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  She looked in the rearview mirror as she drove away and saw him standing motionless for a moment. There had been a lot of gossip when he was appointed her father’s senior and many of her dad’s colleagues had muttered about political quotas and affirmative action. But amid all the grumbling, John McKenna had put out his hand to congratulate Ahmed and assured him of his loyalty. It was the beginning of a unique and very successful relationship. Not that they had always seen eye to eye – for that, they’d been too alike – but they’d had great respect for each other.

  She put the radio on. When she heard the first sounds from her playlist she rolled down the window and turned up the volume.

  “Gonna close my eyes, girl, and watch you go,” she sang along with David Gray. “Send a little prayer out to ya, ’cross the falling dark.”

  At a red traffic light a woman stared at her and for a moment Ellie wanted to stick out her tongue. The woman looked ahead again and Ellie wondered where she was going with her cranky face. Heaven forbid she was on her way to a husband and kids.

  The lights changed. When she turned from Durban Road onto the N1 heading into the city, she put her foot down. The wind plucked at her hair through the open window, blew the words of the song away. Tell the repo man … you’re the one I love.

  “I hate you, John McKenna!” she shouted into the wind. She took a deep breath to ease the painful muscles in her throat. She accelerated some more and did not slow down before she reached the Goodwood off-ramp. She had just turned into Giel Basson Drive when her cellphone started ringing. When she saw it was her mother she considered not answering.

  “I’m nearly home, Mom.”

  “Vera wants to go, but they don’t want to leave me alone. You’d swear I was a criminal.”

  “I’ll only be a few minutes.” She ended the call and dropped the phone in the storage compartment between the two seats. She envied Vera and her husband for being able to leave.

  When she opened the front door, she found her mom and her guests in the sitting room. Vera had her handbag on her lap. Her husband, Pete, was staring at the television screen, where a cricket match was in progress.

  “What kept you?” her mom asked when she caught sight of Ellie.

  “I’m sorry.” Ellie looked at Vera and Pete. “Thanks for staying. Please take some of the food in the fridge. We can’t possibly eat it all.”

  Vera headed for the kitchen without a moment’s hesitation and returned with a stuffed shopping bag.

  Ellie walked them to their car and thanked them again.

  “What are you going to do with her? She can’t be on her own.”

  “She won’t allow anyone to look after her and I have to go back to work.”

  Vera seemed on the point of saying something, but thought better of it and got into the car. When they had driven away, Ellie stood on the pavement for a moment before she reluctantly walked back to the house.

  “Surely I can have a drink now? It’s been a hell of a day, and everyone has had something to drink except me.” Her mom sounded like a petulant child.

  “There are a few things we have to discuss.”

  “Like what?” Her mom licked her lips and Ellie noticed that her hands were shaking. “I don’t need another lecture.”

  “I have to go back to work tomorrow, Mom. And I have to know you’re going to look after yourself.”

  “I’m sixty years old and I’ve always looked after myself. What makes you think I can’t do it now? Everyone thinks he’s the one who looked after me, but he was never here. I used to look after you, you know, and now you think I’m an idiot.” Her mom got up and placed her hands on her hips. “You’re just like him.”

  “Mom …” Ellie felt the weariness dragging her down. “You’ve got to stop drinking so much.”

  “You make it sound like I’m an alcoholic. I haven’t had a drink all bloody day …” Ellie saw her mom averting her eyes, the way she always did when she was lying. “I’ve never told you and your father to stop drinking and, God knows, it’s not as if you don’t drink. But I’m the one who has to stop!”

  “The problem is that you battle to stop once you’ve started.”

  “Oh, crap.” Her mom turned and walked down the passage. Moments later Ellie heard her bedroom door slam shut. She collapsed onto a chair.

  Later, in her bedroom, she took off the black funeral garments one by one. Her mom had refused to wear black, but Ellie had gone shopping for a black dress. No other colour felt right. She hung the dress against the wardrobe door. Stripped off the black underclothes and wished she could strip off her skin the same way. Maybe the new one would be thicker. Her eyes fell on her image in the mirror. For better or for worse, whether you liked it or not, you continued to pass the genes on. She had her mom’s figure. Slender, medium height. Average. Boobs neither big nor small. She was probably a fashion designer’s ideal. More or less in proportion from head to toe. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  But she looked like her dad’s people, and their genes had defined her. Melissa was right. She’d have to get rid of more than her hair colour if she wanted to escape her ancestry.

  A girl got to know herself through the eyes of her father, she had once read. With a mother, there’s sometimes a subtext. But a father’s eyes are gentle. There’s no expectation, only acceptance.

  She put on her pyjamas and got into bed. The bedroom was hers, yet it wasn’t any more. Once upon a time it had been a haven. Now it was just another room in a house where the walls resonated with her sorrow. She curled up under the duvet and closed her eyes. Maybe her mom couldn’t cry either, she thought. Maybe there are certain things you can’t do more than sniff about. But she couldn’t even do that, and the pressure in her chest kept building. After an hour she got up and took the duvet and a pillow out to the stoep. Douglas lay down beside her and she fell asleep at last with the dog’s ear between her fingers.

  CHAPTER 4

  Nick Malherbe took his luggage out the boot, paid the taxi driver and carried his bags to the apartment. The key was with the concierge, as arranged. When he stepped into the spacious foyer, he was reminded of his first visit to the luxurious Bantry Bay apartment.

  He couldn’t help wondering what his late mother would have said about such opulence. She had often warned him and his brother against trumpery. Against bad girls and strong liquor, too. And the devil’s wiles. They hadn’t taken all her warnings to heart.

  He put his luggage in the main bedroom and opened the balcony doors. The sea breeze rushed into the flat, carrying the scent along with it. The late-afternoon sun glinted on the water.

  He had come a long way since that day. Two years ago he could never have dreamed he’d be here today. He was old enough, had been in the job long enough, to know you never achieve half of what you initially plan. But his first boss used to say you only fail the day you stop trying. The younger guys had laughed behind his back every time he said it. They were still hungry, supremely confident. But as the years go by, the confidence takes some knocks, the arrogance gets tempered. One day you discover you’re consoling yourself with small victories, telling yourself at least you’re still trying. It’s not that the hunger is any less. It’s just that you understand your own limitations, and the system’s, so much better.

  The fridge and freezer were stocked. Nick reminded himself to tell the housekeeper he wouldn’t be needing her every day. He didn’t need her at all, actually, but he knew better, by now, than to say so. It would only lead to questions. People like the Allegrettis didn’t understand that you could make your own bed and wash your own dishes.

  He unpacked and was grateful it wasn’t a hotel room. He needed space, even if it was just one or two rooms to move around in. Few things are as frightening as bumping into your own thoughts in the middle of the night.

  He wished he could go for a run. In the past two days he hadn’t had time to exercise for even half an hour and he felt stiff and uncomfortable. For a man who had not paid much he
ed to exercise for most of his life, doing the bare minimum to keep fit, he surprised himself these days. At thirty-eight he was fitter than he had been in a long time. At this point in his life, it was probably exercise or booze or women. Of the three, exercise may not be the most appealing, but it was certainly the safest.

  An hour later he drew up at the gate of a house a few blocks higher up the mountainside, gave his name and waited for the security guard to make a call. His glance took in the enormous house and the wall topped by an electric fence. Automatically he began to search for weak spots. When the gate swung open, he drove through and parked the Range Rover in front of the big garage doors. He remembered Enzio Allegretti boasting that he’d got the house on the mountainside in Bantry Bay for a bargain. Only forty-eight million rand.

  He pressed the doorbell and waited a few seconds before a voice answered.

  “Patrice, it’s Nick.”

  There was a click, and he stepped into the entrance hall. He pressed the lift button, the doors slid open and he stepped into the mirrored interior. He stared at his image. Under the bright lights the grey in his short, dark hair was more noticeable. He ran his hand over his short-cropped hair. He looked drained in this light, and the scar next to his eye seemed to be pulling his eye down even more than usual. On the positive side, he seemed to have shaken off two or three kilos.

  When the doors slid open again, he couldn’t help stopping for a moment, just as he’d done the first time he’d come here. A gigantic room stretched to his left. Clean, straight lines. Light marble floors, floor-to-ceiling foldaway glass doors that opened onto a large patio where a rim-flow pool slipped over the edge of the property. An unrestricted view of the Atlantic. Armchairs and sofas were grouped together to form different seating areas, mostly upholstered in shades of white, with an occasional splash of colour. Against the back wall was a bar counter and large mirrors with shelves displaying bottles of liquor. He couldn’t understand these people’s obsession with mirrors. From how many angles do you want to see yourself? And how many times a day?

  “Nick, my man!” Enzio Allegretti came walking towards him. “What the hell are you doing in Cape Town, and why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I could have had you picked up at the airport.”

  “I wasn’t sure what time my flight was. I took a taxi. And the Range Rover was at the apartment.”

  “Well, what a surprise.” He looked over Nick’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me the old man is here too.”

  “No, I’m alone.”

  Allegretti took Nick’s arm and led him deeper into the room. “In that case, you’re most welcome. I’ve just poured myself a drink.” They went across to the long bar counter, and Allegretti stepped behind it. “What will it be?”

  “Beer.”

  “No, dammit, man, look what I’ve got here.” He pointed at the bottles against the wall.

  “I see you’re stocked, but a beer would go down well right now.”

  In the mirror on the wall Nick saw a man enter behind him. He turned and held out his hand.

  “Patrice, how are you?

  “Very well, sir.”

  “Tell him you like Cape Town.”

  “I like Cape Town, sir.”

  “Tell him it’s much better than Zimbabwe.”

  Patrice touched his head. “Zimbabwe is not so bad, sir. It’s bad at the moment, but maybe it will be good again one day.”

  Allegretti shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath, my man. That place is fucked.”

  Patrice looked at Nick. “Do you have luggage, sir?”

  “Thanks, Patrice, but I’m staying at the apartment.”

  Patrice nodded and left the room.

  “How long will you be staying?” Allegretti asked.

  Nick noticed the hint of a frown between his eyes. So brief that he might have imagined it. He sipped his beer while Allegretti sat down on the other side of the counter.

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “The old man sent you?”

  “He’s worried about last week’s incident.”

  “I told him it was nothing I couldn’t handle. What rumours did he hear?”

  “They’re more than rumours. Shots were fired at your car.”

  The cellphone on the counter rang. Allegretti picked it up and answered.

  “What’s up? No, I’m busy. I’ll call you back.” He put the phone down. “There’s no evidence that I was the target. It could have been an ordinary hijacking.”

  “Or not. What do you know about the shooting at Barkov’s place? Were you involved? Are the two incidents connected? Was it your way of getting back at him?”

  “The shooting at Barkov’s house wasn’t my doing.” He looked past Nick. “Anyway, if they wanted to get me, do you really think anyone’s going to stop them?”

  The phone rang again, but this time Allegretti didn’t answer. He just rejected the call.

  “No, but your father doesn’t want to blame himself later. I’m here to check on your security and make sure you don’t take unnecessary risks.”

  “Does my father realise I’m thirty-six years old?” His voice rose and he refilled his glass. “It pisses me off when he treats me like a child.”

  Nick held up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “If you wanted to, you could convince him I’m old enough to fight my own battles. Hell, the older he gets the more paranoid he becomes.”

  “There’s also the other matter.”

  “What matter?”

  “Nazeem Williams’s niece. Of all the women in Cape Town, Enzio! Was that really necessary?”

  Allegretti swept the glass from the counter. It shattered on the floor. Patrice appeared as if he had been summoned, but Allegretti waved him away.

  Patrice disappeared and Nick heard a door close.

  “How did he find out?”

  “You haven’t exactly been discreet. Your girlfriend likes Twitter and Facebook. We live in the twenty-first century, Enzio. There are very few secrets in the world.”

  “My personal life has fuck-all to do with him.”

  “If you get into bed with a Williams, it’s his business. The two of them have a history.”

  “She’s not a Williams. Her mother is a sister of Williams’s wife.”

  “It doesn’t matter what her last name is. She’s part of his clan, and that makes it complicated.”

  “At times like these I wish I was an orphan. Can’t he just die like other old people? How hard can it be?”

  Nick swung his chair around and looked through the window at the view. The Allegretti heirs always made him grateful that he had no children.

  “I won’t stop seeing her. To tell you the truth, I asked her to move in with me.”

  Nick swung back to face him. “You can’t be serious. Sex is one thing, but why would you want to do that?”

  “Have you seen her?”

  “In photos.”

  “She’s the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen, and I’ve dated a few in my life. And she’s nice. I’m fed up with bitches.”

  “Has she moved in yet?”

  “No. After last week’s incident, Williams has all kinds of objections, but we’re working on him. Don’t ask me how he got to know about it.”

  “Jesus, Enzio. You can really be an idiot when you want to be.”

  “Wait till you see her.”

  “How’s Gabi?”

  “She’ll have an orgasm when she hears you’re in town.”

  “She’s a married woman now.”

  Allegretti threw back his head and laughed. “As if that would stop her. Don’t be so bloody naïve.”

  “While I’m here I’ll take a look at her security as well.”

  “Good luck with that. You know she does exactly as she pleases. And isn’t it her husband’s duty to look after her?”

  “You and Gabi tend to forget that your father still picks up most of your tabs. Surely it gives him the right to make certain demands? He c
ould easily decide to cut you loose, and where would you be then?”

  Allegretti jumped up, opened a drawer and took out a packet of white powder and a small mirror. He shook some of the powder out onto the mirror and cut two lines with a small silver card. He produced a two-hundred-rand note from his pocket, rolled it into a tube and gave Nick an inquiring look. When Nick shook his head, both lines vanished up his nose. He threw the packet, mirror and card back into the drawer, and started pacing up and down.

  “What do you mean, cut us loose? What’s he busy with?”

  “If one of you is a danger to yourself, or is damaging the business, he could decide to bring other people in to help manage it. He could even order you to return to Joburg.”

  “You must be fucking joking!”

  “I’m not saying he’ll do it. I just want you to understand how serious he is. He’s not going to let you become a risk. Not to yourself or the business.”

  Nick saw Allegretti’s gaze intensify, and recognised the symptoms. The bravado would be next.

  “He might think I need him, but he’s the one who needs me. He doesn’t understand that times have changed. He doesn’t know how things work these days. If he’s not careful, I’ll take over the business, with or without his permission.”

  Nick nodded and got to his feet. “I suppose you could.” He picked up the car keys. “He’s old, Enzio. Grant him a few peaceful years. He doesn’t have the energy and passion any more, but don’t underestimate him. There’s nothing wrong with his mind, so don’t try to hide things from him.”

  “That’s one of the reasons why I should take over. He doesn’t have the balls any more. If we’re not careful, we’ll lose our share in the business and no one will take us seriously.”

  “He worked hard and took a lot of risks to make sure you and Gabi wouldn’t have to look over your shoulders one day. Why don’t you just thank him and make a success of the club? You’re right when you say times have changed. There are new players, and very little loyalty. Do you really think you’re a match for guys like Barkov?” Nick took a few steps back and watched as his words hit the right spot. With Enzio, it was just too easy sometimes.