Black Magic Woman (26 page)

Several residents of the township, who did not wish to be identified by name, said that Mr. Lekota was believed to be a "tagati," or practitioner of black magic. Residents say he was alleged to have been responsible for several murders in recent years, all using magic as a means.

The question of why local sentiment seemed to turn against Mr. Lekota only recently has not yet been answered to the satisfaction of investigating officers.

Rumours that a white male was part of the mob that killed Mister Lekota are being discounted by police as unsubstantiated and highly unlikely.

The murder by mobs of alleged "witches," usually using the method known as "necklacing," has been an unfortunate aspect of life in the country's black townships for many years. A police spokesman said today that…

"Sergeant Shemba is his name. And we both consider ourselves to be 'African cops,'" Van Dreenan said mildly.

Foley made an impatient gesture. "Whatever. The two of you went out there and killed this guy? Burned him alive?"

"I said no such thing, Fenton. A mob killed Jerome Lekota. Just as the newspapers said."

"But you and this Sergeant Shemba, you got them stirred up."

"Did we? Even if such were the case, I would not burden your sense of professional responsibility with such an admission."

"Yeah, but you're a—"

"Fenton, as you sometimes say, give it a rest. Whatever happened out there, it is outside your jurisdiction, beyond your responsibility, and, in any case, long over with."

"Then what the fuck did you bring it up for?"

"Now you are being deliberately obtuse. Stop it, please. You know why I brought it up."

Fenton angrily swiveled his chair so that it faced the window. He looked out for several seconds, and did not appear pleased by what he saw. Without turning back, he said to Van Dreenan, "Yeah, I guess I know why. You think this voodoo shit is real."

"It is not voodoo,
per se.
In any case, I am not presuming to say what is and is not real. I tell you only what I have seen with my own eyes."

"Yeah, right." Fenton was still not enjoying the view.

"The experience which I have related to you was my first with… such matters. It was by no means the last."

Van Dreenan sat and waited. Eventually, Fenton turned his chair back around. Most of the anger was gone from his face now. "The business with this Lekota guy, it that what got you into the Occult Crimes Unit?"

"I applied to join shortly afterwards, yes. Look, Fenton, the members of the Occult Crime Unit are not a bunch of superstitious 'ghostbusters,' although the tabloid newspapers like to use that term. As I told you the day I arrived here, we are experienced, hardheaded police officers. The principal difference between us and the average member of the South African Police Forces is that we try to keep open minds—to let the evidence determine our beliefs, not the other way around."

Fenton came up with the ghost of a wry smile. "Must've required quite an adjustment."

"You can have no idea. I was raised in the Dutch Reformed Church, Fenton, and compared to them, your Christian Right over here are a lot of timid, liberal agnostics. But I reached the point where I had to make a choice—between what I had been taught, and what I had seen." Van Dreenan's big shoulders twitched in a shrug. "I chose the latter."

Fenton nodded slowly. "An open mind, you say."

"That is all that is necessary, I think."

"Let's say I'm willing to try for this open-mindedness we're talking about. That doesn't mean I'm going to just stand by and let you administer vigilante justice to a couple of criminal suspects in this country—if we can even catch the motherfuckers."

Van Dreenan spread his hands. "I never thought you would. Or indeed, should."

"All right, then."

"But that is why we must be ready to move quickly when— if—we receive word of a fifth child murder."

"Hard to move fast when the whole damn country is the target zone."

Van Dreenan rubbed his chin. "Not the whole country, I think. They could have gone anywhere, thanks to your marvelous highway system, but they have chosen to stay in the East."

"Maybe they're just lazy."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No," Fenton said after a moment. "I guess I don't."

"There is a reason why they are staying in this part of the United States. It is probably tied in with the purpose behind these
muti
murders."

"I thought you said she's doing it to gain magical power."

"Yes, but why here? If all she wanted was the power, she could have—" Van Dreenan's voice caught for a moment, "she could have committed these atrocities in South Africa. But she made a long, expensive journey to an unfamiliar country. There must be a reason. And I'll wager that it is the same reason she and her associate are remaining in the East."

"All right, assume that's the case. I can put out an alert online to all police departments in, say, a twelve-state area. I can request to be notified immediately if a child's body is found, matching the details we have for the other victims."

"Ja,
that will help. And once we hear something, we must be able to get to the scene quickly. Can you have a helicopter standing by? On the roof of this building, perhaps?"

"Jesus, do you know how much money that's gonna cost? To have a chopper just sitting there, idle, maybe for days?"

"Do you not think it will be money well spent?"

"Of course I do, but, shit, it's not my money to control. My boss will have to authorize it, and probably clear it with
his
boss, and budgets are tight these days, especially for anything that doesn't have to do with terrorism."

"This is terrorism of the very worst kind, my friend."

"You know that, and I know that, but my boss doesn't."

"Then you should explain it to him. Ask him to visualize the positive publicity, if the Bureau should succeed in bringing two serial killers, murderers of children, to justice."

Fenton chewed his lower lip. "Yeah, that might get his attention."

"You might further suggest he imagine the intensely
negative
publicity that would result if it should become known that the FBI had the opportunity to apprehend such vicious criminals, and did not take it."

"If I leaked something like that, my career would be over. I know it, and they
know
I know it."

"Ja,
probably so," Van Dreenan said. "But if
I
leaked it,
my
career would
not
be over."

A slow grin made its way across Fenton's face. He turned his chair and picked up the nearby telephone. "Let me see what I can do."

She made a snorting sound. "I am not going to walk past those assholes in your suite when I'm leaving. Uh-uh." She made her voice deeper and husky. "Hey baby, how about sloppy seconds? Show you what a
real
man can do."

"I took care of that, just like I told you. I made it real clear to Mitch that I was gonna kick his ass from here to Providence, he ever talked to you like that again. He knows I'll do it, too."

The sign they had just passed read "County Reservoir, 1/4 Mile."

"Fine. So now him and the other two jerks can just give me those shit-ass grins as I walk past. I don't think so."

"Okay, okay. Hey, this looks like a nice spot, huh? Real quiet, moon shining on the water and stuff. Kinda romantic, dontcha think?" He brought the car to a slow stop and turned off the engine.

Marcie gave serious consideration to just calling the whole thing off and making Tommy drive them back to campus. There was a movie showing at the Student Union that she'd wanted to see when it first came out, or maybe she and Tommy could go to the Rathskeller, have a few beers, and dance instead. But then she thought about the way Tommy's big cock felt inside her, and the things he could do with his tongue…

"Turn on the radio, not too loud," she said. "I always liked that, in high school."

"Sure is," Snake said. "A whole damn reservoir full of it— least, there was this afternoon, and I don't figure they drained it since then. Nice and quiet, too. Nobody hardly comes up here at all, far as I can tell."

"All is very well, then," she said. It was the closest thing to a compliment she had ever paid him.

Snake went back to listening to Jerry Jeff Walker in concert, a show that he alone could hear. He was quietly relieved that his job was almost over. After four deaths, soon to be five, even he was starting to get sick of the constant smell of blood in his nostrils.

"Tommy!" she whispered urgently.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Car!"

"Oh, fuck goddammit shit!"

He squirmed up past the steering wheel and looked out through the windshield. The other car had come to a stop on the opposite side of the reservoir, maybe 300 feet away. It was parked at an angle, so its headlights did not shine directly toward them.

"Cops, do you think?" Marcie asked.

"I dunno. If it is, he hasn't got his red lights going."

"How the hell did he get up here? He didn't pass us!"

"There's another road up, from the Cranston side. Must've come up that way."

"And how do you know about that?" she asked archly. "Brought a lot of girls up here, did you?"

"A bunch of us guys used to swim in the reservoir during the summers, all right? Jeez!"

Marcie looked over at the headlights again. "Why's he just stopped there?"

"Maybe it's a couple, came up here for the same reason we did, before we got so rudely interrupted." He started to slide his hand up her bare thigh.

"Stop it!" The sudden appearance of the other car, along with the fear of imminent arrest, had been like a bucket of cold water thrown on Marcie's libido. "If they came up here to fool around, then why keep the lights on?"

"Beats the shit out of me," Tommy said, irritation creeping into his voice. "Look, why don't we just—"

"Somebody just walked in front of the lights. See? And now another one. There's two people over there, Tommy. What the hell are they doing, this time of night?"

"Maybe they want to get busy outside, instead of in their car. Who cares? Speaking of getting busy—"

"In the wet grass? It rained most of the day."

With an effort, Tommy managed to sound patient as he said, "Could be they brought a blanket, or something. Marcie, come on. Forget about those—"

Then the awful screaming started from across the reservoir. Tommy Hambledon didn't know it yet, but it was a sound that was going to haunt his nightmares for a long time to come.