“I agree,” Sam smiled. “I will see if we can set up a meeting sometime soon to discuss the details of the excavation… or… salvage, as you say. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?”
“Absolutely! That would be wonderful, Sam. Thanks so much!” Billy Malgas replied excitedly. After he had hung up the phone, a sudden bolt of uncertain fear pulsed through his veins. His eyes moved over the fixtures in the ceiling above him as he sighed laboriously, “What have you gotten yourself into, Billy?”
“What are you so worried about, Dr. Malgas?” Mieke asked as she brought them both a drink. In the safety of his home office nobody was listening, but still his conscience reprimanded him. He took the mug of fresh Rooibos tea from Mieke.
“It is now official, you know? I am officially obliged to deliver a discovery that does not exist,” he lamented.
“You worry too much, sir,” she assured him. “My friends have already started their dives to plant the necessary markings on the wreck off Bluewater Bay. Even if it comes to light that the wreck is not the one we claim, you will always have the markings on it to show the world why you believed it to be a Nazi boat.”
“I would look like an inept fool,” he countered.
“No, after my friends have placed the relevant artifacts on the sunken vessel, anyone would easily be convinced that it was a ship from World War II,” she reminded him.
“Well, I hope you are right, Mieke. People like Sam Cleave and the likes of him don’t just fall for any old nonsense. My reputation is on the line on so many levels,” he warned her.
Inside, he was looking forward to seeing his old friend again, even if the circumstances were somewhat sordid. But for now, his intentions would have to remain secret.
Chapter 3 — Barter
Cheryl could not jump. No matter how miserable her life was, there was simply too much she still wanted to achieve, and there was no way she was going to throw that away. With her luck, she would end up being a vegetable or worse yet, a woman of sound mind with no use of her legs. On the other hand, surrendering to the men pursuing her would perhaps hold more bad luck. If she were fortunate, they would only kill her. She knew their type well — rapists, torturers, and opportunists who felt no remorse or responsibility for their crimes. How would they? The police and most of the local government were on their payroll.
Zain opened the window next to her. The ledge Cheryl was standing on reached no farther than the edge of the building, making it impossible for her to move away from the window without falling.
“Come now, Cheryl,” he said, peeking from under the bottom frame of the window, which he had slid upward. His voice was clear even in the gusts that impeded her hearing as he coaxed her back inside with the promise that she would not be murdered if she cooperated. “It’s cold and slippery out there,” Zain insisted. “Come inside and we’ll talk like adults, hey?”
She frowned in distrust, “Like you did with Alison? The same way you spoke with Hilary?"
Zain scoffed and shook his head.
“They tried to cut and run, Cheryl,” he told her. “Don’t. Please, don’t do the same.”
He would never admit it, but his stomach churned in remembrance of those women. He had had no choice but to kill them. Contrary to what anyone would think, he had not enjoyed ending their lives one bit. He, too, had a boss who rated his efficiency, and if he failed he would share their fate.
“How many are with you?” she asked.
“Just one other, I swear,” he reported. He stuck his head out as far as he could to add, “But he is harmless unless I tell him to strike. I promise, Cheryl. He is not even worth considering.”
Cheryl Tobias gave it some thought. She tried to keep her mind as clear as possible, but the latest hit of blow had left her too paranoid to regulate her perceptions of danger. She took the drug to keep her awake and alert, but she neglected to cater for the subsequent anxiety that usually followed when she came down.
Eyes wild and unquiet stared down at the thug in the window. He knew she would have to act soon, but he honestly did not care if she decided to jump or not. Cheryl expelled a frustrated cry, her skinny fingers clutching the corner of the window bricks. A moment later she looked at Zain, “Move over. I’m coming in.”
He stepped aside, but not before grasping her wrist in mock-protectiveness from where he planned to control her movements.
Her heart pounded rampantly in her chest, but Cheryl had reached the point where she no longer cared if he was sincere or not. Even if Zain was going to kill her, the drugs made her indifferent and hopefully dampened her pain sensors should he decide to run her through. She watched the two men rapidly exchange looks as he helped her inside.
As she set both feet back on the floor again and slowly brought the window down to lock out the world, Cheryl's eyes welled up with tears. Both her wet eyes and the dirty glass of her window formed a thick shroud that cut her off from any help from the outside world. Now it was final. She had surrendered, and nobody would ever know that she was dead when they dumped her body in the muddy rivers outside Addo’s game reserves for the crocodiles to chomp on.
Sibu was still leaning against the front door when she turned to face him. His face frightened her to the core. She knew that kind of expression only from her meanest clients; the ones who’d beat and raped her. Zain’s face was none the kinder, and for good reason. Baring his white teeth, his left hand came out of nowhere and struck her across the cheek. Cheryl’s small body crashed into her coffee table as the blow shocked her mind into oblivion for a moment. Before she could compose herself, Sibu slapped her from the other side and pushed her head down onto the rug.
“Oh, please God, no! Please! Don’t!” she screamed as she felt her dress being flung over her head. She expected the worst from this all too familiar scenario she had suffered before; back then the police had taken her statement and never followed up on the shocking incident. But nothing happened. In the quiet darkness of the early morning, all she could hear over her sobbing was the hard breath of the male menace holding her down forcefully.
"You remember this? Do you?" Zain shouted from behind her. But Cheryl could not nod with her face firmly pushed to the floor. It felt as if his entire weight pushed her skull down. "If you fuck with us, this is going to happen again. We know about it, yes. Our friends in the police showed us your file.”
Sibu smiled. His voice was calm when he finally said something. “We know exactly what to do to remind you of that night. What were you thinking? You actually thought that the police would waste their time on the rape of a whore? I mean, isn’t it just part of your job to take that shit?”
Zain chuckled, "You have a good point there, Sibu. We could ravage her within an inch of her life, or even kill the bitch, and there would be no questions asked. If we kill her, we won't even have to pay for the… extra.” The two men laughed, but she was in no position to take a stand, so Cheryl just closed her eyes and waited. Her face hurt, but from what she had heard of this kind of men, this was nothing. She had no idea what they were planning.
“Sit down on the couch,” Zain said as he released Cheryl’s head from his furious grip. “Sibu, get the light on.”
“I have no lights,” she said softly.
“What?” Zain asked.
“I don’t have any lights in the flat. Just candles,” she revealed reluctantly, desperate not to provoke them even more. She pointed with a shaky finger to the candles she extinguished shortly before they had come to her door earlier. “I can light them quickly.”
“No!” Zain bellowed. “My associate will light them.”