could stay until Friday morning at the very latest, it should be fine. I’ll pay until then. If I leave any sooner, it’ll be my loss.”
“If you leave earlier and I get another booking, I’ll refund the money. Okay?”
“Thank you, that’s kind. Sleep well.”
“Caz, I can see something is wrong. Can I help?”
Where did she begin to explain? “My sister has disappeared and I don’t know what to do,” was all she finally said.
“Babette mentioned something but I take everything Babette tells me with a grain of salt. Would you like me to call the police?”
Caz thought for a moment. “I think so. If she’s not back by tomorrow morning. I wanted to wait until Monday, but something isn’t right.” She told him about the key and the shoe. “Still, the front door key wasn’t in the lock. So she must have gone out through the front door. I don’t know what to think any more.”
“Rather be on the safe side, Caz. I only know your sister by sight but she has a reputation for being a difficult customer. I can understand that you don’t want to annoy her, but you don’t want to blame yourself later.”
Caz nodded. “You’re right. Yes, I think I should have the police come round tomorrow. I don’t know how it works over here.”
“Leave it to me, I’ll sort it out tomorrow. Sleep well.”
“Thanks. You too,” she replied.
For the second time that day Caz had to fight back the tears. People usually cried when they couldn’t find help. She, on the other hand, cried when people were willing to help her. It spoke volumes about her life.
Luc
Damme
Luc checked LinkedIn for the umpteenth time and swore. Caz still hadn’t accepted his invitation. And without a new number for her he couldn’t change the date and venue of their meeting in Leuven.
Thankfully Laura had agreed to swop classes with him when he’d phoned her earlier. She had sounded a bit standoffish. Hopefully only because he was bothering her on a Saturday night.
Herman had confirmed that Luc could sleep at his house the next evening, but added that he would have to entertain himself. Herman was spending the weekend with the love of his life—the umpteenth one after his divorce—and would only be back on Monday morning. Luc could collect the spare key from the neighbors.
He would phone Lieve tomorrow morning, find out whether Ammie had changed her mind and, if not, he would drive through. The day after he would meet Caz Colijn face to face for the first time. Hea
r her voice. Find out if her eyes were really as blue as they looked from a distance.
And what would she see? A dry old stick with too much hair on his head and too little on his pale chest?
Verdorie, what was he thinking? What did it matter how blue her eyes were? What her voice sounded like? What she thought of him? It was completely beside the point.
He had to focus on Ammie. Make sure he asked the right questions the right way.
Luc switched off the computer. Time would tell.
Caz
Ghent
In her room Caz saved TU’s second number under TU2 on the new phone. She texted Lilah, giving her the Belgian number and telling her to use it if she wanted to call. She was too tired to explain why she had a new phone. Besides, the child would only worry.
Tomorrow she would decide whether to give TU the new number. She was too confused to make any decisions now.
In the shower she remembered that she had to let Lilah know she was staying longer, though still not until the eighth.
After her shower she sent Lilah an email. She replied almost at once that she understood.
The rest of her inbox didn’t produce anything worth mentioning except a few bills. The end of the month. There was also a LinkedIn request.
She hadn’t used LinkedIn for a long time. It was a nuisance to keep getting requests from total strangers to join her network. Initially her profile had helped her professionally but after she had translated a few sample chapters for a well-known author and had been appointed his official translator, she had been working directly with publishers. Actually she might as well end her membership.
“See LinkedIn,” she remembered the note had read, so she took another look at the request.
She laughed when she recognized the name, and went to View Profile.
The applicant’s profile photo was an old book cover with the title Till Eulenspiegel printed over a colorful drawing of the wandering prankster from medieval times. The profile name was Tijl Uilenspiegel. Well, well.
The profile details were sparse. Only the essentials needed to open a profile seemed to have been supplied. The summary read: Searcher for truth. Experience: None.
TU had a sense of humor, or else he was one sandwich short of a picnic.
Studied at KU Leuven, was the only other information supplied. That had to be how he or she knew Luc DeReu.
She added Tijl Uilenspiegel to her network before switching off the computer.
Lying in bed, she remembered Tieneke quoting Tijl Uilenspiegel. Was everything that had happened recently her own fault? In some cases, maybe, but hell, she didn’t ask to be born. Nor to be given away either.
Yet it was no one’s fault but her own that she was on a quest to find the woman who had given her away. She had no idea why she was doing it. She just knew she had to.
Erevu
Ghent
Erevu didn’t want to admit it to Jela, but he was worried. He hadn’t heard from Dove. He knew he had been harsh with the boy. Maybe too harsh, but Dove had caused them a lot of problems.
According to Jela, the Caz woman had sent her daughter an email to let her know she was staying a while longer.
Hopefully she would look up Ammie Pauwels soon and they could follow her. At least they could rule out Tieneke and Fien Colijn’s house. Dove’s search hadn’t produce any results.
Luckily he knew where the Caz woman was staying. She had let her daughter know she’d found lodgings close to her sister’s home. It was comfy and also handy because there was a bus stop across the road. It had been easy enough to guess where the place was. Before the Caz woman arrived in Ghent, he had often watched people come and go at the house opposite the bus stop.
Dove had made a thorough search of everything in the Tieneke woman’s home, except, of course, the suitcase and backpack Cassandra Colijn had taken to Doel and Leuven. They would have to be searched as well.
Unfortunately, he didn’t dare search through her stuff at that Turk’s place. There was always someone around. If not the Turk, his brother or other guests. With that Babette woman in the neighborhood, he couldn’t go near the place anyway. She was much too nosy.
But the opportunity would come. If Caz Colijn was waiting for her sister to return, she had a long wait ahead.
Twenty-two
Sunday, September 28
Caz
Ghent
Caz knew from the brightness behind the thin curtains, but also from her internal clock, that she had overslept. Not that it mattered. There wasn’t much to look forward to this Sunday.
She was by nature an early riser. Early morning was the best time of day for her when she was at home. That was when she scattered table scraps for the pheasants, fed Catya and, wind permitting, sat on the veranda with her morning coffee. How she missed it.
Here she heard nothing but city sounds. Not a single bird chirping. Only traffic, a barking dog and a general buzz, interspersed with some siren or the other.
The thought of coffee got her out of bed. Her muscles weren’t aching any more.
Erdem was busy at the coffee machine and glanced over his shoulder. “Sleep well?”
“Like the dead, thanks.”
“Coffee? I’ve just made.”
“Lovely, thanks.”
He took out another mug and poured for both of them. “This morning, on my way to the shop to buy milk, I tried to look through your sister’s windows. Pressed the doorbell as well. She still hasn’t come back, it seems. Shall I inform the police?”
Caz added milk to her coffee and nodded. “Yes, I think it would be best. If she turns up later today, so be it. After coffee and a shower I’ll be ready for them.”
“I’ll phone in half an hour. They probably won’t come out at once anyway, maybe not even today. I don’t know how seriously they’ll take something like this or how busy they might be.”
“Thanks, Erdem.”
Caz sat down on the terrace. It was slightly overcast but not cold. Here and there bits of pale blue sky were visible. On the opposite side of the street an old lady was walking her dog. Possibly the barker she had heard before. From the spacious terrace the area looked less built-up than at street level. At least she could breathe here.
She had no idea why she kept feeling so short of breath. Maybe the fresh air of the Overberg had spoiled her. Or maybe she just didn’t take to city life.
But breath or no breath, she had to take a few decisions today. Much would depend on what the police had to say, but it wasn’t just Tieneke’s disappearance that weighed on her mind.
She kept wondering about her assumption that TU was a woman. The strong handwriting and the alias made her wonder.
Man or woman, what did it matter? The crucial question was: should she let TU, or Tijl Uilenspiegel, have her new number? Should she keep the appointment in Leuven?
It wasn’t just a case of letting TU have her number or not. The real question was whether she wanted to find out more about Ammie Pauwels and meet her.
She wished she could simply forget about Ammie Pauwels and mothers who gave away their children. What did she stand to gain? Yet an atavistic urge was driving her on. A primal instinct, which kept goading her to find out where the hell her roots lay. Maybe the ancient urge of the baby animal to smell its mother. She couldn’t explain it any other way, but in the end, she knew, nothing good could come of it.
It was clear that Ammie Pauwels had never regretted her behavior of fifty-three years ago, or she would have contacted Caz as she had contacted Fien about two stupid curio objects. Before she became old and senile and infirm. And that was another factor dooming this quest of hers to failure. What could she possibly achieve?
Caz finished her coffee. Moping wouldn’t do her any good. Finding Tieneke was her first priority now.
Luc
&nb
sp; Leuven
Luc found a parking spot a short distance from Ammie’s apartment and sat in his car. In the park children were laughing and chasing each other.
Lieve had said Ammie was having a lucid day, and was looking forward to his visit. That was at nine this morning.
He couldn’t help wondering what had brought on the complete about-turn after her previous reaction.
How should he approach her? The list of questions he wanted to ask was long and if he started with the wrong one he might not get anywhere with the rest.
How had she found it in her heart to dump her baby and head off? What did she bribe Josefien Colijn with?
No.
Why are you afraid of your daughter? Probably not either. But these were things he wanted to know. Before he met Caz Colijn.
To ask Ammie why a black man might be following her daughter might also be unwise.
Caz had not sent a new number, but neither had she left a message on his alternative phone. Maybe she didn’t think he was totally crazy.
He, on the other hand, was not so sure. The entire affair seemed more and more far-fetched. A product of his fertile imagination.
With a sigh he got out of the car. He would approach Ammie as seemed right in the moment and worry about the lovely Caz later.
Caz
Ghent
Caz rearranged her backpack and sorted out her wallet in an attempt to keep her uneasiness at bay. She was standing with the envelope and the key to the safe-deposit box in her hand, uncertain what to do with them, when there was a tap on her door.
“Caz? The cops are here.” Erdem’s voice came dimly from the other side of the door.
That was quick. He couldn’t have phoned too long ago. Instantly there was a lump in her stomach. “Just a moment.” She slipped the key into the bank bag where she kept her extra euros and pushed it and the envelope into a side pocket of her vanity case.
Commissioner Max de Brabander was a serious man with a deep frown that seemed permanently etched between his light blue eyes despite the fact that he was probably not fifty yet. His mousy hair had just a hint of gray.
Sacrificed Page 23
