Kerrin hated long-haul overnight flights. He hated the jetlag that hit a few hours after he stepped off the airplane and usually accompanied his every move for the following week.
Over the years he had developed his own theory on how to survive the ravages of international travel. His rules were simple:-
1: Don't sleep on overnight flights.
2: When arriving, do your best to adapt immediately to the local time zone by staying awake until the normal time of the day that you would consider going to sleep.
3: Drink lots of water on the flight.
Staying awake the whole night was the hardest part to do. If he slept, he knew he would feel terrible the next day. If he didn’t sleep, he would just feel very tired. Either way, he would be exhausted.
Tonight though, keeping awake had not been a problem. Although his conversation with the attractive woman in the bar had taken his mind off things a little, he couldn't help but think more about James's death.
It wasn't every day that you found out one of your best friends had been murdered. And it was probably because of Kerrin: if Kerrin had not got him involved, James would still be alive now!
When the cabin crew switched the lights back on, and did their best to wake the sleeping business men and women in as polite and charming a way as possible, he stretched over the empty seat beside him, and lifted the shade on the window, allowing himself to see out and give himself his first glimpse of the African continent.
They were flying parallel to the mainland, several miles out to sea. As Kerrin watched, a golden sun rose, signifying the start of a wonderful cloud free day ahead.
A smiling stewardess brought him a tray with fresh coffee, orange juice and what did its best to look like freshly made scrambled eggs with bacon and tomatoes. Starving, Kerrin wolfed down the contents of the breakfast, and catching the attention of the stewardess asked if there were any possibility of a second helping. She smiled back, returning shortly with a second tray.
Thirty minutes later, the 747 jet flew over Robben Island, the island prison of Nelson Mandela, then turned back towards the mainland, circling the mountain range and massive plateau that is Table Mountain. As he looked out across the cityscape of Cape Town, sprawling across the base of the mountain range, Kerrin couldn't help but feel excitement in his chest. An excitement which was swiftly accompanied by a twang of guilt.
Guilt that he would be exploring Cape Town by himself, without Dana by his side.
And guilt because he could feel such positive emotions, when only a few days before his friend James had been murdered.
A short while later the plane disembarked, the business passengers leaving the aircraft first. As he reached into the overhead locker, Laura made her way past him to the exit. Surprisingly, in spite of the overnight flight, she looked remarkably fresh.
"Good morning, I hope you slept well?" she smiled at him.
"Oh no, I never sleep on overnight flights…and besides I had a lot of reading to catch up with…which reminds me, would you like the book we talked about?" he reached into his bag and offered his copy of "RAGE" to the attractive lady.
She took it gratefully, and flashed him a wide smile, her green eyes twinkling in the bright cabin lights.
"Thanks…I'll look forward to reading it."
As she moved past him, she turned and looked at him once more.
"I hope you have a pleasant stay…you never know, since we're both here for related reasons…maybe we'll bump into each other again?"
"That would be nice, but in case we don't, I hope that you have a fruitful stay." Kerrin replied.
"Thanks, I'm sure I will. I fully intend to. "
Laura smiled at the man one last time. She liked him. More than she should. Sadly though, next time they met, she would probably have to kill him.
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It was almost ten o'clock in the morning before Kerrin had loaded his luggage into the trunk of his white Toyota Corolla at the airport in Cape Town. Instead of taking a cheaper local rental company, he had opted for the more expensive Hertz option, feeling more comfortable in the knowledge that should he break down anywhere in the expansive countryside outside Cape Town, Hertz could arrange for his car to be picked up without any hassle. He didn't like the idea of driving several hundred miles away from Cape Town into the Karoo desert, or breaking down in the mountains, and then finding out it was his responsibility to fix the car and return it to Cape Town. No, for peace of mind he would pay the few extra dollars it cost.
From the airport he took the N2 motorway into Cape Town, already grateful for the air conditioning he had insisted upon there being in the car. Outside the sun was blazing from a cloudless sky and the temperature was creeping up into the thirties. Thankfully a light breeze was blowing in from the east, which would make it more bearable when outside the car.
He was heading into the town centre. On the plane he'd had a chance to read a section from the "Lonely Planet Guide to South Africa", and following its suggestion he had decided to have lunch in the wharf area of Cape Town harbour. He would give himself a few hours to do a spot of sightseeing, then in the afternoon he was going to head out along the coast road to Langebaan. According to the map it was about three hours drive from Cape Town, and hopefully he would get there about six o'clock, giving him enough time to find a hotel somewhere.
He had agreed to meet Alex Swinton in two days time, but Kerrin was going to do his best to find him either later that night or the next day. He wanted to try and reach him as soon as possible.
The N2 petered out, and scanning the overhead motorway signs, Kerrin managed to follow the roads down to the back of the harbour.
The car-park bordered the wharf area, which consisted of a large modern shopping complex and a number of old boathouses which had been converted into shops, bars and restaurants. Walking through the shopping mall, Kerrin came out onto the quayside, where directly in front of him a large number of fishing boats, pleasure craft and tourist ferries huddled and rocked together in the water of a large harbour.
On the right hand side the skyline was dominated by the awesome and magnificent panorama of Table Mountain. The mountain rose steeply from the bay beneath, sheer cliffs a thousand feet tall rising to a plateau, which looked as flat as the top of a kitchen table. From where he stood he could see a cable car making its way up the side of the cliff.
The mountain range of which Table Mountain was a part, ran along Kerrin's right hand side, stretching along the coastline as far as he could see.
To his left, large cargo ships blocked the view of the ocean, but the smell of the sea beyond filled his nostrils. Squawking seagulls chased the fishing boats returning from a day at sea, and some seals swam amongst the boats in the harbour and basked on one of the harbour walls.
The air was filled with the sound of people laughing and having fun, and the water was alive with the reflections of the boats and the colourful marine buildings bordering the harbour.
His senses thrilled to it all, and Kerrin was lost in the moment. What a place!
All thoughts of the reason he was here were momentarily forgotten, and for a few minutes Kerrin was a tourist, seeing a beautiful new city through the eyes of a traveller. If only his wife Dana had been here to share the experience with him. It was incredible.
He walked along the edge of the quayside, admiring the boats in the harbour, and sharing the excitement of the tourists milling around the dock. He had wandered for an hour before he realised how hungry he was, and then he followed the smell of pizza to one of the many pavement restaurants overlooking the harbour. He ordered a large cold 'Castle' lager, and a Four Seasons pizza, and settled down in his seat in the sunshine, studying the view of the mountain above.
This was the life.
The drive to Langebaan was interesting, although almost disappointingly the massive mountains that formed such a dramatic backdrop to Cape Town slowly began to drop behind him and diminish in size. So
on he was just driving through flat, featureless countryside devoid of houses or farms.
The tarmac road ran on for miles straight ahead, green and brown bushes, called 'fynbos' by the locals, covering the otherwise barren ground on either side. Occasionally Kerrin got a glimpse of the sea, and every now and again he could see seagulls swooping down low to pick up scraps from the road.
About three hours after he had left Cape Town he drove through a small group of buildings which formed the town of Langebaan. After passing through the town Kerrin circled round and drove back into the centre of the main street, stopping in front of what was obviously the only hotel in town.
He parked, and stepped out of the car. A wall of heat hit him broadside and he suddenly understood why the main street was deserted. Everyone with any sense was hiding inside the air conditioned buildings. He stretched, walked round to the back of the car and pulled out his suitcase and hand luggage.
From outside, the hotel didn't appear to be anything special, but walking through the door into the air-conditioned reception area, he was pleasantly surprised by the tasteful interior. The hotel had a homely feel to it, with a distinct Dutch influence immediately apparent in the choice of décor. There was a bar, and a restaurant on the left which spilled out on to an open veranda overlooking the main street, and on the right there was a spacious lounge. From the hall, a sweeping staircase led up to the three floors above. Before entering, the hotel had appeared deceptively small and cramped, yet once inside, it was spacious and relaxed. Kerrin realised that several of the buildings on either side of the original façade must have been absorbed into the hotel. The biggest building in town, Kerrin guessed that this place was probably the hub of the community, the bar beside the restaurant probably the only one in town.
"Good day, may I help you sir?"
A young lady asked, stepping out from the restaurant to behind the reception desk at the base of the staircase. Kerrin was struck by her beautiful blue eyes and her long blonde hair. He guessed she was about twenty three years of age.
"Yes, I hope so. I was wondering if you have a room for a couple of days?"
"I believe we do. You're lucky though, at this time of the year we are normally quite full."
She smiled at Kerrin and typed a few things on a computer keyboard, scanning the screen as if making the choice of a room.
"Is it just for yourself? Would a single room be okay? No smoking? Okay, and for how many nights would that be sir?"
"Two nights for now, please."
"May I see your passport for a moment please sir?" she asked politely, taking it from Kerrin's outstretched hand and typing the passport number into the computer.
"There you are, sir…" she said, pulling down a key from the board behind her. "Room 348. Breakfast is included in the price, and is served between 8 a.m. and 10 a.m. in the restaurant… would there be anything else I can help you with sir?" she smiled again.
Kerrin hesitated, then bent down and unzipped the sports bag he had used as his hand luggage on the plane. He reached inside and pulled out the postcard from Alex Swinton from an inside pocket. He straightened up and showed the woman behind the desk the picture on the front of the card.
"Actually, I'm a journalist from America, I've come here to do a story on windsurfing in the Cape. I'm meant to be meeting one of my friends here, at the entrance to this park…can you tell me where it is?"
The woman looked at the card and smiled.
"It's not far from here. You just keep going out of town, and after about four miles, on the left you will come to a tarmacked road which will take you down a dirt track to the entrance gate of the park…it’s about ten minutes tops."
"Thanks." Then just as he was turning to go up to his room, Kerrin added as an afterthought. "My friend is called Alex Swinton…I don't suppose he's staying in this hotel is he?"
Since this was the only hotel in town, perhaps Kerrin would be lucky.
A moment later the woman looked up from the computer.
"No, I'm sorry…there's no one here by that name, but if he's in town for the surfing, I would suggest you try Old Ronnie's down by the beach. In about an hour's time the light will start to go, and the surfers will come off the waves, change and head for a beer…maybe you'll find him there."
"Could you tell me where it is?" Kerrin asked.
"Sure…let me draw you a little map…"
Kerrin felt refreshed. The shower in his room was powerful, and cool, and the water had invigorated him and washed away the fatigue of travelling half way round the world. His poor, confused body clock, struggling to adjust to the new time zone, was quickly filled with a flood of unexpected energy. Although the evening was coming on fast, he felt like it was only the beginning of the afternoon.
His stomach on the other hand was completely lost. It didn’t know if it was breakfast, lunch or dinnertime. In the end it had just shut down, and now Kerrin didn’t feel the slightest bit hungry.
He followed the map the receptionist had given him until he came to the spot where the smooth tarmac stopped and where a sign pointed to the 'Langebaan National Reserve', where he turned and drove his rental car through an open, unattended entrance gate and down a sandy, dirt-track road towards the beach. The road wound around a number of small sand dunes, then dipped down and came out into a small parking area surrounded by large bushes. As he stepped out of the car, he could hear the sound of surf crashing onto the beach, and following the sound he came out onto a wide, clean, white beach that ran in both directions as far as the eye could see. Beyond the line of surf the sea was calm and still. The sun was beginning to set, and its orange reflection stretched out across the surface of the sea from the edge of the surf line towards the horizon.
A few, wet-suit clad youngsters were just emerging from the waves, carrying their sails and boards from the surf. A few yards away a group of excited people sat around on rough wooden benches in front of a buzzing beach bar, the tops of their wetsuits rolled down to their waists. The sand around them was dotted with windsurfing equipment and a row of tall, colourful sails stood in a rack in the lee of the wooden building. Some of the people threw Kerrin a cursory glance, but quickly got back to their conversations, excitedly discussing the day's windsurfing.
Kerrin slipped off his shoes, letting his toes dig deep into the sand, and stood silently in awe of the sunset. He breathed the salt air deeply into his lungs and exhaled slowly.
It was a far cry from Miami and Washington, and the deaths he had come here to investigate.
A far cry indeed.
"Kerrin? …Is that you?"
A man stood up on the far side of the beach bar crowd, and walked towards him, beer in hand. At first Kerrin didn't recognise him. His hair was bedraggled and still wet, his blue wetsuit gathered round his waist exposing a muscular, hairy chest. The man came towards him with his hand stretched out, and as Kerrin took it in his, the stranger wrapped him into a powerful bear hug.
"Kerrin…it's good to see you man! How did you find me?"
Kerrin was taken aback by the sudden show of affection from the stranger, and stepping back quickly, he looked him in the face. About five-foot-six, a squat-muscular frame, and thick biceps, his hair had been dyed blonde, and he had shaved off his beard. But now he was closer up, Kerrin recognised him.
He had found Alex Swinton.
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It was an incredible view. The vista that stretched out before them took her breath away. It was a beautiful day and from the top of Table Mountain, Laura could see for miles. She was leaning over the wall just outside the top cable car station, and from where she stood she could see right over the edge of the cliff.
The cliffs of the mountain fell vertically beneath her for a thousand feet, before it hit the sloping ground, which then rolled down towards the bay of Cape Town at an angle of about forty-five degrees.
As she looked over the edge she felt a strange and sudden twinge in the pit of her stomach
: the height and the sheer cliffs repulsed her from the edge, and yet simultaneously drew her towards it, and for a second she experienced a bizarre urge to climb on top of the wall and jump over the edge.
She pushed back with her arms from the top of the wall, and took her eyes from the dizzy fall beneath her.
Cape Town, or Kap Stadt as the locals called it, lay stretched out in the bay beneath her. The city fitted into a natural amphitheatre, a curved bowl surrounded by a wall of stone and mountain, the harbour area being where the stage should be.
On the left as she looked out to sea, the city was bordered by a large hill rising to a sharp point, called the Lion's Head. Beyond the foothills of Table Mountain on the right, the vista was a stark contrast, with flat land stretching out as far as the eye could see, bordered by a broad silver line of sand running along the edge of the coastline.
Turning to look behind her, she could see that Table Mountain ran flat for several miles before it started to rise and fall in a line of mountains which eventually petered out into the sea in the famous Cape Point, the most southern part of the African Continent.
On her left beyond the Lion's Head, her eyes followed a range of hills, which her map told her were called the 'Twelve Apostles' and led to a famous fishing village called 'Hout Bay'. Beyond that lay another peninsula and miles of golden sands.
The sea extended around her on three sides, the land only continuing to the North on her right.
The man beside her pointed to the flat land in the distance.
"That's where we're going next. Langebaan is about three hours drive over there…"
At first she had found his South African accent quite hard to understand, but after fifteen minutes she had begun to understand him a bit easier. Dirk Van Der Waal was an impressive man. Reliable, strong, intelligent and deadly. He was the leader of the in-country team that she had been using to track down Alex Swinton. She had never met him before, but when she stepped out of the cable car at the top of the mountain, she spotted him instantly beside the look-out point opposite the exit, their prearranged meeting point.
She had studied his file several times before she had flown out, and she knew he could be counted on should the situation get ugly. His team were mainly made up of South African ex-army or air force. Before being recruited as an FBI Overseas Agent, Dirk had spent several years in Namibia, Angola and Zimbabwe. He had served for two years in the South African equivalent of the UK's Special Air Services and his file showed that he had led many interesting and dangerous covert expeditions in the days leading up to the end of Apartheid in South Africa. Impressive was not the word.
In real life, he was even more handsome than the large photographs in his file. When Laura shook hands with him for the first time, she felt irresistibly drawn to the man before her. Over six foot tall, blonde and blue eyed, Laura could easily make out his powerful muscular body beneath his loose fitting T-shirt and long, green trousers. He oozed sex appeal, and Laura knew that his looks were just another of the many weapons that Dirk had mastered over the years.
"Make no mistake about it Laura," she told herself. "This man's a killer. He would eat you up and spit you out before breakfast!"
She found the idea strangely appealing.
"Did you bring the weapons?"
"Yes, as requested. They're in the van. Don't worry. Johan is guarding them."
"Excellent. Let's get going then. It's important that we get to Langebaan as soon as we can. Kerrin Graham came in on the same flight as me. He's not meant to meet Alex Swinton for another two days, but I'll bet your bottom dollar that he's headed straight out there now, hoping to find Swinton as soon as possible. We have to get there first. We've already wasted six hours by meeting up here. We should have met there."
"I'm sorry, Agent Samuels, but we didn't know until last night that you were coming, and we couldn't take the risk of meeting in town…"
"Don't call me 'Agent'. Call me Laura, and I'll call you Dirk."
"As you wish. Okay, then let's go. I took the liberty of sending my colleague Marieke ahead of us to Langebaan. She'll be there now, trying to locate Swinton before we get there. If he's there at all. Most likely he won't turn up for another two days…"
"No Dirk, that's where you're wrong. My gut instinct tells me the guy's there now. I'll bet you that even as we speak he's out there windsurfing in the sea. I hope he enjoys it, because with any luck today will be his last time. Our orders are to terminate him. Officially this is a Code Green Operation. Once it’s over, it never happened. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Laura. I understand."
As Laura looked at Dirk, she saw that he was smiling, and she recognised the look in his eyes. Laura had never admitted it to anyone before, but she got a thrill, almost sexual, whenever she pulled the trigger on a gun and ended someone's life. From the way Dirk's eyes suddenly glistened at the mention of their mission, it would seem that he and she were the same. They both enjoyed to kill.
Chapter 22
Langebaan Bay
South Africa