“Why me? I’m not your fucking maid, man,” Sibu protested, but his more vicious associate gave him a stern glare.
“Because we don’t want the whore to have matches or a lighter in her hand, you fucking idiot!” Zain rasped impatiently. “Or is that too much for you to figure out?”
Sibu shook his head. He had not thought about it, but he was not about to admit it out loud. One by one he lit the white candles, illuminating Cheryl’s home with their warm light. Regrettably that ambiance was filled with terror. She found it strange how the same lighting in the same place usually gave her such serenity and security and now was equivalent to pure fear and imminent death.
“You owe our employer a large sum of money, Cheryl,” Zain started. His beady black eyes looked even more sinister in the candle light as he stared her down. His hands were folded comfortably on his lap, but she knew he was dangerous. "We have provided you with the necessary documents to leave the country, and you have not paid us the balance."
Cheryl was petrified. She wondered if they knew that she had been duped into the whole transaction, or even if they knew — if they would care. Her fingers were tightly entwined, wringing profusely as she rocked slightly in her agitated state, a condition that Zain enjoyed no end.
“I was cheated by a client who made me believe he was going to take care of that,” she explained in a weak voice, rushing her words for fear of being battered before she could state her case.
"We know, but the work is done, and our people are short paid, you see? So that means you have to pay up for your documents, darling, or no border guard will ever recognize that pretty face of yours again,” Zain clarified.
“I don’t have that kind of money. Not in years of working will I be able to get that kind of dough together! How does your boss expect me to…?” she almost raised her voice, not from arrogance, but in absolute disbelief that they could be this unreasonable.
Sibu whistled ominously, reminding her to compose herself. He seated himself next to her and placed his calloused hand on her knee. Cheryl winced as her heart went wild in anticipation of what he was going to do. Zain did not move. There was no order from him to stop Sibu’s intentions and this frightened Cheryl into a place of despondency that prompted her to employ her criminal reserves.
“Wait, I can’t pay you, but I can tell you a secret that would make you very rich,” she offered desperately.
“Oh Christ, just do her and be done with it, Sibu," Zain groaned, obviously not in any mood for tolerance. Sibu's hand slid up under her skirt, and he licked his cracked lips as he inched closer on the sofa.
“I’m serious! Listen to me!” she cried.
“Listen, bitch, if you know a secret that could make us rich, why are you living in a shit hole like this? Huh? Why can’t you pay for your documents? Shouldn’t you be out on a yacht in the Caribbean, then?” Zain asked her in a bellowing roar.
Sibu had a hearty laugh at his colleague’s suggestion, hoping Cheryl had nothing to offer so that he could have his way with her and be done with it. The Cape Malay blood in her veins made her rather stunning, a morsel no man would just kill before sampling first.
"I cannot get to it; that is why!" she moaned through her runny nose, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand while the other hand was deterring Sibu's advances. "It is in a storage room at the university where I used to work! But it belongs to a lecturer there whom I used to help with his research. He was always the one to open the storage. Otherwise, I would have been able to get some stuff for myself already!"
“What’s his name?” Zain asked.
“Dr. Malgas. He keeps ancient treasures that he exchanges with international museums and universities there, I swear! I can take you there, but then you must consider our business done!” she dared to negotiate. Her voice trembled, but her eyes told Zain that she was not lying. For a moment, the educated woman in Cheryl the hooker emerged to direct him truthfully. He motioned for his associate to cease his sexual intimidation, much to Sibu’s disappointment. She knew the price of treachery. He did not have to mention it.
“Take us to Malgas.”
Chapter 4 — The Other Woman
Nina grabbed her laptop and stuffed it hastily into its leather slipcase. With her foot, she kicked her slippers under the bed and zipped up her luggage bag. She was running a bit late, but she still had enough time to make it to Edinburgh to meet up with Dave Purdue. He had offered her a paid assignment to assist him on what he had called a mellow expedition to the east coast of South Africa. Nina had not been to the south in a while and since it was still mostly summer weather there — at least to any Scotsman — she was elated to go this time of year.
Seeing Sam and Purdue was a close second to the climate she was looking forward to, but in all honesty, the historian had little else to do in the next two months while she waited for one of her co-written books to be published. It was a venture she had taken on with another history expert from the Hebrides, but apparently all the fact-checking was delaying the publication. For now she would do well to distance herself from her gloomy hometown and the constant showers that drowned her flowerbeds. This time, Nina decided to take her own car from Oban to Edinburgh and leave it in the safety of Purdue's massive property, his mansion Wrichtishousis.
In the past year, Purdue had beefed up his security considerably since it had been well overdue with the kind of enemies he had made since the ordeal on Deep Sea One bought him far too close to the Order of the Black Sun. Most historians thought that the old Nazi organization had been disbanded long before the 1950’s, but she knew better. Having dealt with the sinister doings of its present day elite society, Nina had long badgered Purdue about getting better security for his estates all over the world. The Black Sun had near-unlimited power, influence and financial reach, which even the likes of even a billionaire like Purdue could not get away from.
Fortunately for Purdue, the organization's presence had significantly diminished since the deadly clash in Venice a while back, although they had made no secret of the fact that their means were far from exhausted. For now the Order of the Black Sun was like a silent watcher, biding its time.
Purdue had implored Nina to make use of his private jet, but she had refused to make such a dramatic journey. Secretly she did not want to talk about her doubts about the safety of his aircraft, about her suspicions concerning any crew, fixed or freelance. Nina had learned not to take anything for granted in the last few years, and that the enemy could strike at any time, in any disguise. Taking her car under the pretense of wanting to visit one or two relatives on the way had been an acceptable excuse. He would probably figure it out, but Nina knew she was less likely to be followed or tracked down in an inconspicuous vehicle than an elaborate private jet of a well-known philanthropist and playboy like Dave Purdue. She had a good three and a half hour drive ahead of her, so she made sure that she did not leave too late. Having a breakdown or flat tire in the dark would be a nightmare, so she left her house shortly after noon so that she would be in Edinburgh in time for dinner with Purdue.
After three hours of driving through Scotland, it started to rain when Nina reached Falkirk. It appeared that the late lunch she had on the way had not been enough. She was famished. She hoped Purdue was in one of his exuberant moods so that he would get his chef to prepare something decadent and fattening for her.
She was not going to be disappointed.
On arrival at Wrichtishousis, she found her host in high spirits, much like the old Purdue. When they first met in the lickspittle circles of Edinburgh’s academic elite, she had hated his constant advances. Back then Nina would never have guessed that they would one day have a history. Having gone through so much together, it had been inevitable that they had grown close.