ONE SUN-SEARED SATURDAY, Pudmilla called me with an invitation while I sat on the balcony staring at the horizon, a slit of silver across the world’s throat.
‘Nathan is asking if you can meet him at Dizzy’s tonight.’
‘I don’t want to speak to him.’
‘He told me that you would say this. I am to tell you that he is not the one who gave Detective Olmi information. He is only in town for one night and he has something to tell you.’
The Nathan of yesteryear, the clean-shaven and confident sharp dresser who wore a single sparkling stud earring, was sitting on the barstool. The business dinner with the wealthy Chinese couple that owned a string of diamond stores had gone off smoothly, netting Nathan the big surveillance contract he was after. But after my conversation with Olmi, I’d been so infuriated that I’d cancelled every appointment Nathan had booked at the gun range for months ahead. Now I could not contain myself.
‘There is no one else who knew about the book he wrote, Nathan. Where did you even get a copy? I trusted you. Was it because of Elijah? Do you still blame me for his death? Is that it?’
‘Sit, Paola, please. How are you doing?’
‘That’s why you asked to see me? Shitty, thank you. Truly shitty if you really want to know. I’ve been minus a husband for a while, I’d almost got used to it, but now he’s an international fugitive−’
The waiter put a gin and tonic and a bowl of hot potato chips on the bar counter.
‘I figured you probably hadn’t eaten anything today,’ Nathan said.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered.
‘Paola, you have my word, I did not tell the Paris detective. It was not my information to give. How is Simone?’
Somehow, sitting there next to Nathan in the same bar where he’d once told me about the virgin auctions, I believed him. Olmi had been after Daniel for years; who knew how his breakthrough had come.
‘Simone’s not doing well. It’s driving her crazy that there’s no news of Roxy. A teenage girl disappears in broad daylight and nobody has a clue where she is. She might as well have disappeared into a sinkhole.’
‘Remember the milk carton girls, that spate of girls that went missing in the late ’80s?’ Nathan asked me.
I nodded glumly. ‘Of course I remember. The papers were full of it. Her name was Joey … Haarhoff or something.’
‘That’s her. His name was Gert van Rooyen. Elijah’s family thought maybe his sister, Ruth, was taken by the same people. His mother started calling in psychics and doing séances. They used to leave the gate open for the neighbourhood kids to come and jump on the trampoline and play with her, because Ruth told them they should, at one of the séances.’
‘Annie, my psychic sister-in-law, says inanimate objects have a spirit.’
Nathan shrugged. ‘That trampoline gave me the creeps. One of the newspapers started postulating that it was aliens kidnapping the kids. I think it got into Elijah’s imagination. That’s how it all started.’
‘He was looking for explanations. Even if that took him into the unknown.’
‘All I’m saying is these kinds of things can play with your mind if you let them. But it’s not productive. Elijah would have solved more cases if that extraterrestrial shit wasn’t always distracting him. It’s not aliens that take these kids − it’s fucked-up human beings. It’s important to stay focused and keep going.’
Nathan was part of a shadowy group of online sleuths that operated below the radar of law and order. It was a thankless job trying to keep children safe from sex predators.
‘Has Detective Knappman been in contact with you?’
‘We’re cooperating with his task force,’ Nathan confirmed. ‘My people are monitoring all the sites we know about to see if there’s anything about the missing Cape Town schoolgirl. So far, nothing. It’s ultra quiet, like they’ve taken it offline. It usually happens when the big boys are playing in the shark tank.’
‘Somebody should have been watching her,’ I said desperately.
‘We can’t do surveillance on all the kids in the world 24/7, Paola. We can watch them online but these guys get bored with virtual reality. Eventually they want the real thing.’
The real thing? I wanted to be sick. ‘Simone knew they were going to take Roxy,’ I said. ‘I don’t know how, but she did. That’s why she made me take her to Igor and that’s why she wanted to know what happened to the other girl. And I couldn’t see it. Roxy was all on her own, wasn’t she? Surrounded by all of us adults but basically on her own. I don’t know what to say to Simone − we both know the truth is I can’t keep her safe.’
‘I have news about Mr de Luc.’
There was music and laughter coming from the next-door locale where a band played on weekends. We were in a quiet, dark corner of a bar area on the lower floor of a restaurant. Little lights twinkled in my drink. I put my glass down carefully as if it was a mirage that might shatter in my hands.
‘Carry on.’
‘I hired a Montreal surveillance agency to follow the Pebasco woman like you asked. They showed Mr de Luc’s photo to a few people that she led them to. A waiter at an upmarket restaurant recognised them − he remembered them well because the man was a good tipper and the woman was American. He had ordered a separate taxi for the man on a few occasions and was able to tell them which suburb of Montreal and even the apartment block. After that it was straightforward.’ Nathan’s tone was phlegmatic. Just another report back to another client.
‘And then?’
‘And then he got arrested and escaped from a courthouse while under police custody.’ Nathan shook his head in admiration. ‘I have to give it to him, your husband makes Houdini look tame.’
‘Yes, he’s a master at evasion,’ I said bitterly.
Nathan glanced at me.
‘I thought we had him. People on the run need papers. I took a guess that he wouldn’t go far from the area he knew, and his TV celebrity status helped. We found someone who remembered passing him the name of a contact who could help him get new papers. All I had to do was be there the day he came to collect.’
‘What happened?’
‘He didn’t come. Somehow he worked it out. They lost his tracks after that. Montreal is a big place.’
‘Shit.’ I sipped and reflected. ‘What about Pebasco?’
‘The taxi driver used to drive them to a boutique hotel in a quiet part of town, but he hadn’t driven by Mr de Luc’s apartment in a while. The lunch dates stopped around the time of his arrest.’ Nathan paused, his eyes meeting mine. ‘After his great escape, no contact at all. I put twenty-four-hour surveillance on her. It looks like she washed her hands of him when he became a fugitive from the law.’
So she wasn’t pregnant yet. Nathan would have mentioned it. The best laid schemes …
We sat in silence for a while. I ate some chips. Nathan was right about emotion on an empty stomach. He was often right.
‘What about those files your hacker friend found on Mr de Luc’s computer?’ Nathan asked as he sipped his whisky.
His question took me back. Igor’s desk, encapsulated by semi-darkness, computer equipment stacked up all around me with strobe lights flashing, and I’m turning inside out and around, my body quite separate and weightless, while my disembodied finger clicks and my neutral eyes rake over the biographical information and intimate details of trysts with seven women, as recorded by Daniel de Luc, the author of the Limbo Files and my husband.
‘What about them?’ I said.
Nathan swirled his whisky.
‘Mr de Luc went to a lot of trouble to hide those files but he didn’t delete them.’
A silver-haired man with dark skin arrived to join the glamorous woman sitting next to Nathan. They embraced; her lipstick was a brilliant shade of geranium red.
‘They were just character sketches filed away for some day when he might need them for a book. Besides, why are you suddenly so interested?’
Nathan’s voice was velvet smooth. ‘Some people I know have made enquiries about the files. You could make some money. If you really believe what you’ve just said, it doesn’t matter if you hand them over.’ He paused, swirling whisky. ‘They might even back off if they think they’ve got what they want.’
I didn’t believe for a moment that we’d be safer if I handed those files over. They were my insurance policy against the gangsters who wanted to eliminate Daniel and ensure that everything he knew was buried with him. For the first time, I wondered how far Nathan would go for financial security.
‘What are they offering?’
‘Two hundred thousand South African rand.’
‘And what’s your cut?’
‘Twenty thousand.’
‘Not bad.’
The earring glinted in the gloom as he shrugged.
‘It’s standard commission.’
‘Tell them I’ll think about it, but the price is ridiculous. My husband is a famous crime author in Canada and France. I’d do better to put them on eBay.’
Nathan’s whisky glass stopped halfway to his mouth, then he threw his head back and guffawed loudly. The foreign couple looked over at us, pleased that some life had come to the dull locale.
‘Think about it, Paola. We could both do with the money. You owe that husband of yours shit.’
All the same, Nathan couldn’t leave the topic alone.
‘What kind of women are we talking about in these files? I always figured classy, rich dames were Mr de Luc’s type.’ I was no longer wounded by Nathan’s rudeness regarding my husband. It was almost soothing to know that there was somebody else who recognised this other side of my husband, that I was not deranged.
Highly sexed. Opportunistic.
I eyed Nathan over my glass. ‘I don’t know about the classy bit but they’re not all rich. One of them was a teacher. Elijah used to call them individualistic. Whatever floats your boat.’
‘Somebody’s willing to pay big bucks for those files,’ Nathan said thoughtfully.
‘To Real Man Incorporated!’ I cried, raising my second glass of gin and tonic. The conversation depressed me. ‘Bringing men and women together from all classes of life − a truly democratic organisation!’
That’s what Jasmine had realised: that she could cut across all the barriers − class, privilege, wealth, education − just by making the right selection. Her baby would be blue-blooded just by virtue of the father’s blood. And then she could blackmail the billionaire grandfather.
Nathan raised an eyebrow and his mouth tightened. He didn’t understand about RMI, not really. He didn’t like being reminded about my long-ago assignation with Jack.
‘Elijah told me he was waiting for you to come round to the idea of checking out the backgrounds of those women in the files in person. I’m betting that’s what Mr de Luc’s been busy with.’
I put my forehead down on the neutral wood of the bar counter and stayed there, blocking it all out. Eventually I lifted my head and looked Nathan in the eyes.
‘Not you too, Nathan. The women in the Limbo Files only existed in my husband’s head. The files read like notes for alluring female characters in a book, not like real people.’
‘Maybe, but Elijah said the facts tied up to the Paris murder victims. At least on some of them. Dates of birth, family names, interests. He was funny that way, stubborn, but then he was often right.’
‘Have you listened to anything I’ve said? They murdered Elijah to send out a strong message that they wouldn’t tolerate RMI client confidentiality being compromised in any way. That’s why they’re after Daniel. They wouldn’t have minded if he’d retired quietly under the radar, but they got to know about the Limbo Files, and Lady Limbo let the world know that RMI existed. Now they’re doing damage control. You’ll be on the same list he’s on if they get to know you’re snooping around in their business.’
‘Who’s going to tell them?’
It’s late when Nathan walks me to the car. They’ve dimmed the lights in the bar and started cleaning up around us.
‘Do you think they’ll find him?’ I ask, my fingers around the key, the sound of the sea barrelling towards and away from the shore in the background.
Nathan considers my question with his hands in his pockets.
‘I doubt it. Mr de Luc’s a resourceful man.’
We both stop talking.
‘Do you want us to keep looking for him?’ he asks eventually.
‘I remember when I first met you in the park. You couldn’t believe he’d slipped out of your surveillance net, and now he’s done it again.’
‘We got closer this time. If we can find him, so can they. Sooner or later his luck’s going to run out.’
My husband’s voice travels from the past on the salty wind. La chance, mon amour. That’s all we need … la chance … la chance … la chance …
‘You really think that’s what he’s been doing all these months – trying to get more information on the women he knew that were killed?’
‘It’s what I’d do. Get myself some leverage with Olmi. My guess is he’s aiming to get across the Canadian border.’
I hesitate and then say, ‘I meant it about Simone. I don’t know if she’ll make it just with me … Sometimes I think she hates me.’ I stand in the car park, brushing tears away, furious with myself. It happens quite naturally. Nathan puts his arms around me.
‘She’ll be okay,’ he says, his chin on top of my head. ‘She’s been through a lot, but she’s strong. Teenagers have got to be rebels; that’s how they work life out. I’m betting you weren’t much different.’
I nod and then untangle myself from the strong arms. ‘I only wanted to know where he was − for her and for me. That he’s out there somewhere, you know?’
‘I know,’ Nathan says. ‘I can eat again now, and shower, and wear my shoes, now that Heidi’s back.’
‘Is she staying?’
‘She won’t talk about it. All I know is she’s learning Russian because she says they’re the ones who hold the purse strings.’ He laughs harshly. ‘The Russians better watch out. But she’s here, isn’t she? Hell, I’ll take that for now.’ Then he mutters, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be so happy, considering the company she keeps.’
For a moment I assume he’s thinking of her rebel outfit somewhere in Africa, but then I get it.
‘You’re talking about Nada Sarrazin. You don’t like it either. That woman was part of everything Sarrazin did – she’s as much a predator as he was. The appeal is going ahead. She’ll be out this year if things go according to her plan …’
‘I’m not my sister’s keeper,’ Nathan the Bear growls.
‘Nada Sarrazin is a monster.’
‘The monster should be careful of my little sister. She bites.’ His voice has a strange edge to it.
‘What if you’re wrong, and Heidi’s not in control?’
After a moment he says, ‘Does the name Diable mean anything to you?’
‘Devil, in French? No. Should it?’
‘Maybe. It’s just a handle that keeps on coming up in chat lounges. Whoever it is has been chatting up a couple of the girls we’re monitoring. You’ve never heard that name mentioned?’
‘You’re monitoring the girls? I thought you were hunting down the predators? No, I think I’d remember.’
‘Come on, Paola. Give me a break. The predators go where the girls go. But normally they don’t show themselves. And they’re not looking for conversation.’
‘So you know who Simone chats to? And what they talk about?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘But you’re not going to tell me.’
I could have given him a long speech about how the end doesn’t always justify the means, and how there’s a fine line between what he’s doing and what the other men are doing, trampling all over these girls’ right to grow up in safe privacy. But there’s no point. Not only because I know nothing I can say will deter him, but because it comforts me to know he’s keeping an eye on her in a way I can’t.
‘It’s just teenage stuff, banter. Nothing to worry about yet.’
I’m going to have to be happy with that. I hesitate, then say, ‘You can stop looking for him. Daniel, I mean. There’s no point.’ I’ve been mulling it over ever since Manolo arrived with his guitar.
‘You mean it? You’re not going to change your mind tomorrow?’
‘I mean it.’
He points up to the moon in the sky, half hidden behind clouds. ‘Swear it by the spirits of your ancestors.’
‘I swear it by the spirits of my ancestors. Both the Neapolitans and the Florentines. Is that good enough?’
‘Hallelujah! The ancestors have spoken.’ He does one of those impromptu Nathan things, dropping to the ground and kissing it as if he’s praying to Mecca.
‘Jeez, Nathan, the ground’s dirty. You don’t know what dog’s peed there.’
He remains there a few moments and then stands up with a straight face, dusts his jeans off and mock-salutes as I drive away.
Tell me a secret (X)
https://secrets.net/chatlounge/
(Everyone. Has one. What’s yours?)
|
butterfly: |
|
What eats virgins? |
|
diable: |
|
Vampire |
|
butterfly: |
|
Clever devil. V for Vampire |
|
diable: |
|
The evildoer’s name begins with a V? |
|
butterfly: |
|
Old testament. Lion. Kill. Old testament. Virgin. |
|
diable: |
|
V-O-L-K-O-V? |
|
butterfly: |
|
He took Roxy. He shouldn’t have done that. She sat with me every lunch break and when the other girls said I was a lesbian she told them to shut up |
|
diable: |
|
Let us help you |
|
butterfly: |
|
If I go to him then he will let Roxy go |
|
diable: |
|
Do you have an address? |
|
butterfly: |
|
They will take me to him in their car |
|
diable: |
|
Into the mouth of the wolf |
|
butterfly: |
|
May the wolf die |
|
diable: |
|
How will we find you? |
|
butterfly: |
|
Parent calling. GTG |
|
diable: |
|
Bonne chance from all of us, fearless winged Lepidoptera |