It was half-past three. McQuade drove fast back to his hotel feverishly excited. Treasure for the recreation of the Third Reich – that’s what he had stumbled onto! That submarine had been carrying a top Nazi official to the fertile shores of southern Africa with the Nazi Party’s treasure accumulated for the specific purpose of creating the Fourth Reich, which was why Heinrich Muller murdered the whole crew …
It was almost four o’clock when he got back to the Burgerspark Hotel. There was a telephone message awaiting him at the reception desk. He stared at the note. Please call Sarah urgently.
How had Sarah known he was staying at the Burgerspark Hotel? He’d certainly not told her. He hurried up to his room to call her. As he reached for the telephone, it rang. He snatched it up. ‘Hullo?’
‘Good afternoon. Mr van Rensburg?’
The Taste of Sugar girl. ‘Yes!’
‘I’m downstairs in the foyer. Shall I come up?’
‘Oh … Yes, please.’ He put down the telephone shakily. It was all about to happen – his first step in blackmail. He feverishly rehearsed his lines for the last time. He was suddenly very nervous again. If the girl got scared and called in the police he could come very unstuck now. There was a knock on the door. He strode across and opened it.
A good-looking woman of about thirty stood there, blonde and stylish. She carried a plastic shopping bag. She was smiling professionally. ‘I’m Miss Brownlee.’
‘Miss Brownlee, thank you for coming.’
He stood back as she walked in. She had a very good figure. He closed the door and waved a hand at an armchair. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
‘White wine, thanks.’ She had an Afrikaans accent, but a cultured one. She held out a visiting card. It read: A Taste of Sugar, and below, Fiona. ‘The second number is my home phone.’
‘Thank you.’ McQuade put it down on the table and reached for the wine.
‘May I mention the money?’
‘Of course!’ He burrowed into his pocket and pulled out two red fifty-rand notes.
‘Only one hour, is it?’
‘There’ll be more.’ He began to open a bottle of wine shakily.
Miss Brownlee sat down and crossed her legs elegantly. ‘Well, I brought the tracksuit. Where are we running?’
McQuade smiled, despite himself. He passed her a glass of wine. ‘Not far.’ He sloshed a big shot of whisky into a glass and took a swallow.
Miss Brownlee said: ‘Where’s your wife? I was told that this was a,’ she fluttered her eyelids, ‘special assignment.’
‘Is that all right with you?’
She was charming. ‘Quite all right. It’s not an unusual request, you know.’
‘Isn’t it?’
She smiled. ‘Many wives want to try it. And all men. I’m unshockable. So, where’s the wife?’
McQuade took a breath. ‘I want to offer you a thousand rand.’
Miss Brownlee raised her eyebrows. ‘Now you’re talking. To do what?’
‘To find out if a certain lady is a lesbian. I think she is, but I want confirmation.’
Miss Brownlee looked at him. ‘Why do you want to know if she’s a lesbian?’
‘Because I’m very fond of her.’ He paused. ‘For that reason you must not mention me to her.’
‘And if she is, what’ll you do?’
‘That’s my business. But I’ll know what my problems are, and maybe I can solve them.’
Miss Brownlee nodded thoughtfully. ‘And where is she? How do I meet her?’
‘I’ll tell you that after you’ve agreed.’
Just then there was a loud knock. McQuade flinched.
He went to the door and opened it.
Sarah stood in the corridor. ‘Thank God!’ she said.
McQuade had a frozen smile on his face. Oh shit. ‘How did you find me?’
‘Phoned every hotel in Pretoria until I found Mr McQuade. I’ve got something important to tell you.’ She looked past him and saw the girl. ‘Oh!’
‘Come in!’ McQuade said hastily. He stood aside and waved a hand shakily. ‘This is Miss Brownlee, who’s doing some business with me. Investment. Miss Brownlee, this is Miss Buckley.’
Sarah was frosty. ‘How do you do?’
‘Miss Brownlee,’ McQuade blustered. ‘I think we’d better continue another day. I have some business to discuss with Miss Buckley, I’ll be in touch tomorrow.’
Miss Brownlee stood up and picked up her shopping bag. ‘Certainly.’ She smiled at Sarah. ‘Good afternoon.’ She walked for the door.
McQuade closed it behind her. Sarah held up a hand, walked away and said:
‘Okay, it’s none of my business who she is. But …’ she turned to him angrily, ‘why didn’t you tell me that Jakob’s wife and son have also been murdered?’
McQuade stared at her grimly. ‘How did you find out?’
‘Because,’ she said impatiently, ‘your Inspector Dupreez has just contacted me! He phoned Matt, trying to trace you and me. Matt called me and I thought I’d better call Dupreez since I didn’t know when the hell I’d see you.’
‘How did he know about Matt?’
‘When I made my statement to the police, I gave Matt’s number as a reference point.’
‘Does he know your address? And where I am?’
‘No,’ Sarah said impatiently. ‘I told another goddam lie for you! Said I was calling from a public box and I was meeting you later to start our wonderful scenic tour of South Africa.’ Her beautiful eyes narrowed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about these new murders, Jim?’
McQuade took a deep breath. ‘Because I didn’t want to alarm you.’
‘Alarm me? You didn’t want me thinking that you might have done it? Because that’s the distinct impression I got from Inspector Dupreez!’ Her eyes narrowed again. ‘Why did you go back to Jakob’s place after dumping me at the airport?’
McQuade’s anger rose. ‘For the reason I gave to the police in Khorixas. To inform the old woman of Jakob’s death, and offer arrangements for his decent burial.’
‘Why didn’t you have such charitable thoughts before we left Swakopmund?’
‘Are you suggesting I might have done it?’
She turned away. ‘Of course not.’
‘Why do you say Dupreez thinks so?’
She waved a hand. ‘Oh, just his oily tone. How was your trip to Ai-Ais? Oh, you decided to fly back to Johannesburg instead? Probably just my guilty conscience, telling all those lies. Jim? I think I must tell the police about that threatening phone call and the Toyota chasing us.’
‘I’m doing this my way,’ McQuade said grimly.
‘Doing what?’ She appealed, ‘If you can’t tell the police you must tell me if I’ve got to tell lies! You owe it to me!’
‘Just give me a few more days, Sarah.’
She sat down angrily in the chair Miss Brownlee had used. Then noticed the visiting card. She said dangerously, ‘Will you at least tell me who Miss Brownlee is?’
‘She’s an investment adviser.’
Sarah said quietly: ‘A hooker, I think.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
She picked up the visiting card solemnly. ‘“A Taste of Sugar. Fiona”.’
McQuade was furious with himself for forgetting the bloody card! Sarah carried on quietly, ‘Why’re you screwing expensive hookers, Jim? When you’ve got me, for free.’ She paused. ‘And telling me you’re madly in love with me.’
He groaned, ‘Oh God …’
‘Oh, I understand that one can get carried along by passion and declare undying love a little prematurely – as I myself did, dumb-dumb that I am. But I didn’t read you as such a shallow philanderer as to jump straight into bed with a hooker afterwards!’
‘Sarah, I was not going to go to bed with her.’
‘Oh, you were persuading her to invest in the fishing business?’
He said grimly, ‘I’ll explain everything in a few days.’
She stood up. ‘I’m sorry, Jim. I’m getting deeper and deeper involved in subterfuges about an appalling case of triple murder, telling lies to the police, which is a criminal offence, and risking my life – that Toyota could have killed us. And now this.’ She waved her hand contemptuously at the card. ‘And you refuse to explain. Well, enough is enough. It is my common-sense duty to tell Inspector Dupreez what I know.’ She looked at him squarely. ‘Goodbye, Jim. It’s been interesting knowing you.’ She turned for the door.
McQuade closed his eyes. He sighed.
‘Sarah – please sit down. And I’ll explain.’
She listened with rapt attention.
He did not tell her everything. He told her about meeting Skellum, the banknotes, the wallet, but he refused to tell her the initials on it, nor did he tell her about the tag. He described how Jakob had showed him the place where the submarine lay; he told her he knew the name the man had used in Swakopmund, but he did not tell her that name nor how he had tracked it down through dental records. He told her about his trip to Germany to examine submarines but not about his visit to the submarine archives, nor about his visit to Frau Kohler nor to Simon Wiesenthal. He described the horrific evidence of mass murder inside the submarine. He told her about the scandal in the Population Registration office, about Lisa van Rensburg and what he was going to get Miss Brownlee to do.
Sarah was absolutely amazed. ‘Good Lord. What a story.’ She waved a hand. ‘But who is this man? What name are you looking for in the population computer?’
‘I’m not going to tell you, Sarah, because what you don’t know you can’t be forced to tell anybody else – like those bastards who were chasing us in that Toyota. The only reason I’ve told you this much is to explain why you must not tell Dupreez anything. Because once he knows, that submarine will slip through my fingers, and the man I’m looking for.’
‘After you’ve got your treasure, are you really going to hand him over to the Israelis?’
‘Yes,’ McQuade said.
‘Not to the South African police?’
‘No. Because I believe this man is a wanted Nazi war-criminal. I don’t want any political deals or hassles over extradition, and the Israelis have the evidence of his war crimes, not the South African government.’
‘But why do you think he’s a war-criminal, apart from the fact that he murdered the submarine’s crew.’
‘I won’t tell you why yet. But I’ve done my homework.’
‘But which war-criminal?’
‘I won’t tell you that either.’
‘But why don’t you get the Israelis to help you?’ she asked earnestly. ‘They’re expert at that sort of thing, aren’t they?’
‘Because I’ll probably lose the submarine in a mass of legal hassle. I don’t want anybody knowing where it is until I’ve cleaned out that loot.’
‘I see.’ She frowned. ‘But you’re taking a chance using a hooker. She may tell the police.’
‘I’ve given her a plausible story. And she wants her thousand.’
‘Oh boy …’ Sarah breathed. ‘I don’t like that. And if she can’t get to this poor Lisa?’
McQuade sighed grimly. ‘Then I use myself as bait to bring these bastards to me. They’re after me like they went after Skellum. So, I let it be known I’m back in Walvis Bay. When they come for me, I’ll have a bunch of guys waiting, who jump on them. We then force them to tell me where their boss is.’
She was staring at him. ‘Oh God! Your trap fails and you’re dead.’
‘So you can understand why I don’t want you around? I don’t want you exposed to any risks.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s probably too late to get Miss Brownlee back, but I’ll try.’
Sarah put her hand on his. ‘Look, think about this.’ She was agitated. ‘I’m scared of you using a prostitute for blackmail. She may report you. Or she may blackmail you. Or she may bungle it, and Lisa calls the police …’
‘Got any better ideas?’
‘Yes, don’t go at blackmail like a bull at a gate! You know nothing about this Lisa van Rensburg. Nothing.’ She took a deep tense breath. ‘So let me try to find out something about her. Let me go along to this aerobics class and try to meet her. Talk to her. Invite her for a drink … Then, when I have a better idea of your chance of success, you can send your Miss Brownlee into work.’
‘But I don’t want you involved.’
‘I’m already involved! Up to my neck! I’ve told lies to the police. Murders have been committed, and you may be the next victim!’ She gave a worried sigh. ‘Anyway, I won’t involve myself in blackmail. I won’t seduce her. I just don’t want to see you rush into a terrible mistake.’
And McQuade knew absolutely loud and clear that he was in love with her.
Five minutes later she left the hotel to buy a leotard, thinking hard. She passed the Assembly Hotel, and hurried inside, to the public telephones.
She dialled a number in Johannesburg. It was answered immediately. She spoke quietly and rapidly in German.
The callee listened without interruption; then said:
‘And he won’t tell you that name?’
‘No. And I daren’t try harder.’
‘And he won’t tell you the name of this lesbian, either?’
She said grimly, ‘No.’
The man cursed under his breath. ‘Well, find out. By hook or by crook. And then do the job yourself. Don’t let him use the call-girl, that’s dangerous.’
‘I knew you’d say that. Our contract did not mention bi-sexuality.’
‘Are you capable?’
‘Thanks for asking.’
‘Well,’ the man said, ‘get on with it. And don’t let him out of your sight again.’