Chapter 18

Netcare Montana Hospital, Montana, Pretoria, Gauteng.

I stepped outside the main entrance of the hospital just to get some fresh air and a reprieve from the hospital smell inside the building. Dusk was falling fast and all around the lights of the neighbourhood were flickering on. Pinpoints of light that merged into a dull glow as the night started to settle in.

A light breeze from the north brought with it the smells of the bushveld that was not very far off to the north. About two kilometres away the sprawling reaches of Pretoria stopped just shy of the N4 highway, and the two hills that stood like sentries guarding the way onto the bushveld and the Springbokvlakte rose just across the highway.

The heat of the day was gradually giving way to the cool of the early evening. I sucked in a deep breath, letting the cooler evening air push out the stale, clinical smell clinging to me. Hospitals had a way of draping you in that sterile stench, as if trying to erase every trace of the outside world.

Here I was, lingering by the west side of the hospital, gazing across the last faint outlines of Pretoria fading into the distance. Twilight was spilling fast over the city, and soon enough the distant headlights on the R513 blurred together like stars scattered across a dull canvas.

It was hard to ignore the rumble of traffic hurtling along Sefako Makgatho Drive in their furious flights to get to be some place — though to me, and most people I knew, it would always be Zambezi Drive. Another rename in the endless cycle of attempts to immortalize figures most couldn’t recognize if they tried.

Sefako Makgatho ... an ANC leader from a century ago, battling segregation back in the trenches of early struggle, but who remembers?

I’d read about him once, back in school, something about him leading the SANNC, which later morphed into the ANC. Important, sure, but mostly lost to the dust of history. And in the end, it probably didn’t matter much. The ANC nowadays was too busy tearing itself to pieces to remember its roots. Just another relic on the political scrap heap. At some point, maybe, they’d rename the road again, a fresh plaque for a fresh scandal.

But I had more pressing matters. The only life I cared about at this moment lay just behind me, in a hospital bed in that fluorescent-lit building. Georgie. My news hawk. Fiery red hair, sharp as a tack, with those piercing blue eyes that had a way of seeing through whatever façade you threw at her. I’d give anything to see them light up with their usual curiosity, irritation, humour — anything but the glazed, heavy one-eyed stare she’d had the last time I checked on her.

The weight of it all hung in the air, heavier than I’d like to admit. For once, I felt useless; a man out of his depth, pacing the pavement like some anxious dog waiting for its master. I could face crowds, handle brutal negotiations, even stare down a cockpit of dials and gauges with calm precision, but this? Standing helpless while Georgie fought her own battle? It was a hell of a thing to stomach.

I turned my gaze north, where the bushveld stretched endlessly, comforting in its wild silence. Just across the highway were those two sentinel hills, like stoic giants, patient and uncomplaining, watching over the land. Far removed from the chaos of hospitals and highways and all the noise of city life. But tonight, they felt as distant as the stars — steady and unshaken, as I should be. A reminder to hold steady, maybe, as Georgie fought her way back to us.

The low buzz in my pocket jolted me out of my thoughts. I fished my phone out, and Mai-Loan’s name lit up the screen. Her voice crackled with an edge of excitement the second I picked up.

“Where are you?” she asked, a little breathless.

“Outside,” I replied, glancing around at the empty walkway. “Just needed to clear my head a bit. What’s going on?”

“She’s awake, Alex,” Mai-Loan said, voice softening. “Georgie’s awake, and she’s asking for you.”

That got me moving. I straightened, already pivoting back toward the hospital entrance, my stride quickening. “I’m on my way,” I said, glancing at the glowing lights of the hospital against the encroaching dark.

“They’ve moved her to a more private space,” Mai-Loan continued. “She’s out of the main ER but still in the recovery section, in a quieter spot toward the back. You’ll spot us as soon as you come in. The doctor said he’ll be around in a few minutes to check on her. He decided she could be discharged as long as she has supervision for the next few days.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t be surprised. Nadia slipped out to the Kolonnade and got Georgie some clothes for when she’s discharged. Her clothes she had was trashed.”

“How did Nadia know her sizes?”

“We looked at the labels, Doofus! She wears size small. Nadia nearly had to shop in the kiddies department to get what she wanted for Georgie.”

Chuckle. “Okay. Got it. Give me two minutes.” I heard her sigh, a mix of relief and that steady determination that I’d come to admire in her.

“See ye!” she chimed in, cheerfully hanging up with a quick goodbye.

Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I didn’t waste another second. I picked up my pace, weaving through the stragglers outside, mentally preparing myself. Georgie was awake — that was the best news I’d heard all day. The prickling anxiety that had sat in my chest loosened a bit, replaced by something warmer, an anticipation that had me moving quicker than before.

I glanced at my watch. It was 18:32. I was wondering if they are going to keep Georgie for the night or discharge her. The ER staff will change at 19:00.

As I reached the hospital entrance, I spotted John Groenewalt heading my way, his tall frame moving with an easy confidence. He caught sight of me at the same moment, and paused, waiting.

“Alex!” he greeted, his voice a low rumble as he stretched out a hand. I took it, meeting his solid grip. John had the kind of handshake that could probably anchor a ship. “What happened?” he asked, his brows knitting with concern.

I didn’t waste any time. “Georgie was hijacked on her way home. They ditched her car along the N3 towards Heidelberg and took her to Boksburg. We think it’s connected to the drug-smuggling investigation she’s been chasing.”

John’s face hardened, eyes narrowing. “Dammit! That Sloan character she’s been looking into?”

I let out a sigh. “Yes and no. It’s a little more complicated than that.” He arched an eyebrow, and I could see the questions brewing.

“I’ll fill you in later. Right now, we should get to Georgie. Mai-Loan just called to say she’s awake and even looking a bit better.”

“Let’s not waste time then. By the way, who’s this ... uh ... Mai ... what’s-her-name?”

I chuckled. “You’ll meet her soon enough.”

“Okay...” John muttered, looking both amused and curious.

Together, we walked into the hospital, me leading and John right behind. The sterile smell hit me again as we stepped inside, reminding me of why I’d needed to get out in the first place. We reached the ER entrance, and there she was—Georgie, propped up in bed, visible through the glass partition, looking pale but awake. Her right eye was a bit swollen, but halfway open. The tension in my chest eased up, replaced by relief and a dose of appreciation at seeing her in one piece.

Mai-Loan and Nadia were already with her, talking softly. Two nurses stood nearby, and just as we walked up, a doctor was finishing his check-in. He glanced our way, flashed me a quick smile, and held up a thumb. “I’ll be heading home now—and so is Miss Harper,” he announced.

“What, you’re discharging her?” I asked, a little surprised.

The doctor nodded. “Nothing left to do here, really. No broken bones, no internal injuries that we need to monitor. She’s just going to be sore and stiff for a bit. We’re sending her off with a pharmacy’s worth of antibiotics, painkillers, and vitamins. She’ll be set.”

“Thank you, Doctor. We appreciate everything you and the staff did today,” I replied sincerely.

“Glad to help. Besides, I got a little something out of it too — a signed autograph from Miss Harper for my son.” He winked, looking pleased. “He’ll be thrilled, though it might be a while before she’s back on TV.” He leaned in, dropping his voice. “Three more patients left for me tonight before I can make my escape.”

“Thanks again, Doctor. Take care.”

With a quick wave, he turned and disappeared into the next room, the curtains already drawn as he greeted his next patient.

I walked into Georgie’s room, and she greeted me with a small, lopsided smile. “They say I can go home...” she murmured, voice still soft.

Nadia shot her a firm look. “Well, you’re not going home, home,” she corrected, putting an arm around Georgie’s shoulders. “You’re coming with us to Pilgrim’s Nest,” she said, then glanced my way for confirmation. I nodded. Georgie needed some downtime, and Pilgrim’s Nest would be the perfect place for her to rest and heal.

“I’ll call Susan and ask her to take care of your cat, Georgie,” I assured her.

John nodded his agreement. “You require rest, Georgie. We’ll handle everything else. I’m just grateful you’re here with us.”

Georgie’s eyes softened. “Thanks, John,” she whispered. “I’m sore and tired, and all I really want is to sleep.”

“Then sleep you shall,” I said, grinning. “We’ll get you tucked in.” Then it dawned on me — we’d shown up here in a mad scramble, no car in sight. “Wait ... no car. I’ll call an Uber...”

John quickly waved it off. “No need. I’ve got you both covered. I’ll take Georgie and you, Alex.”

Leon popped in at that moment, catching the conversation. “And I’ll fit Mai-Loan, Nadia, and the rascals in my SUV. It’ll be tight, but we’ll manage.”

“Oh, speaking of the rascals,” I chuckled, “where exactly are they?”

Mai-Loan smirked, crossing her arms. “Playing video games in the children’s ward. One of the nurses whisked them off there earlier to keep them busy.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you sure the hospital will be the same after this?”

“Oh, it’ll survive,” she replied with a grin. “Though they might need to expand the gaming wing once they’re done.”

Even Georgie managed a tired laugh, her lopsided smile a little brighter. For the first time tonight, things finally felt like they might just be okay.

Nadia, Mai-Loan, and Leon left to round up Ally and Zara; one of the nurses guided them toward the children’s ward. Apparently, only two little girls were in there, and they’d been thrilled to have a couple of lively teenagers for company. That sorted out the problem of Ally and Zara hanging around in the stiff atmosphere of the hospital lobby or the stark ER waiting room.

The remaining nurse turned to Georgie and me with a small tote from the hospital pharmacy. She ran us through every item: painkillers, antibiotic pills, ointments, and two different creams for bruising. Georgie listened, nodding, though I could see the fatigue in her eyes. John hovered nearby, looking on with calm intensity.

When the nurse left, Georgie’s gaze followed her for a moment before she turned to me, reaching out to take my hand in both of hers. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone who’d just been through such a rough ordeal. She looked up, her face still pale and puffy from the ordeal, but that unmistakable spark in her eyes hadn’t dimmed. One eye was still slightly swollen, and bruises mottled the skin along her jawline. Still, she managed a soft, grateful smile.

“Thanks, Alex. You were ... a rock for me today,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but her eyes held onto mine with something deeper than gratitude. “But I need to know ... how did you guys even find me?”

John, who’d been taking it all in quietly, piped up. “Yes, I’d also like to know that. I still haven’t gotten the full story.”

I gave John a nod, feeling Georgie’s fingers tighten slightly on mine. “Alright, let me fill you both in.” I glanced down at Georgie’s hand in mine, her fingers slender but still clinging to me as if I was her lifeline.

“It all started with Zara — there’s this teenager named Zara who can directly link Sloan to the killing of two people. Sloan, or Luciano Andreotti, the guy Sloan works for, wanted her out of the way. She managed to escape and came to Leon with her story, but it looks like they found out she’d spilled the beans. We figured she’d be safest on my farm, but they tried to take her anyway.”

Georgie’s eyes grew wide. She knew Sloan was ruthless, but this seemed to sink deeper.

John let out a low whistle. “So, they came after her and failed — then decided to go for Georgie?”

I nodded. “Exactly. They couldn’t get Zara, so they took Georgie to force our hand. They must’ve thought we’d do anything to get her back, even trade Zara’s life for hers.”

John’s jaw tightened. “Crap. But still ... how did you know where she was?”

I grinned, hoping to lighten the heaviness of the story.

“Elementary, my dear John. They were sloppy. Georgie’s got an iPhone, which they left in her car, and she’s also got an Apple Watch. Even without a cell signal, her smartwatch kept communicating with her phone via Wi-Fi, transmitting a GPS location. We picked up both signals — one from her car, and one from Georgie herself.”

Georgie’s face softened, the hint of a smile in her eyes.

“Who are you guys?” John whispered, looking half in awe, half in amusement.

I shrugged, smirking. “It’s need-to-know, and you don’t need to know, John,” I added, glancing at him.

John rolled his eyes. “Dammit, Alex! If these people tried to take that girl from your place, and they tried to take Georgie, what stops them from doing it again at your place?”

“Listen, John, this isn’t something to splash around on the news media. There’s an organization called the Foundation for Law and Order, or FLO. I know someone, who knows someone, who knows how to get in touch with them. They stepped up and got Georgie back.”

“Is this why you, that Nadia and Mai something woman are dressed in battle jackets, vests and combat gear?”

“Yes.”

“Do those women work for this FLO thing?”

“You mean Mai-Loan?”

“Yes, is that how you pronounce her name?”

“Again yes, but it is not to be public knowledge. They are rather unique and private.”

John held up his hands in surrender, sighing. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep my mouth shut. But I reserve the right to get a scoop from you one of these days.”

I gave a mock sigh. “Sorry, John. Someone else already has that right.”

His eyebrow arched. “And who would that be?”

“Miss Georginia Harper of Breaking News Independent,” I replied, turning to Georgie. Her hand squeezed mine a little tighter, and the faintest smile flickered on her bruised lips.

John grinned and nodded, an easy warmth in his expression. “I get it, I get it ... Lucky Georgie. This might just be the break you’ve been looking for.”

Georgie let out a light chuckle, her voice still soft, but the spark of determination was clear in her eyes. “John, you’ll be my cameraman. You know it. But we need to be discreet. I don’t want the Dark Angel coming for me.”

He laughed. “As long as I get my name in the credits. And there is no such thing as a dark angel.”

“Yes, John. There is a Dark Angel.” You’ve met her, I replied.

“HER? Not a chance! Who is she?” John asked, sceptically. Both Georgie and I spoke at the same time.