CHAPTER 10


A.N: Some strong language in this chapter.


Monday 23rd June, 2014

Otjindawa Lodge, Namibia

It's one thing to tell Annie he'll buy Jaco a few drinks and get him talking; it's another thing to actually do it.

One of the frustrating things about being blind is that it seriously hampers spontaneity. Meetings with people generally need to be engineered, arranged. It's not all that easy, when you can't see, to 'bump into someone' (in the metaphoric sense, obviously – literally it's all too easy) or casually walk in and join a conversation. And arrival on someone's arm tends to smack of deliberate planning.

Auggie had hoped Annie would be able to maneuver him to a seat near Jaco at dinner so he could start up a conversation which they could then continue over drinks later. But Annie informs him, as they arrive, that Jaco has already been appropriated by the British tourists and is completely surrounded – there's not going to be a way in for him.

Damn.

"Take me over to him?" he asks her.

"Sure." She guides him over. Stops. "Jaco?" she says.

"Yes?" He's turning towards them.

Annie gives Auggie's hand on her arm a light squeeze, and then detaches herself, giving him his space. Auggie takes over.

"Sorry to interrupt," he begins. "Can I bother you for a minute?"

"Yes, of course. No problem." He hears a chair beginning to scrape back.

"No need to get up," he stops Jaco hurriedly. "Listen, I was hoping we could make time to talk later? I wanna get a bit of your perspective on things for my article – the professional angle. If you wouldn't mind. Shouldn't take too long."

"I don't mind at all. After supper?" Good. This isn't going to be a problem after all.

"Yeah. Great. Thanks. Appreciate that." He smiles. Makes the offer: "I'll even buy you a drink."

"That sounds like a deal." Jaco's rare smile is there again in his voice. "Shall I come and find you?"

Auggie finds his own smile widening in response to Jaco's. He nods. "That'll be great. See you later, then." As he turns away he can hear Annie's footsteps as she comes back for him.

"Success?" she asks, linking arms with him.

"Success," he affirms. "And now food."


If there's anything Auggie is learning about Jaco Bouwer, it's how much the man loves his job. It comes through so very clearly in his answers to Auggie's (rapidly thought out during supper) questions.

They are the only two guests sitting outside in the area called the 'boma' - the sole beneficiaries of the open fire that has been built in the fire-pit for the evening. Possibly the cold of the night air has put everyone else off, but Auggie is loving the juxtaposition of chill at his back and heat in his face. Apart from their conversation, there's not much sound to mar the hiss and crackle of the flames and the ambient bush noise – crickets, nightjars and the occasional cry of a black-backed jackal.

Jaco had asked whether he'd prefer to stay indoors, but he'd opted for the boma - not only because of the appeal of the outside air, but also because it is further away from the Garden Rooms where Annie is going to be carrying out her work for the night.

Jaco is not an effusive man, in any sense of the word, but there is a quietly intense passion about him as he and Auggie talk about the work he does – the animals, the habitats that support them. Auggie is finding it increasingly difficult to reconcile the man he is speaking to with the man he has been sent here to turn; the fervent conservationist with the drug supplier of a poaching syndicate.

But Auggie also knows, because he's seen it so many times, has been there himself for that matter, how desperation can drive people to do extraordinary things. Devastating things.

They are interrupted by Annie, who had remained in the dining room chatting to one or two of the guests when Jaco and Auggie had come outside.

"You guys having fun?" she asks, touching Auggie lightly on the shoulder.

"Why?" he responds. "Feeling left out?"

"Very!" she retorts promptly. "But I'm an understanding woman, and I know how you guys need your man time…" She ruffles his hair.

"You're a wise woman," he tells her.

"Listen," she says, "I'm going to catch an early night. You OK to get back on your own?"

"Yeah. No problem." He blesses Michael again. Because of that marked path he's not going to have to rush things with Jaco. Instead of just delaying him for a short while for Annie's sake, he can take the opportunity to draw him out – see if he can unearth anything that might explain the man's actions.

She bends down to kiss him lightly on the cheek. He reaches up for the hand she's rested on his shoulder, tangling his fingers in hers. She allows her hand to linger there just a little and then pulls away.

"Don't drink too much," she says. "I don't want to have to send Michael to pull you out of a thorn bush in the middle of the night." And then she turns.

Her footsteps recede.

Good luck, Annie Walker, he tells her in his head.


They move on from beer to Bells. (Auggie had suspected Jaco might be a Scotch whiskey man. He'd been right.) The conversation drifts away from Jaco's work and onto other topics – Africa versus America, Johannesburg versus New York (Owen's home town), city versus country. Auggie reminisces about childhood holidays on friends' farms. Jaco tells him about his own farm in Malelane – south of the Kruger National Park in South Africa.

"My wife loved it there," he says quietly.

"Loved?"

"She died two years ago."

"I'm sorry." Auggie knows his sincerity has been apparent in his voice. He doesn't need to add anything. Lets it linger.

They're silent for a while. Auggie leans back, cradling his glass in both hands. The fire cracks and Jaco stirs, gets up. There's a scrape as he pushes a new log onto the fire. He blows gently. Heat flares.

"You and Laura seem happy." Jaco breaks the silence. Settles back into his chair. He sounds…wistful.

Auggie doesn't know how to answer. The moment weighs heavy on him.

Then, for reasons he can't untangle, he answers as himself – not Owen Garrett. "We are. Have been." He sighs. "I don't know. It's complicated."

Jaco doesn't comment. In the space Auggie finds a little clarity – a way to steer the conversation away from the murky waters that are his own life, and back to Jaco's.

"Both of us lost someone before we got together. Unexpectedly. Violently. I wonder sometimes if that's made us afraid…" Auggie tails off.

"I can't imagine ever loving anyone else." Jaco says it so softly Auggie can barely hear him. His words carry a lot of pain.

"How did she die?" Auggie asks gently.

"She was shot. In our kitchen. While I was in the garage right on the other side of the wall. I couldn't do anything for her." His voice cracks. The wounds are still so fresh. "She was already gone when I got to her. All I could do was hold her."

Auggie is unable to respond for a long while. His own memories are too strong.

"I couldn't even hold my wife," he eventually says. It comes out strangled – he can hear the tears in his own voice. Shit. Pull it together, Anderson. He clears his throat. "There were still bullets flying everywhere. The cops held me back. Wouldn't let me go to her." It's not the whole truth, but it's close enough to conjure up clear images of that day in his mind. Images of Helen. His throat closes up again. He swallows.

"Your wife was shot too?" Jaco sounds stunned.

"Yeah. We got caught in the crossfire in a shoot-out between gunmen and police in Rome. Seven years ago. On vacation. Kinda thing you can't imagine actually happening."

"Sjô." The Afrikaans expression carries so much emotion – shock, empathy. Jaco breathes out audibly. "So you know what it's like."

"Yeah. I know."

"And now?" There's something in Jaco's voice. A longing. An appeal for hope.

"You move on," Auggie tells him. "You take it with you. But you move on."


Annie could probably have picked the lock with a paper clip, it's that sophisticated. With her lock-picks she's got it open literally in seconds. Closing the door quietly behind her, she checks that the shutters are closed and uses the flashlight on her cell phone to scan the room.

It's smaller than her and Auggie's room – just a double bed, a small wardrobe area, bathroom, and a counter on which are a tea-tray and kettle, and Jaco's unopened laptop bag.

That's her priority. She unzips the bag, gets the laptop out and open, plugs Auggie's flash drive into one of the USB ports. Then she turns the machine on.

Next she looks for a good place to hide the listening device. The range is not too bad, Auggie has told her, but she decides to try for a place near the door in case Jaco, like many people, wanders in and out of his room when on the phone.

Using the Swiss Army knife she keeps in her purse she unscrews the fingerplate of the light-switch at the door, attaches the bug on the inside of it, and then screws the plate back into place.

Then she starts systematically going through the room.

Jaco is neat and methodical. He unpacks thoroughly, obviously not the type to live out of his suitcase. She carefully checks through all the clothing on his shelves, through his laundry items. In his apparently empty suitcase she hits pay dirt – a manila folder tucked into a zipped pocket inside the lid of the case. It contains two photographs of a woman and man – one of them embracing each other, the other of them holding hands and laughing. She doesn't recognize the man. The woman, she thinks, might be Jaco Bouwer's late wife – Michelle.

The folder also contains what looks like a set of phone records for a cell phone - with one number repeatedly highlighted.

Rummaging through her purse for a second flashlight, she illuminates the contents of the folder, photographs each item with her phone, and then returns everything to its original place.

Auggie's trojan has uploaded itself and so Annie removes the flash drive, shuts down Jaco's computer, wipes it clean and replaces it exactly as she had found it into its bag on the counter.

She continues her search of the room.

She makes her second discovery in Jaco's nightstand.

Secreted in the locked (but also too-easy-to-get-open) drawer is a Walther P38 9mm Parabellum pistol.