He held another toe. 'Exactly where is the bag?'

A primeval sound erupted from her.

'For fuck's sake, Jay, what more do you need?' the other young man asked, his face misshapen with abhorrence.

Jason, furious, hit him with the back of his hand. 'Do you know what's at stake here, arsehole? You want to spend the rest of your life in prison?'

Vusi Ndabeni followed Jeremy Oerson as he took the right-hand lane on the Nl's Eastern Boulevard and then the off-ramp to the N2. He kept his distance, just over four hundred metres, with seven cars between them. He picked up his cell phone and called Benny Griessel again.

The 'offices' of African Overland Adventures on the second floor were behind a steel security door. Griessel pressed the intercom button. A woman's voice said: 'Yes?' He said: 'Police. Open up.'

The locks clicked and the door opened. He immediately looked to see if there was another exit. But he saw none, only three women, desks, computers, filing cabinets. He kept his ID card handy. 'Come with me, please, downstairs.'

'Why?' they were worried about the pistol in his hand.

'I'm looking for a Jason de Klerk?'

'He's not here.'

'I know. Come.' He gestured with his pistol. They walked meekly ahead of him, to the stairs.

His cell phone rang. Who the hell wanted him so badly? He pulled it out. VUSI.

'Vusi, this is a bad time.'

'Benny, I'm sorry, but things happened, I think I'm following someone who is on his way to Rachel.'

Griessel froze. There was something about Vusi's rapid-fire voice, the flood of words, desperation. 'Jissis.'

'Benny, you'll never believe it. Jeremy Oerson. I overheard him. He's involved, how, I don't know.'

Jeremy Oerson? What the fuck?

'Where are you?'

'On the N-two, just before Groote Schuur. He's just taken the off-ramp to Main Road.' Observatory. The warehouse. 'Vusi, I think he's going to Stanley Street, there's a warehouse, African Overland Adventures. Stay with him, Vusi, I'm on my way,' and Griessel's feet clattered down the stairs, making the three middle- aged women look back, fearful.

'Benny!' said Vusi. Afraid he would ring off.

'I'm here.'

'They're going to kill her, Benny. As soon as Oerson gets there.'

15:12-16:14

                                                                                                                                                                      Chapter 43                                                                                                                                                                                          

Griessel told the Constables to let no one out of the adventure shop; they didn't know who was involved. Once reinforcements arrived, they were to seal off the offices upstairs, no records were to leave the place, no calls were to be made, to let the phone ring, nobody was to answer it. Anyone who came in must stay.

They nodded keenly.

Out through the door, into the busy normality of Long Street. He pushed the pistol back into his holster, ran fifty metres and stopped suddenly. The traffic. In the police sedan with no siren or lights. He turned back, sidestepping people on the pavement, and banged open the glass doors again. Every eye in the place was on him. Do you have a patrol vehicle with a functioning siren?

Yes, Captain. The Constable rummaged in his trouser pocket, took out his keys and flung them in an arc to Griessel. He missed them. Melissa made a scornful noise but he ignored her, picked up the keys, jerked open the doors and ran.

There was only one vehicle between Vusi Ndabeni and Jeremy Oerson when they stopped at the traffic lights where Browning joined Main Road.

Vusi pulled the sun visor down and sat as high in his seat as he could to hide his face. Oerson's indicator light was on, ready to turn right.

Where was Stanley Street?

African Overland Adventures? And the Metro police? He couldn't see any connection. The light changed to green. Vusi gave him a lead, a hundred metres, then he pulled away intending to turn right as well, but a car approached from the front and he had to wait.

When he did turn into Main Road he couldn't see Oerson's Sentra.

Impossible.

Vusi accelerated, tense again. Where could he have gone? He drove past Polo Road leading off to the left, looked down it and saw nothing. He looked right, there were no options, only the Muslim Graveyard and the hospital. He passed the Scott Road turn-off on the left. He saw the Sentra, in the distance, a long way down Scott.

Vusi braked - too late - he was past the turn. He slammed the car into reverse and looked back. Traffic was coming down Main Road. He had no choice. He reversed quickly. Two minibus taxis rocketed down on him, one leaning hard and continuously on his hooter. It swerved in behind the other and barely missed Vusi. But he had reversed far enough and turned left down Scott, just in time to see Oerson turn right half a kilometre away.

Was it really him?

De Waal Drive would be the quickest. Griessel flipped the switches for the siren and blue lights and pulled away with screeching tyres. The traffic opened up in front of him, past St Martini, the Lutheran Church where everything had begun that morning. It felt like a week ago, what a fucking day. The light was red at the Buitensingel crossing, he drove only marginally slower, the motorists saw him coming. Then he turned left, fighting with the steering wheel, into Upper Orange, more traffic.

The Upper Orange crossroad was also red. It took precious seconds to get across carefully and then he put his foot down, over the bridge at the Gardens Centre. The bends of De Waal lay ahead, he picked up his cell phone from the seat, he must call Vusi, he must get reinforcements. The task force, SWAT, the plump girl had called them. No, that would take too long, even if they mobilised within the theoretical fifteen minutes, it would be too late.

He and Vusi would find out what was going on first.

Vusi answered on the second ring. 'Benny.'

'Where are you?'

His black colleague said something inaudible.

'I can't hear you.'

'Stanley Street, Benny, I don't want to talk too loud. I can see the warehouse. Their trucks are parked there. African Overland Adventures.'

'Tell me how to get there, Vusi, I haven't got a map.'

'It's easy, Benny. Take the Groote Schuur off-ramp, right into Main ...'

'I'm coming down De Waal, Vusi, that's not going to help me.'

Vusi said something in Xhosa, a cry for help, then he asked: 'Will you find Main Road in Observatory?'

'Yes.'

'Then turn down Scott ... eastwards. Then all the way down over Lower Main, then first right and you will see them.'

'I'm coming.'

'Oerson has gone in, Benny, hurry.'

Jeremy Oerson pushed the big sliding door only wide enough for him to enter. He took off his dark glasses and put them in his breast pocket and closed the door behind him.

The big warehouse was quiet: tents, sleeping bags, water cans, tools, petrol drums, sand shovels, car jacks all in tidy piles. On one side was a new white Land Rover Defender.

'Halloo,' he said.

To the left and right two men stood up from behind piles of goods, each with a Stechkin APS pistol aimed at him.

'Christ,' he said and lifted his hands high. 'It's me.'

They slowly lowered the weapons. Jason de Klerk came out from behind the Land Rover. 'I tried to call you, Jeremy.'

'I'm a senior fucking police officer, I can't answer my cell when I'm driving.'