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Authors: Jassy Mackenzie

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Pale Horses (36 page)

BOOK: Pale Horses
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‘Wh … what are you talking about?’ he stammered.

‘Your plans have gone wrong.’

‘My plans?’

‘You weren’t supposed to be alone when I arrived here, were you?’ she told him. ‘Your hired gun was meant to be here too. After he’d dealt with Ntombi Khumalo and Zelda Meintjies, I guess his final assignment would have been to dispose of me.’

Victor was silent. Totally rigid. She couldn’t even hear him breathing.

‘He was supposed to bring you the seeds,’ Jade said. ‘But the seeds aren’t here, are they? And he hasn’t called in.’

She was quiet for a moment.

‘Who were you going to sell them to?’ she asked. She didn’t expect a reply and Victor didn’t offer one.

‘My guess is that you made a deal with a terrorist organisation – some sort of extremist group. The asking price wouldn’t even have been that important to you. After all, a weapon like this has such incredible potential to destroy, doesn’t it? I think they were going to take those seeds up into Central Africa somewhere and plant them. There’s plenty of space there, after all. In a continent whose area could swallow up North
America and India and China, and still have room left over, who’d ever notice or care about a few hectares of maize?’

Victor’s grip clamped down harder. Jade didn’t know if he was even aware of his telltale physical reaction to her words.

‘They’d be able to create a sort of 9/11 all over again if that deadly crop got into the food chain in the States. Consumed directly it would cause mass fatalities, but that would only be necessary once. Then sow just a few of those seeds into a field and you’d be able to contaminate the entire harvest. Even the risk of their presence would render a crop unusable.

With farms and fields covering thousands of hectares, who could ever tell the lethal plants apart from the safe ones? Millions of acres of maize would be left to rot where it grew, in the black soils of the heartland. The US farming industry would collapse, followed by the economy. Famine, disease and death – it would be the apocalypse all right. And you, Victor, safely tucked away here in your precious Da Vinci Towers – you’d be
OK
. In fact, you’d be laughing all the way to the bank if you’d taken a short position on maize futures. While the bottom dropped out of the market, you’d make millions.’

Finally, Victor Theron spoke.

‘How did you work it out?’ he asked quietly.

Jade took her time answering. She was silent for a while, thinking of the short phone conversation she’d had earlier with Ntombi Khumalo. Who had left her home after her husband had died, bereft and terrified, the only survivor of the plague that had swept through her community.

She had come to Johannesburg to look for work, and she had told her new employer the story of what had happened. Had shown him the sample of the seeds she had brought along with her, which she suspected had produced a toxic crop. Had asked him to help her find answers, to get the authorities involved, to find out why this had occurred, why the harvest that was supposed to feed her people had made them terminally ill.

Straight away, Victor Theron must have seen his chance. He had stumbled upon a potential goldmine. An irresistible opportunity for a man who, long ago, had sold his soul to Croesus. He had taken the information Ntombi had given him, contacted Sonet and Zelda, organised
for the seeds to be cultivated in Koenraad Meintjies’s greenhouse, and strung all of them along while making his own plans.

Global Seeds had hired a group of gunmen to eradicate all evidence of the diseased community.

Theron had hired somebody far worse to help him pursue his own ends once the harvest was ready to be reaped. That man had murdered Sonet, kidnapped Zelda, and demanded a ransom from her brother for her safe return.

The ransom had been the crop that Koenraad Meintjies had so innocently been growing.

Zelda’s safe return had never been on the cards.

The base-jumping episode in Sandton Views had provided a useful excuse to get Sonet alone at a convenient time, and stage her dramatic death.

From the footprints Jade had seen in the dust on the top floor, it was clear that Sonet had never walked along those dusty floorboards. In the semi-darkness there would have been no way that Theron could have placed his feet in her footsteps so accurately that no trace of Sonet’s prints remained. More likely she had been carried, hopefully unconscious, by the killer who then pushed her over the parapet to fall to her death.

Theron himself, Jade thought, had probably never ever base jumped; still less packed Sonet’s parachute. But, by making himself a suspect in the eyes of the police, he had given himself credibility in this regard, and nobody had doubted his story. He had confessed to a crime he never committed, and that confession had misled them all.

Until now.

‘I looked into your past,’ Jade continued. ‘I found out that your wife was shot in an attempted robbery just a few days after the 9/11 market crash. You were caught on the wrong side of the markets back then, weren’t you? You lost every penny, but you managed to keep from going under by putting out a hit on her and cashing in her life insurance policy. You paid out your panicking clients and you used the rest to start again. But you never quite got back to where you were, did you? Not until this opportunity came along.’

Now Jade heard him exhale; a long, shuddering breath that tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. But still he didn’t say a word.

‘When the buyer signed the deal, you took Zelda hostage and then you had Sonet killed because, by doing that, you could control her brother. With Zelda’s life at stake, he would do what he was told, up to and including handing over a bag of seeds from the corn he was growing in the greenhouse to back up his sister’s story. ’

Now Theron spoke. ‘I see.’ His voice sounded hoarse.

‘It’s all gone wrong for you now,’ she said. ‘The reason I know is that I spoke to Ntombi Khumalo earlier on. She told me about the seeds that your hitman was bringing to you.’ Jade fell silent for a moment, allowing time for the words to sink in. ‘She didn’t have time to say much – she was terrified – but she told me that neither the hitman nor the seeds would reach your flat. That she would do what she had to do to stop them. A brave lady and, it seems, one who kept her word.’

Now Jade turned slightly so she could look up at Theron while she spoke. His hands remained on her shoulders but did not prevent her from moving in his grasp.

‘I didn’t know what would happen when I came to your flat tonight. I didn’t know what I would find or who would be waiting for me here. Whether it would be you, or the killer you hired. So why did I come at all? Did you wonder?’

‘Seeing as you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me?’

‘I said when I met you that this case had come at a bad time in my life. I was not exaggerating. I’ve done some evil things recently. Crimes I know I can never atone for. And when I look at where my life is going, all I see is more evil ahead. I guess what makes us different is I have done everything myself. Not once have I paid somebody else to do my dirty work for me. But you have. In fact, you’ve never done it any other way.’

Now her throat felt dry, too.

‘You could push me over the balcony and say I jumped, or even fell. And the police might well believe your story. But like I said, you’d have to do it yourself. And I don’t know if you have it in you. It’s a gamble, I suppose. Like playing the markets.’

Jade paused for breath.

‘So, do you, Victor?’

53

The Randburg Chronicle
, 19 June, page 2:

PASSENGER DIES IN VEHICLE ACCIDENT
By Junior Reporter Busiswe Lephele

An unidentified male passenger died on Thursday evening after being thrown through the windscreen of a
BMW
when the vehicle swerved out of control and hit a tree on Patridge Street and burst into flames. The man, who suffered severe head injuries, was declared dead at the scene.

Two pedestrians managed to free the driver, Mrs Ntombi Kumalo, and the female passenger, Miss Zelda Mainkies, from the burning wreckage. Attending paramedics rushed the two to the Sandton Clinic. Both were suffering from concussion, bone fractures, minor burns and smoke inhalation. A spokesperson for the hospital reports that both women are out of
ICU
and recovering well.

By the time the fire brigade arrived, the car had burned out beyond recognition.

The Sandton Gazette
, 21 May, page 5:

SUSPECTED SUICIDE IN DA VINVI TOWERS

Mr Victor Theron, a resident of the Da Vinci Towers, Sandton, fell to his death from the balcony of his 16th floor apartment in what appears to be an act of suicide. Residents of this exclusive apartment block say they are shocked and distressed by the news. A visitor to Theron’s apartment, Miss Janet de Jong, said: ‘Victor had become very stressed and depressed after the recent accidental death of his close friend Sonnet Meintjies, who fell to her death while base jumping after her parachute malfunctioned. As an independent financial trader, he had been having a difficult time with the markets as well, and had mentioned more than once to me in the past that he did not see a way out.’

The chairwoman for the Da Vinci Towers residents’ association, Mrs Portia Ndumo, speaking from her holiday home in Umhlanga, said, ‘We are shocked and grieved to hear about this tragic incident and will take steps to make sure such a disaster cannot happen again. At our next meeting, the Da Vinci Towers Body Corporate will be looking at the feasibility of installing higher safety railings and security glass as a standard feature on all the balconies.’

Epilogue

Surely it couldn’t be her again?

Setting down her soy latte carefully in its china saucer, Magdalena Eckhardt leaned forward, pressing her hands against the armrests of her well-upholstered chair, craning her neck to get a better look at the new arrival.

It was her. The same woman she’d seen in here a fortnight ago. She even looked as if she was wearing the very same outfit, too. Black shirt, black jeans, brown hair tied back in the ponytail, not a trace of make-up.

She’d had such a time discussing that woman with her book club friends. When Magdalena had described how the woman had looked at her with eyes that stared out from a tormented soul, every woman in the reading circle had told her they’d come out in goose bumps.

Collectively, they had pieced together the story of what had happened. Clearly the woman was bereaved – hence she had been wearing black. She had lost her husband, or partner, and now, after a period of mourning, she was starting to date again.

The man she’d been with last time had obviously been unsuitable. But this man – the one who at this very moment was sitting down in the chair opposite her – he looked like a far better prospect. An older gentleman wearing an immaculately cut suit and silk tie, with silver-streaked hair and a fabulous platinum Rolex watch. A wealthy man, for certain.

He would take care of her.

Look at the way they were leaning forward, closer to each other, as they spoke! The chemistry was there, no doubt about it. And the woman … she looked so much happier than she had the time before. More confident. Her head was held high and her eyes were sparkling. Yes, definitely – he was the one. There was no way she was going to interrupt them though. True love must take its course without her help. But her book club friends would be thrilled to hear this. Simply over the moon!

As Magdalena got up to leave, she caught the woman’s eye just for a moment, and felt a warm glow of pure happiness as she gave Magdalena a conspiratorial smile.

Jade turned her attention back to the grey-haired man sitting opposite her.

‘Thank you so much for giving me an overview of the futures market in this country, Mr Anderson,’ she said to the financial advisor from Trading South Africa.

‘It’s wonderful to have you on board as a client, Ms De Jong. We received your deposit yesterday.’

Jade was surprised the investor wasn’t rubbing his hands together at the prospect of earning commission off such a large sum. She’d transferred every penny of the blood money she’d had in her account from the contract killing she’d done with Robbie. It was a sizeable amount.

‘Good.’

‘You mentioned that you would like to begin trading in single stock futures today?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Now I must explain to you how your funds will be allocated. Part of this deposit may be used to trade, but a portion will be held to cover your margins, should the market move against you.’

‘I understand that.’

He produced a small electronic gadget identical to the one that she had seen Victor Theron use.

‘If you’d like some advice on where to start, I’ll be happy to offer it. At the moment we are fortunate to be in a rising market, which means that taking a long position will probably be advisable. The indexes for the past few days have been looking very positive. This is due to various reasons, including the strength of the rand, the drop in interest rates, and some other financial and also political factors. Markets, you see, are very much influenced by sentiment.’

‘I have heard that, yes,’ she said.

He continued speaking but she tuned him out.

She thought instead of the story that Zelda Meintjies had now completed, which would make front-page headlines the next morning. After
finishing her research, Zelda had contacted the police and handed over all evidence, including her recording device. As a result, David, heading up a team of detectives and forensics experts, was even now arriving at Theunisvlei, where the mass grave would soon be exhumed.

Meanwhile, in Jo’burg, Moloi and his team were busy making several arrests. By the evening, Jade knew that a number of senior managers from Global Seeds South Africa would be in police custody, as would Mr Engelbrecht from Williams Management. The image of that arrogant man being bundled into a police van made Jade smile whenever she thought about it.

In the chaos that would follow when this news broke, one fact would be certain. Despite the positive trends in the market, the shares in Global Seeds were going to plummet.

BOOK: Pale Horses
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