The Rwandan Hostage

by Christopher Lowery

  “And Nwosu, anything about him?”

  “Nothing, apart from his address in Diepkloof. But he’s a policeman so he’ll be easy to find out about if it becomes necessary.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think he may be gay. Just something about him. He’s definitely not a tough guy like Coetzee.”

  “Really? That’s a surprise.” Jenny slipped back into her school teacher role. “Right. Back to the detective work. Let’s look at those names again.” She had printed out several pages of her notes and read out the disappointingly few names of suspects on the first list.

  “People who knew about Mutesi/Leo:

  Dr Antoine Constance,

  Dr Tony Forrester,

  Marianne, Mutesi’s friend,

  Irene and Auguste, the two servants.

  “I think we can rule out the servants. They wouldn’t even have known if Mutesi had survived and had her baby. They had their own problems, poor souls.”

  “Agreed, Jenny. And it’s stretching things to imagine that Marianne could be involved in this plot. So we rule her out also. Which leaves us with only two suspects. Constance and Forrester, both doctors, both aware of Mutesi’s death and Leo’s birth.

  “Emma,” he went on. “You’ve told us a lot about Tony, but do you know much about Dr Constance?”

  “Only what I was told by Tony. Dr Constance never told me anything about himself but I could see that he considered maternity work beneath him. He was a rather supercilious person, quite aloof when he wasn’t working. Apparently he’s a reconstructive surgeon and that’s why he went down there. To help the victims who had been hacked to pieces but had somehow survived.”

  “You mean a kind of plastic surgeon?”

  “A very advanced kind. There were thousands of innocent victims who were left dreadfully disfigured and he wanted to help them to lead a normal life again. Tony was quite cynical about him. He thought he was looking for personal fame and celebrity status. You know, ‘ French Doctor Helps Genocide Victims Find a New Face and a New Life.’ It would have furthered his chance of becoming a top plastic surgeon in Paris or London.”

  “So why was he working at the maternity clinic?”

  “Because there were no other hospital facilities of any kind open. The whole national infrastructure was in a complete shambles. There was a hospital operating in Kigali, but it was closed to the public. Hutu government officials and those who had some kind of authority were admitted but only for very basic treatment, so it was really a private clinic where normal citizens couldn’t go. There was literally no hospital in Rwanda where any kind of advanced surgery could be performed. That’s why there are so many thousands of survivors with terrible disfigurements and scars, still today.”

  “So he ended up helping rape victims give birth to their illegitimate children?”

  “And he did a wonderful job,” Emma said defensively. “He managed to run that shed that we called a clinic in the most awful circumstances and he helped to save many lives. I don’t know what he did before or since, but I will always remember his dedication to the people of Rwanda.”

  “The fact remains that it’s highly probable that Constance asked Forrester about Leo after you disappeared and he learned the circumstances of his UK passport, so I conclude that we have two people of similar background with similar knowledge of what happened in Rwanda.”

  “But how could they have learned about our trip to South Africa? We’ve been out of touch for fifteen years.”

  “I think that information was easier to come across than Leo’s parenthood.”

  “Maybe, but how do we find either of them? So many years have passed since we knew where they were.” Emma was beginning to think that all this deduction was leading nowhere.

  “I’ve already put feelers out to try to find them, Emma. My old police contacts are still useful. We should soon have some further information. Meanwhile, let’s look at the people who knew about the South Africa trip.”

  He read out the names on the second list.

  “People who knew about SA trip:

  Jenny,

  Leo’s school friends and teachers,

  Alan Bridges, Emma’s publisher,

  A couple of friends,

  Travel agent,

  Emma’s bank.”

  Emma sighed in frustration. “None of these people are on the first list and I simply don’t believe any of them could have known about Mutesi and Leo. There’s absolutely no connection and I haven’t said a word about it until I told Jenny yesterday.”

  “Emma, I must tell you that I share Jenny’s mistrust of coincidences, especially in this matter. There are two separate events almost sixteen years apart, the birth of Leo, in Rwanda and the death of his probable father, Galaganza the genocider, in Benin. Then Leo is abducted in South Africa three months later. These events cannot be coincidences, there is a pattern and patterns never lie. The names on the lists are different, no name appears on both lists, therefore someone on one of those lists must have known or learned of both events and that is where the answer lies.

  “We have to do old fashioned police work to unravel this mystery and it can take a long time. Let’s go through the story again in case there’s something we missed.”

  They started following the trail again, a fifteen year old trail that somehow had to lead them to Leo Stewart.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Johannesburg, South Africa

  Coetzee arrived at the Packard at midday, his Land Cruiser was stocked with drinks and gasoline and there were blankets in the back for Leo. He went into the bungalow where the doctor was waiting. “How is he?”

  “He’s perfectly well, but getting very restless because he hasn’t seen his mother. Maybe you shouldn’t have promised so much.”

  “He’ll get over it. Right, have you got a two hour fix ready?”

  They went into the room together. Leo was dressed in a safari shirt and jeans and his bag was placed ready at the door. He was sitting on the bed looking very unhappy. “What’s going on? You told me you’d come back this morning with my mother. Where is she?”

  “She’ll be coming here any minute. She’s packing up ready to move to a hotel near the airport because I managed to wangle seats on a flight first thing tomorrow morning using the same tickets. It’s going to save her almost a thousand pounds, so she’s really happy. She’ll be even happier when she sees you.”

  Leo’s anger was momentarily abated. “I’m sorry. Thank you. You said I had to have some tests before we can go.”

  “That’s why the Doc’s here with me. He’s going to take a little blood and analyse it before this evening, but he doesn’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

  “That’s right Leo. I’m Doctor Blethin. Everything seems to be fine, but you did have quite a bad turn, so I just want to take one last look before I sign you off to go home. Can’t be too careful.” He spoke with an accent that seemed familiar to Leo.

  The doctor came towards him with the hypodermic and Leo suddenly pulled back, his memory finally kicking in. “I know you. You’re that foreigner who injected me in the toilet. Barry Lambert held me and you stuck a needle in me. Get away from me. You’re not a doctor. You’re not sticking another needle in me, you fucking weirdo.” He lashed out at the doctor, punching and kicking.

  Coetzee stepped up and grabbed Leo, restraining him while the doctor injected the needle into his arm. “Don’t worry, Leo. This is for your own good. I promise we won’t harm you.”

  “Fuck off, you bastard!” Leo struggled madly for a few moments then his body went limp and he fell back on the bed.

  “He’ll be out for about three to four hours.” The doctor said. “I didn’t want to give him more; it might be dangerous after the last few days.”

  “OK. That should get us half way to Beitbridge with a bit of luck.”

  Lambert took Leo’s suitcase and put it in the back of the car. As they were preparing to carry him out, Coetzee’s mobile rang. It was Nw
osu.

  “I need to sort out a few things before I leave the station. Don’t want to leave any unanswered questions here that could cause us problems. It’ll take me an hour or so then I’ll join you. I can be there at one thirty, where will I meet you?”

  They agreed on the pick-up point and he rang off. Coetzee’s paranoia was increasing. Nwosu would never go out of his way to meet me. He’d insist I come down for him. What the hell’s he up to?

  Nwosu was sitting in the window of a café opposite the Packard Hotel. He saw Coetzee’s Land Cruiser pull away from the bungalow with the doctor sitting in the passenger seat. After fifteen minutes he put on his sunglasses and walked across to the reception, his cap pulled low over his forehead.

  “I’m Sergeant Bongani from Forbsburg Central precinct. I need to talk to the manager.” As the receptionist called Lambert he moved away from her, pretending to make a call on his mobile, his back turned to the woman.

  A moment later Lambert came towards him. Still with his back to the reception desk, Nwosu flicked his badge at him quickly so he couldn’t read it. “Sergeant Bongani,” he announced.

  “Barry Lambert, hotel manager. What can I do for you?”

  “We’ve received a report that a teenage boy has gone missing in the area. Apparently he was staying with his mother in this hotel.”

  Lambert thought quickly. They know about Leo, but they’re too late, thank God. Better be helpful and get it over with. Aloud, he said, “That’s right. I heard about it, but he hasn’t been back and his mother left yesterday, so I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “I need to check both their rooms, see if there’s anything to explain their disappearance.”

  “I’ll get the keys. They were in adjacent rooms on the seventh floor.”

  Lambert returned with the keys and they went to the elevator, Nwosu still looking away from the reception desk.

  “Do you need me to show you the rooms?”

  “Let’s go up together in case I have a question. It won’t take long.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Nwosu emerged from the elevator and walked unobtrusively out of the hotel. He went across to the bus station to collect his bag from the storage locker then hailed a passing taxi, “Take me to the intersection of Smit Street and the M1 north.” On the way he called a number in Brussels.

  Marbella, Spain

  Espinoza checked his watch. It was one thirty. “I’m going to try to accelerate things,” he said. “Let’s give Mr Lambert a call and see what he has to say. Sometimes shock tactics can produce results.”

  “Don’t you think he’s likely to run for the hills?”

  “Not yet. It’s too early, they must be organising themselves for the next phase of the operation. I suggest that Jenny calls and makes it fairly innocuous, just a worried call from her in the UK about her missing nephew. He doesn’t know that we’ve started unravelling their plot and it’s less threatening if it’s a woman. If we’re lucky he might let his guard down.

  “Do you have your UK mobile, Jenny?” He took it from her, dialled a number from his note pad and handed the phone back.

  “Packard Hotel, Mayfair. How can I help?”

  “Can you pass me Mr Lambert, the manager? This is Mrs Bishop. I’m calling from England.”

  “Just a moment please.” After several minutes the woman came back on the line. “I’m sorry, but there’s been an incident and I can’t talk now. Can you please call back later?” The phone clicked and went dead.

  Johannesburg, South Africa

  The Land Cruiser set off for Beitbridge at a quarter to two. Coetzee’s paranoia had caused a heated discussion about who should sit where in the car. Finally, the sitting arrangement was Nwosu in the passenger seat next to Coetzee with Doctor Blethin behind Coetzee and Leo lying on blankets with his legs stretched out across the back of the car. They drove onto the N1, direction Pretoria, five hundred and twenty-two kilometres of hot, dusty trouble ahead of them.

  It was sixty-four and a half hours since Leo had been taken.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Marbella, Spain

  “I don’t like the sound of that.” Jenny said. “I wonder what kind of incident she meant.”

  “I have a feeling something might have happened to Mr Lambert.”

  “I hope it was nothing trivial. That odious, hypocritical man.” Emma frowned with distaste then turned as a ‘ping’ emitted from her laptop.

  “Oh my God!” She suddenly started laughing and crying simultaneously, floods of tears running down her face. After studying the screen for a few moments she picked it up, kissing it and hugging it to her breast. She placed it back on the table so they could all see the screen. They saw a picture of Leo sitting on a bedside, eating a banana. Underneath the picture was the message; Leo is healthy and in safe hands. Do not inform the authorities or take any untoward action as you will endanger him unnecessarily. We will be in contact again tomorrow.

  She looked wildly at Espinoza. “What does it mean? Leo’s alive, thank God, but they’re not saying anything at all. No demand of any kind. Nothing that can help us.”

  Jenny took her hands. “One thing at a time, Emma. Leo is alive and well. Our theory was right. They’re after money, so they’ll be making sure that nothing happens to him. I promise you this is really good news, right Pedro?”

  “You’re right, it’s excellent news, the best we could hope for. It proves we are on the right track.” He placed the machine in the centre of the table where they could all see the screen. “Right. Now let’s study the message carefully. It’s the first real clue we’ve come across and we need to extract every bit of information we can from it.”

  He started making notes. “First of all the photograph. Leo looks very well. They seem to be looking after him. He’s got an appetite, which is a good sign. That’s not his hotel room, of course?”

  “No, his room was quite cosy. Wallpaper and an upholstered bedhead. That bed has an iron frame and the walls are completely bare.”

  “It looks like a hospital room, but there’s something not quite right.” Jenny squinted at the screen. “There’s no pulley handle to lift yourself up and there’s no knobs or levers on the side of the bed. It’s like an army bed, just an iron frame and blankets, nothing else at all.”

  “So it seems he’s in a room specially prepared to accommodate him, without any equipment or items which could identify it, either by him or by us. Very professional. There’s a window behind Leo’s head. See? It’s got closed blinds so you can’t look outside. Hmm.” He put on his spectacles and looked closely at the screen. “Look carefully at the window and tell me what you see.”

  “There’s a reflection in the window, because the blinds outside are closed, so the glass reflects. There’s a door, partly open. Maybe a bathroom or toilet. What else?” Jenny’s keen eyes spotted the phenomenon. “I see it. There’s a picture on the wall near the door. No, it’s not a picture. I don’t know what it is.”

  “See if I can enlarge it.” Emma double clicked on the photo. “No good. It’s been pasted onto the message and you can’t get to it. Wait. I’ll zoom it up. Right, zoom to double size. See? It’s a calendar with a photo of a pride of lions and a company name on top. Backwards of course.” She read out the letters, “C, L, I, N, I. It’s a clinic. P, R, I, V. Private. N, E, W, T. It’s the Newtown Private Clinic. Just along the road from our hotel.”

  “I don’t think it is in a clinic, but if there were a doctor and a nurse involved maybe that’s where they came from?”

  Jenny looked more closely at the screen. “I think there’s something else. Can you make it even larger? “That’s good. See? On the wall above the picture, a nozzle or a tube of some kind,”

  “You’re right. It looks like a CCTV camera lens. The flexible tube type they use for indoor surveillance. Just a wide angle lens poking through the wall on the end of a tube that’s linked to a monitor. That’s what they’ve taken the photograph with and it’s r
eflected the image from the window.”

  “So that means he’s been under constant surveillance from someone outside the room?”

  “I think it means three things. Firstly, the calendar tells us Leo is still in the Mayfair area and there’s some connection with the Newtown Private Clinic. Probably they have a doctor or nurse to keep an eye on him in case the drugs have a bad effect. Next, he’s in a building where they’ve installed a CCTV monitor. Thirdly, now I understand why Coetzee is involved. This military type surveillance is costly and complicated. He obviously has experience in installing it and he probably supplied it. Can you see any properties on the photo file, Emma? Anything that could lead us to the originators?”

  “There’s nothing. When a photo is pasted like that, there are no properties until you copy or save it and then your own computer creates the file. No more clues I’m afraid. But wait, I’m looking up the Newtown Private Clinic. See what it tells us.”

  The website for the clinic was very understated, rather poorly done, in Emma’s professional opinion. She went through the various services they offered then looked up the page labelled ‘Consultants and Medical Staff ’. There were twelve short bios of doctors and consultants and she scrolled down the page, looking at each one.

  “Fairly normal services,” She commented. “From Dermatology to Obstetrics. Nothing special that I can see.”

  “But we know the clinic is close to the hotel and their calendar is in the room where Leo is being held.” The detective’s mind was now fully in gear. He had some evidence to work with. They now knew for sure who had carried out the abduction and had a good idea of where Leo was being held and who was looking after him.

  “Thanks to this small mistake on their part, we’ve already found out a lot more than they expected us to. Now let’s see if the message itself reveals as much information.”

  They read through the message again. “That’s strange. It came to my personal address and not my publishing one. Look, emma@emmastewart.com. I only use that website for personal affairs, my friends and family, never for anything public.”