Читать книгу Blood at Bay - Sue Rabie - Страница 13

David went below and sat down at the saloon table. The upholstered bench seat was still sandy and soiled, but he was too preoccupied to notice. Someone had accused him of theft. Someone thought he was in cahoots with Peter Calder. Why would they think that? And why phone the police and deliberately set them on him? Because they were that desperate to get that piece of paper back. Had it been Maritz himself? Had he phoned the police anonymously with a tip-off on David’s past, and then feigned innocence when the police phoned back to verify the theft of the document? But why? What the hell had been on that piece of paper? And what else would they do to get it back?

David thought about Kathy. If someone suspected him, then they might also suspect Kathy. They must have said as much to the police; otherwise Govender wouldn’t have asked about her. Suddenly, his concern for her surged. He searched for his phone among the cleaning equipment and dialled her number.

He sighed in relief when she answered. “Kathy, it’s me, David. Where are you?”

“I’m just leaving the Calders. What’s wrong?” She could hear it in his voice. “Has something happened?”

“Nothing’s happened. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

He didn’t want to upset her, but he didn’t think it could wait either. What if Govender were to question her? What would Kathy tell Govender about their night together? “I need to speak to you about something,” he told her. “The police have just been to see me.”

“About what?” she asked innocently.

He hesitated, not quite knowing how to put it. “About us,” he told her.

“What about us?”

“Well, I think Inspector Govender thinks we may have, um, spent the night, well, together …”

“Oh,” she said. “I see.”

He waited. She didn’t sound too upset. He wondered what to say next. “I’m sorry,” he told her.

“David,” she reassured, “you don’t have anything to apologise for. We both know nothing happened.”

“Yes, but Govender might think something did, and I didn’t want them to see you in a bad light.”

She laughed. “That’s very gentlemanly of you.”

He frowned, not understanding why she was taking this so lightly. She must have sensed his concern. “Look,” she said, “perhaps we should talk. Where are you?”

He felt his spirits rise. “On the yacht, cleaning up.”

“Well, I finish work at five. Shall I come to you?”

He stood up. “Great,” he said, slightly surprised at his reaction to her suggestion. “The security guard at the gate will let you in,” he told her. He was glad she was coming, that he would see her again, but he was also still worried. “Kathy?” he said, hesitating as he thought about Maritz and the man’s allegations.

“What?” she asked.

“Be careful.”

“Of what?”

“I’m not sure. Has anyone been following you?”

“Following me? What on earth for?”

“I don’t know,” he said, mentally kicking himself. He was making her paranoid. He was making himself paranoid. “Just be careful, that’s all. Lock your car door.”

She sounded more worried when she said goodbye, and David swore at himself. He was being unreasonable, imagining conspiracies based on vague suspicions. But what if they were real? Someone wanted him arrested, had obviously gone onto the internet and read up on what David had done in Boston. They had found out about his criminal record, had used it to get Govender to search his flat. They had questioned Peter, they had tortured him. What had Peter told them? How easy would it be to track either of them down, to find out where they lived? Ms Prinsloo had given Kathy his address, after all. Were they being watched? Even now?

No. He was being neurotic and, by the time the police returned with his keys, he had convinced himself he was imagining things. Van Heerden waited patiently at the security gate and thanked him politely for his time.

“Did you find anything, Sergeant?”

“No, we didn’t,” Van Heerden replied, seemingly without taking offence.

“But we’ll be in touch.”

Which means: don’t leave the country, David told himself as he walked back to the boat. He wondered what to say to Kathy when she arrived, whether to tell her about Maritz’s accusations. It was almost five o’clock and she would be here soon. Should he also tell her the truth about himself? Before she found out who he was and what he had done?

The kitten was waiting for him as be ducked into the saloon. She had woken from a nap and stretched as she greeted him.

“You think I’m paranoid?” he asked her as he ruffled her under the

chin. “You think I’m going over the edge?” The cat suddenly stiffened and looked up.

“Well, someone’s going over the edge,” a menacing voice announced.

David turned. There was a man standing in the companionway, his shadow blocking the sunlight from above.

“Well, well, well. Look what we’ve got here.” The man’s tone wasn’t pleasant, and David stood up cautiously. The kitten vanished through the galley.

“Can I help you?” David offered warily.

The man came down the steps, lowering himself down the companionway with ease.

“I’m sorry,” David tried, this time more forcefully. “Do you mind getting off my boat?”

The man laughed, a short, barking laugh. “Your boat?” He glanced behind him. “You hear that, Bruce?”

There was another man on deck; David could hear him. He could also hear a splintering crack as someone forced open the forward companionway and started down into the chart room. The person swore and there was a savage crash. “Fucking cat!” the man, presumably Bruce, said as he appeared through the galley. He was well built, tall enough to have to stoop in the main saloon to avoid touching the ceiling. He was dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved khaki work shirt. As was the first man. They were both in their mid-thirties, the taller one slightly older.

Bruce smiled at David. His teeth were discoloured from smoking. One front tooth had a gold cap. “Don’t mind us, Mr Roth,” he said with a sarcastic sneer. “We’re just going to fetch some lost property, aren’t we, Thomas?”

The first man, Thomas, smiled. “Won’t be a moment.” He grinned at David, showing perfect teeth. Too perfect. They were caps. He also had a scar on his chin that might have been made by a knife.

For a moment David had a fleeting suspicion that these were the two men who had tortured and murdered Peter Calder; then he realised they might be the two who had brought the yacht down from Richards Bay. Whoever they were, they wanted something, and David instantaneously understood what kind of men they were. Thomas was a brawler, someone who liked to fight with a knife by the looks of it. Bruce was the leader. They were dressed as any worker would be, but underneath they were thugs.

David told himself to keep calm, but they had effectively boxed him in, Thomas covering the companionway and Bruce blocking the passage to the galley. There was no way out. The poop-deck hatch at the back of the saloon was unlocked. But David hadn’t even started cleaning up in there yet, and the skylight that opened out onto the deck was screwed tightly shut.

“Look,” he started, his hand up in a calming gesture, “I don’t want any trouble.”

Bruce nodded. “You won’t get any, so long as you give us what’s ours.”

David gestured to the saloon. “Take whatever you want.”

Bruce smiled. “Why, thank you, Mr Roth.” His voice was dripping with scorn, and Thomas sniggered. “That’s very kind of you.”

Then Bruce’s voice changed. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” David told them defensively.

“Go search the boat, Thomas,” Bruce told his partner. “I’ll keep Mr Roth company.”

Bruce came further into the saloon, allowing Thomas access to the galley. Thomas disappeared forward into the chart room, and immediately David heard the sound of something crashing to the floor, then something tearing, then something breaking.

“Hey!” he objected.

“Sit down,” Bruce ordered. He was very close to David.

Intimidatingly close.

“I’ll stand—” David began.

Bruce placed a large, meaty hand on David’s bare chest and pushed. The saloon table was behind David, and he stumbled against it and fell to the floor. The shock of the attack almost matched the sharp stab of pain as Bruce kicked him in the stomach. David gasped for air as he thumped against the built-in bench. He tried to blot out the pain, tried to breathe, but things suddenly got worse.

Bruce jammed a large scuffed shoe on David’s stomach to hold him down. David tried to shove the foot off, but Bruce stamped down harder and sat down on the bench over him. He placed his other foot on David’s throat, and then bore down on him with both feet, grinning while he sat there. The pain in David’s stomach was suddenly matched by his inability to breathe.

“We’ll just sit here for a while.” Bruce smiled down at him. “Until Thomas gets back. Or did you hide it in here, Mr Roth?” he asked, looking around the saloon. “Is it under a seat? Is it in a cupboard somewhere?”

David didn’t hear him. He was clawing at the shoe at his throat, while at the same time trying to suck air into his lungs.

“I found a cat when I was seven,” Bruce said in an almost conversational tone. “I tied it to a tree and threw firecrackers at it. It never came back.” He grinned down at David sadistically. “Speaking of cats, I see you’ve got a little minx.” He stomped harder on David’s stomach. David grunted and Bruce grinned in satisfaction. “If I catch that fucking cat,” he said, “I’m gonna feed her to the sharks.” He looked up as Thomas entered the saloon. “Well?” he asked, putting more pressure on David’s throat to keep him down. “Did you find it?”

Thomas looked at David trapped against the bench beneath Bruce’s legs and slowly shook his head. “Not yet,” he told his partner.

The foot on David’s stomach was pinning him down, the boot at his throat cutting off his air. One minute he was gasping for breath and then suddenly the pressure was gone. He was released from the bench, precious air gushing into his lungs. It didn’t last. He was hauled up by his arms, a hand gripping his hair, and shoved against the companionway steps with unceremonious force. The air was slammed from him again, and he sagged against the stairs, unable to fight, unable even to hold himself up.

“Mr Roth.” They had him up with his back against the stairs, the wood digging uncomfortably into his shoulders and legs.

“Mr Roth!”

Someone held David’s hair and banged his head against a wooden step behind him. David blinked through the tears of pain. Bruce’s face loomed at him menacingly. “Where is it?”

David coughed and gasped and tried to breathe normally. It was difficult, and Bruce’s bad breath only made things worse. “Where is … what?” he managed to say.

A fist slammed into his stomach. He would have collapsed had they not been holding him up. One on each arm. A hand still in his hair.

Thomas sniggered. “Our property, Mr Roth. Where is it?”

David tried to talk past the pain. “What … prop—?”

The fist slammed into him again. This time into the side of his face. He didn’t see it coming, didn’t anticipate the force of the blow as it caught him high on the cheekbone. He thought he was going to pass out, white stars swirling in his mind. He could feel something warm running down the side of his face; then he tasted blood.

“You better tell us where it is, Mr Roth. Because if you don’t things are going to get nasty.”

David barely had the strength to shake his head.

“He’s fucking with us,” came the angry growl from Thomas. “He has it. He knows where it is.” And then he slipped his hand behind his back and brought out a knife. It was a folding Kershaw, a wicked-looking blade with a rubberised handle. He brought it up to David’s chest, the blade cold against his skin. David held his breath and felt his whole body go numb. And then it turned to ice.

“David?” A woman’s voice, calling from the jetty. “David, are you there?”

Kathy.

The knife was against David’s chest, his arms pinned back and the hand still in his hair. He couldn’t move. He was thinking furiously, imagining what Bruce and Thomas would do to Kathy, how they would use her to make him talk. And because he couldn’t give them what they wanted, they wouldn’t stop. They would go on hurting her, doing God knows what to her.

“David?” she called again. Both Bruce and Thomas looked up as they heard the boarding steps knock against the side of the boat.

David moved. He didn’t have a choice really. It was now or never and he had to get away, had to get to Kathy before they did. He smashed his forehead into Thomas’s nose, feeling the bones in the man’s face break; then he pushed forward with all his might. The knife slid along his sternum. It was a chance he knew he had to take, but he also knew that the bones in his chest would deflect its edge, that no blade would penetrate any vital organs. He didn’t even feel the blade cutting him as he kicked his knee up into Bruce’s crotch. Both men went down.

David was faintly surprised that he’d had the strength to do either, but he didn’t dwell on his success. He turned and began pulling himself up the companionway. He managed to get the top half of his body out before someone grabbed his leg. It was Bruce. David supposed he should have been grateful that it wasn’t the knife-wielding Thomas who recovered first. Without thinking, he lashed out with his free foot and kicked Bruce in the face. The man cried out and went down again, and David scrambled out of the companionway and almost fell into the wheelhouse.

Kathy was there, standing just beside the main mast. She wore a black pencil skirt and was carrying a pair of high heels under her arm.

“David?” She stared at his face and chest in horror as he stumbled to his feet. “You’re bleeding!”

He heard swearing from below, heard Bruce start up the steps while Thomas lurched through the galley to get to the forward companionway to cut him off.

“Kathy!” David rasped. “Get off!”

Bruce’s head and arm appeared from the saloon, his bottom lip smeared red and a bloody gap where his gold-capped tooth had been. Then Thomas barged from the forward companionway, blood streaming from his nose.

“Kathy!” David yelled. “Run!”

She stayed stock-still, staring in horror as the two strangers emerged from below. David swore and lunged for her.

There was no way past Thomas, who was closest to the boarding steps, or past Bruce, who was now almost all the way out of the saloon. There was only one place left to go. David stumbled into Kathy and grabbed her by the arm. “Jump!” he shouted.