'I understand that, sir, but I've just had a call from her parents, and they are very, very worried. Apparently, she was safe, she called this Captain Ghree-zil, but he took his sweet time to get there, only to find her gone.'

'That's not the information I have, sir ...'

'Do you know what's going on? Do you know who these people are? Why are they hunting her like an animal?'

'No, we don't know that. All I can tell you is that we are doing everything we can to find her.'

'Apparently, sir, that is not enough. I am really sorry, but I will have to call the Minister. Something has to be done.'

The Commissioner stood up from his desk. 'Well, sir, you are most welcome to call the Minister. But I am not sure what else we can do.' He put the phone down and walked out, down the passage to John Afrika's office. On the way he said one word in his mother tongue; the click of the word echoed off the walls.

She did not hear them arguing on the other side of the wooden door. She sat with her naked back against the pillar, dreadful pain in her foot, blood still running from the two stumps and the severed toes lying on the cement floor. Her head drooped and she wept, tears and mucus streaming from her nose, mouth and eyes.

She had nothing left.

Nothing.

They told Vusi Ndabeni that Senior Inspector Jeremy Oerson was out. He could reach him on his cell phone. They had the same sullen, 'it's-not-my-problem' attitude and thinly disguised superiority that he could not fathom. It had been like this the whole day - the ponytail at the club, the Russian woman, the man at the pound, the woman at Administration: nobody cared, he thought. In this city it was everyone for himself. He suppressed his escalating unease, the frustration. He must try to understand these people - that was the only way to deal with it. He took the number but before he could phone they said: 'Here he is now.'

Vusi turned, recognised the man; he was the one who had been at the church this morning - dreadful uniform, not quite so neat now, face shiny with perspiration.

'Inspector Oerson?' he asked.

'What?' Hurried, irritated.

'I am Inspector Vusumuzi Ndabeni of the SAPS. I am here about a vehicle that was booked out of the pound at twelve thirty- four, a Peugeot Boxer panel van, CA four-oh-nine, three-four- one ...'

'So?' Oerson kept on walking towards his office. Vusi followed, amazed by his attitude.

'They say you signed the form.'

'Do you know how many forms I sign?' Oerson stood at a closed office door.

Vusi took a deep breath. 'Inspector, you were at the scene this morning, the American girl...'

'So?'

'The vehicle was used to abduct her friend. It is our only clue. She is in great danger.'

'I can't help you, I just signed the form,' said Oerson, shrugging and placing a hand on the door handle. 'Every day they come running in here, those girls down there, wanting someone to sign. I only check that everything is in order.'

Behind the door a telephone began to ring. 'My phone,' said Oerson and opened the door.

'Was everything in order with that vehicle?'

'I wouldn't have signed it if it wasn't.'

The phone continued to ring.

'But they say there is no receipt or anything.'

'Everything was correct when I signed it,' said Oerson, going into the office and closing the door.

Vusi stood there.

How could people be like that?

He pressed a hand on the closed door's frame. He must ignore them; he had a job to do. What he should do is investigate the whole process from the beginning. Where would you begin if you wanted to retrieve a vehicle from the pound? Who took your particulars; did anyone ask for an ID?

He sighed, ready to turn away, when he heard Oerson's voice say something inside that sounded familiar ... Cat and Moose ... Wait, hold on .. .

Vusi stood spellbound.

The door opened suddenly; Oerson's face accused him. 'What are you still doing here?'

'Nothing,' said Vusi and left. Halfway down the passage he looked back. Oerson was leaning on the door to monitor his progress. Vusi kept on walking. He heard the door shut. He stopped at the stairs.

The Cat & Moose? What did Oerson have to do with that?

Coincidence?

Oerson had been there this morning, very early. A Senior Inspector from Metro.

He was the one who had found the rucksack. He was the one who had walked up with it, full of bravado; he was the one who had rummaged in it before handing it over. In the club, Benny Griessel had talked to Fransman Dekker, he had told Dekker to call Oerson about the bag of stuff they had picked up.

Oerson had signed the form. His attitude, arrogance, the sweat on his brow. Cat & Moose. Snake in the grass.

Vusi wondered whether he ought to phone Griessel first. He decided against it. Benny had a thousand things to think of. He turned and went back to Oerson's closed door.

Chapter 41

They told Fransman Dekker he could not see Alexandra Barnard now. 'Doctor says she's on medication,' as if the burning bush itself had made the pronouncement. It irritated the living hell out of him. 'You are obsessed with Doctor, fuck Doctor' - that was what someone should tell them sometime, but he did not. Benny Griessel's words today had struck home.

They say you are ambitious, so let me tell you, I threw my fokken career away because I didn't have control...

It was the first time in his life that someone had spoken to him that way. It was the first time anyone had taken the trouble. He had been crapped out by the best, but that was different, usually no more than disapproval and criticism. With Griessel it was different.

'When will I be able to see her?' he asked the woman, under control now.

'Doctor says sometime after four, the medication should have worn off by then.' He checked his watch. Ten to three. He might just as well get something to eat; he was hollow inside, thirsty too. It would give him a chance to think - and what else could he do, he had let Josh and Melinda go home? 'I want to know if you leave the city,' he threatened and avoided the reproachful eyes. He had gone over to Natasha and said: 'Can you give me the contact details of all the staff?' and she gave him a look that said she knew why he wanted them.

He left the hospital feeling ravenous.

Vusi stood and listened at Oerson's door. He heard English spoken. But if they don't know what we're looking for, let's wait. Sooner or later they'll move the stuff. A long silence. Are we absolutely sure? A short, barking laugh, scornful. And then the words that stopped Vusumuzi Ndabeni's heart: Let's make sure, and then kill the bitch. Before she fucks up everything. But wait for me, I want to see...

Vusi's hand dropped to his service pistol, took hold of it and pulled it out. He lifted his left hand to open the door and saw how it was shaking, realised his heart was beating wildly and his breathing was shallow, almost panicky.

No, I'm fine. They have nothing, no proof Oerson, inside, so smug.

It gave Vusi pause, he froze. Because all he had were suspicions and a conversation overheard. He caught a glimpse of the coming minutes: he would burst in, Oerson would deny everything, he could arrest him and he would refuse to cooperate, demand a lawyer, it could take hours and the girl would die. Oerson's word against his.

I'm coming, Oerson had said in there. Wait for me.

Vusi Ndabeni whispered a prayer. What should he do?

He shoved the pistol back in the holster, turned and ran down the passage. He would have to follow Oerson. While he was contacting Benny.

Oh God, he must not let this man slip away.