Tony Park - Silent Predator

It was nice of Tom to meet her at the airport, and while technically it was totally unnecessary, she was secretly grateful that he would be riding with her in the rental car, as she was a little nervous about navigating her way around London.

Sannie had never been to England before, and it was sad to be here under these circumstances. She knew the inquiry would go badly for Tom and she was determined that, while she would answer every question truthfully, she would also use every opportunity to praise his quick reactions and dogged pursuit of the terrorists once they found out Greeves was missing. She was also looking forward to seeing him.

The brief time they’d shared had been a roller-coast of emotions for both of them — from incredible lows when it seemed they would never find the missing men or the terrorists, to the high of finding Bernard alive and planning the raid, to the crushing defeat they’d suffered on the beach in Mozambique. She wondered if Tom had considered doing what Bernard had done.

He’d sounded in the depths when she had spoken to him on the telephone and she was worried about him. With his wife gone, and the possibility of his suspension becoming permanent, she knew he was facing a very uncertain future.

She looked out the window again.

The only thing she saw were the blinking lights of another aeroplane and it surprised her how close it looked. The furthest she’d ever flown was Mauritius, on holiday. That trip — her and Christo’s first wedding anniversary — seemed like a lifetime ago, and it was. She thought of Christo as she always did, wearing the same clothes and smiling as he left to go pick up their son. She bit her lower lip as she gazed out into the impenetrable gloom. She’d allowed herself to get close to Tom. It hadn’t been in a sexual way, but she had followed her heart and not her head when she had joined him on his mad dash across the border. It wasn’t just because she wanted to help him find the men, it was because there was an energy or emotion that seemed to draw her to him. He understood the pain she had gone through in a way that few people could. It had hurt her to watch his zeal disappear after Bernard’s death.

Sannie had tried to buck up his spirits on the drive back into South Africa, but the crushing depression had overtaken him. The attraction she had felt for him during the chase wore off then, though she still felt for him. She couldn’t tie herself — for her sake, or her children’s — to a man who couldn’t cope with adversity. She wondered how he would be this morning.

She retrieved her carry-on wheelie bag from the overhead locker and joined the procession into the terminal. Sannie swallowed hard and felt her stomach churn. It was fear of the unexpected — of what would happen with the inquiry, and with Tom Furey.

Sannie turned her cell phone on as she walked up the air bridge, dragging her bag behind her. She sent a quick SMS to her mother as she walked, letting her know she had arrived. She’d been a saint, as usual, to agree to look after the kids for the week. Sannie was already missing them, though she smiled at the memory of Christo asking, ‘Will you see your friend Tom, the Englishman?’

‘Yes, my boy,’ she’d replied, ‘I will.’

Tom was waiting for her when she finally cleared customs and immigration. She spotted him immediately. He seemed a few inches taller than the throng of people around him.

The last time she’d seen him, when she’d dropped him at the Garden Court Hotel near Johannesburg airport, he’d been unshaven. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy from a lack of sleep, and his shoulders bowed with the weight of defeat.

Now, it was just after six in the morning and, even though he was on suspension, he was freshly shaved and wearing a smart business suit with what looked like a newly pressed white shirt and a maroon tie. His dark wavy hair was combed and he was smiling as he strode through the crowd. In his hand was something small and slender, wrapped in colourful paper.

‘Sannie! Howzit!’

She laughed at his use of the typical South African greeting. ‘ Lekker, man. And you?’

‘Fine.’ He held out his hand and she shook it. It was an awkward moment. They’d shared so much she almost felt like she should lean in close to him so he could kiss her on the cheek. He smiled into her eyes. ‘Here, this is for you.’

He handed over the parcel and she let go of her wheelie bag to open it. ‘Here, let me get that for you,’ he said, grabbing the handle. She started to protest, but returned her attention to the gift.

‘You shouldn’t have, Tom,’ she said as she peeled off the paper, then laughed again at the compact folding umbrella.

‘Your British survival kit.’

She touched him on the arm, leaned close and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thanks.’

She saw the colour rise in his cheeks as he said, ‘Not at all. You’ll need it. Now, let’s get your hire car sorted out for you.’

She smiled behind his back as he strode off, clearing a path for her through the crowd. She’d kissed him on impulse and, while it was still a bit awkward, she didn’t regret the brief show of intimacy. He was a friend, that was all. And he’d need all the help he could get in the days to come.

He asked her about the flight and her mother and her kids while they waited in the queue for her to pick up her car. It was small talk and she could sense from the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot while he spoke that there was much more on his mind. Of course there would be. Sannie really hoped he hadn’t come out to meet her so they could talk about her testimony at the inquiry. She felt sure he wasn’t that sort of cop, but one never knew.

‘What time’s your first meeting?’ he asked after she had signed the papers and collected the key. They walked to a shuttle bus stop outside the terminal and were waiting to be taken to the car park where the rentals were stored.

‘Not until two, why?’

The shuttle bus arrived, stalling the conversation, and they got on, Tom easily hefting her bag, which looked very small when he held it. She really hadn’t brought enough warm clothes. Perhaps she could go shopping for an overcoat before the meeting. ‘What’s on your mind, Tom?’

He shifted across the seat in the bus to make room for her. ‘Well, as I told you in the email, my car’s in the garage being fixed.’

‘Yes. Just as well, as I was a bit unsure about navigating my way through London.’

‘I was wondering if you’d like to take a little trip in the country with me, before your meeting?’

She leaned away from him and looked at him, as though reappraising him. ‘Whatever for, Detective Sergeant?’ she asked in a mock English accent.

He smiled. ‘Nothing improper, of course, ma’am.’ The humour vanished. ‘I’m going to talk to Robert Greeves’s widow this morning. I can take a train — she lives about an hour out of London — but I was wondering if — ’

Sannie held up a hand. ‘Tom, no. Really.’

‘I thought that…’

‘You thought wrong. You know I’m here strictly for the inquiry. I don’t have to tell you what kind of problems it’d stir up if I started taking part in an investigation over here!’

‘It’s not an investigation. I’ve been suspended. It’s just me paying my respects to Greeves’s widow.’

She shook her head. ‘No way. Look at you this morning. You’re up to something, aren’t you?’

He shrugged. They sat in silence as the bus passed long-term car parks and airport hotels whose neon signs were diffused by halos in the cold morning rain.

Sannie’s curiosity started to get the better of her. She had half expected to see an unshaven, unwashed wreck waiting for her. A man wallowing in self-pity, looking for a shoulder to cry on. She’d been pleasantly surprised to see the handsome, upright detective she’d first met and, seeing his apparent change of mood, was glad for him. If she helped crack the case and find the men who had killed Greeves, her star would be on the rise back home; if the terrorists were still hiding in Africa, and Tom was able to uncover new information which helped lead the authorities to them, the Brits would need a liaison officer in South Africa.