Once he’d had his pleasure with her, he would dump her body. He had the ideal location in mind already: a large piece of open ground in Johannesburg’s sought-after northern suburbs. It had recently been bought for development but, as yet, the property was unsecured. A sewer line ran through it. Built in the early 1900s, it was still in use today. The brick-and-mortar tunnel was high and wide enough to easily accommodate a body, and Steyn had recently read an article stating that the manhole covers in that area were continually being stolen for their scrap-metal value.
Johannesburg’s sewer system was under enormous pressure as a result of the city’s recent growth. Blockages — if they occurred — were often left unattended for weeks or months. If Isobel’s body was ever discovered, it would be thoroughly rotted and completely unrecognizable. Nothing would ever link those corrupted remains back to Steyn.
Mulling over his plan, he walked back to the hallway, but when he reached the front door, it was snatched open from the outside before he could touch the handle.
Steyn found himself staring at an overweight, angry-looking stranger. Shaven-headed, he wore a black vest that showed the tattoos on his neck and chest, and the bulky muscles of his arms and shoulders.
“What’s going on?” the large man demanded. “I live down the road. I heard shooting and a woman’s screams coming from this house awhile ago. Where’s the lady? Were you fighting?”
Looking at the stranger’s hands, Steyn saw he was carrying a Taser in his right hand and a large knife in his left.
Chapter 15
Isobel ran an impatient hand through her blond hair, slicking back the damp spikes. “There’s a saying about good intentions. How does it go?” she asked.
“Supposedly, the road to hell is paved with them,” Joey said, a flicker of amusement easing the knots of stress in his belly as he reached the dirt track and joined it, heading east. The rain was easing up now, although drizzle still misted the windshield.
“Yes, that sums it up, I guess. Pretty much feels like I’m on the road to hell, right here.” Isobel stared ahead at the muddy pathway, stretching to a gray and forbidding horizon. “In fact, I might even know the coordinates for hell itself. Twenty-six degrees south, twenty-eight degrees east. I’ve got the full details written down, and memorized. They’re where I need to be, at 6:00 p.m. But I think I’m going to be too late, and in any case, I don’t have any cell phone signal so I can’t use the GPS.”
“This is a dead zone for signal. It might come back after we’ve passed that mine dump up ahead. But we’re heading in the right direction, I think.”
“You really do know this area well.”
“My firm had contracts all over the East Rand, which is where we are now.”
Isobel paused for a beat. When she spoke again, she sounded confused.
“You said ‘had contracts.’ Are they over?”
“Unfortunately, yes. They were canceled due to circumstances beyond our control.”
“That must have been a blow,” Isobel sympathized.
“It was,” Joey said. Briefly, he told Isobel about the hard work it had taken to start up Private Johannesburg; the many nights when he’d arrived home close to midnight, leaving again before the sun was up. That was the problem with investigation work — the hours were punishingly long. His frequent absences had recently cost him his marriage. Although, to be brutally honest, he and his wife, Anneke, had been drifting apart for years.
“I proposed marriage after Anneke got pregnant when we were dating,” he told Isobel, knowing it was probably way too much information, but the way she was listening was encouraging him to talk. “It seemed like the biggest catastrophe of my life at the time, but it turned into the most incredible miracle when my daughter, Hayley, was born.”
“How old is she now?”
“Fifteen. She’s just moved to Cape Town. I’m missing her terribly,” he confessed. “But anyway, back to the business. Private Johannesburg’s first major assignment was with the gold mines in this area, offering a full-service investigation and security solution.”
“Oh, really? What did that involve?”
“We worked with various mining sites both operational and closed. They needed help because there’s a huge problem with illegal mining in Johannesburg, particularly on the East Rand. We were hired to investigate and to protect. To identify areas at risk, place guards at vulnerable entrances, track down the kingpins, get them arrested, and prevent it from happening again.”
“Illegal mining?”
“It’s a crime that’s rife here at the moment, especially on Johannesburg’s East Rand, where we are now. People see gold as a promise of wealth. And knowing that ore-rich rock is available can prove a huge temptation if you’re poor, or desperate, or happen to be a criminal. It’s not difficult to do, because mines often cover huge tracts of land and existing entrances can be closed for many reasons. Perhaps the ore is no longer commercially viable, or the seam has become too dangerous to mine. That’s when the zama zamas — the illegal miners — move in.”
“Then what happens?” Isobel’s eyes were wide. Joey noticed they were a clear, light blue in color.
“Only bad things. For a start, the operations are usually run by gangs, headed up by anonymous criminal kingpins. The workers go underground for days at a time, and because there are no regulations in place, they risk injury or death from rock collapses and suffocation. There’s also the constant threat of violence from other illegal miners working for opposing gangs.”
“That’s terrible!”
“They’re a huge threat to the legitimate mining industry, and in areas where zama zamas operate, the levels of serious crime always shoot through the roof.”
“So what forced you to stop your investigation?” Isobel asked. Joey saw that her stressed expression had eased and her features looked lively and animated. Painful as the story was, he was glad that it was providing her, and him, with a distraction from the terror they’d just endured.
“Government policy killed us,” he said, and felt sadness weighing him down.
“How?”
“Mr. Mashabela, the minister of mineral and energy affairs, made a law banning mines from hiring private investigators and security.”
“But that’s crazy! Why did he do that?”
“He said he intended to deploy the Hawks to investigate the problem — they’re a special branch of the police service that deals with organized crime. He believed hiring private security would be too risky for the mines and that, instead, he would allocate police to guard the necessary entrances.”
“And did he?”
Joey sighed. “Months have gone by since his decision. The Hawks are still not on the case, and no police have been deployed. Crime is escalating, and a number of zama zama gangs are already back in operation.”
“That must have been a huge blow to you.”
“It was. We’d invested everything into these contracts, and believed they were watertight. The change in government policy blindsided us all — the mines, and Private Johannesburg. We all suffered as a result. Some of the mines have had to close up or scale down as well.”
“Joey, that’s awful.”
“It’s life.” He gave her a forced smile. “There will be other opportunities, once I’ve gotten through this.” He found he couldn’t tell her about Khosi’s death. Right then, it was too painful to say the words. He needed to read whatever might be on the USB device, which felt as if it was burning a hole in his pocket.