Chapter 5

The sound of the slap echoed through the dining room like a thunderclap. Angie staggered back into the sideboard, bounced off it, and dropped to the floor clutching her cheek. She fell in a crumpled heap, her dress riding up to expose a thigh. One gold-coloured shoe went flying across the floor. Angie laid still, holding her hand to her cheek.

Roland stood towering above his chair that fell over when he jumped up to strike Angie. He was shaking with fury. His face aglow with the anger boiling inside him.

“You ungrateful little evil bitch!” Roland uttered through clenched teeth. I was at Angie’s side in two strides, and I picked her up from the floor as Roland advanced on her. I placed Angie back on her feet and pushed her in behind me.

“ROLAND ROTHMAN!” I shouted at him. Roland did not hear me or was too far into his crazy rage to respond. He kept advancing on Angie, his hands trying to unbuckle his leather belt around his waist. I had to act fast.

The dull sound of knuckles connecting to a face came as a surprise to both Roland and a terrified, trembling Cookie. Roland’s head changed shape for a moment as my fist slammed into his jaw, in about the vicinity of the little trip switch that every human has halfway on his lower jaw. His head twisted from left to right and then tried to regain its original position. Roland’s head moved; his brain did not, causing whiplash to his neck. I must have hit his trip switch because his eyes slammed shut, and he staggered back, arms flying out. Unable to sustain himself, he tried to grab hold of the corner of the table. But his feet and hands were no longer responding to the commands of his brain.

Stumbling backward, he turned around and Roland went down on one knee and then the other knee. He tried to shake his head to clear the fog, but the light dimmed out for him, and he dropped to the floor with a grunt, laying still. Out for the count, he sprawled face down on the dining room floor. A slight dribble of drool frothed out of the corner of his mouth.

“See to Roland, Cookie”, I said hoarsely, nursing my right hand where a searing pain sprang up my arm, from my wrist to my elbow. I must have dislocated something. It felt like I hit a concrete wall. The ‘concrete wall’ lay demolished on the floor in a sorry tangle of sprawled arms and legs.

Angie was a little unsteady on her feet, still clutching her cheek where Roland had struck her. Her eyes were big and misty and a red blush spread over her face and neck. I placed my arm over her shoulders with my other hand on her elbow and steered her out of the dining room, up the stairs to her room.

Angie was just hobbling along in a complete daze. I had forgotten to either remove her remaining shoe or replace the lost one. The solution: I picked her up in my arms and carried her up the stairs.

In her room, I had her sit down on the bed. Silent sobs started to come, and she was trembling. The shock was setting in, and I had to do something.

I gently pushed her over on the bed until she was laying on her back. As all women with slight decoration skills, Angie had three big continental cushions on her bed. I took two and elevated her feet, placing the two pillows under her feet, and removed the remaining shoe. Luckily her dress slit did not reveal too much leg. I found a blanket folded up on a chair and took it to cover Angie. I had to keep her warm. By this time she was coming out of it.

“The bastard!” Angie said.

“Sjuu, Angie. Take it slow,” I said. “Let me see your cheek.”

“It burns like hell...”

“Let me see,” I said, and Angie took her hand away from her cheek, slowly turning her face to me.

“Ow!”

“Slowly, Angie, slowly,” I said and looked at her cheek. It was red and swollen, but nothing seemed to be broken or dislocated.

“Stay here and don’t move,” I said. “I’m going to get some ice.”

“If you see Roland, kill him!”

“Angie!”

“Wait, I’m coming with you. Just let me get my gun.” Angie tried to get up. “Ow!”

“You’re going nowhere. Anyway, Roland is still sleeping it off.”

“What’s he sleeping off?”

“After I slugged him, he went down. Sleeping. Cookie is tending to him.”

“You slugged him? Out cold?” Angie asked disbelievingly. “We better get away! He’ll be hopping mad when he wakes up!”

“Nah! I’ll just clobber him again. Now, wait here. Let me get that ice for you.”

“Brr ... I’m getting cold.”

“That’s why you need to stay here and under the blanket.” Angie lifted the blanket, peered cautiously under it, and giggled.

“You did not undress me. Now you blew your chance to see me naked.”

“Yip! You are okay if you can giggle and joke. Now, let me get that ice, else no amount of war paint will cover that bruise.”

“Okay. I’ll be good.” Giggle. “You clobbered Roland?”

“Yes. Now, stay put. I’ll be back.”

Giggle. “Can you say that in Schwarzenegger’s voice?” And Angie tried to smile. “Ow!”

On my way down the stairs to the kitchen, I ran into Cookie on his way up, carrying a china plate with a bundled-up kitchen cloth on it.

“I thought to bring you some ice, Mister Windsor. It will help Miss Angelique,” Cookie said.

“Thank you, Anton. I was on my way down to get some. How’s Roland?”

“Mister Rothman has revived and asked me if I caught the license plate number of the bus that hit him,” Cookie smirked. “Anyway, he retired for the evening. He’s got a headache.”

“Serves him right for assaulting Miss Angie,” I said. “Anton, can I trouble you for something hot for miss Angie. Strong tea will be good.”

“I will go make it now, Mister Windsor. I’ll bring it up to her room.”

“Anton, drop the mister Windsor thing, please. Only my dad was mister Windsor. I’m just plain Ash.”

“Thank you, Mister Ash. I know my place.” And Cookie smiled. “I’ll get the tea. Strong Rooibos, two sugars, and no milk. That’s how she prefers it. And Sir, if I may be so bold and maybe speak out of place, Sir. It’s not the first time that mister Roland has lifted his hand to miss Angie.”

“What? Has he done it before?” I asked.

“Yes Sir, maybe worse than tonight, but let Miss Angie tell you herself, if she does so. I think you stopped him in time. He did not expect you to retaliate.” With that Cookie gave me the china plate with the cloth-wrapped ice. “Let me go fix Miss Angie her tea. Would you like some coffee, Sir?”

“Please. And Cookie, lace it with some brandy,” I said and went back up the stairs. My hand was now starting to throb. Maybe I should reserve some of this ice for myself as well. What I did not see was Cookie smiling as he went down to the kitchen.

Expecting Angie to still be where I left her, I opened the door and walked in, just to find a pyjama-clad Angie emerging from the en-suite bathroom. She hobbled the few steps to the bed and sat down. Her green dress lay folded across a chair near the window.

“My foot hurts,” Angie said.

“Let me look.”

“I think I twisted it when I fell.”

“Sit still and let me see,” I said. Angie lifted her left leg, and I took her foot in my hand.

“Your hand! Look at your hand! It’s swollen.” Angie said and reached out, taking my hand in hers.

“Don’t worry. I’ll put some ice on it. Now let me see your foot.” Withdrawing my hand from hers, I proceeded to examine Angie’s foot, gently flexing it.

“Ow!”

“Just a little twisted. No major damage. It will be good in the morning.”

“Thanks, Ash. You saved me from a thrashing.” Angie said and looked down at her hands.

“Has Roland done this before?” I asked and Angie just kept quiet.

“Angie?”

“Y ... Yes. Two times before. He thinks I’m still a little girl to be ‘corrected’ the old-fashioned way.” Angie said and did not look up. She sat on the bed with her head bowed, red hair falling over her face, obscuring it. “That’s another reason why I hate him.”

“Why don’t you just go out on your own? Why do you stay here?” I asked. Angie looked up, her eyes swimming with tears.

“Because I have nowhere else to go. He, Roland, has temporary custody of me.”

“You’re an adult. Surely you could go and find yourself a place to stay. You have your own money and a house from your parents.” I said.

“It’s complicated. Roland still controls my money.”

“Well, after tonight, I think Roland and I need to have a little pow-wow session,” I said.

“A pow wow session?” Angie asked.

“Yes. A sacred social gathering to meet and honour a certain culture. If need be, I’ll convince him in a subtle way, how to proceed. There will be only one point on the agenda.”

“Would that one point on the agenda be of a change or distinction in the current circumstances, so delicate or precise as to be difficult for you to analyse or describe it to me?” Giggle.

“Huh! Did you swallow an Oxford Dictionary?”

“No, but I do know what the word ‘subtle,’ means.” Giggle “Something in the line of another subtle tap on the jaw...” Angie looked up at me, smiling, eyes shining.

“That, my dear Angie, Roland will find out with a big bang. Don’t mess with Ashwin Windsor!”

“Like tonight?” Giggle. “Did he mess with you? I thought he messed with me?”

“Messing with you is like messing...” I stopped speaking before I said something I could later regret.

“ ... Like messing with Ashwin Windsor,” Angie completed my words. And the green eyes were searching my face. “Thanks, Ash. I do appreciate you keeping an eye on me,” Giggle.

“It’s my pleasure. Now, Cookie is bringing you some tea, and a first-aid kit for me,” I smirked.

“Is the first-aid kit there to soothe the scratch marks of the wounded tiger?” Angie giggled.

“Cookie and his loud voice.” I sighed. “No, there will be some painkillers in it. I’m going to give you some, so you can get some sleep.”

“Once again. Thank you for keeping an eye on me, Ash.” This girl forgets nothing. I should watch what I say to her, as I remembered her and me discussing the ‘keep an eye’ statement.

There was a knock on the door. I went over and opened it. Cookie came into the room with a tray. One cup of tea and one mug of coffee on it, and to the side a red first-aid bag with a big white cross on it. Angie burst out laughing.

“Cookie, are there antibiotics in the bag to soothe the wounded tiger scratch marks?” Angie asked. Cookie just stood there, rooted to the spot, at a loss for words. Angie kept on giggling.

After seeing to it that Angie was settled in for the night, I went back to my room. The ice did help Angie’s cheek look better. The swelling was down, and it did not seem so red anymore. Her jaw might still be a bit sore in the morning. My own hand did look much better, but it was still a little tender. Damn, that Roland’s jaw was as hard as stone. I chuckled to myself. I wanted to do that ever since I met him, the arrogant bastard.

Although it was getting on to around ten in the evening, I did not feel like sleeping. I walked out on the balcony of my room just to get some air. All seemed to be quiet around the house. Only a warm dull glow from my room light and the bright outside security pinpoint lights casting a half-light up on the balcony.

Looks like I’m the only one still up and about; Angie was out for the count. Lucky that she decided to get into those damn “Hello Kitty” pyjamas of hers. It was just a question of opening the bed for her to get in and cover up. There was a naughty glint in her eyes, with only her head sticking out above the blankets, but I refrained from giving her a goodnight kiss. It took all my will power, but I did just bid her a good night, switched off the light and left, closing the door.

There was a half-moon shining down out of the starlit heaven. The town of Lüderitz, lay sleeping on the shores of the Atlantic. A few lights still winked in the cooling desert air. It gave the impression of peacefulness and tranquility. The little bit of moonlight was bright enough to reflect off the swirling dust. If you discount the sea, I could have been in many places like this town: Tubac Arizona, Moab Utah, Grand Junction Colorado, or be it Marfa in Texas. There are even horses here. Besides the wild desert horses, some residents do keep horses around for various sports ventures or just for recreation.

Out in the harbour, the Albatross II rode at its moorings, and I wondered at the three crew still aboard. How did they fit into this mess? Who was Max? What hold does he have on Roland? Why is Roland so abusive towards Angelique? Answers I did not have, but I knew where to start looking.

I took out my cell phone and dialled a number while walking back into my room, closing and locking the outside door.

“Speak. You’ve got three minutes.” Came the grumpy old voice on the third ring.

“And I’ve got another forty cents to drop. We leave the day after tomorrow,” I softly said.

“Good. Remember your sunscreen.”

“Find out for me about a guy called Max. No surname yet, but he owns a ship called the “Sea Swan.” It’s a diamond mining ship out of Swakopmund.”

“I’ll do it. What is the connection?”

“I don’t know yet, but it is important. Could be a rival operator trying to get his dirty hands on what is in the desert, and it could compromise my mission.”

“How do I get the info back to you?”

“I’ll call tomorrow night.”

“I’ll wait.”

“And, also find out who has the power of attorney on the accounts of one Angelique Rothman, aged twenty.”

“Why?”

“Just do it and terminate the power of attorney. It’s time she runs her own life.”

“Daughter of the missing persons? Are you getting soft on a girl?”

“Yes, daughter of the missing persons, and no, I’m too old for her. I have other reasons. Just do it.”

Chuckle. “Okay. You’re only fifteen years older than her. But I suspect we should do a forensic audit on her accounts; don’t you think so?”

“Why?”

“If it is like I suspect, and Roland has the power of attorney, he has access to her accounts with all of what that offers.”

“Laundering funds through it? I did not think of that possibility.”

“I’ll get onto it.”

“Another thing, the aircraft in the desert: it looks like it was landed, secured and left there.”

“How do you know that?”

“I checked, flew out there for a look-see. The engine inlets and outlets are covered. Pitot tubes and other sensors are covered too.”

“Blast! That changes the investigation a bit, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but I’ll go along with Roland’s plans ... for a while.”

“Until?”

“Until I’m sure I can nail him on something.”

“Don’t let your judgement be clouded.”

“No. I won’t. Pleasant dreams,” I said and disconnected, not waiting for a reply.

Yes. Let me do something valuable for Angie. I don’t know how this will help, but let’s see where this goes. Time to hit the sack. Tomorrow will bring its own fresh stinky fish to fry.

Dawn broke late here on the west coast of Africa. At about 06:30 I was up, shit, shaved and shampooed, ready to face the day. I walked out on the balcony. The town was waking up; a few cars drove around the dusty streets. Places to go, people to see. Life was happening in town. Soon the shops will open, and a new day has begun.