Chapter 8

iSigodi Resort, Northern KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa.

“I’m a little mystified here,” Danny said after a while. “How could you record the conversation when he used either his office telephone or his cell phone while the unit you had was attached to his computer?”

It was Melanie that answered him. “Easy. We use a microwave link to connect to the outside world. It is based on VoIP – Voice over Internet Protocol. The computers are linked to the central network, and each office telephone is connected to the computer in that office. Each device has its own mac address but only one network allocated IP address, thus it don’t matter where they move the telephone to, it will always be identified by its mac address.”

“In the case of an outgoing call, will it log the number that was dialled?” Danny asked.

“Not only outgoing calls, but incoming calls as well. Yes, we have a record of it. We don’t charge the staff for calls they make, as it is only data that is used, not telephone lines or rental, but the system does log the numbers, incoming and outgoing.”

“Can you access those records from here?”

“I can,” Melanie confirmed.

“Can you make me a printout of the calls logged from Lorenzo’s office phone?”

“Give me a minute...” she replied and pulled her keyboard towards her. Her fingers tapped over the keys on the keyboard plus a few clicks of the mouse, and then the printer on her desk whined. She retrieved the two pages and looked at them. “Hmm ... Mister Lorenzo was not a busy man on his phone this morning. Only three calls were made, and one call received.”

“Do you know the numbers?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was all to the same number. The greengrocer in Richards Bay,” Melanie replied and looked up at us, holding out the two printed pages to Danny, who rose up a bit forward in his chair and took the printed pages.

“And where is mister Lorenzo now?” He asked as he sat back in the chair, scanning the printed pages.

Melanie pressed a button on her phone. A beeping sound came from the speaker and a female voice answered: “Morning, Miss Ková. How can I help?”

“Morning Helen. Tell me, is Lorenzo in his office?”

“No, Miss Ková. He left just after nine. He said he had to go to the village at St Lucia Estuary.”

“Thank you, Helen. Nothing more.”

“Pleasure, Miss Ková. Bye.” And Melanie closed the connection.

“There. It matches with what was said on your recording, Ty.”

“Is there fuel in Bibi to go to Richards Bay and Back, Mel?” I asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“I think I must pay that greengrocer a visit,” I replied, but Danny cut in.

“No, Ty. You cannot interfere. I need more evidence and must identify Lorenzo’s contact at the store.”

“That was not my objective, Danny. I was just going to get some veggies for a fondue I plan on making...”

“Come on, Ty! Fondue is a cheese thingamajig in a pot kept warm and melted with a candle or a spirit burner, and you dip blocks of bread in it. You don’t use veggies for it!”

“Do you want to place a bet on it?”

“Are you serious?”

“You can use pieces of chopped vegetables that are cooked individually on long skewers, either in hot oil or cheese,” Mel answered with a smirk. “Some good choices for a fondue are peppers, carrots, baby corn, parsnips, zucchini, squash, eggplant, and onions.”

“Well, I never...” he replied. “I always thought Fondue was melted cheese that you stick blocks of bread in. Boring!”

“You can use chocolate as well...” I teased. “But instead of eating it, you rub it on your girlfriend and then lick it off.”

“TYRON VAN ASWEGEN!” Melanie exclaimed. “I never expected that from you!”

“Sorry Mel, I just got carried away a bit...”

“I better get going...” Danny demurred. “I detect a domestic violence situation developing here.”

“There ain’t any domestic violence on the cards here,” Mel replied. “As there is no domestic situation that can develop into any violence.”

Danny got up and made for the door. “Nevertheless, I must be on my way. And Ty, stay away from that greengrocer, at least for the time being.”

“Not even to buy veggies?”

“Not even for veggies. Raid the kitchen here...” And he disappeared out the door.

Mel turned to me with a smirk on her face.

“Rub chocolate on your girlfriend and then lick it off?” She teased. “I told you the girl that snares you one day will be one very lucky bitch...”

“Well, I don’t know about any girl trying to snare me...”

“Maybe not. But be on the lookout. She’s out there. She could be anywhere, could be next door, or on the other side of the world ... But she’s there.”

“Yeah, thanks for the warning. But now I better leave you to whatever you do to run iSigodi. I think I’ll go grab my camera and take a walk down to the lake. I must keep up my pretence to be a working wildlife photographer.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“You are most welcome.”

“Good. Go fetch your camera and come find me at reception.”

“Give me ten minutes.” I replied and took off for my suite.

The overgrown walkway that Melanie and I took was a hidden gem, veering off the main path and leading south-east from the main admin building.

As we walked, the thick foliage of tropical coastal trees and shrubs enveloped us in a cocoon of greenery. The air was heavy with the scent of flowers and the salty tang of the nearby ocean. Tall hibiscus trees with their vibrant, trumpet-shaped flowers towered above us, their branches reaching out like welcoming arms. The giant strelitzias, with their striking orange, blue and white blooms, added a splash of colour to the verdant landscape. The tree and shrub foliage rustled softly in the breeze, creating a soothing symphony of sound.

The path itself was narrow and winding, with patches of sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above us. The ground was soft underfoot, covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves and twigs. Occasionally, we chanced upon small clearings, where the sunlight would dapple the ground and illuminate the vibrant colours of the flowers.

As we continued on our journey, the path began to slope gently upwards, and we could hear the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. The air grew cooler and more humid, and the vegetation became even denser, with vines and creepers snaking their way through the under-brush.

“I’ve not been here for a while,” Melanie sighed.

“It’s beautiful.” I replied.

“Yes. It is ... If we go further, about a hundred metres or so, we will come to a place where we can overlook the plain below.”

“I thought we were steadily climbing.”

“You will enjoy it there.”

“Have you been here before?”

“About five or six years ago. There is even a pool there with clear water, and you won’t believe it, but it is hot. Not hot-hot, but warmer than the ocean or the lake or the resort pool.”

“It must be somehow connected to an underground hot spring of some sort, or natural outlet.”

“I never thought about it that way,” she replied, then went silent in thought.

Just then we emerged out onto a huge overhanging rock. A panoramic view opened up before me.

The rock was about thirty metres from the ground to its cap. Down below, a small water pool lazed in the afternoon sun. From the pool of water, the ground was relatively flat, and stretched off until it reached the foot of the big old dune that cut Lake St Lucia off from the ocean.

But something was wrong with the picturesque scene before me. First, I could not place it what was amiss. Then it dawned on me what I was not seeing.

“Mel, did you swim here before?”

“No, I always wanted to come here and swim, but just never got around to do it.”

“Did you notice something about the place here?”

“Like what?”

“There’s no grass growing within fifty metres of the water...”

“Now that you mention it ... Yes, I see it.”

“There’s also no other plant life around, and no animals that drink from the pool.”

“Oh, animals will come later. Now they are all hiding out of the sun under the trees.”

“I doubt it. Look no birds either.”

“Yeah ... Birds will tend to drink all day. It’s like the pool of water is ... lifeless.”

“Let’s get down there,” I said and looked for a pathway down the incline.

“Ty, do you think the pool is poisonous?”

“I don’t know what to make of it. If it was poisonous, you would have seen animal remains scattered around. Something else is warding them off and makes the vegetation stay away.”

“And I’m supposed to be the scientist here!” she complained. “Let’s go see what gives.”

Steadily we made our way down the incline next to the sheer cliff of solid rock to the side. The ground was sloping at about thirty to forty degrees. It was just steep enough to reach all the way from the bottom to the top, and we had to watch our footing so that we don’t slip on the sandy soil and loose pebbles.

It took us about ten minutes to reach the bottom and approach the water pool. The water was still – no movement like with most small water pools.

“I don’t see anything. No smell, nothing...” I relayed my observation to Melanie.

“Neither do I ... But it is sure funny.” She replied and scanned the surface of the water.

“Let’s walk around to the other side,” I suggested.

“Let’s go,” She replied, and together we walked off, following the water’s edge.

We would have missed it, but just as we were halfway around the pool, there was a slight dull whooshing, or burping sound.

We both turned our heads towards the sound and right in the middle of the pool there was an upheaval of the surface, as if a giant bubble from under the surface was escaping upwards. It sort of burst and a ripple of a wave circled outwards to come gently lapping at the edge of the pool.

“What the...” Melanie exclaimed.

“Methane gas?” I asked.

“Could be!” An astonished Melanie replied. “Look there are some bubbles over there...” And she indicated a spot about fifteen metres from us. Hastily we made our way over to the bubbles that broke the water’s surface.

I crouched down and looked at the bubbles, trying to get a whiff of the gas, but could not smell anything.

“Don’t do it! Methane gas is odourless, and you’ll just get a headache,” Melanie warned.

“Well, if it burns, it is some sort of natural gas.”

“Well, don’t cause a fire or an explosion!”

“The amount coming out of the water is not enough to cause a fire, not to mention an explosion.

“Wait up! I’ll be back!” Melanie said and dashed off to the dry grass further away.

She returned with a handful of long-stemmed thatch grass.

Here, use this. It will keep you away from any flames.”

I took a small bundle of grass and lit it with my Zippo lighter. It flamed and took hold. I then held it out over the bursting bubbles.

A popping sound came to us, and I thought I saw a flicker of a blueish flame, but the burning grass smouldered and went out.

“Methane gas!” Natural methane gas!” Melanie hissed.

“Could be a mixture of methane and hydrogen gas. Did you hear the popping sound when that small amount of gas ignited, and then blew out the burning grass stems?”

“I did! You are right! It did pop, but both gasses will blow out a small flame because it will dispel the oxygen in the air. No oxygen, nothing to sustain the oxidization process!”

“But it does not explain why there is no grass growing near the water...”

“You are right, Ty. There would be no life in the water, but the grass will grow, and animals would come drink the water. Both gasses are lighter than air and will disperse into the atmosphere with no other effect.”

“Hmm ... unless ... Mel, Is this still your property?”

“Yes, all the way to the other side of the dune. Up to the ocean.”

“I think I found what the bastards are up to.”

“I think I can see clearly now ... They bankrupt me, then buy the land for next to nothing, and...” Her voice trailed off, and I could see a blush spreading over Melanie’s face and neck. Her eyes were spitting fire. Mel was beyond furious! She was murderously mad!

“Come! Our walk is over. There is something I must show you. I did not think it was possible. Just another scheme from the oil companies and the South African Government.”

“What is it, Mel?”

“A report on the viability of offshore exploration for oil and gas off the coast of KwaZulu Natal. All along the coast till deep into Mozambican territorial waters!”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No! I’m not. Come to my office. I have a file there on it.”

“Yes. I would like to see that file. “The motive now makes sense to me, but why kill Jerry Sinclair and poor mister Deacon?”

“It goes to show how desperate they are to get their dirty little hands on iSigodi. They will stop at nothing. Not even murder of innocent people to further their cause! OOo! The motherf...” Mel said and checked herself, but still fuming she added in Czech: “Synove satana!” (Sons of Satan.)

I opened my arms, and she came willingly. Tears of hurt and anger streamed down her cheeks. I held her close, and she pressed her face into my chest, the wetness of her tears soaking through my shirt.

As I held her the emotion in her slowly subsided and after a long while she disentangled from me, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Then Melanie went up to the dead grass and picked off a large handful of it.

“Why would you need the dead grass?” I asked, perplexed.

“To analyse it! To see what killed it. It was not the gas, it must be something else,” She replied.

“Okay. You’re the scientist.”

Together we scrambled back the way we came, stumbling and jumping over obstacles on the overgrown path, to get back to her office. She was silent as we walked back through the resort complex.

Back at the resort, Melanie went to her office to retrieve the file while I waited at the pool. There were only a few guests around, and I thought it was better to just look at the file out there in the open.

While waiting on her, my cell phone rang.

“Hi, Don. What’s up?”

“I did not hear from you since yesterday. What’s up with you?”

“Oh, nothing much. I was anyway about to call you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, besides the cops turning up here with a search warrant and threatening to arrest Melanie as a suspect for the murders, we found something that will make you do some back-flips.”

“They wanted to arrest Miss Ková?”

“Yes! Someone planted Jerry Sinclair’s murder weapon in Melanie’s hangar. Lucky I found it first. So, she is still running around the resort and not in jail.”

“Dammit! How resourceful! Planting the evidence and then reporting it. Who? Do you know?”

“I have a positive suspect.”

“Great! This is good news! Who is the bastard?”

“Wait up! Hold your horses! I need to confront the bastard, but that friend of yours, the cop, also knows, and he will most likely take the guy in for questioning.”

“Who is it?”

“I recorded a telephone conversation between Lorenzo and some other unidentified person. They practically spoke outright about planting the ring and tipping off the cops.”

“And you must still identify the other party?”

“Yeah, but your money leak is being plugged.”

“How so?”

“Lorenzo again. He was orchestrating the overpayments and the short deliveries.”

“But where is all the money?”

“I will answer you in a moment. First, how many digits are there in a bank account number?”

“Between seven and eleven. Why?”

“I found this number in Lorenzo’s office. Can you verify it as a bank account number, what bank, and who the account holder is?”

“Give me the number...”

“637...” And I read him the number.

“Okay ... got it!”

“Good! How long?”

“Give me an hour.”

“Thanks.”

“You think he pays the difference into this account?”

“Or the greengrocer does.”

“Nice scam!”

“But we need to prove it first.”

“Yeah. But how did you record the conversation?”

“I used his own USB bugged cable on him.”

“Son of a gun! Trust you to think of that!”

“He still thinks I’ve got the cable. He told the other guy so.”

Chuckle. “And in the meantime, back at the ranch, you were recording him through his own bug! How ingenious!”

“I learned from the best.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“Oh, come on, Ty! Not me.”

“Let’s think back a few years about a certain algorithm in a Swiss bank account that made some little orphans very rich.”

“You wrote that algorithm!”

“Sjuu! Just now SARS or the Reserve Bank of South Africa hears about it. Besides, it was your idea.”

“Yeah, the good old days ... And it landed me one wife and two girlfriends.”