Читать книгу Endgame - Wilna Adriaanse - Страница 10

Ken Visser had an office at the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront. The letters V and E merged in an intricate design to form the logo on the door. Visser Enterprises. Nick had always found it an unimaginative name. Ken was born in Zimbabwe, where his father still lived. There were rumours that he had close ties with the Zimbabwean government and Nick knew there had been a number of transactions with top South African government officials. The Vissers’ original business had been the import and export of game, but it had long since stopped being that simple.

The receptionist said Ken was in a meeting and didn’t want to be disturbed. Nick nodded, but walked past her all the same and knocked on the door displaying Ken’s name.

The young woman jumped up and hurried towards him as if she wanted to stop him from going in. When there was no reply from inside, Nick opened the door and walked in. Ken Visser was sitting behind his desk. Two men sat facing him. Something told Nick he had seen one of them before.

Ken looked up, then leaned back in his chair. “This is a surprise! Unfortunately I don’t have time to chat. Make an appointment and we’ll talk.”

When Nick showed no sign of leaving, Ken looked at the other two.

“Gentlemen, would you please excuse us for a moment? I apologise for the rude interruption.”

When they had left the room, Nick sat down opposite Ken.

“Luckily for you, I’m in a good mood. No one walks into my office uninvited.”

“I’m looking for Enzio. Do you know where he is?”

Ken shook his head. “No. Why are you looking for him here?”

“It’s important that I speak to him.”

“Aren’t you being paid to know where he is?”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Nick asked in turn.

“I don’t know. Wednesday or Thursday, or Saturday night at the club, maybe. It’s not important enough to remember.”

“And when was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Are you deaf, or just slow? How many times do I have to tell you I don’t remember?”

“Do you remember what you talked about the last time you saw him?”

Ken leaned back, folded his arms, and smiled. “This and that, I suppose.”

“I’ve been trying since last night to contact him. If you know where he is, now would be the time to tell me.”

“You’re the one who’s crawled up his arse, not me. Do you mean to tell me you lost him? I wonder what the old man will say.”

Nick had known Ken Visser for long enough to realise he was wasting his breath, that threats would get him nowhere. Ken Visser was no easy prey. He wasn’t afraid of threats. You had to outwit him.

“Where were you last night?” Nick asked, just to goad the man. His response might be interesting.

“At home. Not that it has anything to do with you.” He smiled again. “You can ask my beloved wife if you don’t believe me. We were in bed all night.”

Nick got up and walked to the door. “If that’s the case, I wonder why she’s always complaining.”

“Fuck you, Malherbe. What gives you the right to march in here and interrogate me?”

“Let me know if you hear from Enzio,” Nick said over his shoulder as he left.

“If this is a fucking trick by the two of you so he can get out of his obligations, you’re going to regret it. Tell your boss that. This isn’t the time to play games with me.”

The receptionist gave Nick a dirty look as he went past. The two men who had been with Visser got up and walked back into the office. It suddenly came to Nick 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 more I think of it, the more I tend to agree. If it’s so, Allegretti must have been desperate. I told you he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty. It bothers me that there’s no record of anyone entering or leaving the premises. Allegretti is no fool, but he doesn’t have the savvy to outsmart a security system like this one.”

Nick led Clive through the kitchen, out through the back door and down the alley to the service entrance.

“The lock hasn’t been tampered with. Whoever came in or out had a key.”

“What is this gate used for?”

“The rubbish is taken out here. Rich people don’t like seeing their own trash. It’s also used for deliveries, and Patrice goes in and out this way, as does the cleaner who comes twice a week.”

“Does the cleaner have a key?”

“No, Patrice lets her in.”

Clive looked at the camera aimed at the gate. “And there’s no footage?”

“Nothing suspicious.”

They turned around in silence and walked back to the kitchen. Next they went through the entire house slowly, without touching anything.

When they reached the flat on the lower level, Clive asked if that was where Ellie had lived.

“Yes.” Nick told him about the night the alarm had been activated on the stairs and how she had flatly denied having left her room.

Clive gave a lopsided smile. “It was probably her. She’s very good at her job.”

“How is she?” Nick kept the question as light as possible.

“I don’t have contact with her. As you probably know, she’s on six months’ leave. After she was discharged from the hospital she left the city.”

Nick was about to say he found it strange that they didn’t have contact, but he thought better of it. It was probably not the best idea to tell your new partner that you thought he was lying.

He showed Clive Friday night’s camera footage. Besides the guards doing their rounds, the only movement in and around the house was when he had dropped Allegretti off just before one on Saturday morning.

While they were waiting for the forensic team Nick made coffee and they sat down in the living room.

“Why are some people never content?” Clive wondered aloud.

“Are you satisfied with your life?”

“I could do with more money, sometimes a little more time for myself, occasionally a little more sex.”

“That’s probably exactly how these people feel. Just a little more of everything.”

Clive nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re right, but from where I’m sitting they’ve more or less hit the jackpot.”

“And from where I’m sitting you’re not doing too badly either.”

Clive laughed. “You’ll have to explain how you came to that conclusion.”

“You seem to manage combining family life with this job. How many guys do you know who can say that?”

“Did you find out about me?”

“Don’t we all?”

“I know you were married twice. I don’t know who got the itch every time.”

Nick smiled. “Is it ever that simple?”

Before Clive could reply, the guards called from below to say there were two men who said they were expected.

They whistled in unison as they stepped out of the lift.

“Fu-u-u-ck!”

Nick looked at the two youngsters. When did they start employing schoolkids, or was he just getting old?

“Close your mouths,” Clive said and pointed at Nick. “Colonel Malherbe of Interpol. Phillips and Mossie. As you can see, I’m forced to take appies these days.”

At first glance, the new arrivals could be taken for twins. They were both fair-haired, wore spectacles, were the same height and had the same narrow faces and slight build. The only distinctive feature was the bum fluff on Phillips’s chin.

The three men shook hands. “He asked for us because we’re the best, Colonel.”

“Just Nick, please.”

Both nodded. “Captain Barnard says you have a small problem.”

Nick led the way to Patrice’s flat, filling them in on what happened. Before they went in, the two men donned overcoats, shoe covers and gloves.

“Who’s been in here since the incident?”

“Only the two paramedics and I.”

“For the record we’ll take a sample from all three of you. Anyone else?”

“I kept the door locked.”

They nodded in unison and disappeared into the flat.

Nick turned on his heel and switched the coffee machine back on. He needed to grab something to eat soon.