She walked faster, swinging her big, black handbag with every stride.

'Just explain one thing to me,' said Griessel to Oliver Sands. He was standing: Oliver sat at the table wide-eyed, as though the attention was too much for him to handle.

'Why did the girls bring backpacks with them to the club?'

'Those bags ...' Sands said. 'They never went anywhere without them. It's a girl thing, I think. You know, make-up and stuff...'

Griessel considered the bag that Oerson had brought. Small and compact. That made sense. He would have to sort through the plastic refuse bag, but not here. He would have to go back to Caledon Square.

'Jeremy speaking,' Oerson answered his phone and Fransman Dekker could tell he was a coloured man, and he was probably in a car.

'Bro', my name Fransman Dekker, I'm SAPS, howzit that side?' he said, because Griessel had warned him the Metro officer was a 'difficult character'.

'No, things going with springs, and you?'

'Just so, bro', listen, there was a helluva surprise in that bag of stuff your people found, a shoe, number ten and a half, if I can just find out where it was picked up.'

'No idea, bro', but I'll get the men to come in and tell me.'

'Many thanks, it's a murder case, I have to run, you know how it goes.'

'I know. Give me ten minutes, I'm sort of tied up at the moment.'

'Will you call me?'

'Daatlik, bro'.'

Dekker rang off and knocked on the door of the accountant, Wouter Steenkamp. There was no answer so he opened the door. Steenkamp was on the phone, saying:'... fucking police will have to help, or I'll have to make another plan.' He saw Dekker and said over the phone 'Hold on,' then to Dekker: 'The press are blocking reception. You'll have to help control them.'

'OK.'

'They'll help,' he said into the phone. 'Right, bye.' He looked at Dekker expectantly.

'I will go and tell them to wait outside. It would be best to lock the front door.'

'What a mess,' said Steenkamp.

'Just wait here, we need to talk some more,' said Dekker.

'Now what?'

'New information,' said Dekker before leaving to go and manage the media. 'There are some who say you are cheating them.'

'Your people can go,' Vusi said to Galina Federova.

'So, you will not arrest anybody.' She was sarcastic, cigarette between her fingers.

'No. They've been a big help.'

Griessel thought Vusi was too polite; he should tell the fucking foreigner he would throw her ass in jail if she wanted to be funny. He realised his patience was worn thin. He had to get out of here, away from the smell of alcohol and the sight of bottles. The fucking thirst was just below the surface. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do next. They knew the girls had been here, they knew there had been discussions and arguments. They knew two men had left shortly after the girls and they knew there had been a chase down Long Street, but all of that helped fuck all, because it could not tell them where she was. And then his cell phone rang and he plucked it out angrily and said: 'Benny Griessel.'

'I've been to see Alexa Barnard, Benny,' Doc Barkhuizen said.

'Is she OK, Doc?'

'She's pumped full of medication, but you know what lies ahead for her. She's a strong woman, Benny. Beautiful too. I can see why you're so concerned about her.'

'Fuck off, Doc.' As Doc Barkhuizen chuckled on the other end, he heard the beep of another incoming call.

'She said when you have a chance, she would like to talk to you. Something to do with her husband.'

'Doc, I've got another call, it's a bit crazy right now, thanks for going to see her. We'll talk later,' he said and accepted the other call.

Griessel said his name and a woman with an American accent asked: 'Is that Captain Benny Ghree-zil?' He thought, wasn't that what I just fucking said, but he answered civilly: 'Yes.'

'My name is Rachel Anderson. My dad said I should call you.'

The name burned right through him, through the disappointment over Mat Joubert, through the frustrations of the day and the desire to drink, jolting his body as he said: 'Jissis.' Then 'Yes, yes, are you safe, where are you?' Adrenaline and relief washed through him, he took two steps to Vusi's shoulder and put an urgent hand on it. His black colleague looked around and he said: 'Rachel Anderson,' and pointed at the phone. Vusi's whole face lit up.

'Yes, I'm with a Mr Pete van der Liengen, the address is ...' Griessel heard a man speaking in the background. Then Rachel's voice again:'... Number six Upper Orange Street... In Orainisiegh?'

'Yes, yes, Oranjezicht, Six Upper Orange, just stay there, I'm on my way, don't open the door for anybody, I will call when I get there, please, Miss Anderson,' he pleaded. Dear God, this was good news. Griessel gestured to Vusi that they must go, jogged out the door and headed for the alley, faster and faster, hearing Vusi's shoes on the floor behind him.

'I'm not going anywhere,' said Rachel Anderson, and her voice sounded cheerful, as if she was looking forward to his arrival and Benny was out the back door, into the alley and running as fast as he could.

Barry stood on the back of his bakkie and watched the driver of the delivery vehicle get in and start the engine. He looked to the right where the upright, bold silver Peugeot Boxer panel van stood waiting. His phone was ready in his sweaty hand. He pressed the call button and held it up to his ear.

'Yes?' said the man with the grey beard.

'The truck is leaving.'

'Good. Can you see the panel van?'

Barry looked at the dirty, dusty Peugeot. 'Yes, they're moving.'

'Jay is going to call Eben, they will cover the back door. Then he'll turn the van around and come back to the front gate in Upper Orange, so the nose is pointing towards the city. When they get out and go through the front gate, you tell me.'

'Right. Stand by.'

Chapter 33

Piet van der Lingen stood next to his big work table. 'The police are on their way,' she said, 'Captain Benny Ghree-zil.' The old man witnessed a transformation - her eyes brightened and the tension melted away. He smiled at her with his white false teeth and said: 'We will have to teach you proper Afrikaans pronunciation - it's Griessel.' 'Gggg ...' she tried it, sounding as though she was clearing phlegm from her throat.

'That's it,' he said. 'And roll the "r" as well. G-riessel.'

'Ghe-riessel.'

'Almost. Ggg-rrriessel.'

'Griessel.'

'Very good.' They laughed together. She said: 'How will I ever be able to thank you?'

'For what? For brightening an old man's day?'

'For saving my life,' she said.

'Well, when you put it that way ... I demand that you come and have lunch again, before you go home.'

'I would love to ...'

She saw him look up and away, at the window, with sudden concern shadowing his face. Her eyes followed his and she saw them, four men coming up the garden path. 'Oh, my God.' she said because she knew them. She got up from the chair. 'Don't open the door!'The fear was back in her voice. 'They want to kill me - they killed my friend last night!' She ran a few steps down the passage, a dead end. She heard someone wrenching at the front door and spun around in panic.

Then the leaded glass of the front door shattered. She sprinted back across the hall on the way to the kitchen, the back door. A hand came through the gap to unlock the front door from inside. 'Come on!' she shouted at van der Lingen. The old man stood frozen to the spot, as though he planned to stop them.

'No!' she screamed.

The door opened. She had to get away and ran through the kitchen, hearing a shot in the hall. She whimpered in fear, reached the back door and spotted the long carving knife in the drying rack. She grabbed it, tugged open the back door, and stepped outside in sudden dazzling sunlight. There were two more between her and the little gate in the corner, charging at her, black and white, with determined faces. Urgent footfalls behind her, she had only one choice. She ran at the one in front of her, the white man whose arms were spread wide to seize her. She whipped up the knife, stabbing at his chest with hatred and loathing and shrill terror. He tried to pull away, too late, the knife piercing his throat. His eyes filled with astonishment.