Chapter 17

Newlands, Cape Town. Saturday Morning.

Low cloud formed a grey blanket over the Cape Peninsula. The wind from the north-east was gusting strongly, bringing with it cold and icy temperatures that cut through body and bone. A soft rain fell a while ago, leaving everything wet and clammy. Even the house was permeated with the musty smell of wetness.

Darya had long ago had her breakfast and was now relaxing in front of a roaring fire in the private lounge of the house, a mug of coffee next to her on the side table. She was curled up on the couch. Waiting.

Ronny phoned around 07:00 to tell her he was on his way from Plettenberg Bay and would be home around ten or ten thirty. With the wet roads he was not taking any chances with the motorbike. Still, if he does the journey of four hundred kilometres in only three and a half hours, that means that he was not keeping by the speed limit. Yes, that’s Ronny.

Ever since Ash took over as head of the Foundation, the house and the estate in Newlands was not just a safe house anymore. Roxy, Bushy, Ronny, and she had been staying here to keep an eye on the property, by Ash’s definition. But yes, it has been a blast.

There’s still the estate against the Twelve Apostle Mountain Range, looking out on Clifton 4^th beach. But that was now the haunt of TC and his Rangers.

Being Saturday, Darya had no pressing matters to attend to. Mostly during the week, she keeps an eye on the business in Fish Hoek: Quad Five Investment, Real Estate Agent and Property Rental.

As a director of the company, she alternates with Roxy and Andrea Louw. Andrea is still the CEO, but farming matters keeps her busy; that and climbing the ladder on her aviation endeavour. Being wife to an ATP (Airline Transport Pilot) does have its benefits.

Speaking of benefits, just look where Darya is herself. From a run and hide existence in Tajikistan, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, Syria and Iraq, where Mai-Loan found her, to here in South Africa where she now lives with her life partner, Ronny.

She must have snoozed a bit, because the shrill ring of her cell phone startled her. She reached over to the side table and retrieved it. The display showed; “The Office.”

“Hi, this is Darya...”

“Sorry to bother you Miss Kalondarova, but I have a gentleman here that wants you to show him some properties in Fish Hoek and Noordhoek,” Sandra, the office receptionist said.

“Sandra, I’m not coming in to the office today. Let one of the senior agents help him.”

“I told him, and he still wants you to show him around. He said he was referred to speak only to you.”

An alarm bell rang in Darya’s mind with red lights flashing. She has never handled any customers before, so who would have referred her to this guy?

“Who is the guy, and is he alone?”

“Yes ... yes, he is alone ... And he said that he will only deal with you. He ... he did not give his name...”

“Is he still there?”

“He’s waiting in the reception area.”

“Okay, Sandy. Ask him if Tuesday next week will do. Then make an appointment for him at, say ... eleven.”

“I’ll do so Miss!”

“Thank you, Sandy. Go tell him. I’ll hold the line...”

“Okay, Miss. Talk to you just now.” Darya heard Sandy’s high heels clatter on the tile floor as she walked up to whoever wanted to see her.

“Sir,” Darya heard Sandy address the gentleman. “Unfortunately, Miss Kalondarova is elsewhere detained and cannot come into the office...”

“Does she want my business or not?”

“I’m sorry, Sir, Miss Kalondarova is not in Cape Town right now. She asked if Tuesday at eleven would suit you?”

There was silence for a few seconds and then Darya heard the grumbled male voice say: “Oh, alright! Tuesday at eleven and make sure she is here!”, followed by a chair scraping the floor and someone walking off.

“Miss?”

“Yes, Sandy I heard it all.”

“He gave no name...”

“Sandy, go ask Dieter to make a clip of the reception area surveillance camera, and load it up to my cloud space. All of it, since he came in until he left.”

“I’ll do it straight away, Miss.”

“Thanks, Sandy. Enjoy your weekend...”

“Thank you, Miss Kalondarova,” Giggle. “You too, enjoy your weekend.”

Darya disconnected and sat looking at her phone. Then she got up to go fire up her laptop. It will take Dieter a few minutes to load up the video clip.

As she left the room to go to the room she used as her study, her cell phone chimed an incoming text message. She paused at the foot of the stairs, looked at the display and froze. The display on her cell showed one text: “Angels Alert: Code Red.”

From the top of the stairs, Roxy looked down at Darya. “What’s this code red thing?” Roxy asked. Then she saw Darya’s expression. “Oh, shit...” She whispered.

“Big shit...” Darya affirmed.

All over the country the same text message flashed across the Angels’ cell phone screens, in Cape Town, Bredasdorp and North West Province. At the same time the message was repeated on the TC Rangers cell phones.

Always before the message would just say, “Alert,”: but this was the first time a “Code Red” text was sent. In Darya’s words; “BIG Shit about to hit the fan!”

The Farm, “Syferfontein,” near Beaufort West.

It was Saturday morning on the farm, but that did not mean that everybody was off from tending to the things that makes a farm, a farm. The horses needed to be fed and taken out to the paddock. The sheep needed tending. And there was a hundred and thirty-eleven other little but important things to be done.

I was taking care of the horses while Bobbie helped dad. It was more like Bobbie was helping dad from falling off the embankment and into the ditch, but let’s not go there. She’s a fast learner, and I think dad just about liked her conversation rather than her helping with the chores. I was glad that the parental units were hitting it off with Bobbie.

With sun cresting the far-off hill to the east, I finished up with the horses and put the last one out in the paddock. Solomon would see to the cleaning of the stables, so I walked back to the house with the thought of a nice mother-made breakfast. The coffee and rusks we had for the wake-up snack, were now wearing thin.

I paused and watched Bobbie and dad driving off with the tractor towing a trailer full of feed for the sheep in the meadow, and for a moment I just stopped in my tracks and chuckled.

Dad was sitting on the fender of the tractor’s back wheel, his feet on the inside of the tractor, while little Miss Muffet was driving the tractor! Her ginger hair was up in a ponytail and stuffed through the hole at the back of the baseball cap on her head. The tomboy was clearly back for a spell. She had an expression of concentration on her face as she drove the huge four-wheel drive tractor, with dad directing her how to turn the machine and compensate for the trailer at the back. I shook my head and carried on towards the homestead.

That’s when my cell phone rang.

“Du Preez...” I answered.

“Morning, Louis. Where are you?” Ash asked.

“Hello there, Ash. Why, on my dad’s farm...”

“And where in the world is that?”

“Near Beaufort West.”

“Good!”

“Yeah, I took a few days to rest up my ribs.”

“And Miss McGee? Is she with you?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask.”

“We’ve got a situation. I can’t go into it now, but I need your help.”

“Shoot!”

“Wrong choice of words, but okay ... I need the Pienaars out of Plett without any delay.”

“Why?”

“That DiCaprio guy just imported a few hitmen and are targeting the Angels. How he came to know that it was them that hit their hideaway and rescued John and Jenny, I have no idea, but Darya and Mai-Loan are on the hit list.”

“Dammit, Ash! How?”

“An old friend called me. He had information and now I’ve got to get the Angels safe and out of the way until we can do something.”

“I can have John and Jenny come here ... to the farm.”

“I would rather have you, Miss McGee, John and Jenny, near where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Where is near?”

“I have a place in Bantry Bay, as well as in Newlands. Both places will be fine, or ... I can have you guys go back to Bredasdorp.”

“It seems like you don’t have a definite plan...”

“I am worried. This guy DiCaprio called in a pro, who has already made contact with Darya under the pretence of wanting to buy a property in Cape Town.”

“How do you know it’s him.”

“Darya was alert and got some video footage of him from the surveillance cameras. We showed it to Charley, and he identified the hitman as Alessandro Bianchi.”

“Who’s Charley?”

“Our previous boss, the guy who started the Foundation.”

“Okayyyy ... Must I bring my own gun?”

“Why not. If you know how to use it, then be my guest.”

“Ash, I have an idea. Let me think a bit more about it, and I will call you back.”

“But in the meantime, let John and Jenny phone me. The contract is out on the Angels, but with DiCaprio in the picture as the contract giver, John and Jenny as well as Miss McGee ain’t safe.”

“Was DiCaprio not the guy that whacked me?”

“Yes.”

“Well ... then, I have an apple to peel with him!”

“You mean a bone to pick.” Chuckle.

“Whatever ... I don’t care if he’s from the mob, or the Godfather himself, he’s been making life difficult for me. It’s time we meet face to face!”

“Louis, he IS from the mob, the American West Coast Mob. He’s got a casino in Vegas and are trying his best to reactivate the Mob there. You don’t want to mess with him.”

“That’s the trouble with him. When he is behind his cronies, he thinks he’s Mickey Mouse’s ears, but alone, just him and me...”

“Louis?”

“Nope! Don’t ‘Louis’ me! The time has come that you will come to know the true Louis du Preez. Now where do I find this dirtbag?”

“You think I will tell you?”

“Must I come and choke it out of you?”

“You can come and try ... The redhead has not used her AK47 in a few years...”

“Your wife’s got an AK47?”

“Two, in fact...”

“Sweet innocent, her ‘onner, Professor Doctor Angelique?”

“She’s no kitten to take on without gloves ... Ask Anton, our butler.” Chuckle.

“Never mind her! I’ll just choke the living shit out of you...”

“Okay, seems like you are worked up. Get those dear to you and come to Newlands. I’ll text you the address.”

“Do you think it is wise?”

“Why not?”

“DiCaprio, or the other guy could hack your text messages.”

“I thought of it ... but no! They can’t do it. Every communication goes through our encryption servers. Even this cell call we are having now.”

“But they found two of the Angels...”

“No, they did not. They KNOW about two or three of the Angels, but they want to lure them out in the open, because they don’t know where the Angels are.”

“If you say so, but I’m not taking chances. If you know where DiCaprio and this other guy Alessandro Bianchi are, spit it out, and we could do something constructive.”

“I’ve never heard you speak like that.”

“A Recce don’t advertise...”

“You were a Recce?”

“You ever saw that movie of Sylvester Stallone, AKA John Rambo, called First Blood?”

“Yeah. Long ago...”

“That was a movie. A dream, a fantasy by Ted Kotcheff and Stallone ... and John Rambo was a pussy kitty drinking kitty milkies ... I’ve been there, read the book, got the t-shirt and the Red Beret...”

“Jeez, Louis! Okay, come to Newlands. Let’s talk,” he said and disconnected.

There was something in the air. I could smell it. It was not the weather. No, it was something else. Something that took me back to when I was the age Bobbie is now.

It took me back to the South African Special Forces Brigade, or number 5 Special Forces Regiment with our motto: “We Fear Naught, But God!” Our nickname: “Recces,” short for our specialising in counterinsurgency, long-range-reconnaissance and unconventional-warfare, hostage rescue and direct-action operations. Only 8% of all those that tested became a “Recce”. I was one of the few, and nobody knew. Of course, that is part of the cover. No one can know.

The Brigade operated directly under the Joint Operations Division and is not part of the South African Army, the South African Navy, or the South African Air-force. The members of the two regiments, number 4 and number 5 Special Forces, are a few individuals that operate secretively, are seldom photographed, and expertly trained.

Some of the weaponry that I trained in consists of the Browning Hi-power semi-automatic pistol, the Vector Z88 semi-automatic pistol, the Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun, and the M16, R1 and R4 assault rifles. Somewhere in there the AK47 and the Dragunov were also featured.

There are others too, but that is not of any matter now. That I did get to keep my Accuracy International Arctic Warfare Magnum point 338 Lapua Magnum rifle was a chuckle to me. I think after I left the regiment and being placed on the “Call-If-Needed” list, had much to do with me keeping the rifle, and my Z88 pistol.

Darya has a nice .338, but it’s a Barrett MRAD .338 Norma Magnum. The cartridges ain’t the same, but both the rifles hit hard, accurate, and are on top of the scale as sniper rifles go. When you got hit by one of those projectiles, you don’t do like in the cowboy movies: roll over and light a cigarette!

Now, to plan my idea to present to Mister Ashwin Windsor, and even harder, to convince Bobbie that we need to go home...

Part of the convincing Bobbie was that I had to come clean to dad and mom about all the goings-on and happenings with Bobbie as the central figure.

While I relayed the story, dad did not say a word, but drew on his pipe so hard that I was afraid he would start a fire.

Mom just kept holding on to Bobbie’s hands and pulled my darling tightly against her.

“Now, what is your plan going forward?” Dad asked after I finished.

“I really don’t know...” I sighed. “But if push comes to shove ... I’m going to shove back ... hard!”

“So, you and this Ash guy think it’s best if you all go back to the lion’s den?”

“I also thought of being right there in Cape Town, where the creeps are. It makes it easier for them to trace us, but I don’t feel like hiding all the time, and would want to just go in and get the shit over with.”

“Isn’t it a bit harsh? Do you know where those scumbags are?”

“Ash knows. Even if I need to choke it out of him, he will come clean.”

“Sounds to me like this Ash guy has the resources to do what you want to do. Why don’t you just leave it up to him?”

“I want this DiCaprio guy!”

“It is written: The revenge becometh not you. Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” Dad quoted.

“It is also written: Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows.”, I counter quoted for dad.

“It is so ... You are correct in that way, Son,” Dad sighed.

Then Bobbie spoke up, and all eyes turned to her:

“We will observe the eleventh commandment: Do unto others, BEFORE they do unto you.”

For a few moments there was silence on the stoep. Then dad spoke up.

“Bobbie-child, now where did you find that verse in the Bible?”

“The book of LOUIS, chapter one, verse twenty...” she replied with a straight face and a serious expression.

It was clear to everyone on that farmstead stoep that Bobbie was totally devoted to me. I also got that same clarity.

Mom hugged Bobbie closer and dad just looked at her for a long time before he responded to Bobbie’s words.

“Go forth, you two. Go forth, conquer and prosper ... You totally deserve each other!” Dad chuckled, waving his hand in the air as if he was dismissing us.

“Yes!” Mom interjected. “These two are like one, and Bobbie trusts Louis.”

“Totally...” Bobbie replied.

“Hmm ... But you still need me to tell you how to train him not to pee on the carpet!” Mom told her, with a twinkle in her eye, and a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“See, Son? I told you to be careful of redheads!” Dad replied and got his pipe going again. “They will devour you completely and not even spit out the boots!”

Mom gave dad the evil eye, but smiled, as she had auburn coloured hair with a tinge of dark red glinting in the sun. Dad just chuckled, looking away towards the far-off hills. Then mom turned her attention back to me.

“When are you two leaving?” Mom asked.

“First light, tomorrow,” I confirmed.

“Then I’ll pack you guys some snacks for the road,” Mom said.

“AND, I did not even get to ride a horse,” Bobbie said, pursing her lips and making a moue.”

“You just HAVE to come back, don’t you?” Dad chuckled.

“And bring along some of those biscuits you made,” Mom finished.

I was happy that mom and dad took to Bobbie like ducks to water. She will always be welcome here. In fact, they already consider her part of the family!

The drive back to Cape Town went by with Bobbie only once asking what we are going to do. I told her truthfully that I really had no idea but will make my plans after I’ve spoken to Ash and Mai-Loan.

Bobbie did not press the matter further, and the sights of the Karoo took over her interest. Every now and then she would point out something or would remark on the sheep, rooibok or whatever animals we encountered along the road.

It was winter, but with August on the calendar the days were getting longer and the daily temperatures milder. Soon it would be September and spring would colour the fields around here. The Karoo will show its beauty. The nearer we got to Cape Town, the last of the winter snows were seen on the mountains of the Western Cape.