Blindside. Wilna Adriaanse

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СКАЧАТЬ his parents had died a few years ago. First his mother, then his father. He didn’t attend his father’s funeral; neither did his two brothers. He seemed to have laid his ghosts to rest. His easy smile gave the impression that he was happy most of the time, but if you got to know him well, you learnt that some demons weren’t exorcised so easily.

      Her own parents had had an intense relationship, and though children never really know what happens behind closed doors, she felt sure that when they had made love it had been unrestrained and passionate, just like their arguments.

      At twenty-four, her dad had come to visit his cousin in South Africa. One night he spotted the lovely young Rika at a dance hall and fell so in love with her that he never went back home – he just wrote his parents a letter.

      Sometime during her teenage years Ellie had grown afraid of such an all-consuming relationship.

      Relationships aren’t shoes, they shouldn’t be too comfortable, John McKenna liked to say. Not between friends, and not between lovers. Love should be complicated. Challenging.

      She remained unconvinced. In a way she supposed Albert was more of a challenge than Chris. On the other hand, theirs was an easy relationship because they asked so little of each other.

      Her dad and Albert had not seen eye to eye. Neither of them ever mentioned it, but she knew. She had always meant to ask her dad about it one day. Now it was too late. For all the other questions she had meant to ask, too.

      She fetched her laptop and got back into bed. There had to be a clue somewhere.

      She opened five folders, resizing them so that they all fitted on­to the screen. Alexei Barkov. Forty-five-year-old Russian. Enzio Allegretti. Fiendishly attractive at thirty-six, and a ladies’ man. Yuang Mang. A diminutive Chinese, aged fifty-five, according to official documentation, and ranking second in seniority among the five. The Nigerian Abua Jonathan was forty-eight, and Nazeem Williams sixty-four. All of them notorious for different reasons. She had been investigating the five of them for the past eighteen months.

      A sudden thought struck her. What if her dad’s shooting was linked to her investigation? Goosebumps prickled on her arms. She felt sick.

      CHAPTER 2

      Ellie wished her mother would cry. Wet, noisy sobs, instead of the quiet sniffling next to her in the pew. She was dry-eyed too, but at least she wasn’t sniffling.

      You could smell from a distance that her mother had been drinking, even though she had promised not to. She should probably have taken better care of her mom, but it had just been too much trouble.

      You must look after your mom, she heard her dad’s voice say, and she looked at the coffin at the front of the church. She can’t help it. She’s not doing it on purpose, was always his excuse. And you’re all she’s got now, he continued in her thoughts. He had spoken to her a few times recently about the day he might no longer be around. Had he had a premonition, or had he just wanted to make sure she understood that she was responsible for her mother?

      “Why didn’t we bury him out of a normal church?” her mom asked under her breath. “I don’t understand a word of what’s going on.”

      “This was his church,” Ellie whispered back.

      “Why is he sprinkling water on the cloth over the coffin as if it’s ironing that needs dampening?”

      “Mom, it doesn’t matter.”

      Her mother sniffed again. “Lord, how could he do this to me?”

      There was movement around them and Ellie knelt.

      Behind her, her mom whispered: “My knee hurts, I’m not going to kneel.”

      “God of all consolation, help us to comfort one another in our grief, finding light in time of darkness, and faith in time of doubt.” Father Frank went quiet and Ellie sat down beside her mother again.

      She had never understood why people took sedatives to get through a funeral. Now she realised it was because she had never been one of the mourners in the front pews. In the cheap seats at the back it was easy; here, it was another matter. It’s not like you wanted to be in the front row; you only realised the price of these seats the day you sat here. The view from here was totally different. There was no one between you and the coffin. And behind the coffin you saw the reverend, priest, or pastor’s mouth move, but nothing he said made any sense. Nothing eased the pain. No words calmed the tremor inside. She suspected it was that tremor that made one grab the pills, or a glass of something. If you could just get through the service without people hearing your teeth chatter. That was why the older generation had so many children, she decided. For this day. There was strength in numbers.

      “Lord, for your faithful people life is changed, not ended. When the body of our earthly dwelling lies in death we gain an everlasting dwelling place in heaven.”

      She heard the people behind them say “Amen,” but the word stuck in her throat.

      The church looked and smelled familiar. As a child she often came here with her dad. To her mom’s chagrin. Not that her mom was a regular churchgoer herself; usually she just dropped Ellie off at Sunday school and fetched her later.

      It was nicer to come here with her dad. There were statues and candles, rituals, fascinating to a child. He never spoke to her mom about church and religion, but one day Ellie asked him why churches look so different, and he told her about Martin Luther.

      She remembered she had asked what symbolism was. And who was right.

      He had scratched his head as he always did when he tried to explain something, or thought deeply. “It’s just man’s way of making things easier for himself. Religion is difficult as it is. You can probably compare it to a car. Some drive a Mercedes, others a BMW. Both drivers believe theirs is the better car, but if they drive carefully, they’ll both arrive at their destination.”

      After that, Ellie had paid more attention to people’s cars.

      Today the candles couldn’t warm her and the familiar faces on the walls stared back at her dispassionately. As if they wanted to say, today we can’t help you. She had never been this cold before, and couldn’t wait for the service to end. But Manie Ferreira, an old friend and colleague of her father’s, still had to deliver the eulogy.

      He walked slowly to the microphone and planted his legs slightly apart. He put on his reading glasses and looked over the frame at the mourners.

      “This is a hard day for me. As much as I like talking about John McKenna, I wish I didn’t need to today. I knew him for more than twenty years, and for most of that time we were partners.” He swallowed. “If I hadn’t been a year his senior I wouldn’t have been retired, and I’d probably have been with him last week. And I wouldn’t have needed to stand here today. Or that’s what I keep telling myself.”

      He looked at Ellie and her mom. “We know how much we’re going to miss him, so we also know how big your loss is.”

      Ellie listened as he spoke about her dad’s good qualities. Shared the odd anecdote. Thanked people on behalf of the family. She wrapped her arms around herself and thought of the newspaper headlines.

      Veteran cop dies in hail of bullets at roadblock, the lampposts had announced the news the next morning. Alternated with Boks СКАЧАТЬ