where he had seen one of them before: in the club with Enzio. The high-ranking government official.
Age didn’t matter, Nick thought as he got into his bakkie; somewhere deep inside every man was a small boy who wanted to show that he was strong. Who wanted to win the pissing contest. Some men might outgrow the urge, but he suspected the majority had that basic need all their lives. Evidently he had not outgrown it either.
He had proof that Ken Visser hadn’t exactly been a faithful husband; still the man didn’t want to hear that Gabriella had complained about his performance. He suspected that some men had missed out on certain evolutionary processes.
Leaving the Waterfront, Nick decided to go to Allegretti’s home. As a rookie cop, he’d had a chief who was meticulous about a crime scene.
“There’s no fucking replay,” he had often said. “You get one chance. If you fuck it up, do the human race a favour and throw yourself under the nearest bus. Because if you don’t understand this, you’re not a policeman’s arse and not worth much to society as a whole.”
That same captain had taught them that you couldn’t possibly do everything yourself, and to trust your instincts.
“Trust your team, but if that little voice in your ear won’t shut up, even at night, get up and go look for whatever it is that keeps it talking. Never mind if you step on toes and piss people off. Keep on until you have found it. And if you tell me you didn’t hear that little voice, then you should make a career change, and quickly too. The world will always need ice-cream vendors.”
His cellphone rang and he saw it was Clive Barnard.
“Can you be in Milnerton at six?”
Nick looked at his watch. “Yes.”
“I’ll send you the address. And if I can give you some advice, leave your ego at home.”
Nick chose not to react. “Are you very busy?”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to go to Allegretti’s house with me. I’m afraid of missing something because I know the house.”
“Give me an hour.”
“Can you bring a team from Forensics?”
“You’re one of those people who want the whole bloody arm once they’ve got the little finger, aren’t you?”
When he had ended the call, Nick decided he had enough time go to Camps Bay first.
According to Monica’s information, Clara had last been seen with friends at Paranga, a popular restaurant and hotspot. He had been there once or twice with Allegretti. On his way over, he tried to think of an excuse for showing up.
The manager wasn’t there but the assistant manager recognised him. Nick asked how he was and whether he could bring a party of ten for dinner the following Saturday night. He hinted that it was for Allegretti, but deliberately kept it vague.
“Is it true what they say about the young girlfriend?” the assistant asked.
“What do they say?”
“They were doing a shoot in the neighbourhood on Friday and came in afterwards for drinks and dinner. Apparently she was kidnapped when she left here.”
“That’s news to me. They broke off the relationship a few months ago.” Nick tried to keep his expression neutral. “Did someone see it happen, or is it one of those stories that grow wings the more they’re repeated?”
“I wasn’t on duty but from what I’ve heard she was pushed into a dark panel van, just as a car crashed into another one parked across the street. Apparently her bodyguards were in the other car. They say the car that caused the accident didn’t even try to stop, just sped off. Do you think that’s what might have happened?”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t have the faintest idea. Stranger things have happened, but people aren’t usually kidnapped just like that. Maybe it only looked that way.”
The man nodded. “I also think the guy has seen too many movies.” When he asked if he should make a booking for Saturday, Nick shook his hand and said he would confirm by Thursday.
On his way to the door, Nick turned. “What time did all this happen?”
“I think it was just after midnight.”
On the pavement outside, Nick tried to see if any of the surrounding buildings had CCTV cameras that covered the entrance. He saw one on the roof of a building a few hundred metres further along, walked until he was directly below the camera and tried to estimate how far its reach was. They would have to get hold of the footage, he decided.
“Fuck,” Clive said when they emerged from the lift an hour later and stepped into Allegretti’s living room. “I’ve clearly made a few wrong decisions in my life.”
“It just feels that way the first few times you come here.”
“I can picture myself sitting on this deck.” Then Clive saw the bar against the back wall and stopped in his tracks. “Hell. If you don’t want this job any more, let me know.”
“Didn’t your mother tell you all that glitters isn’t gold?”
Clive shook his head. “She was too busy teaching me how to duck when my dad hit me.”
Nick went straight to Patrice’s living quarters. He was glad to see the door was still locked. In the doorway, he looked at Clive. “Tell me what you see.”
Clive stepped into the room, then took his time looking around. He squatted and his gaze swept over the room. Finally he stood up. “I think there was one shooter and the shot was fired at close range, or there would have been more spatter. Both shooter and victim were probably standing up when the shot was fired. The wounded man lay here for a while before he crawled to the bathroom. Have you looked for the casing?”
“Yes. I found it.”
“Then I doubt it was a professional hit. A professional would have taken the casing along. It was a rush job,” Clive continued. “Not part of the plan.”
“If it was a kidnapping, why did they shoot Patrice in his flat and leave him alive?”
“Maybe he woke up and went to investigate. How long has he been working for Allegretti?”
Nick shook his head. “Patrice works for me. I’m very sure it wasn’t an inside job. Besides, if he was part of the plot, why did they shoot him?”
“He’d served his purpose.”
Nick shook his head. “He wasn’t involved.”
“You won’t be the first to make that mistake.”
Nick nodded. “That may be true, but I’m sure about Patrice.”
“We’re presuming there was someone else in the house. The logical explanation is that Allegretti himself pulled the trigger.”
“The
