Chapter 17

I walked back to the house, not feeling at ease about the happenings in the last half hour. Is it true what Angie said: her mother could not have contacted Grumpy Charley? Then who did? It would not have been Lorie. TC, perhaps? Only time will tell, and I’ll have to see what the Master of the Supreme Court has to say. So, let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. Maybe some C4 would take care of the bridge.

Alex was busy in the dining room with whatever he found important enough to do. With him were two helpers, and he dismissed them when he saw me come in through the side door.

“With the breeze now blowing from the south-east, things should cool down a bit,” I said, and thought for a moment; Alex has a direct link to Grumpy. Would he have mentioned something?

“I have an email for you Mister Windsor; it arrived a short while ago. If you would follow me to the study, please.”

Who knows I’m here? Besides Alex, the Rothmans, Lorie, the team, and ... of course, Grumpy? What now?

Alex just smiled, turned towards the door, and led me to the study. I still felt woozy and a little light-headed.

In the study, Alex turned the desktop computer on and loaded up the mail software.

“Here you go, Mister Windsor. It is private, so I did not look at the attachment, but I do think that you should take note of this development without delay. I’ll leave you now. When you’re done, just turn the PC off. If you want to, you can print anything you like or just forward it to your own email address and delete this message.” And with that, he turned and left the study.

With a sigh, I sat down at the desk and opened the email addressed to me. I read:

“Mister Ashwin Andrew Windsor, we need to inform you about the status of the estate of the late Miss Angelique Rothman.

What? Oh yes, Angie is supposed to be dead. Shit! Is this how far Grumpy old Charley would go to protect the Rothmans? And why? Why is the foundation so interested in this case?

I opened the attachment and read through it, getting colder by the minute. It was a copy of Angie’s last will and testament. Shivers ran down my spine. I was reading something that Angie wanted to have done from beyond the grave. I never considered the fact that one day Angie might be ... gone? Then I recalled the fake newspaper report. I sighed, was this what Grumpy old Charley had in mind? “To plug a hole.”

There were two documents attached to the mail. One was my acceptance document and the other was a copy of Angie’s will. I read through the first document and then opened the second one.

I read further and further through the document until I got to the part that stated: “I hereby bequeath my entire estate, all moving and unmoving assets, investment accounts and bank accounts, properties in my name, national or international, to Ashwin Andrew Windsor.”

The world started to spin around me. What? Then Grumpy’s words came back to me and made sense. “Use your power for good, not evil.” So, what now? First I need to apologize to a certain mother of a certain young girl.

That ‘certain young girl’ came waltzing into the study.

“Oh, here you are hiding away. What’s up?” Angie said as she sat down on the armrest of the chair and snaked her arm across my shoulders.

“I take it you’re not mad at me?” I asked.

“Well, problem solved. It was just a misunderstanding. But I AM a little mad at you.”

“Yeah, I believe I’ve goofed up good.”

“No, not that, but by you accusing my mom, you forced me to tell her something that I would rather have told you first.”

“What’s that?”

“Nope! My secret. I’ll share it with you, someday, maybe soon...”

“Oh, okay. Angie...”

“Yes, Ash?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Tell that to my mom; I’ve already forgiven you.” And she looked at me with a softness in her eyes. She looked lovely. “Now, what are you up to? Ooh, last will and testament, ASH, are you planning on something irrational?”

“Nope. Read again. It’s YOUR last will and testament.”

Angie’s eyes opened wide, and she looked at me with an expression on her face that I could not describe.

“Let me explain. I did not comprehend this until I really thought about it. You are supposed to be dead. As the only surviving blood relative, Roland will try to get his dirty hands on your estate. To counter that, my boss has filed a last will and testament on your behalf with the Master of the Supreme Court, naming me as your sole heir. This ensures that until you arise from the dead again, your assets are safe from Roland and company.”

“Wow! That boss of yours really has it together. How did he do it?”

“Don’t ask me. I don’t know how he does things, only that he gets them done.”

“So, how do we go about it now. I mean, I’m dead...” Giggle. “Boo, I am speaking to you from beyond the grave...” Angie said in a mock ghostly, deep voice.

“Well, you feel warm and alive to me.”

Giggle. “Are you touching me, Mister?”

“No. You’re sitting on my arm and leaning on my shoulder.”

“Oops!” Angie said and jumped up. “Better not lead you on in any way now, should I?”

“What’s it like outside? Let’s go get fresh air and see how this new dispensation will work out,” I suggested.

Giggle. “Dad, may I borrow the car? And drop a couple of purple notes also while we’re at it,” Angie said intimating a teenage voice.

“Watch your step, young lady!”

“Ooh, yeah, I forgot. I’m still due for a spanking...” she said, her eyes twinkling with a naughty smile on her face.

“What’s that Angie? You’ve been a bad girl?” Came from the door, and Gretah stepped in. She looked to be in a good mood. “Hello, Ash. Feeling better?”

“Yes, yes ... I do feel a little better. I think the medication was clouding my mind, making me just hear half of what was said,” I stammered.

“No problem. I forgive you.”

“No, it’s me that need to say sorry. Please, Gretah, I’m sorry.”

“All’s forgiven. Now what are you two up to, and why is Angie in for a spanking?” Gretah asked with a smirk.

We all laughed. Angie relayed to Gretah about the issue of the spanking teasing between her and me, and how it came about when we were flying over Dooievlei in the Beechcraft.

“Why that is awful, Angie, you know about upsetting the centre of gravity in an aircraft. I feel like I might just do the honours myself! Gretah laughed. “Been a while since you had to go fetch the belt, ain’t it, Angie?”

“Yes, Mami...” she said, subdued, then blushed.

“Ahem!” I said, clearing my throat. “Let’s go outside and find Friederich. There’s a development that you all need to know,”

“Ooh, is it good news?” Gretah asked.

“Depends on how you want to interpret it,” I said. “Let’s go find Friederich.”

(Lüderitz State Hospital, Mauteruf street, Nautilus Hill, Lüderitz, near the St. Peter The Fisherman Anglican Church.)

Like all hospitals, this one had the typical disinfectant smell and squeaky floors. Nothing was out of the ordinary. It is one of the hospitals in the Namibian Health Care Service that is adequately staffed, as its four medical doctors and twenty odd nursing staff members serve the town of Lüderitz.

Max sat in a brightly lit office across the desk from a man dressed as a doctor because that’s what he was. Max tried to follow what the doctor was telling him, but as usual these medical practitioners speak a language all their own.

“As I said, Mister Schneider, what Mister Rothman experienced is known as a coronary artery spasm. Something very hard to detect after the event, but with the resources available to us here, I can narrow it down to CAS.”

“What does this mean, Doctor? Will Roland be okay?” Max asked.

“It all depends on his willingness to cooperate and invest in his health. He has to stop smoking and drinking,” the doctor said.

“Is it what caused the heart attack?”

“There can be many reasons for this event to occur. A very stressful event can trigger it. If, however, the patient had been drinking, like Mister Rothman did in the time leading up to the event, and if he had an underlying condition such as cholesterol and hypertension, it can lead to severe contraction of the artery, causing the heart to work harder.”

“So, he has to stop drinking, smoking, and see to it that his cholesterol is treated?”

“Yes, Mister Schneider. I’ll support that. He has to exercise more regularly and eat more healthily as well.”

“That would be like a death sentence for him,” Max said under his breath.

“What was that Mister Schneider? Do you concur with my findings?”

“Well, I think Mister Rothman must get on to doing just that. I also think that the untimely death of his brother, sister-in-law, and their daughter had a big effect on him,” Max said.

“Yes, I read about that in the paper. It is truly sad. That girl, so tragic! So young!

“Yes, I think that had intensified his stress,” Max said. “How long are you going to keep him, Doctor?”

“Overnight. If all goes well, we’ll discharge him at ten tomorrow. He is stable now, and an event like this is not normally that serious; more of a wake-up call that something else is very wrong.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll see to it that he is taken to his house tomorrow.”

“Is there anyone there to look after him?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, his butler is still in Oranjamund on his ship, but I’ll have him transferred here tonight.”

“Good, and Mister Schneider, have him relax more, and change his diet to something more suitable for his health.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll see to it,” Max said, got up, and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, I’ll be going now. There’ll be many arrangements to be made.”

As Max turned and left, the doctor stood thoughtfully behind his desk. Yes, this was bound to happen. The newspaper article was the clincher. The doctor smiled. Now, he has patients to see, calls to make. One call in particular...

(And back at the safe house in Windhoek.)

Friederich had found himself a fifteen-year-old to keep him company and was cuddling said fifteen-year-old when we came back to the pool.

“Ash, due to you being on medication, I don’t think I can offer you some of this fine fifteen-year-old Glenlivet that Alex has been hiding away here in the pool bar,” he said, and added; “I wonder where he laid his hands on it?”

“Oh, it’s available in South Africa for around 800 bucks a bottle, and you can even buy it online at Takealot dot com. But a Coke will do,” I said, and sat down on the one couch overlooking the pool. Angie took up the space next to me. Gretah looked at the two of us and smiled a little subdued smile.

“So, you have something to tell us, Ash?” Gretah asked.

“Oh, come on, Gret. Let’s leave that old cow resting in the ditch!” Friederich said, using his wife’s pet name. Still under the impression that Gretah and I needed to sort out the thing from earlier, he handed me a coke. “Something for you guys, Angie, Gret?”

“I’ll go with a Scotch,” Gretah said.

“Just a Coke for me, please, Papi.”

“Good! One Scotch and one Coke coming up,” Friederich said and turned back to the bar counter.

“Well, as Gretah said, I do have something to tell you guys, and it has to do with the call I got earlier today. It seems like my boss needed to plug a hole, and what a plug he found to fit that hole.”

“Okay, fire away,” Friederich said.

“Well, it’s like this...” I said and relayed the story about the different wills and how they were supposed to stop Roland from getting his hands on their assets. Gretah and Friederich sat in silence, listening to what I had to say.

“Of course, this means that none of you, can use any of your debit or credit cards, nor access your bank accounts, or otherwise indicate that you are indeed alive, using email, Facebook, or any online stuff,” I said.

“So, how are we going to find a means to live, I mean while this mess is going on?” Friederich asked.

“Not to worry, all will be taken care of. If you need to get something, just use cash. If you run out of cash, no problem. In the meantime, I’ll provide whatever cash needs you have,” I said. They just looked at me. Friederich then slowly nodded his head.

“Make sense to me. Gret, are you okay with this for the time being?” Friederich asked.

“What choice do I have? I’ll go along with this. We can’t let that snake Roland get hold of our assets,” Gretah said.

Angie had a sparkle in her eyes and a sly smile on her lips. She turned on the couch, drawing one leg up under her, and then she reached over and took my right hand in both her hands.

“Can you grease my palms with a couple of purple Roan antelopes? I want to go to the disco tonight. Giggle,” she was referring, of course, to the Namibian 200-dollar note is overall purple in colour with ‘Kaptein Hendrik Witbooi’ on one side and some Roan antelopes on the reverse side.

“Angelique!” Gretah admonished. “Behave yourself! You never go to the disco, well ... I don’t know if you do ... not since, well, since you’re all grown-up and everything...”

“Gretah, Angie is just teasing. Just now, before you came to us in the study, after I explained all this to her she wanted to borrow my car and have a couple of purple notes as well!” I laughed. “It’s just her way of dealing with this mess.”

“So, what now? How do we proceed from here on out?” Friederich asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to wait on instructions. For now, we are safe here. So pretend you’re on holiday and enjoy the facilities,” I said.

“I still need a bathing suit,” Gretah said.

“Then buy one! Just use cash,” I said.

“I don’t have that much on me,” Gretah chuckled.

“Neither do I,” Friederich said with a chuckle. “Where we came from at that last ‘holiday resort’ we didn’t have much need for cash.”

“Well, I could get something going as a contingency plan,” I offered. “How about I get to let you each have, say, about five thousand each. I think that will get you through the next week or two?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Friederich said. “Just you keep tabs on it. When this is over, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Not to worry. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I said. “And to hell with all this medication. I feel fine. Pour me some of that hidden nectar you found, Friederich!”

“Good! One Scotch coming up!” he said, and Angie just looked at me, smiling and still holding on to my right hand, both feet curled up under her, then placed her head on my shoulder. Gretah gave Angie the evil eye, but she chose not to notice. Neither did I.

Gretah looked over to her husband, who just shrugged and poured a second round of scotch for each of them. “What? We’re on holiday, so what?”

“After this one I think I’ll go take a shower,” Gretah said.

“Need a back scrub?” Friederich asked and winked at her.

“Yes, why not...”

Angie looked up at me. She said nothing but there was that naughty glint in her eyes. What now? With this chili-pepper-pip, one never knows what’s next.

(At the hospital in Lüderitz.)

“No!” Roland said. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to the ship. My crew needs me, and I have to get the mining done.”

“Okay, have it your way, but remember, if you die ... Never mind,” Max said.

“What if I die? Then my brother gets his way. So I will compromise. No drinking, maybe just one or two, but I’ll eat better and cut out those nice crispy brown bacon and pork chops. I’ll cut out on smoking too. Are you happy now?

“I’ll most probably do the same.” Max sighed. “We still need to live to enjoy the finer things to come.”

“Well, I’ll go back to the ship and run the show there. You can keep on working on getting your hands on granddaddy’s fortune.”

“Good. And we keep to our prior arrangement.”

“Yes, as long as you clear the part that I owe you.”

“That will be done. You now just get better and go ... go back to your ship and get the shiny stones.”

“And find me a good lawyer. I’m going to sue that bloody Windsor. How can he ... I mean, he just got here ... What power ... what power does he have to ... get the bitch to ... bloody-well sign over her estate to him?”

“Roland! Calm down! Leave it to me. I’ll sort this out.”

“The bitch! I’m entitled to the estate, not ... that ... hooligan!”

“Roland! Now stop it and calm down.”

Okay! Okay. But the audacity. How could she? Roland asked and fell back against the pillows.

“We’ll fight them in court, Roland,” Max said. “Now just stay calm and let’s get you out of here by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, always tomorrow! I get irritated by that word. Why not today for a change.”

“All good things come to him who waits.” Max sighed.

“Yeah! And when is it my turn?” Roland asked.

“I see that we’re not going to get this sorted out now. I’m going to see what I can do. You just hang in there until you are discharged, then we’ll get something going. I need to find that son-of-a-bitch, Windsor.” Max said.

“Good. Now let me sleep. I feel tired. Tired of always playing second fiddle. Tired of waiting.”

“Okay, Roland. Rest up. I’ll get you tomorrow and take you to the ship.”

Max got up and left. Roland lay against the pillows for a while, contemplating what to do. No nearer to a solution, he drifted off to sleep.

(What happened to Lorie, Darya, Leah, and Olivia?)

The sun was just dropping down to the Magaliesburg mountain range on the western horizon. The town of Brits lay sprawling beneath the Cessna as Lorie worked through the descent and landing checklist. There were a few scattered clouds visible in the sky, but of no concern to Lorie. September going into October is still mild here on the bushveld. The real danger of thunderstorms was close, but not today.

She was flying into an unfamiliar airstrip, so Leah and Olivia gave her some excellent advice. The two of them, Leah and Olivia, had been in and out of this airstrip more than a dozen times.

“Runway 09/27 is in fact tarmac and the magnetic direction of 09 is actually 87 degrees or 70 degrees true. You will see it just left of that slight hill to your right,” Leah said. “Elevation at 4130 feet.”

“Oh, I see it. My word! They have glideslope lights! This is unreal for a bush strip,” Lorie said as she saw the PAPI lights showing up.