Endgame. Wilna Adriaanse

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Endgame - Wilna Adriaanse

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ex and ask him why he’s looking for you. How the hell was I supposed to know what’s going on between the two of you? It’s not as if you kept me informed.”

      Ellie took a deep breath and reined herself in.

      “Thanks. Look after yourself,” she said, and ended the call.

      “Clara Veldman.” Ellie said the name out loud. Last year, when Albert had asked her to work undercover as a security guard and look after Clara at Enzio Allegretti’s home, Clive had had serious misgivings. She knew he blamed himself for what had happened in the end. But the telephone was not the best way to clear the air between them.

      CHAPTER 3

      Nick ran his hand across his face as he drove back to Bantry Bay. It was almost four in the morning. Patrice was in an induced coma and the doctors would not or could not say if or when he’d come out of it.

      The streets were deserted. Here and there a car was waiting at a traffic light or turning into a quiet street. Two prostitutes stood on a street corner in Sea Point. Some distance ahead a police van was parked at the kerb. Sometimes Nick feared he would be forever trapped in the nocturnal lives of other people.

      At the Allegretti home he made a pot of strong coffee and summoned the security guards individually. Both were adamant that they’d seen or heard nothing out of the ordinary. There had been no strange vehicles in the street, no shots. Allegretti had definitely not left through the gate. There had been no visitors. If Nick didn’t believe them, he could check the camera footage.

      When the interviews were over, he went back to Patrice’s quarters. He watched his step as he opened the door and entered. Besides the bloody trail from the lounge to the bathroom, the bedroom was neat and tidy. The bedclothes were turned back, as if Patrice had been on his way to bed. He seemed to have been overpowered in the lounge. Unfortunately there was no way of knowing what time the incident took place. Patrice tended to go to bed quite early.

      The stain on the carpet and the blood spatters confirmed Nick’s suspicion that Patrice had been shot in the lounge. What he didn’t understand was why his attackers hadn’t made sure he was dead. If they had surprised him, they must have had the advantage over him. Why were there signs of a scuffle? Had they intended taking him along? Considering that the attackers had managed to enter a well-protected house undetected, the scene in Patrice’s living quarters was just too messy.

      Nick found no spent cartridges during a preliminary search, but a while later he found one under the couch, where it had landed against the skirting board. He fetched a plastic bag from the kitchen, picked up the evidence with a pen and sealed it inside the Ziploc bag. He found no other possible forensic evidence.

      He locked the door and put the key to Patrice’s flat in his pocket. Then he opened the back door and went out into the narrow alleyway bordering on the mountain. A high electrified fence separated the property from the mountainside. Unable to see much in the dark, he returned to Allegretti’s bedroom.

      It was exactly the way he had found it earlier. If Allegretti had been kidnapped, he didn’t seem to have put up a fight. The room looked no different from any other night he spent on his own. Nick went into the dressing room, but the closets were so crammed with clothing that he realised he wouldn’t notice if anything was missing.

      Nothing seemed to have been disturbed in the bathroom. Toothbrush, shaving kit, moisturiser were all there, as well as a variety of expensive deodorants and after-shave colognes. In the cabinet under the basins he found a large box of condoms.

      Being chief of security to the Allegretti family had always been a challenge. Playing a dual role sometimes felt like the least of his problems. In Johannesburg it had been easier. Allegretti Senior was an intelligent man, who listened to reason. But since the old man had sent Nick to Cape Town a few months ago, he’d felt more like a childminder to two spoilt brats. Enzio Allegretti did not have his father’s insight and did exactly as he pleased.

      Nick watched all the footage from the security cameras, but the guards were right. Nothing was visibly wrong. When day began to break, he went out through the kitchen door again and walked the length of the alley to the service gate at the side of the property. The morning air was chilly and he could smell the ocean. There was no sign of yesterday’s warm berg wind. Autumn was in the air. The gate was locked and the lock had not been tampered with. There were footprints on the paving, but the property was patrolled during the day. Nick guessed it wouldn’t do any harm to compare the footprints with the soles of the shoes worn by the guards on duty. If there was one thing he had learnt, it was that answers were sometimes found in strange places. Sometimes you’d wear yourself out to gather evidence, only to get an unexpected lucky break.

      Just before eight he stopped in front of his flat. He had waited to speak to the guards who were on day shift. They were given the same instructions – no one was to come near the house and if they noticed anything suspicious they were to call him at once.

      He had a quick shower, drank a cup of coffee and ate a bowl of cereal, standing up. The milk tasted slightly off, but he finished it anyway.

      Next he called Fritz, Allegretti’s driver, who had obviously still been asleep.

      “Nick, what the hell’s going on? I’m on leave.”

      “I know, but I’m looking for Mr Allegretti and he’s not answering his phone. Did you happen to hear from him?”

      “No. I haven’t seen him since Friday night, when I dropped him at home after a meeting.”

      “Will you call me if you hear from him, please?”

      “Sure.”

      Before the connection was broken, Nick heard Fritz say: “Fuck! Waking me for something like that!”

      There was a giggle and Nick heard a female voice inviting Fritz back to bed.

      Somewhere in the world there was a man who could snuggle behind a woman’s back on a Monday morning because he was on leave.

      Ellie woke up a few times during the night, imagining she had heard footsteps, but it was only the creaking of the roof. By eight she was showered and dressed. The young man was back behind the counter when she reached the lobby. He gave her a friendly greeting, though she suspected he wasn’t quite awake yet.

      Outside, she called Wynand. He answered at the third ring.

      “It’s me.”

      “Are you back?”

      “No, that’s why I’m calling. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

      “There were some people here, looking for you. Did you have short, dark hair at some point?”

      “What did they want?”

      “They said that they just wanted to say hello … evidently ex-colleagues of yours.”

      “Hmm … sorry to have missed them. Are they still there?”

      “I don’t know. They must have slept somewhere close by last night, because they came in quite early this morning. I haven’t seen them since.”

      “What did you tell them?”

      “The truth. I don’t know if it’s you in the

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