Deon Meyer - Blood Safari

Maggie’s grey suit was darker. Her black hair was in a bun. Her teeth were less sharp.

‘Emma …’

‘I can assure you that Miss le Roux is receiving the best medical treatment possible. However, our managing director has just called from Johannesburg and asked us to give you every assistance as well’

‘In any way we can,’ said Maggie.

Jeanette Louw. Who knows people in high places. She had been busy.

‘I need to get to the theatre.’

They ignored that. ‘We have a hospitality suite we would like to offer you. And you need a change of clothing, obviously,’ said Maggie.

‘I will leave you in Mrs Padayachee’s capable hands, Mr Lemmer. Just so you know, we are at your service any time.’

‘Please, I have to talk to Emma’s … Miss le Roux’s doctor.’

‘Of course.’ Soothing voice. ‘But they’re still in theatre. Let’s make you comfortable first. Do you have any luggage we can fetch for you?’

* * *

The hospitality suite had a sitting room, a bedroom and a bathroom with a shower. Luxurious. Air conditioning. Original oils. Kelims.

There was a set of hospital pyjamas and a dressing gown on the bed. Slippers on the floor. The bathroom had a toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, shaving cream and deodorant. I wondered exactly what Jeanette Louw had said to the managing director of SouthMed.

I took off my shirt. It was stained with Emma’s blood. So much of it, dry and dark red now, like wine.

My torso looked like an abstract painting in sombre shades of red, black and purple. My ears rang. My heart thudded. The pain had backed off, thanks to the injection. I undressed and got into the shower. I was cold. I turned the taps open wide and turned my back to the stream. My body shook.

Emma mustn’t die.

She must not.

I had never lost a client.

What had I done wrong? The train. I should never have jumped on the train, but there had been no other way.

I should never have doubted her. I should have believed her. Three men. Balaclavas. The same as the attack in Cape Town. Why? Why cover their heads? Why hadn’t the sniper worn a balaclava? And the gloves. Why the gloves?

I ought to have spotted the sniper sooner. I should have climbed deeper between the freight cars. I should have held Emma behind me. I should have taken the bullet. I should have held her tighter.

She couldn’t die. I must finish up, I had to guard her. They would come back. She was dead, I knew it. Because I wasn’t good enough.

I had to protect her.

I contacted the theatre from the phone in the sitting room. ‘I need to know Miss le Roux’s condition, please.’

‘Who is this speaking?’

‘Lemmer. How do I get the operating theatre?’

‘You’re calling from the VIP suite?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’ll call you back.’

They were soon knocking on the door. I opened it in the hospital pyjamas and dressing gown. It was Maggie and the rotund doctor. ‘Dr Taljaard is worried about you.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Fine my arse,’ said Taljaard. ‘Did you take the pill I gave you?’

‘Dr Taljaard …’ said Maggie sternly.

‘Don’t Dr Taljaard me. Did you take the pill?’

‘No, Doc’

‘I thought not. My name is Koos. I don’t like “Doc”. Come on. I’m giving you another injection. Lie on the bed. Maggie, you wait outside.’

‘Dr Taljaard, he’s a VIP.’

‘That’s your problem. Those eyes of his are my problem, they’re wilder than a wild dog’s. Come on, pal, lie down. If you won’t listen, you have to take the pain.’

‘Please, Doc, I don’t want…’

‘Hey!’ he said. Fierce. ‘You have a hearing problem?’ Threatening.

I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there.

He closed the door. ‘Let’s be reasonable.’ He spoke quietly in an easy tone. ‘I don’t know what happened, but you have trauma, and it’s not physical. Right now your brain is not working properly and you are going to make a fool of yourself. You’ll be sorry later. Let’s get you a little calmer. I’ve just come back from the theatre. No news yet. However, the fact that they’re still busy should be good news to you.’

‘I have to protect her.’

He steered me towards the bed with a firm hand. He never stopped talking.

‘There’s nothing you can do right now. Lie down. Face down. That’s it. Just a quick injection, we’ll use the right buttock this time, left one’s a bit over-utilised. Let’s get this gown up. That’s good. Here we go, this will sting just a little. There you go, easy as that. No, don’t get up yet. Lie still for a minute. Give the stuff time to kick in. It will make you relax. A bit sleepy, too. Wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a little rest. Don’t you think? Just a little breather, just to catch your breath.’

A great weight sat down on me.

‘Come, let’s get these slippers off. Ugly mothers, anyway. Let’s get you under these blankets. Wait, shift up a bit, just a bit more, there you are. Sleep tight, pal. Sleep tight.’

22

The pain dragged me from sleep. Pain in my shoulder, in my arm, right hip, left knee. I didn’t know where I was at first. The dressing gown was twisted uncomfortably around me. Behind the curtain the window was dark. The sitting-room light shone through the crack in the bedroom door.

There was someone in the sitting room. I heard a quiet deep voice.

I got up. My legs felt unreliable. I straightened the dressing gown. Checked my watch: 19.41. I had slept nearly six hours. Where was Emma? I opened the door. Inspector Jack Phatudi was sitting there. He was talking on his cell phone. He frowned at me. He said, ‘I have to go,’ and folded up his phone.

‘Martin Fitzroy Lemmer,’ he addressed me.

I went over to the room’s phone and picked it up. I saw my black sports bag beside Phatudi’s chair. Had he brought it?

‘She is critical, Martin. She is in a coma and they don’t know if she will make it. They won’t be able to tell you more than that.’

I put the phone down. ‘She needs protection.’

‘I have two people at the door of the ICU.’

‘Those two?’

‘Yes, those two. Come and sit down. We need to talk.’

‘What are your arrangements for controlling access to her? Do they know what they’re doing?’

‘Do you think we’re morons because we’re black, Martin?’

‘No, Jack, I think you’re morons because you behave like morons. Besides, one of your morons is white. The arrangements?’

‘There is a list of two doctors and four nurses. They are the only people allowed access to her.’

‘Put me on the list too.’

‘Why? When did you become a doctor?’

‘She’s my client.’

‘Client? You are Martin Fitzroy Lemmer, who served four years of a six-year sentence in Brandvlei for manslaughter. Tell me, what kind of service do you provide to a rich young woman like Emma le Roux?’

I didn’t answer. He had done his homework.

‘What happened today? Road rage again, Martin? Tell me about it.’

My head felt thick. My body ached.

‘Sit down here.’ I stood.

‘We took your prints off the R5.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘Why are you with Emma le Roux?’ His tone was reasonable.

‘I am employed by Body Armour, a company that provides protection services. She hired us.’

‘Not very good protection, Martin.’

He wanted to provoke me. He used my first name to annoy me. ‘It was an ambush, Jack. They shot out the tyres with a rifle. How do you prevent that?’

‘Who did?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re lying.’

‘You were the one that sent people because you were concerned for our safety. You tell me who they were.’