Allegiance (22 page)

‘And Mariam? How’s she?’

Tanveer bowed his head. ‘I know she looks like a victim. She has a way of always looking like the victim.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I’m the victim, David. I have always just tried to make her life better with the little bit I have. She’s a beautiful woman, beautiful.’

‘So how are you the victim?’

‘I think she has another love, another man, I am sure of it.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘It is small splashes of paint on the canvas, but it paints a portrait that I can see well. It’s not a pretty picture.’

‘I don’t want to second-guess your judgement or anything, but how can you be so sure?’

‘I found keys in her bag. Keys for a place I don’t know.’

‘Maybe it’s her office keys or something?’

‘Maybe, but maybe not. There are calls to her cellphone, which she deletes from the log. And bruises on her body.’

‘Bruises?’

‘Yes. I fear for her. I love her, but I don’t know how to protect her.’

‘Have you any idea who this person might be?’

‘I intend to find out. I cannot let somebody take her from me. Not without a fight.’

‘Do you need help? Anything I can do?’ As Durant said the words he realised he had broken his own rules. Here he was, offering to help his agent with a personal issue. Tanveer’s confession that Mariam was in trouble confirmed Amina’s suspicions. In his professional capacity, it was a hands-off situation, but he hated men who abused women.

‘You have done so much for me already.’

‘Hey, look, if someone’s hurting Mariam, we’ve got to stop it.’

‘I am dealing with it and the hurting will stop soon.’

Just north of the city at the estuary of the Umgeni River, the mangroves rise out of the muddy swamps like apparitions. On the sea side, the pioneer scrub and creeping plants line the dunes to the high-tide mark where the Indian Ocean rolls in. Through the hundreds of twisted and plaited mangroves, wooden boardwalks take educational groups and eco-tourists deep into the eerie forests where the shy fiddler crabs with their single large claws scurry across the mud and disappear into their swampy dens. Mariam had heard of the Beachwood mangroves, but had never walked through the reserve. She was sure the gates at the entrance to the area would be locked, but when the Volvo stopped under a sign that warned of the dangers of walking alone in the reserve, she saw the gate’s padlock was missing. Uneasy but compliant, she agreed to go with him as the last rays of the afternoon sun clipped the multistoreyed apartment buildings across the road from the entrance. Mariam tried to control her panic, but the further Khalid led her into the mangroves, the more she felt her breath quicken and a desperate fear overcome her. It was meant to be a romantic walk, but Khalid hadn’t said much and his grip on her small hand was anything but romantic. ‘Where are we going, Imraan?’

‘To look at the sunset.’ There was contemptuousness in his voice that was frightening, and she considered screaming, but decided that might anger him more. She was lost in her own turbulent thoughts. What had Arshad gotten her into? How had she gone along with this bizarre plan in the first place? It was too high a price to pay to please Arshad and make sure Siraj was in good hands. She feared for her life. Her knees buckled and she slumped against a large mangrove tree where the wooden walkway split to the left and right. Khalid stopped and sat beside her. There was silence, save for the rustling of crabs in the water under the boardwalk and the gentle swish of the wind through the mangrove trees. A mudskipper propelled itself across the mud, making a plopping sound. In the near distance, the sound of the sea.

‘Mariam Tanveer. You must think I’m a fool. Do you know who I am? Do you know?’

‘Yes,’ and Mariam was shocked at the sound of her own voice. It sounded like the last desperate yelp of a trapped rabbit.

‘You lied to me. I gave you so much, and you lied to me. I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.’ Khalid’s words were a hoarse whisper, although he was sure there was no one else around – the reserve was only open to the public over weekends.

‘What do you mean? I didn’t lie,’ she said.

The blow to Mariam’s ear was brutal. A high-pitched whine filled her head and her hand went up to protect her face as she curled into a ball.

‘I value my job, you hear me? You’re jeopardising my career in this country, you little slut.’ Khalid’s voice was a mix of contempt and bitterness.

Mariam started sobbing. In the elixir of her thoughts, Amina and Siraj appeared. ‘Forgot to mention your husband, right? Listen to me very carefully. You’re gonna forget you ever met me. I’m going to quietly go back to my life, and you’re going back to yours, you understand me?’

Mariam nodded. The ringing in her ears hadn’t stopped.

‘I can’t hear you? Do I have your commitment?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes. I don’t want to hurt you, but you betrayed me, you threw my love back in my face. I only wanted the best for you. I never wanted it to be like this.’ Mariam tried to speak, but no words came out.

‘You lied to me.’ Khalid’s voice quivered and he put his hand on her neck in an almost desperate attempt at affection. ‘I loved you and you threw it back in my—’ Khalid’s words were cut short as an arm gripped him around the throat in a lock and choked the life-giving oxygen and blood from his brain. Someone had come from nowhere, neither Khalid nor Mariam had heard the footsteps on the boards. Mariam saw Khalid’s eyes bulge and his tongue drop out of his mouth. Her saviour was behind Khalid, she couldn’t see his face. She knew this was a chance to escape and she wanted to run, but her legs were numb and uncooperative. She grasped at a root and tried to pull herself up, using all her strength to push herself away from Khalid. Merciful God, she thought, someone had come along the path at just the right moment. Who knows what Khalid would have done to her? Her rescuer pushed Khalid aside and two things became instantly clear and equally frightening to her. Her rescuer held a pistol in his hand and a balaclava was pulled over his head. Khalid let out an animal-like grunt, slid a terrified glance at Mariam, then sprinted down the path towards the beach.

Mariam wanted to run too, but the mangroves had taken on an ethereal feel and she felt as though she was inside a dream, a nightmare from which she couldn’t escape. The man moved towards her and she realised this was no rescuer, and her situation had gone from bad to desperate. She fell back against the large roots. ‘Take whatever you want.’

The man was centimetres from her face when he pulled the mask off, and in one insane moment she saw her face reflected in Tanveer’s eyes.

Dread has a way of occupying your body very efficiently. Amina could feel its armies overrun her and conquer first her reasoning – that Mariam was late to fetch Siraj from the crèche because of some arbitrary delay – and then her calmness – because what Kevin had said about the envelope might have been true. Perhaps she should have listened to him and opened it and then maybe things would have turned out differently. By mentioning the envelope, Kevin had made her guilty and responsible. A turbulent and oppressive guilt wrapped itself around her like a scarf. Why was she thinking the worst? It was only 6 p.m. and Mariam sometimes only fetched Siraj at 5. She was only an hour late. It wasn’t even quite 6 p.m.

She tried Mariam’s number again and was greeted with the impersonal ringtone while she silently prayed for her to pick up. She reassured herself with the thought that perhaps the phone was on silent. A meeting, maybe. One of those meetings you’re summoned to at the last minute and don’t have time to call anyone and make arrangements. Siraj sat on the floor, his fist in his mouth, and gurgled, casting his brown eyes towards her every so often in what she sensed was a quiet desperation. She dialled Kevin’s number and huddled herself, feeling a sense of defeat. She didn’t know who else to call. She didn’t anticipate his condemnation, but she also didn’t expect him to hold back on his feelings.

‘Has she been late before?’ he asked, after she’d falteringly told him Mariam hadn’t arrived to fetch Siraj.

‘Never this late. And she normally phones.’

‘Is her phone off or does it ring?’

‘Why, what’s the difference? Is it better if it’s off?’

‘No, not really, I don’t think it’s better either way. I’ll call Arshad and see if he’s heard from her.’

‘Thanks, if I had his number, I would have done it.’

‘I know. I’ll come to you; I’m not far from the crèche, wait there until I get there. I’ll phone you back once I get hold of Arshad.’

The silence at the crèche was dense, oppressive. Even Siraj seemed to have lapsed into an unnatural and serene quiet. It took Durant only a minute and a half to call Amina back, but each second pressed down relentlessly on her until she heard his voice. ‘Arshad is worried. He hasn’t heard from her either. I’m two minutes away. I’ll fetch you and Siraj and we’ll meet Arshad at his flat. Are you ready to leave?’

‘I’m ready.’

Amina gathered Siraj into her arms and slung his bag over her shoulder. She walked to the window, hesitated for a moment, then went back to her desk and opened a drawer. She picked up the open envelope and pressed it into her jeans pocket.

Amina heard the growl of the Land Rover’s diesel engine and quickly locked up the crèche. Durant opened the back door of the vehicle and helped her strap one of the spare car seats from the crèche into the Land Rover. He buckled Siraj into the seat.

‘Arshad sounds distraught,’ he said. ‘He didn’t have your number.’

Amina climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door. ‘I don’t know how that can be. Something’s happened to her, I know it.’

‘Don’t say anything,’ Durant said. ‘Maybe we’re overreacting. Parents get waylaid picking up their kids.’

‘I opened the envelope,’ Amina said softly.

‘Say again?’

‘The letter Mariam gave me. I opened it just now.’

Durant looked at her briefly. ‘Really? What did it say?’

‘It’s a letter. A document she’s signed. She wants me to be Siraj’s guardian if anything happens. Why would she write that if she wasn’t worried?’

‘Don’t jump to conclusions; it’s too soon to . . .’

‘And the bruises . . .?’

‘Tanveer told me he thinks she was seeing someone else. True or not, I don’t know. He mentioned the bruises. Maybe she’s with lover boy.’

Amina felt emptiness and sorrow. ‘That poor girl. What has she done?’

Tanveer’s flat was in a neglected part of the city where the landscape reflected the desperation of the people who were unfortunate enough to live there. The buildings were hauntingly treacherous, inhabited by despairing human beings, many of whom weren’t there by choice but by default. There was little attempt at making the buildings attractive: the owners had long since written off their investments and decay had set in quickly as the paint started peeling and the glass fell out of the windows. The occupants had lost their will to make the neighbourhood welcoming. It was survival for them, a fulfilment of one of their most basic needs: shelter. Durant reflected on the despair that characterised the area. Forgotten people; men, women and children who lived a parallel life in the city of the billion-rand arched stadium. The Land Rover crunched over a cracked and neglected road and rolled to a stop outside a grey, three-storey block where the road ended. Durant checked the address he’d scribbled onto a piece of paper and pointed towards an alleyway. ‘We walk from here it seems. I’ll carry Siraj.’

‘Are you sure this is right? Mariam stays here?’ Amina was immediately struck by the stench of the place and almost instinctively wanted to cover Siraj’s nose with her clean white scarf.

‘Third floor,’ Durant said. ‘We’ll have to take the stairs.’

Amina put her hand on Durant’s arm. ‘Kevin, we can’t leave him here.’

‘He lives here. This is his home.’

Amina tried in vain to stop her eyes from welling up with tears. ‘But look at it. It’s a dump, it’s filthy,’ she whispered.

Durant cradled the little boy in his arms and motioned with his head to the stairway. ‘Let’s just go up, please.’

Amina shook her head and entered the dark, graffiti-decorated stairwell, followed closely by Durant. Pausing at the first landing to let a rowdy group of youngsters past, Amina turned as Durant tapped her on the back. ‘Remember I’m David Shaw. Don’t mess up and call me Kevin, okay?’

‘I’ll try to remember but forgive me if I blow your cover tonight, I’m really not myself.’

Door number 34 was open and Tanveer met Durant and Amina as they approached. He took the now-sleeping Siraj from Durant’s arms and invited them inside. It was a two-bedroom apartment, surprisingly neat but still tinged with sadness. A small bunch of yellow roses stood on the table, starkly contrasted by the grey and torn couch pushed against the peeling wall and the light-purple curtains that fluttered in the wind blowing through the broken window. There was the smell of food, but it clearly didn’t come from the small kitchen which was part of the lounge. The floor was covered by a royal-blue carpet, torn and threadbare in places, and Amina saw at least one cockroach scuttle under the skirting board when they entered the room. Amina felt sick, an overwhelming nausea that made her tremble. She wanted to snatch Siraj from Tanveer’s arms and hold him, protect him from this wretched place. She focused on the flowers. They were the only evidence that Mariam lived in that apartment. She was like the beautiful bouquet that miraculously grew up from the stones between the railway tracks beside some forgotten shed.

‘I have also been trying to get hold of Mariam,’ Tanveer said, gently rocking Siraj in his arms ‘Since about six. The phone just rings.’

‘Did she say anything to you during the day, where she would be after work?’ Durant asked.

Tanveer shook his head. ‘I don’t speak to her during the day. Everything seemed normal when she left home.’

‘Where is her office?’ Amina asked.

‘In town somewhere. She never told me where.’

‘Don’t you know the name of the company?’ Amina asked, her words not hiding the resentment she felt towards the man.