East London, South Africa
November 12, 8:08 A.M.
Katinka was afraid as she opened the door of the autogyro. Foster’s expression was untroubled. He seemed rested and had probably slept after his long vigil waiting for her—and attacking Batting Bridge.
“Get the container and press the green button,” he instructed as he unfolded his arms and opened the door of the van. There did not appear to be anyone inside, as far as she could penetrate the shadows.
She leaned into the small cargo area and, with trembling fingers, did as she was told. Katinka felt vulnerable, afraid even to be showing him her back. She looked out the window on the other side of the autogyro. A pair of parking lot employees were hurrying over, carrying a tarp. Even though they were in public, she did not know but that Foster intended to kill her anyway.
Katinka held the large canister to her bosom—her foul progeny, something she should have left behind in its rockbound cradle. She sat and Foster slammed the door, shrouding her in darkness behind the charcoal-black windows. He got in and drove on as the autogyro was covered.
He drove away, peering at her in the rearview mirror.
“What was your plan?” Foster asked.
“To get away,” she said.
“To run to obscurity or the authorities?” he asked.
“Away. Home.”
“How uncommonly familial, Katinka. So, to hide. From what? You know that if I am found out, you are not far behind.”
“I had no part in what you did,” she said. “I would never have.”
Foster chuckled as his eyes returned to the road, filled with much less traffic than usual. “A wounded bird. Again, uncharacteristic. Do you know what I’m doing right now, Katinka? How often were we afraid because of their stupid laws, their self-serving restrictions? How many times did our people run, or get shot on sight for trespassing? Just for being on someone else’s land? Attempting to work for just a little of what they already had in abundance?”
“You know how I feel about the diamond industry and the government,” she said. “That did not justify murdering innocents.”
“Many of whom were profiting by this old monopoly! We tossed off corrupt, racial bonds, but money—but money … ah, money stayed where it was. Out of reach except for widespread and dangerous efforts to collect scraps.”
“Not everyone you killed was guilty.”
“Should I have gone to a bank? A diamond mine, assuming I could have gotten near enough? Would no one innocent have died? Let me tell you, Katinka, do you know what I feel right now? For the first time in my life I feel like I’m free to walk in the sun, to operate without looking behind me, worrying about surveillance or hacking, just for engaging in a legal enterprise! I am savoring their fear!” His eyes snapped back to the mirror. “And you—this haughty indignation does not suit you. You brought this to me for a reason.”
“To threaten, not slaughter!”
He looked back out the windshield, smiling and shaking his head. “Did you not think that would become inevitable? That the authorities would simply hand over the combination to a bank vault and let us walk in? No, Katinka. Don’t be righteous on top of being naïve. And hypocritical, I might add. You realized this contagion, not I.”
“By accident,” she said, her voice contrite. She set the container on the seat, newly ashamed.
“Pandora did no less, unwittingly releasing the ills of the world. I’m sure the families of the airline passengers would be consoled by your clean hands.”
“I don’t accept that blame,” she said.
“So innocent,” he said. “You know nothing about the guards or law enforcement we sometimes—remove? Of course you do. Yet you persist. And did you check everyone on the boat before you blew it up?”
“That was to destroy a disease.”
“One that you yourself wanted to exploit! How did you plan to do that, without a demonstration?”
She had no answer for that.
“And what am I doing, Katinka? I’m destroying a disease. The world around us has been changed, an old regime overthrown. That hasn’t benefited you and me and a restricted financial class.”
“You’re an activist now?” she asked.
“I am damn well not, and you can stuff your sarcasm. I am sick of having to feel ashamed of the way we live our lives. Your core samples were not just a revelation, they were a gift. A means to break our own bonds. Back down? That I will not do, nor allow anyone else around me to do so.” He glanced at her again. “Tell me, Katinka. Are you for me or are you against me? There is no other choice.”
The woman looked at the canister. “Would this have really detonated?”
“It would.” He thought for a moment then looked back at the road. “Why do you fight me? We are on the same side. You have so much of life ahead—how do you want to live it?”
“With an unblemished conscience,” she responded. “I want to be able to sleep.”
His sneer was instant. “No one—not the men who established apartheid or those who overthrew it—can claim that! Nothing in this land is clean. You want to sleep? Open the goddamn container. I won’t stop you.”
Katinka sat very still. She was numb and her mind was empty of further arguments. Foster was right about this much. There were not very many paths for her to take.
And what had been done was done. She could not change that. But staying close to him, she might be able to affect what happened next. And also to survive.
“All right,” she said contritely. “I am with you.”
Foster did not smile. He simply nodded, as if she’d said “present” at a roll call.
“Discuss this with no one at the office,” he said.
“No. Of course not.”
As they rode in silence, she was overcome by a familiar—clutching was the word that came to mind. An insistent part of her wanted to be near Foster and let his confidence, his certainty steady her as she moved through unknown territory.
But for the first time there was something else—a growing sense of loathing, not just for what Foster had done but with herself for having depended on him for so long. She thought this discovery would let her get away from him, a windfall and she was free.
Instead, you’re bound to him more than ever, she told herself.
And not in the way she had wished.