The Disappeared (37 page)

‘I know, baby.
It’s crazy. But remember, it’s only a theory.’

‘I don’t
understand. Why are we still alive? Shouldn’t we be dead? Just like everyone
else.’

‘We don’t know
they’re dead, Josh. And yes. We are alive. I mean, isn’t that something? At
least we’re alive. That means we can
stay
alive. And get out of here.
Right?’ She stared at Joshua with intense burning eyes. ‘You’re a fighter,
Josh. Everything about you says that. So come. Let’s do this together. Let’s
beat this ... crazy damn thing together. Okay?’

Joshua nodded
slowly. ‘I’m sorry. I lost it for a bit. I’m used to bullies and cops. Not
frikking psycho towns and ... chemical weapons.’ He grabbed Lindiwe. ‘Lindiwe,
you gotta get me outta here. Please. I don’t wanna die like an animal in a
cage.’

‘No-one’s
gonna die. We got this far. We’ll get out. Together. Alive. And I will get you
out. I promise.’ Joshua nodded. ‘I promise baby.’ Lindiwe turned towards the hallway,
thinking of the big task that lay ahead of her. She inhaled deeply. She turned
to Joshua. ‘I’m going to go and speak to Inspector Coetzee. Wish me luck.’ Josh
nodded. She stroked his cheek and made to go. Suddenly Joshua grabbed her. He
pulled her towards him. Roughly. He grabbed her head. Shoved her face into his.
And kissed her hard. She stiffened. And then relaxed. A fiery warmth swept up
from the pit of her stomach. And engulfed her.

Oh God. It
had been so long.

Through the
bars she embraced all of him. Swept him up in her. And lost herself in the heat
of the moment. ‘I’ll get you out. I promise you I will.’ Her voice was hoarse. And
sounded far away.

‘I know you
will.’

Coetzee rubbed
his temples with his fists. For the first time in more than ten years he felt
like a drink. Not just any drink. A four finger
dop.
Straight up. And
straight down. He looked over at Stoffel who was sprawled over the bar counter
happily comatose. Lucky son of a bitch. Even amidst all the noise and shouting
he was blissfully passed out and unaware.

Duggan had
just finished his showpiece. And now a dozen different voices were shouting to
be heard.

‘Chemical
warfare?’

‘What do you
mean an accident?’

‘Why aren’t we
dead?’

‘Where’s your
proof?’

One of the
loudest voices was Piet Ryneke. He was almost embracing Duggan. A terrified
look on his face. Coetzee sat down on a barstool next to the implacably happy
Stoffel van der Merwe. One or two of the town’s residents were staring over at the
Inspector, looking for answers. But he had none. And for now. Just for now.
Just for a few minutes he didn’t want to pretend that he had any. Just for a
little while he wanted to be as scared and clueless and hopeless as the rest of
them.

‘This is
preposterous.’

Duggan was
doing his best to deal with all the questions and the objections. Coetzee didn’t
care. Nothing a computer geek could say would possibly make him feel better.
Collie ran towards Duggan and the group of men. He was trying to make himself
heard. With little success. He was prancing around like the little ineffectual
man he was. Coetzee was almost amused. And then.

Collie grabbed
a wooden chair and smashed it onto the table around which the men were
congregated. Duggan jumped half a metre into the air. There was silence as
everyone stared at the diminutive man.

‘Hey! Guys! We’re
forgetting something.’

Jones stared
at Collie in distaste. ‘Was that really necessary?’

‘Hey, shut the
fuck up, dickhead. Okay.’ Collie turned to face the crowd. ‘We don’t have to
rely on his word,’ he said pointing to Duggan. ‘Coz we have one of those
Obsidian bastards right here.’ There was a puzzled silence. Duggan and Thabo
looked at each other. Most of the townspeople simply frowned at Collie. He
sighed in exasperation. ‘That Visser oke. He’s in the toilets. He’s a manager
there, isn’t he?’ The light bulb clicked on. And comprehension flashed across a
dozen faces. Everyone turned towards the bathrooms. Suddenly there was cold
menace in the air.

Coetzee saw
instantly what was happening. He had to stop this now. Or there would be a
lynching in the main street of Bishop. He jumped up. ‘Everyone, relax. I’ll
take care of this.’ He motioned for Collie with his head. ‘Collie.’ Collie
quickly crossed the distance and stood before Coetzee. ‘Where’s Jansen,’
Coetzee asked looking around. Once again his deputy was missing.

Collie looked
around. ‘I don’t know, boss.’

‘Never mind.’
Coetzee motioned for Collie to stand on the left hand side of the doorway that
led to the bathrooms. He pulled his gun from its holster. Some of the women
gasped. Moira, who was standing closest to Coetzee, moved away and crouched
behind the counter. Others also moved away melting into the background. Coetzee
approached the door. He cupped his hand around his mouth. ‘Robert!’ He waited a
few moments. ‘Robert. We want to speak to you. Please come out so we can speak
to you. Nothing will happen to you. I –’

The door
violently flung open. Kicked from the other side. Several women screamed. Moira
disappeared completely behind the counter. Piet Ryneke neatly jumped into a
booth.

Robert John
Visser was standing in the opening. Framed by the doorway with its wooden door
hanging crookedly from its broken hinges. He was clinging to a gun with both
hands. Shaking uncontrollably. Coetzee swallowed hard. The only thing more
dangerous than a capable gunman ... was an incompetent one. He had his own gun
trained on Visser. To his relief his own hand was steady and rock-solid. Visser
wiped his nose with one hand. And sniffed. Long and deep.

Bliksem!

Coetzee had
seen it enough times to know it. The sure signs of the Cocaine user. The
sniffing. The crazy darting eyes. The dilated pupils. And the insane hyper
tension. A dangerous situation had just become potentially deadly.

‘Robert.’
Coetzee tried his level best to maintain a soothing and relaxed tone. ‘Relax.
No-one here wants to hurt you. I will make sure of that.’ Coetzee took a small
step forward. Visser stiffened. Coetzee met Collie’s eyes. With an almost
imperceptible motion he made small downward motions with his left hand. Telling
Collie to stand down. As long as Visser wasn’t aware of Collie’s presence mere
centimetres away from him, they had the upper hand. ‘Robert, you’ve done
nothing wrong,
oraait
? Just give me the gun and we can resolve this
matter like civilised people.’

‘Don’t you
fucking touch me. Don’t you fucking touch me. I will kill every single last one
of you.’ Visser was screaming like a madman. Like a cornered animal, his face
was contorted into a mask of rage and fear. Out of the corner of his eye
Coetzee saw Jones slipping out of the Abbot’s front door. Everyone else was
frozen in place. Someone was whimpering. Coetzee realised the crazed gunman
would never give up his weapon.

‘Robert, there’s
no reason for that. No-one’s going to hurt you. You have my word.’ Coetzee
turned his gun onto its side and pointed it away from Visser. ‘Look here. I’m
going to put my gun down on the counter here, okay?’ He moved his gun slowly
towards the counter, purposefully drawing Visser’s attention to that hand. With
his other he carefully motioned for Collie to move in. ‘Why don’t you come out?’
He put the gun down on the counter surface. ‘Come out and we can –’

‘Oh I’m gonna
come out all right. I’m gonna walk out of here and get the hell out of this
twisted place. That’s what I’m gonna do.’ Visser giggled insanely. ‘That’s
exactly what I’m going to do.’

Coetzee saw
his opportunity. ‘That’s a good idea, Robert. No-one is going to stop you. You
can leave. No-one wants to stop you, Robert.’

‘I’d like to
see them try. Hee-hee-hee.’ Visser looked around spasmodically. A nerve was
twitching underneath his left eye.

Coetzee held
up both hands. He fixed Collie with a meaningful stare. And nodded. Ever so
slightly. ‘You’re free to go, Robert. No-one’s going to stop you.’

‘Don’t you
tell me what I can do. I’m the one giving the orders around here.’

‘Yes, you are,
Robert.’ Coetzee pushed his raised hands towards Visser. ‘So what do you want
me to do?’

‘Hee-hee-hee.
Yes, I am.’ Visser motioned with his gun. ‘Get over there. Over there. I’m
getting out of here.’

‘Of course,
Robert.’ Coetzee shuffled towards his right in the direction Visser had
indicated. ‘Okay Robert. You’re free to go.’

Visser looked
around. Then nodded curtly. He took a step forward.

And Collie
pounced.

The gun went
off.

Some of the
women – and the men – screamed. Katya fell on top of Minki protecting her. To
his left, Coetzee saw Duggan and Thabo Mohapi dive underneath the same table. On
the counter Stoffel snored peacefully. Coetzee jumped forward. He was aware of
falling plaster. Thank God Collie had managed to deflect the shot. Visser and
Collie were locked in a struggle. Four hands gripped the gun. It was bobbing
and weaving dangerously. Another shot went off. One of the women was scurrying
across the floor on hands and knees. Duggan was doing a leopard crawl towards
the door. Thabo Mohapi was clutching a table leg in passionate desperation. Piet
Ryneke screamed like a little girl. Coetzee fell on top of the struggling pair.
He swung with his right hand. His fist slammed into Visser’s jaw. He went slack
and collapsed to the floor. Collie was left standing. Visser’s gun in his hand.
‘Good work,’ Coetzee said slapping a beaming Collie on the shoulder. He turned
to face the terrified wide-eyed occupants of the restaurant. ‘Is everyone okay?
No-one get hurt?’ None of the dazed residents answered but Coetzee could see
that no-one appeared to be hurt. Thabo Mohapi peered out from underneath a
table. Duggan was lying face down, sprawled on the floor. He raised his head
gingerly and looked back over his shoulder.

Mr Jones’s
head appeared from behind the wall flanking the entrance. He stepped forward
suddenly not appearing nearly as terrified as earlier. ‘I demand that you
restrain that madman. The son of a bitch nearly got me killed.’ His voice
peaked intermittently in a near hysterical falsetto. He pointed to the wall
from behind which he had emerged. At one point the plaster had cracked in a
concentric bullet hole. Moira’s head popped out from behind the counter. In the
corner Katya pulled herself away from Minki. She spoke soothingly to the little
girl, stroking her head.

Coetzee turned
to Collie. ‘Here, put him in cuffs,’ he said, handing a pair of steel cuffs to
him. Collie took the cuffs and bodily lifting a comatose Robert John Visser
from the floor, propped his lifeless body down on a chair. He pulled his arms
out behind the back of the chair and cuffed his hands to the wooden frame.
Coetzee stared ... amazed at the petite man’s strength. Visser groaned softly.

Bliksem!
That
was a close call. Too close, Coetzee thought. He realised that he couldn’t
allow himself to indulge in self-pity or despair anymore. The lives of people
were at stake. And he
was
still their leader. Self-appointed or not.

Collie
squatted in front of Visser and gave him a stinging slap. Visser groaned loudly,
complaining. He opened his eyes. Momentary disorientation was soon replaced
with rage and panic. ‘What the –’ He struggled against his restraints. The
chair bounced on the wooden floor. ‘Let me go. You have no right –’

Coetzee crossed
the distance to him in one step and delivered a bone-jarring slap to Visser’s
face. ‘Watch your language. There are ladies and children present.’ Visser
stared at Coetzee in shock. ‘Your irresponsible behaviour put the lives of
people at risk. You are in no position to make demands. If I was you I would
just shut up. I have a bloody good mind to throw you in jail.’ Visser stared
Cocaine rage at Coetzee.

‘I think he
needs to talk,’ Collie said. There were murmurs of agreement. ‘If anybody knows
what happened, it’s him.’ Collie pulled out a lighter and flicked it into life.
He dangled the flame in front of Visser’s nose. ‘There are ways to make him
talk.’

‘Put away the
lighter, Eugene. There’s no need for us to become savages.’ Collie looked
disappointed as he slid the lighter into his breast pocket. Coetzee fixed
Visser with a cold stare. ‘But I do think the best thing you could do right now
is tell us everything you know ... Mr Visser.’ Visser stared with disdain at
Coetzee. He swept the restaurant with his feverish eyes, glaring with near
hatred at the residents who were all looking at him.

‘Go fuck
yourself,’ he said under his breath.

‘Mr Collie,
maybe we will have use of your lighter after all.’

Collie
sniggered with sinister intent. He pulled the lighter from his pocket and lit
it. He made the flame dance in front of Visser’s eyes. Visser sneered at the
diminutive man. ‘You don’t scare me with your little –’ Collie pressed the hot
metal of the lighter against Visser’s neck. He howled in sudden pain. The chair
bounced back a step. ‘Are you insane?’ He looked at Coetzee with shock. ‘How
can you allow this? I have rights, for God’s sake.’

‘All we’re
asking is for some information, Mr Visser,’ Coetzee said. ‘You help us ... and
we’ll help you.’

Visser’s eyes
darted from face to face. He settled with morose resentment on Collie. ‘Fine.’
He sighed with resignation. ‘What do you want to know?’

Coetzee pulled
up a chair and sat down, facing Visser. Collie did the same. Several of the men
drew closer, standing with arms crossed as they looked down at Robert John
Visser. Duggan rose from the floor and grabbing a chair, sat down with the back
between his legs. This was what he had been waiting for all along. A child-like
eagerness vivified his features. The entire restaurant became electric with
expectation. ‘
Oraait
,’ Coetzee said, ‘let’s start at the beginning. Did
you hear what Duggan said?’ Visser nodded morosely. ‘And? Is he right?’ Visser
stared down at the wooden floor. He nodded slowly. There was a collective gasp.
Several people exhaled pent-up breaths.