Chapter 17

November 15, 15:00 SAST. Cape Town, Newlands Safe House.

The silence in the room suddenly came to an end when all the girls started to talk at once. Mai-Loan and Nadia went over to Roxy, and each took a seat on the armrests of the easy chair. Nadia placed her arm over Roxy’s shoulder, while Mai-Loan took Roxy’s right hand in hers.

“Calm down, Roxy. Tell us what happened,” Nadia said.

“Angie, get us all some brandy. A double for Roxy,” I said, and Angie, still pale, nodded her head and went to fetch us each some liquid medicine. Leah followed Angie.

Darya looked over at me with a light of understanding in her eyes. She of all in the room would understand what it is to pull the trigger on someone. Nadia is the assassin, the close-range killer, or should I say, the eliminator of problems, but Darya has also done it a couple of times in her everyday task of eliminating problems.

“When Jonathan gave me the opportunity to get close to that monster, I was planning to take him out; just, I had to wait awhile,” Roxy almost whispered, and to me the girl looked older than her nineteen years. Killing does that to you.

I had two problems now: one, to get rid of the gun; and two, to see that Roxy gets out of Cape Town. Although it was an eye for an eye, in the eyes of the law it’s murder.

Angie and Leah came back with a tray of glasses, and a bottle of Wellington VO brandy. They placed the bottle on the coffee table, and Leah proceeded to pour us each a measure of brandy.

“I had to do it. For Abbie ... I needed to set her free...”

“Roxy,” I said. “We understand. Say no more. Drink your brandy and then we’ll talk.”

Roxy looked at me, saying nothing, but kept holding onto Mai-Loan’s hand.

“We’ll talk later, Roxy,” Nadia reiterated my words.

“Here, take the glass,” Angie said and held out a glass of brandy to Roxy. She took it, looked at the glass in her hand and then upped it and downed the brandy in one gulp. She closed her eyes tight and pulled a face, shuddering.

“Ugh, yack!” Roxy exclaimed. “This is yucky when it’s neat! Rather put some Coke in mine, next time.” I detected a little mood swing in Roxy. The brandy did its job.

“Girls, listen to me and listen closely.” I said, speaking softly and slowly. “First, I need you to take Roxy and have her shower. Use dishwashing detergent and let her pay close attention to her hands, arms and face. Bag all her clothes, even her underwear, shoes, the lot. Then dress her in fresh clothes. You got half an hour to do that. Am I clear?”

“Why?” Angie asked with a frown.

“GPR, Gun Powder Residue, left on her skin,” Darya answered.

“And her clothes?” Angie asked again.

“Same thing. We need to get rid of them together with this mean looking Llama. When you’re finished, we leave for Overberg immediately. We need to keep Roxy away from any crap for six to eight hours.” I said.

“That will ensure that if the cops pick up on Roxy’s involvement, and they smoke test her, she’ll test negative,” Nadia explained. “I’ve been there, done it, got the t-shirt and read the book!”

“Yeah, don’t believe the crap the TV feeds you on CSI,” Mai-Loan added. “That stuff rubs off, but be careful where you leave it!”

During this whole exchange, Roxy sat just looking at us with her hands in her lap, swivelling her head from speaker to speaker as if she was watching a tennis match.

“Yeah, the same with spilled blood, semen, and saliva,” I chuckled. “That thing they do with the ultraviolet lamps: after seventy-two hours, even that is negative.”

“But be careful of the Serological Body Fluids Detection Dog the SAPS have. That animal can detect a pin prick of blood for much longer after it was spilled, and then the DNA of that blood can still be identified. The same goes for semen.” Doctor Angie interjected.

“Wow! I should then be careful!” Nadia giggled.

“Well, only if you want to hide a body,” Darya said. “Then it becomes a problem of getting rid of the blood trail.”

“Will you guys please stop it...” Roxy softly said. “I feel like a ... criminal...”

“No! You squashed a cockroach, Rox!” Mai-Loan exclaimed. “But it is our task to see that nobody can get to you, not the gangs or ... the SAPS, for that matter.”

“Well, it’s going to take some time before they find him.” Roxy said, looking up at us. “I locked him inside his office. If the office is locked, everyone will think he left and will come back later.” She then placed her hand inside her other coat pocket and took out Rashaad’s office key and dropped it next to the gun on the coffee table.

“Phew! Don’t you think they will think something is afoot!” Olivia said. “In this heat he might start to smell in a day or two, unless you turned the air conditioner to ice-cold.”

“I did not have time for that! I just wanted to get out of there...” Roxy said.

“If you turned on the air conditioner to cold, it should have been fun, but anyway, we’ll be long gone by then,” I said. “Come now, who’s going to help Roxy?”

“Come Rox, let’s go get you ready for a party!” Mai-Loan said and got up, followed by Nadia and Darya.

“Yeah, I’ve even got some nice makeup for that blank canvas of a face,” Mai-Loan added.

“Good, I have some great eye-liner and lipstick that will match her skin tone,” Lorie, who was quiet all the while, chipped in, and then followed the procession to the bathroom.

I picked up the Llama from the coffee table and punched out the cylinder. Hmm ... A six-round cylinder, one of the older models. They come in five round cylinders now. I press the ejector and emptied the cylinder in my hand. Five good cartridges and one spent brass casing.

This needs to be disposed of pronto. Messing with evidence ... so what? All’s well that ends well. Now I need a brick or two. I have a nice place to drop this stuff off, and her clothes off as well.

Only Williams knew of this place, and Williams can no longer shoot off his mouth. It will be years, even decades before this stuff will be found, if ever.

TC walked into the lounge and said: “Okay, spill it! What’s up with Roxy?”

“She solved a problem,” Angie said.

“Nice piece you got there,” TC said looking at the thirty-eight in my hand. “So what problem did our girl solve?”

“She took out Williams with this,” I said and held up the thirty-eight. TC whistled.

“Now that can bring other nasty problems we don’t need. Did he threaten her life?”

“No. She took revenge on him for killing her sister...” Angie said.

“Now, THAT is what I call a wee nasty problem. What are you going to do?”

“Get rid of this thing, and her clothes.” I said.

“Where?”

“Oh, I have a place, I just need some bricks to weigh the package down a bit and see that it stays on the bottom for a year or two...”

“You can just dissolve the gun in acid.”

“I need something strong for that!”

“HF,” Angie said.

“HF?” Both TC and I asked.

“Hydrofluoric acid. Dissolves anything, even glass.”

“And you just have some of it in your back pocket?” I asked sarcastic.

“No, but I can get some if you want.” Angie said smiling. Lots of it at the university lab.

“I think I’ll stick with bricks, and a burlap bag.”

“Burlap bag, like in a Hessian bag?”, TC asked, “That will decay in the seawater in no time, slipping the stuff out on the ocean floor, then it may drift up to the surface.”

“No matter, Roxy’s clothes are mostly cotton. Seawater will decay that in thirty days to rags. The burlap or Hessian bag will go in two years. So, no problem. We don’t want to contaminate the ocean with plastic micro fibres, only get rid of a problem,” I said.

“Yeah, seems better than to go the acid way. That HF stuff is extremely dangerous.” TC said.

“Seems so. If it even dissolves glass, where the hell do you keep it?” I asked.

“In Teflon bottles. Ever heard of the professor that made an acid that can dissolve anything? Well, he is now looking for a container to put it in,” Angie laughed at her own joke. “And that, by the way, that’s how Teflon was discovered. They dissolved some poly-plastic stuff in HF until it did not react with the plastic anymore. What was left was Teflon. So now they store and transport the stuff in Teflon bottles.”

“So, HF does not dissolve, all things ... only some things?” I smirked.

“No ... well, besides Teflon...”

“So, you don’t get an acid that will dissolve EVERYTHING. I rest my case ye ‘onner...” I said and got up. “Now, to find some bricks...”

“Yeah, mister Doctor of aeronautical engineering! I can’t ever get anything past you!” Angie smirked.

“There are eight or ten bricks out at the shed next to the hangar. I’ll go get you, say, six?”

“Yip, more than enough. Maybe four. Thanks, almost-brother-in-law...”

“You’re welcome. First go wash that gun in vinegar, to remove all traces of fingerprints and firing residue.”

“Chopper fuel,” I said.

“Chopper fuel?” TC asked.

“Yip, if you want to clean a gun good, use chopper fuel. A1-jet. The metal will turn white. Then oil it good, else you end up with a heap of rust in less than two hours.”

“So, you’re going to wash it in A1-jet, then?”

“Yip! But not oil it. I need it to rust, pronto!” I chuckled.

“Now save a nation with such a man...” TC sighed, shook his head, clucking his tongue, and left. “Let me go get you your bricks.”

“Chemistry in action!” Angie chortled, kissed me on the cheek and walked off. “Now let me go see what the girls are doing to that poor kid!”

Now that “kid,” was a beauty before, but the Angels transformed her into pretty beautiful. Gorgeous! Roxy came out smiling and looking a million dollars; dressed in a blue denim fancy blouse with a short jacket, Nike tekkies on her feet and a smile to melt glaciers. She held out a big burlap bag to me. “My old stuff. You think I can donate it to an orphanage?” She said.

“Poseidon home for orphaned fish!” I said. “That bag is getting brick boots, and we’ll go park it in the ocean. Let it go visit the fishies, capisce!”

“Oops! ‘Luigi’, the godfather of the family has spoken!” Angie said with a fake serious face. There were chuckles, giggles and laughter all around. I held up the thirty-eight and its ammo that was already starting to rust.

“Together with this rusty old relic of yesteryear...” I said in fake Italian voice. This time there was hilarious laughter. Even Roxy joined in.

Mai-Loan slapped me on the shoulder and said. “Nah, not good. Rather stick with being the Archangel.” More laughter erupted.

“Hmm ... Brothers and sisters, all my children, of this congregation, let us make haste like rock-off, and fuck off ... to Overberg...”

“DAD! There’re kids here!” Darya chastised.

“Nope, he can’t even feign being a monk!” Roxy said. “Let him stick to being just ASH!”

“Yeah, I second that,” Angie said. Giggle.

“Okay, are you all packed?” I asked.

“Give us a moment...” Leah said, and everyone scampered out towards bedrooms, leaving me alone.

I opened the burlap bag and looked past the bra and panties that were strategically placed on top of everything. (I wonder whose idea that was.) Then I dropped the thirty-eight, five good cartridges and the brass casing inside, and transferred the bag to another bag that was already prepped with four bricks. Four bricks will be good. The bag will sink in say, maybe thirty minutes, depending on the currents and wave action.

Then I sat down and relaxed a bit. If all goes well, we’ll be out of here in about forty minutes. I don’t think the girls need more time to pack.

Okay, it was an hour. Women! We guys just throw everything in a bag and that’s it, we’re packed, twenty minutes maximum if we fold up everything good.

The Jeep and the Nissan were required to get everyone to the airport. TC and his band of men will drive through tomorrow or the day after. No problem.

At the airport Olivia and Leah played rock-paper-scissors to see who get to fly right seat. On a helicopter, the pilot seat is on the right. The only exception is the MD 500 series of helicopters where the pilot seat is on the left. Confusing? Nope, it is just like that.

Maybe the helicopter pilot right seat thing started with Igor Sikorsky. Why, I don’t know, maybe he was left-handed. Okay, I know it’s got to do with the rotation of the main blades, the tendency of the tail rotor to drift the craft, and the weight and balance of the craft, as well as the centre of gravity, but that is detail you only learn as a helicopter pilot.

Olivia won the right seat, and the fun began: checking for fish or other critters swimming in the fuel; checking if all the spinney thingies were still attached to the parts that matter; and checking the wheels were still there and inflated. Here on the Cape Flats one can’t be sure that if you leave something, you’ll get it back in the same condition.

It’s true! Here on the Cape Flats they will steal the sugar out of your coffee if you are not careful. Some say if you drive too slow down Spine Road, they will steal the wheels off your car!

And then there was still another hundred and thirty-eleven other stuff, like oil, fuel and, the liquid coolant levels in the Aircraft Vapour Cycle Air Conditioning system, hydraulic lines, and any oil leakage to check. Lucky I’m a passenger on this flight! Let the girls do what they signed up for. Equity in the workplace at work.

Somewhere in there, the removal of all the covers was included, and especially checking that no hornets or bees took up residence in the pitot tubes. Yeah, that happens, and if not checked you find out at altitude that either your speed is too low or non-existent. It might or may not present a problem ... or two. Try landing your favourite Cessna or Piper with the airspeed indicator reading 60 knots, but the aircraft is happily going 95 knots. Then the reverse can be true, doing 60 knots on the airspeed indicator, but the aircraft is only doing 40 knots in real-time! Yeah, disaster! Sometimes the SACAA will report “controlled flight into terrain.” Too bad, so sad ... Lower him slowly into the grave ... he was a good man.

While both turbines were roaring away in ground idle, and the fans were keeping the pilots cool, the two blonds were completing the “before taxi checklist.” Yeah, the Puma has wheels, not skids, so we taxi to a nice spot, turn into the wind, and take-off. As Angie previously said: “Easy, as eating pie...”

“Olivia, after take-off, fly out to Seal Island, and from Seal Island, fly 187 degrees magnetic at 800 feet,” I said.

“Okay, but FAOB is on 97 degrees?” Olivia responded.

“I know but hold that heading for 65 nautical miles and come down to 50 feet,” I instructed. “Program a waypoint as: South 35 degrees, 05 minutes, 06.56 seconds, and East 18 degrees, 25 minutes, 54.24 seconds.

“Okay, Boss, you know what you are up to...” Leah said, and she programmed the waypoint co-ordinates in on the GPS navigation system.

“We have a package to deliver, and that spot is just on the nearest edge of the Agulhas Bank.” I said.

“I thought the Agulhas bank goes two hundred and fifty kilometres offshore?” Olivia questioned.

“Yeah, at its widest point, but where Ash is taking us is where it swings north to follow the coast north,” Angie, the geologist slash archaeologist, contributed. “I believe it is 1280 feet deep there, and the package would remain there for a long time before the ocean currents wash it somewhere else.”

“Yip, by the time it does get washed up somewhere, in Rio de Janeiro, or the South Americas, even the Falklands, it will be long decayed, and years from now,” I said. “That spot is on the edge of the Agulhas Bank, just before it drops down the Abyssal Plain at between 11480 feet to 19600 feet. If the ocean currents do dislodge it, it will drop down the slope onto the plain.”

“So, Archangel Ash is taking us to the edge of the continental shelf. How exciting!” Lorie chuckled. Roxy started to giggle.

“What’s up, Rox?” Angie asked.

“That my clothes will go to visit Rio, and I’m not in them!” Roxy said. “I hope they have fun at the Mardi Gras.”

“Sister! One of these days we’ll take you to see Rio. Just stick with us!” Mai-Loan chuckled.

“If it does come out of the trough there. The ocean currents just run over that east to west trough.” I said. “It will hit bottom, and the way it is weighted down, it will just stay there. It is in the middle of the deep ocean, and I don’t think divers can go that deep.”

“Yes, even the coastal upwellings won’t dislodge it there,” Angie confirmed. “It’s too far south for any coastal upwelling to do any harm. It will be perfectly safe, for at least a couple of years.”

“And if it does come apart, the currents will most likely wash it into the South Atlantic or even the South Indian Ocean,” I added.

“Hey! Stop it now! That was mighty fine clothes! Even, if they were from PEP-Stores...” Roxy pushed back.

“You buy your clothes from PEP-Stores?” Lorie asked.

“Yes! Woollies are too expensive! Besides, there’s nothing wrong with PEP clothes!”

“Agh. Don’t worry, Rox, I also bought stuff from PEP,” Angie said. “The reason that the clothes are cheap there is that PEP don’t have customer accounts.”

“They sell only for cash or on credit card and by not having customer accounts they don’t run the risk of people not paying their accounts. And, like Woollies, they don’t have to recover some of the risk from the good paying customers with high prices.” Lorie said. Hmm, I wonder where sis got so clever.