Читать книгу Circus - Irma Venter - Страница 9

Johannesburg, present

The Metro police bakkie behind me turns left. The silver BMW with its two occupants moves across to the right lane and speeds past. I exhale slowly.

I keep a close watch on the remaining traffic but see nothing suspicious. I drive past my apartment building and back around the block. After the third lap I turn into the basement parking garage and look for an empty spot far from my own.

I take a screwdriver from the toolkit of the silver Mercedes C-Class. Cross over to my own spot, marked A de Klerk, and remove the sign. You never know.

The parking garage is deserted. Most of the residents work long hours and are seldom home. I hurry to the lift, punch in the code, ride up to the seventeenth floor. My penthouse is the only apartment on the top floor.

Angélique Kidjo is blaring over the speakers when I unlock the door and walk in. Hosni is on the dining table, grooming his left paw. Ranna is swaying to the music in the kitchen, her hair wet, a towel wrapped around her body. Her eyes are dark blue, almost violet.

I forgot she’s here. Why did I agree to the visit?

“Hi.” She presses a button and the espresso machine begins to grind the beans noisily, spouting dark liquid into a small cup. “Coffee?” She looks at her wristwatch. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Crow’s?” She adds sugar to the coffee and glances up at me. Puts down the cup.

“What’s wrong, Adriana?”

Did I want her to notice? Maybe I’m getting soft. I shake my head. I must pack and get going. My flight leaves in five hours.

Ranna takes a step towards me. “What’s going on?”

I can’t afford soft. “Nothing.”

I go to the bedroom. I can’t ask her for help. This business could very easily get messy. I begin to take clothes from the cupboards. When I look up, Ranna is in the doorway.

“What on earth has spooked you? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I must get to Cape Town urgently. Stay as long as you wish. Just feed Hosni twice a day, please.” I reconsider. What if Yasen knows about this place? “No, maybe you should rather leave. Would you like to stay at a hotel?”

“Why? I came to see you. How long will you be gone?”

“Long. I can’t explain now.”

I try to push past her to the bathroom, but she grabs my wrist. I forgot how strong she is. All those hours spent outdoors, searching for the perfect news photo, have made her tough.

“Adriana. Talk to me.”

“Let me go.”

Her fingers relax their grip. “Sorry.” She folds her arms. “I’m listening.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Says who?”

“Ranna, I don’t have time to waste. I’m in a hurry.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s going on. Sit down. I’ll make you a cup of coffee and you can tell me what’s bothering you. Maybe I can help.”

I want to argue, yet part of me wants to give in.

“Alex won’t like it if you help me,” I protest.

“He doesn’t have to know. Besides, he’s busy. He’s filed two stories from Syria already.”

“But what if it …”

How do I explain the situation to her? How do I explain my history with Yasen to anyone?

“What if you have to do something illegal to help me? Would you still be willing?”

“Why don’t you let me decide once I’ve heard what’s going on?” She runs her fingers through her damp curls. “I’ve never seen you like this. You’re … you seem afraid.”

Afraid?

I have gone soft. Must be what complacency does to you. And happiness.

“There’s a difference between afraid and focused.”

She looks at me, one eyebrow raised.

“Fine.” I motion towards the guest room. “Get dressed and we’ll talk.”

She vanishes, reappears five minutes later in jeans and a T-shirt, her feet bare.

We sit down at the dining table.

“What do you need?” She flashes me a lopsided grin. “But you know the rules. I won’t kill anyone.”

I straighten my shoulders. “I’ll pay you. You were a bodyguard in India a few years ago, weren’t you? When the cops were after you? What were your rates?”

“I’ve got enough money.”

I change my mind. “No, let’s leave it. I’ll manage.” I get up.

“For goodness’ sake, Adriana, I want to help you. Three years ago you dropped everything to come to my aid when the cops thought I’d murdered those men. I owe you big time.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“You’re my friend, Adriana. A close friend. Do you know what that means?”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ll book you a suite at the Michelangelo.”

She stands in front of me, blocking my way. “Why must you always be so bloody obstinate? What do you need? I want to help you. Why can’t you just accept it?”

I keep silent, still reluctant.

“Adriana. Don’t make me beg.”

My shoulders sag. “All right then.”

I rummage in a kitchen drawer, find a notebook. Write down a name, two addresses and three telephone numbers, and hand her the page.

“Can you keep an eye on this woman? The sooner you start, the better.”

Ranna stares at the paper, surprised. “Just that? That’s all you want?”

“Yes. You and Boris can work in shifts.”

“Will she know we’re there?’

“No. And she mustn’t find out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just look after her, please. Don’t let anything happen to her. It’s all I ask.”

“Fine, I’ll speak to Boris. Can Sarah help us? Her computers can see where we can’t.”

“No need to involve her. I’d like to keep my family out of this.”

“If you say so.”

She reads what I have written. “Elizabeth Fey … You’re going to have to tell me more. Why are we protecting this woman? Who is she?”

I shake my head.

“Okay. What do I do if something happens? Call the cops?”

“Call Boris.”

“Right. Who and what do I have to watch out for?”

“Someone who doesn’t belong, who doesn’t fit in. Someone watching her. I don’t think she’s in danger, but I want to be sure. I’d feel a lot better if I knew you were keeping an eye on her.” I realise it’s the absolute truth. “I can’t say any more. Not about who she is either, so please don’t ask again.”

“You don’t want to say any more,” Ranna says.

“Maybe,” I concede.

“One day you’re going to have to trust someone.”

“What’s this then if it isn’t trust?”

I look at the tall woman in front of me. From a child who shot her father to protect her mother, to ongoing trouble with the cops, to an acclaimed photographer spending her life travelling. How did it happen? How did my life happen?

I know the answer: the unforeseen. Circumstances and consequences. Things no pink-princess fairy tale ever told you could happen.

“Don’t get involved,” I warn her. “If you see anything suspicious, call Boris and get away.”

“Do I shoot if it’s called for? If there’s no other way?”

Ranna has always known how to read between the lines, see the grey between the black and white. That space most people tend to ignore until they have to colour it in themselves.

I take a deep breath, answer carefully, even though I know exactly what she’ll do if someone draws a firearm in her presence.

“Do what’s right. What’s right for you. What keeps you safe.”

“Okay.” She nods. “I will.”

I head for my bedroom, turn at the door. “Please be careful, Ranna. Don’t do anything stupid. I’m certainly not worth it.”