“How was that ridiculously long drive of yours, Nina?” he smiled as they embraced.
Ignoring his teasing, she reported, “It was alarmingly void of food, I’ll have you know.” Nina sighed, as she looked at the new furniture he had acquired since she last visited. “Thank God I had plenty of cigarettes to work my way through otherwise I may have perished,” she replied as she nodded to the butler who took her luggage upstairs.
“Well, then, let’s not stand around here. My chef has a nice warm meal prepared for the three of us," Purdue grinned with a wink. "Not to mention some 60-year-old Speyside to mark the advent of our latest adventure!"
Nina smiled and allowed him to lead her by the hand into the dining room where the fireplace was alive with a crackling fire and a hint of pine needles. She wondered if Sam was there, but recalled his e-mail stating that he was going to join them only the day after — before they were all to fly to Port Elizabeth. There was a soft mumbling in the dining room, a voice Nina was not familiar with. It certainly was not Sam’s. It was a female voice in a one-sided conversation.
“Good God, I have never seen a woman spend so much time on a phone in my life,” Purdue muttered as his hand gently urged Nina in front of him to enter the room first. “I can’t imagine what she would do without it.”
“Who?” Nina asked as they walked into the lavish room where the delicious scent of roast pork and spiced rice filled the air.
A tall, stylish woman towered on high-heeled boots that made her appear even taller, speaking on her cell phone while looking out the window over the rolling lawn of Purdue's estate. Her jet black hair was tied in a fashionably sleek ponytail and her streamlined curves were accentuated by black pants and a tapered suede jacket. Her maroon embroidered scarf was tied at the side of her neck and draped down like a fox tail over the emerald jacket that strained over her less than natural breasts.
“Crystal Meyer, lawyer and women’s rights activist,” Purdue announced.
Nina frowned at him while the woman kept talking on the phone.
“I was not aware that we still needed advocates for women’s rights, Purdue. What did you do this time?” she jested.
“She does a lot of work in third world countries, but I met her at a fundraiser for medical research in London a few months ago. In fact, it was just after I returned from Lyon, just before you and Sam called me about that unsavory box you got from the university,” he filled her in.
“Medical research on what? Please don’t make me speculate," Nina remarked conceitedly, not at all interested in an answer from Purdue. She made her way to the feast on the long oak table and with a look, she asked Purdue's permission to sample some of the cold meats and raw vegetable snacks. Picking at the snacks while the annoying stranger finished her phone call, Nina silently fumed at the intrusion she had no right to question.
Awkwardly Purdue and Nina stood next to the table, waiting for Crystal so that they could pour some drinks. “Jesus, maybe I should give her a call to ask if she is going to be attending dinner, Purdue. What’s her number?”
“I doubt you’d get past Call Waiting, my dearest,” he chuckled, crunching down on a carrot stick. His expression revealed that it was not his choice of food either.
"She's going to make me light a smoke right here, right now, I swear," Nina threatened.
“Let me see how much longer she thinks it will be," he said, unceremoniously tossing his half eaten carrot stick on the table. It was, after all, his home. His tall, lean frame craned over the unsuspecting woman, and he tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She did not stop talking for a second as she turned her head to face him while Purdue gestured to his watch that it was time for dinner.
Crystal nodded. In her peripheral vision, she noticed the petite, brunette beauty standing at the table, angrily chewing on something. To Nina's amazement, her declared bother in suede smiled kindly at her and waved briefly.
“I have to go, Stan. No, get them to sign the emancipation documents by Monday and call me. I won’t wait any longer. I have —,” she looked at Nina, shaking her head in frustration at the man on the phone. “Dr. Gould is here, Stan. I have to go.”
With this, she ended the call and slipped the phone into her jacket pocket. A sincere smile crossed her face as she walked toward Nina, cordially stretching out her slender hand.
“Dr. Gould,” she said. “It is a great honor to meet you. Crystal Meyer.”
Nina gracefully scooped up a napkin, shook it out of form and elegantly wiped her hands before shaking the woman’s hand.
‘Thank God, for once I didn’t fuck up an introduction by fumbling for a tissue or wiping my damn hand on my shirt like a lumberjack,’ Nina thought to herself behind the perfectly maintained expression of charm she projected.
“Delighted to meet you,” Nina smiled. She could not help but appreciate Crystal’s cordial greeting and the compliment paid to her.
“Now, ladies, shall we have an aperitif before dinner?” Purdue smirked, He always beamed when he was in the company of beautiful women, and the two present blew the notion out of the water. As he went to pour three crystal tumblers of pristine alcohol, Nina sighed.
“Can’t we just eat already? I’m fucking starving.”
She had not realized that she had said it out loud, but Crystal turned to look at her in amusement, “I couldn’t agree more, Dr. Gould. I do not want to get sloshed before lining my stomach. You don’t want to see me drunk!”
“Please call me Nina,” Nina insisted cordially.
“Nina,” Crystal repeated. “You are too right. With how much time we will be spending together we best be on casual terms, right?” Her pale blue eyes glimmered as she winked. Nina was confused. She had been under the impression that Crystal Meyer was just a guest for the day or the weekend. What did she mean by spending time together? For the time being, Nina chose to pretend she knew what was going on and just went along.
“Dave, can we just eat already? I realize I was on the phone for just short of a century, but both Nina and I would like to satisfy our grumbling tummies first," Crystal implored, to which Purdue naturally obliged. Nina noticed that he was as cheerful as she had not seen him in years. Nina recognized his cheerful demeanor as raw as it was back then. He had to have something good in the pipeline, and she could not wait to find out what it was.
“Ladies,” Purdue announced in the cozy atmosphere of the dining room, “please raise your glasses.”
They obliged.
“I would like to propose a toast to our next expedition. To the biggest secret in maritime circles today. May we survive the red dawn to salvage what is lost!” he presented with great ceremony.
His two female companions were astounded, but raised their glasses and with a “hear, hear!” they ignored the eerie announcement.
Chapter 5 — Eavesdropping Faux Pas
Cheryl's captors were apparently men who could stay awake for days on end. After she had disclosed her knowledge of the secret store room at the Port Elizabeth University, they naturally left to investigate her claim in the early morning light, and just as naturally they had forced her to accompany them. Now that they had found her and ascertained that she did not have any means to settle her debt with them, they were not going to take her word on anything.
“The place is closed and guarded at night,” she tried to reason.
“All the better,” Zain said. “Let’s come back tonight then. Let’s see if you are as deceitful as I think, or if you will survive this after all.”
They returned to Cheryl’s flat. They spent most of the day watching bad old VHS movies since she had no cable TV, waiting for the evening when she was to escort them inside for a so-called evening class under the esteemed lecturer she knew so well.
Sibu stuffed his mouth with any food he could find in Cheryl’s tiny fridge — some leftover KFC and a half empty Castle Lager that had gone flat. But he was not picky. Since he could not get his hands on Cheryl yet to exploit her in every evil way he could come up with, he would settle for raiding her limited food supply.
“Not long until sunset," Zain muttered, checking his watch. It was almost 7 pm. In a robotic fashion, focused on the task at hand, he stood up, collected Cheryl from the other seat and flung the frail girl around the place by her arm to rush her along.
“Listen, we will get caught if we go now!” she insisted. “Can’t we just go tonight just after the late classes?”
His massive hand pinched her face hard between his thumb and fingers as he slammed the back of her head against the wall. Zain’s breath filled her nostrils as he sneered, “We go now! And you will make sure security doesn’t stop us.”
Of course, his demand was not particularly fair, but she had to choose between cajoling her way through security or die a horrible death at the tail end of whatever torment the despicable Sibu would expose her to.
"Let me just get my old access card," she told them. "I doubt they would be fooled by it, but it is the only chance we have of getting in without ending up in jail." Cheryl attempted, using her tone, to convey to the two thugs how dangerous the plan was, but they paid no attention to her pleas.
“Go and get the card. I’ll come with you. Sibu, guard the exit,” Zain ordered. He grabbed Cheryl roughly and pushed her through the door.
It was already dark in her bedroom, but she knew her way around. Zain stood leaning against the wall with his gun in his hand, his arms folded in front of his chest as he watched her fumbling through her drawers. Her large double bed was unmade, and her hand-washed lingerie was draped over her lamp, her cupboard door knobs and her dresser. Zain’s dark eyes scrutinized the setting and imagined all the depravities that must have taken place under this lightless ceiling. He looked at the beautiful young woman frantically searching the cluttered contents of old chocolate boxes where she kept her trinkets of fake jewelry and loose buttons, pieces of ribbon and small change.
"Do you like doing this for a living?" he asked suddenly, scrutinizing a bottle of baby oil on her bedside table. After his frown had subsided, he picked up one of her perfume bottles and gave it a sniff.
“No, I hate it. But I had no choice if I wanted to survive,” she snapped at him, ceasing her search for the moment. “Put that down. Please.”
“There are other jobs you could have taken," he remarked, but soon he realized that the common hooker he perceived her as had more self-respect than he thought. She gave him a glare he had never seen in any woman other than his stern mother. Cheryl threw the clump of clothing she still held in her hand to the floor and confronted him fearlessly.
“Like what? Huh? Like what? There is no respectable employer on earth, perhaps except maybe yours, who would stoop to employ a depressed ex-academic who is addicted to drugs! Don’t talk about things you know nothing about, pal! Just stick to toting guns and beating up women!” she shouted.
Despite the fact that Zain was impressed by her retort and found her point remarkably valid, he could never allow her to know that. He briskly walked toward her, grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face into the drawer.
“Do not mouth off to me, bitch. Ever! Get the fucking card and stop stalling!” he sneered. “Or should I get my associate to come and test your professional abilities as a backstreet whore?”
"No," she muttered from the bundle of underwear and stockings in the drawer. He released her and returned to his spot at the door.
"Make it snappy," he said calmly. "If we are too late to make it to the university we will have to take you to our hideout instead. And sweetheart, you don't even want to know how many Sibus there are back at our pad." She gave him a quick glance in her mirror and saw that he was smiling at the thought. It made her sick with worry. If she could not find the card, she was as good as dead. There was no other option for her anymore.
In the drawer below the one she had rummaged through, she found the dark blue access card with her photo, name and staff number next to the emblem of the university. Cheryl took care not to let him know that she had found it before searching the drawer a bit more for something else she vividly recalled having hidden there.
“Your time is running out, Cheryl,” he said impatiently. His voice started her, but just then her index finger and thumb found the edges of the antique push dagger, ironically enough Dr. Malgas had given her for her birthday. Cheryl smiled. It was compact enough to hide in places most men were not accustomed to venture without permission, but she hid it in her cleavage, tucking its holster clip over the bottom of her bra where her breasts met. Zain did not notice that she swiftly placed it there. Her street training in sleight of hand, which she resorted to when she had to steal to eat, now profited her well.
“Let’s go,” she said, far more composed than before. “I have the access card. I just hope they’ll remember me at the gate.”
“Good! Get dressed,” Zain smiled disdainfully. “I’ll stand right here. You’re not shy, are you?”
“No,” she said despondently, getting dressed with her back turned toward him, not because she felt objectified, but because she needed to hide the blade. When she was done, her dark hair was back in a tight ponytail, her makeup impeccable, and her slender body adorned in professional attire. To round off the subterfuge, she placed a pair of fashionable spectacles on her eyes. Zain watched in fascination, as Cheryl slipped her feet into a pair of relatively new black shoes with medium heels. The heels lifted her feet just enough to highlight her well-formed calf muscles and made her look taller, enhancing her posture.
“I just want to put on the table that this is a very bad idea,” she mumbled as she fixed her thin black belt to hug her waist.
“You just have to make sure they let us in. What will you tell them?” Zain asked.