Skukuza Rest Camp, Kruger National Park, the present day
Nick made it through the gates of Skukuza with three minutes to spare. Just a few kilometres short of the camp he and three other cars had been bailed up by a big bull elephant, who then took it upon himself to lead them towards the camp in a frustratingly slow conga line for a quarter of an hour. He stopped by the camp store and bought some more provisions and a bag of firewood.
When Nick arrived at his rondavel he was greeted by a stern-faced man in national parks uniform, and a cleaner slopping soapy water out of his room onto the verandah.
‘Hello, how are you?’ the man said without much feeling.
‘Fine, thanks, and you?’ Nick said. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Baboons. You must have left your window open.’
‘No way. I read the sign and I made sure I closed and locked all the windows and the doors.’
‘It is easy to miss one window, and that is all it takes. I will show you.’
Nick stepped over the bucket and felt bad at the dirty marks his shoes left on the still wet, freshly cleaned floor as he followed the parks man inside.
‘See here, how they have bent the metal frame of the window?’
Nick stepped closer and saw how one of the panes of glass was missing, presumably swept up now by the cleaner.
‘The baboons grab it,’ the man demonstrated, ‘if it has been left open enough for them to get their fingers in. Then they bend it until the glass breaks.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t leave it open.’
The man nodded slowly and smiled, as if implying: That’s what they all say.
Nick was annoyed, not only that the man didn’t believe him, but that the baboons seemed to have ransacked his bag. His clothes and belongings had been heaped on the bed.
‘You are lucky,’ the man said.
‘How so?’
‘They usually shit everywhere. These ones must have been disturbed before they could do their dirty business.’ He laughed.
Nick felt uneasy. Sure, some baboons could have found some canny way to get in, but the theft of Anja’s research and Susan’s cryptic warning were preying on his mind. When the man had left and the woman had finished cleaning he surveyed the room and went through his clothes, folding and sorting. He didn’t seem to be missing anything and he repacked, now wondering if he was being overly paranoid. To calm himself he went back outside and drew on some nearly forgotten boy scout and camping holiday skills to light a fire. He remembered a rainy weekend in a borrowed tent on the New South Wales south coast with Jill, not long after they had met, him trying and failing to coax a flame out of sodden wood and damp paper. The memory saddened and unsettled him again.
At least this fire had crackled nicely to life. Nick got himself a beer out of the fridge and took another look inside the rondavel. What he could not see, on the polished concrete floor or the bedspread or the window ledge or walls was any sign that any baboon or monkey had been inside. There were no dirty hand or footprints, no scuffs, and, as the national parks guy had pointed out, no smelly calling cards. He wondered if a human could have been rummaging through his possessions and left the mess and open window to make it look like primates were responsible.
Nick took out his phone and thought more about the men who had assaulted and threatened Anja. He didn’t know why an academic’s papers could be so valuable, but it certainly seemed as if that was what the thieves had been after. Susan had told him to be careful, but was there something she hadn’t told him?
He checked his watch and did the calculation; it was two in the morning in Sydney. He thought about his aunt, Sheila. He didn’t want to worry her needlessly, but the story of Anja’s robbery played on his mind.
Nick got another beer, took out his laptop, sat down and turned it on. He thought about Anja Berghoff. He had been annoyed at her initial rudeness, but after talking to her he felt for her, having endured a robbery and assault and losing all her research material.
He decided to bring Anja into the loop. He found her new email address that she had sent him, then emailed a scan of the original manuscript to her, along with Lili’s translations to date.
Next he went to Facebook. His aunt was addicted to the social media platform. He opened the messenger box and saw that despite the late hour the green dot next to her profile picture was illuminated. He clicked on her and the dialogue box from their last chat opened. He saw that she had been on just five minutes earlier.
Hi Aunty, are you awake? He typed.
The rippling dots next to her name told him she was typing a message. Unfortunately yes, bit of a drama at home.
Nick closed down Facebook on the computer, picked up his phone and put through a voice call on messenger.
‘Hello?’ Sheila said.
‘Aunty, is everything OK? Are you all right?’
‘Yes and no,’ she said.
Nick’s tummy lurched. ‘What’s wrong.’
‘Well I’m fine – I’m at the caravan at Norah Head.’ Sheila kept the van at a park on the New South Wales north coast. ‘But I got a call from my neighbour, Russell, a couple of hours ago saying my house had been broken into.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘Exactly. Russell was coming home from the pub, half pissed, and noticed the side window was open. He heard noises inside and called the cops. He waited outside, watching my place, and saw the burglar leaving. He tried to stop him but the guy king hit him in the face. The police arrived and called an ambulance – Russell’s got a broken nose – but the robber was long gone.’
‘Did they take anything?’
‘Funny,’ Sheila said, ‘Russell’s wife Bev checked the house for me when she got back from the hospital just a little while ago. Bev said the burglar had turned the place upside down, but the TV’s still there. Russell said the guy wasn’t carrying anything, so maybe he got spooked.’
‘How about all your family tree stuff?’
Sheila snorted. ‘The bastard trashed my filing cabinet. Bev said there was paper all over the study floor, ankle deep she reckoned.’
‘The manuscript?’
‘Got that with me,’ Sheila said. ‘Your parcel arrived just as I left for the coast. Why do you ask?’
Nick exhaled. ‘I hate to sound paranoid, but I think that might have been what the crook was after. A German woman researching the same stuff was held at gunpoint here in Africa and forced to give over all her documents and passwords, and my bungalow here in the Kruger Park was trashed today. The rangers here reckoned it was baboons, but I’m not so sure.’
‘Over old documents? Really? Why?’
‘No idea,’ Nick said. ‘I can’t think what would be in this stuff that would be so valuable, but I’m going to try and find out. Meanwhile I think you need to be careful. Tell the cops what I’ve told you.’
‘They’ll think I’m crazy,’ she said.
‘Maybe, but I’m worried about you.’
‘What about the girl who was doing the translation for you?’
‘Lili.’ Nick had been thinking the same thing. ‘She’s my next call.’
Newtown, Sydney, the present day
Lili’s phone rang.
She had just got off the train at Newtown. The suburb’s vibrant nightlife was buzzing around her; the area was popular with students, hipsters and late-night partygoers. She ducked into the alcove of a small apartment block to partly shield the call from traffic noise and the sound of live music coming from the pub next door.
‘Hello!’
‘Lili, hi, it’s Nick.’
‘Hello, who is calling please? I can’t hear you.’
‘Lili, it’s Nick!’
‘Nick? Are you in Africa? I finished work today, no more time in the salt mine as you called it –’
‘Lili, please, listen to me. Are you OK? Is everything all right? Has anything unusual happened?’
She thought about the question, her mind slow to process it, even though she had worked out that her English was even more fluent after she’d had a few drinks. ‘Unusual? No, only this phone call. And my internship was always going to finish today. I had hoped that Pippa might keep me on, but now I suppose I have to go and pick fruit in the middle of nowhere or –’
‘Lili, do you have the manuscript with you?’
‘Yes, of course. I have the copy you gave me in a folder. I was just doing some reading on the train.’
‘Has anything happened at your share house in Enmore or wherever it is?’
‘Newtown. All is fine, thank you for asking, but what is your interest, Nick?’
‘Where are you now?’
‘Nearly home.’
‘Do me a favour, please. I know this will sound crazy, but please just call one of your flatmates and ask them if everything is all right at your house.’
‘It’s Friday night, Nick.’ Lili laughed. ‘Most probably they are all out partying.’
‘This is serious, Lili.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean “if everything is all right”? You’re being weird, Nick.’ She started walking. ‘I am nearly home in any case.’
‘Lili, listen to me, be careful. You could be at risk. I’m worried someone will try to break into your house, if they haven’t done so already. My aunt’s house has just been burgled tonight, your time, and a German woman, an academic I’ve been in touch with who has been researching Claire Martin was also robbed, here in Africa. Something’s going on. Someone is trying to get hold of the manuscript, any papers about Blake and Claire Martin. You have to take this seriously.’
‘OK, OK, Nick. I’m walking home now. I am almost at my house.’
‘Lili, if there’s no one home, don’t stay there. Find a friend you can be with and –’
The line dropped out.
Lili stopped and looked at her phone, swaying slightly. She’d really had too many shooters. She waited a minute, then tried calling Nick’s number, but it wouldn’t connect.
Lili thought about what Nick had said, about his aunt and the academic being robbed. Surely it was just a coincidence? This was Australia, she told herself, not the wilds of Africa. As much as she was enjoying reading the manuscript she could not think of anything in it that could be of monetary value to anyone.
She turned into her street, a row of terrace houses which had nearly all been restored. Her place, which she shared with three other girls and a guy, looked dark from the outside. As she had told Nick, it wasn’t unusual for everyone to be out on a Friday night, even at this late hour.
She put her key in the lock, opened the door and stood there, listening. The house was dark, but she could hear no one rummaging through drawers or cupboards.
Lili shook her head, flicked on the light switch and looked around. All in order in the hallway, kitchen and lounge room. She felt better so she took off her heels and walked upstairs.
Lili paused to look in Emma’s room and saw that it was neat as always; Lili joked that Emma could have been German as well. Jason’s looked like a bomb had hit it, but that was perfectly normal. Lili smiled; if a burglar had been through there no one would ever know.
Lili opened the door to her bedroom, dropped her heels, and was about to put her hand over her mouth, when someone beat her to it.