

MAN OF MANY TALENTS

Adele Reynders

All rights reserved

Copy right © 2011 Adele Reynders

www.adelereynders.co.za

Cover design Adele Reynders

Translated to English – Jacoba Calitz

Published by Francois Duminy jodyrenza@gmail.com

Chapter 1

"Don't tell me about any house, unless it is within my budget!" That was Lana's firm but friendly request to the agent Engela, when she decided to exchange the city lights for the tranquility of the bushveld, here in Maroth Park, neighboring the Kruger National Park. "I need four walls, a roof over my head and running water. Electricity would be a bonus, but not a necessity."

"I found a little gem at a bargain price," the agent told her a few days later. "The place is quite small, only thirty six square meters big, but there is a carport for two vehicles and a thatched lapa next to the house. Believe it if you can, the house is available at the price of an empty plot. And the big bonus is the fact that the electricity is connected already."

"That sounds like the bargain of the year. Yes, I want it. Please put in an offer." It took Lana exactly two seconds to come to this decision. "I am looking forward to staying in my little house. After the last burglary, I would much rather encounter the baboons and leopards in the bush, than living here in the city."

"Oh no! Not another burglary. Did they steal a lot of things?"

"No, not too much, but they turned the house upside down again. I think they were looking for money and firearms. My old computer was also stolen. It isn't worth much, except for some valuable information I gathered for my new articles."

"So you had to buy another computer?"

"Fortunately not. I am now using a notebook my ex-husband gave me before he left South Africa. I think I can understand now why he and his new wife lately prefer to stay in Europe."

"In Marloth Park we have our share of crime as well, but thanks to our wide awake security company it's kept under control."

Without much ado and sight unseen, Lana bought the property south of the Kruger National Park.

She had been to Marloth Park many times before. Although her friends warned her that she could not compare spending some holidays at a place, to living there, she just knew she was going to fit in, or even better, she was going to enjoy living there.

On Boxing Day she followed Buks and Engela in their Land Rover, on the way to her new house. Her little car was sold and replaced by a double cab bakkie, now fully loaded with everything she would need to survive here for a while.

A herd of giraffe crossed the dirt road leading to the river in front of them. It was smouldering hot outside and most of the animals took shelter in shady spots. Two kudu-bulls drank water from a water feature in one of the private gardens.

"This is paradise." Although Lana delighted in what she saw, she looked up at the white cumulus clouds gathering and hoped for an afternoon thunderstorm, to break the late December heat.

When Buks turned and stopped underneath the carport, Lana pulled in next to him. She got out of the bakkie and fell in love with her new home instantly. It was a cute little thatched roof cottage with two windows on each side and a sliding door in the middle. In front there was a thatched lapa as well. Buks opened the gate that lead to a small enclosed area in front of the house.

"This is where you can have a braai, and entertain your guests. It is safe here and your front door looks out on this area. The rest of the yard is open, for the wild animals to use."

"Are there really lions in the park and not only in the Kruger Park?" Lana wanted to know again. She asked the question many times before. Until now she only encountered lions on the other side of the fence separating Marloth Park from Kruger Park, or in the private game park next to Marloth Park, Lions Spruit.

"Yes there are, from time to time. You cannot keep the big cats fenced in or out. They often crawl in underneath the fences, following the warthogs."

"That sounds fantastic! I cannot wait for the day I find a lion in my garden!"

"Careful, you will never just find one lion going about alone. If you see one, the rest of the pride is probably close by," Engela told her. "Always keep your eyes open and don't walk around after dark."

"When I see them, I have to stand still, I've been told. Apparently I should not try to outrun a lion."

"You have to freeze."

"Or climb into a tree?"

"No! Lions are better climbers than any human being," Buks warned her. "Let's go and look inside."

The house consisted of four walls and a roof, as Engela had described it to her. The lounge and small bedroom was divided by a kitchenette and bathroom, in the middle of the room. The view from the sliding door was breathtakingly beautiful, looking out over the Crocodile River.

"Do you like it?" Buks and Engela were anxiously awaiting her reaction.

"I love it!" she assured them. "Thank you for your trouble."

"Thank you for trusting us as your agents."

"Is there a hardware store close by?" Lana asked when walking Buks and Engela back to their Land Rover. "Tomorrow I want to start building a wooden deck underneath that lapa. It will be like an extension of the lounge."

"Wait for the new year. You won't find any laborers to do the job this time of the year."

"I am going to do it myself."

"You want to tackle the deck yourself?" The two agents sounded shocked.

"Yes. I need a break sometimes from sitting in front of my computer. This will be an opportunity to do something constructive and get some exercise at the same time."

"In that case, there is a new centre on the dirt road to Komatipoort. You cannot miss it. They have opened a hardware store, grocery store, bottle store, petrol station, pharmacy, hair salon, Home Industry and doctors consulting rooms already."

That afternoon as well as the next day, Lana kept herself busy settling in and getting used to her new home. There wasn't a lot to do. The couches in the lounge were permanent fixtures, to be converted into beds when needed. She hung her clothes in the cupboard and organized the kitchen, after unpacking everything she had brought with her.

She sat down on a folding chair outside the front door and started planning the deck. She decided that it would be the best to build a wooden deck, elevated from the ground. Planning was important, to ensure success. She picked up a sketchpad and started drawing a few lines. Good planning was the basis of any successful project.

She was looking forward to living here, to be her own boss, with no concerns for deadlines, printing errors on articles and office politics.

When the sun set over the Crocodile River and a lion roared in the distance, Lana lifted up the bottle of fruit juice standing on the table and proposed a toast.

"Yes, go for it, king of the jungle. While you still have to catch your prey, I am going to fry my mutton chops on the stove tonight. As soon as my wooden deck and braai is completed, I will join you outside."

The next morning Lana drove to the new centre. She could not see any signboards yet, but she guessed that it was the big building with steps leading to a wide veranda. The grocery store and bottle store were open for business, but the hardware store on the opposite side seemed to be only half open.

There was a sign on the door, reading, 'open for business,' though the door was closed. She nudged against the door and when it slid open she walked in, with the list of materials in her hand. There was nobody behind the counter, or on the floor.

In the office however sat a handsome man behind a desk, concentrating on the computer screen in front of him.

Her knock on the door, startled him. His eyes grew wide and then he jumped up and rushed past her to the glass door in front. Before her astonished eyes he turned the sign around.

"I am sorry, we are closed for business. You will have to come back in the New Year." He opened the door, with a gesture for her to leave.

"No, I am inside already. It is an emergency!"

"An emergency?" He returned to his computer. "What type of an emergency can one have regarding hardware? Is your house collapsing?"

"No, it is not as bad as that, but do you really expect me to drive all the way to Malelane or Nelspruit?"

"Okay, how can I help you?" He sighed and pressed a few keys on the computer's keyboard. He was clearly not impressed with a customer, walking into his shop on the twenty ninth of December.

"I want to build a patio in front of my house, where I can sit and look out over the river."

"Did you buy a house in Marloth Park?" His eyes narrowed. "In which street?"

"Crocodile." She mentioned the street number.

"Oh, yes, I know exactly which house it is. That is in one of the nicest locations of the park. When would you like to have the deck built?" He folded his arms in front of him and as the sunlight fell on him, Lana could see that he had auburn hair, with a hint of grey at the temples.

"In about an hour's time or as soon as I have finished buying the materials," she answered, with a defiant tone of voice. "I am going to sit on my own deck on New Year's Eve, to welcome in the New Year."

"Sorry, it is not going to happen..." He shook his head. "You see, it will be difficult to find someone to build the deck at this time of the year. The builders are all on holiday until the third of January. Besides a patio is not a hardware emergency. Good bye and happy New Year.."

"Do you want my business, or don't you?" She placed her list of materials on the table in front of him. "My geyser is broken, too. Is that an emergency?"

"For a woman it would be an emergency, I suppose." He seemed a bit more sympathetic. He picked up the list and looked at it from all sides, as if she had given it to him upside down. After a while he looked up. "The poles are outside. You can buy the wood in lengths of .... Wait, let me see."

"I am flexible. A centimeter shorter or longer will not make much of a difference to my deck. I am sure it will not float away in the Crocodile River."

"You reckon!" He pressed a button and the computer came alive once again, taking up all his attention.

"Would you be able to deliver it?" She pointed at her double cab bakkie. "The base is too short for the three metre lengths. I won't be able to load it on, but I can load the nails, creosote, building sand, cement and bricks..."

"How many bricks do you need?"

"Two hundred," she answered with confidence. "And I would like to take them with me now. Could we please load it?"

"Two hundred? And we are supposed to load it?" He held up one finger and brought it down again. It dawned onto him that she would not accept no for an answer. He grabbed a pen. "Name? Cell number?"

"Lana Steenekamp." He wrote down her name and order in the book.

"Are you not going to put it on the computer?" she asked, surprised.

"Later, much later. Let us load the stuff." The man placed the money inside the book and walked out with her.

Together they loaded the bricks.

"The cement is too heavy; I will have to load it by myself." He picked up the first bag of cement and groaned as he carried it to the bakkie. "Quickly, open the flap! This is heavy as hell."

She opened it just in time, as the bag of cement flopped onto the back of the bakkie.

"Bravo!" Lana clapped her hands, when the last bag of cement was being deposited.

"Gmff! How will you be able to unload it?" The man looked at the three heavy bags. "This is back breaking stuff."

"I will open it and empty it into a pail, little by little, until it is light enough to pick up. Can you please deliver the wood tomorrow?"

"No, not really, or ... maybe. Okay yes I probably can, but... I wonder where the truck's keys are." He started scratching around for the keys. "Anything else?"

"What formula should I use, cement versus building sand, to make a strong mixture?"

"There are the formulas." He pointed at a poster on the wall.

"Sand! I need sand."

"Why don't you buy bags of Ready-Mix? There is a choice between Plaster Mix and Building Mix."

"That sounds great! Thank you." She was excited again.

"Good heavens!" he groaned when he saw the grateful look in her eyes. Of course he was the only one there that could replace the cement with the building mix. "Why did I open my big mouth?"

"Because you are the kind hardware man, with the best advice for all your loyal customers," Lana reminded him. "And on top of that you are a businessman, thankful for every transaction taking place between Christmas and New Year."

"Is that what you think?" He carried the three bags of Ready-Mix, and loaded it on to the bakkie. "Please don't come back for another bag until next week!" By this time the sweat was running into his eyes, from exertion and his neat, dark green Camel man-shirt was sticking to his muscular body.

"Do you think three bags will be enough?" she asked him. "Shouldn't I buy another one?"

"Three will be ample, more than enough. Too much actually." He lifted his hands into the air. Hands Up. She would have to get by with three bags, at least until next year. Then he asked cautiously. "Don't you think we should find someone to help you?"

"No, thanks. Building is my latest hobby. I bought a thick book in Pretoria, with all the tips and advice on building projects. I am going to be busy extending and renovating my house for a long time. I think I might just turn out to be one of your best clients."

"One of my best clients? That is highly unlikely." He smiled, with a twinkle in his bright green eyes.

Chapter 2

"Lana, I need your help! We have a shortage of staff and you promised to help me out with an article whenever I needed one." The editor of the magazine where she used to work sounded anxious over the phone.

"I am sorry, but my PC containing all my completed articles was stolen in the burglary."

"I know that, but I know you can write another one in a flash. The best ideas for articles are still between your ears."

"I wish! What do you have in mind?" She was very aware of her obligation towards the editor, seeing that she was one of the sources of her, Lana's income.

She had to write the article, whether she felt like doing it or not.

"Send me one of your pep talk / motivational articles, or maybe something humorous, to fit in with the New Year's celebrations."

"How about: Twenty five wacky new year's resolutions?" Lana asked unenthusiastically.

"Will it be something like: Thrifty or miserly?" The editor sounded excited. "We are still getting feedback on that article. That is exactly what we want, something to prompt the readers into action, to agree or disagree with us, with passion."

"I will send you something like that. How many words?"

"We have a double page available. I know a thousand words are like nothing to you, and we can fill in the extra space with photos."

"Only a thousand words?" Lana realized that wasn't too much to ask. "And when would you like me to send it to you?"

"Would later this morning be too soon?" her boss asked apprehensively. "Otherwise we would have to make the magazine thinner this month, and you know how I hate doing that."

"I know."

Even though she now was officially a freelance journalist, she did not see herself working between Christmas and New Year. Her plan was to jump out of bed and finish building the walls for the deck, before they delivered the wood and poles later that day. Now she had to sit in front of her notebook and hammer out a humorous article, before she could carry on with her task.

Jumping out of bed proved to be quite impossible. Her whole body was sore and stiff from the previous day's manual labor and her fingertips were raw from working with the bricks and cement. She got up slowly, trying out her sore limbs and fingers. Who knew that building projects could be so strenuous?

As soon as Lana started working on the article she realized that the computer's memory was full. She could not even save the article. The only way to regain memory would be to remove programs and files. She made a promise to the editor and her future depended on keeping that promise, she had to remain calm, work systematically.

She was not going to put her e-husbands old stuff on her memory stick. If he wanted it back it would be easier to email it to him. But the best method to store it until then still to write it on an empty CD. After inserting the CD she tried to determine which programs were taking up the most memory space. Repeatedly she could see that Wynand's files were the large ones. Especially the one marked: Overseas. Although the file was password protected, she could imagine that it contained photos of him and his new girlfriend. Suddenly she was furious, and wished she could wipe the whole file and all its gigs into thin air.

Goody-two-shoes Lana prevailed and she saved the file on to the first CD. If he ever asked her for it one day, she would decide if she wanted to give it to him or not.

After that she tried sending the article again and the e-mail went through on the first try.

She looked at her wristwatch. It was twelve o'clock and she knew she had no other choice. She had to finish building the deck before the hardware man arrived between one and two.

The attractive hardware man did not deliver the wood with the truck, as he originally planned to do, because apparently he could not find the keys. He arrived in a Land Cruiser with a 'Pest Control' sign on the side, and a friend to help him unload.

They got out of the truck and started inspecting her handiwork. They were both barefoot and dressed in shorts, with a cold beer in hand.

"Can you believe it? You actually managed to put one brick on top of another. Not very straight ... Do you know what a spirit level is?" the hardware man asked cautiously.

"Yes, but this is art and it has to blend into the surroundings," she replied smoothly.

"I still think it is skew," he insisted, closing one eye and swaying to look at one side and then the other side. "Can I offer you a cold beer?"

"No thank you. I want to finish the work. What is your name, hardware man?" she asked sternly.

"Henk Maritz." He extended his hand. "And this is Chris Steyn."

"Ouch!" She withdrew her hand quickly.

"What is going on?" he asked and looked at his own hand in surprise. Did he cause the pain?

"It isn't your fault. The cement destroyed my fingers," she groaned.

"Cement does that. Are you going to leave the wall as it is, or are you going to re-do a part of it?"

"Let me make myself very clear, Misters Henk Maritz and Chris Steyn." Her body language was threatening and she placed her hands on her hips. "My walls are not only a little skew, they are very skew, but I am not going to break them down, so stop gawking and help me to get the poles in to place."

"No, wait!" Chris nearly dropped his beer, trying to stop her when she picked up a pole. "The cement is still wet. Your masterpieces will fall over."

"Yes, they will," Henk agreed and burst out laughing. "Wait until tomorrow."

"Okay, I suppose I am in too much of a hurry." She glared at him, wondering if it was really as funny as he was making it out to be.

"I am going to leave the bakkie here with you if you will be kind enough to take us back to the centre." Henk swallowed his laughter when he realized that Lana could not see the humor in the situation. "Chris is here to have a look at your geyser. He understands electricity. They are on their way to Maputo, but I asked him to pop in here first."

Now you have both had a few beers, and the geyser is an excuse to have some more tonight, Lana decided as she watched the man testing the wires of the geyser.

"Element," Chris confirmed. "We will have to replace it. Do you know if there is one in the shop?"

"I am not sure, let us go and see, otherwise I will have to buy one in Malelane and keep it for when you return from Maputo in a week's time," Henk answered.

"There should be one in the shop." Chris turned around. "You told me about a house for sale in this area. Is it that one?"

"Yes, the one on the third plot from here. If it is okay with Lana, we can walk there and then she can pick us up to take us back to the centre."

"Okay, hardware man."

Henk Maritz just smiled as he started walking and again Lana could not help noticing how attractive he was. When he smiled there were deep indents in his cheeks, something she had always found irresistible in a man. Especially when the smile spread up into his eyes, something that seemed to happen easily and often.

She stopped next to them, got out of her truck and walked with them to look at the house, a house obviously in a different league to her own little shack.

"Unfortunately the place has been neglected, as it hasn't been occupied for a while. Be careful, there is a loose tile." Henk pointed at the patio steps. "If you are interested in buying, you will have to check out the electrical wiring as well, as the mice have caused a lot of damage."

"I can see a lot of potential from the outside of the house."

"The house needs a bit of tender loving care, that's all. Someone should build a lapa and braai area over here. Then you will have a good view over the river, the same as Lana." Henk sounded excited as he explained what he would have done if he were interested in renovating the house.

"Okay, let us go and fetch the keys. I would like to see the inside. What is the lowest offer that will be accepted?"

Henk thought for a few moments. He mentioned a figure that was quite agreeable to Chris as he answered: "Good, you have a buyer!"

"Wow, you can get someone excited about a house. Are you an estate agent?" Lana asked Henk.

"No ... man ... I am just selling the house." Henk looked at her modestly.

"Building Inspector" She was not teasing, she was inquisitive to know.

"No, also not."

"Are you a draughtsman of house plans? I suppose I will have to submit my plans should I decide to build a second bedroom."

"It is not my forte, but I do have a program on my computer to do it. I could probably help you." Henk turned to Chris. "Shall we go and see if there is a geyser element in the shop?"

"Sure, estate agent, building inspector, draughtsman and hardware man! Just a friendly warning, Lana: Do not expect Henk to build anything. I think he has more or less ten bananas on each hand instead of fingers," friend Chris teased. "I am not even sure if he knows how to replace a globe. Or has anything changed in the meantime that I am not aware of, Maritz?"

"Of course something changed! I can open a bottle of beer using only one hand. That doesn't sound like a man with ten bananas instead of fingers, does it?" Henk answered and Chris burst out laughing, as they walked to the double cab.

"Lana, do yourself a favour and spend an evening with Henk around the campfire. We never stop laughing. How about tonight? Would you like to come over for a braai? We are only leaving for Maputo tomorrow morning, and then you can see my friend in top form."

"Chris, stop it," Henk said. "You are making me out to be a prize pig on display to be sold to the highest bidder."

"No, I am trying to convince a lady to notice this talented single guy hiding here between the bushes. I know if you had your way, you would sit and sulk in front of the TV, about what went wrong in your life. Lana, please come over for a braai tonight?"

"No thank you!" One sideways glance was enough to see that Henk was upset by Chris's words. She would not even consider socializing under such circumstances. Anyway, she was convinced that Henk would not have to go to a lot of effort to arrange female company for the evening.

She parked the bakkie in front of the hardware store and Henk opened the door. They started walking up and down between the shelves, looking for a geyser element.

"If there were any in stock it would have been on this shelf." Chris shook his head. "I don't see any."

"There is a storeroom at the back," Henk indicated, but it was obvious that he was not in the mood to try to find the keys to open it. The centre was closed for business between Christmas and New Year, because of lack of interest. "I can give Lana a key to that house, the one you want to show to your sweetheart. She can bath or shower there in the meantime."

"Would the owner not mind?" Lana asked.

"No, not at all. The owner has left town."

"No, wait! I don't really want to," she replied. "It is hot, and I can bath in cold water. My geyser can be fixed when Chris returns from Maputo."

Lana slowly concluded that there was a very relaxed state of mind affecting everybody in Marloth Park, especially when Henk only arrived at ten the next morning to collect the bakkie.

"How did you get here? She asked surprised, as she brushed her honey-brown hair from her face. "I did not hear a car."

"Bicycle." He pointed at the black mountain bike parked against the wall. "You should get one, too. A group of us goes cycling for about twenty kilometers three afternoons a week. We take turns selecting the route."

"I am not really into exercise. Anyway, it is too hot here."

"You will get used to the heat, and the exercise will be good for you."

"What do you mean? Are you referring to the extra ten kilos I am carrying around?"

"I did not say that," he grinned. "Anybody feels better when he is fit. Anyway, I think you are exaggerating about the extra ten kilograms. It is impossible, it cannot be that many."

"Perhaps even more, after the festive season. Would you please help me to unload your bakkie?"

He helped her to put the logs into position and to tie them with the wires she had built into the walls. Lana could see that he was not as helpless as Chris made him out to be.

They loosely packed the twenty-five boards, as they had to be painted before she could secure them with nails later that day. Henk placed the bicycle on the back of the Cruiser truck, ready to leave.

"Before you go ..." she stopped him. "There are a few creepy crawlies and mosquitoes in my house. What would you charge me to fumigate the place thoroughly?"

"What do you mean fumigate the place thoroughly?" Henk seemed flabbergasted, until he noticed the sign writing on the Cruiser's door. "Oh, I see. No, this is not my bakkie. It belongs to André. He is on holiday in Maputo as well. He said I could use his truck anytime I needed it. But wait, maybe I can help."

He took out his cell phone and tried to phone.

"No reply." He dropped the call. "There is probably no reception where they are. Is the problem very bad or can you wait until they return?" He could see the disappointed look on her face, jumped into the bakkie and said, "Don't go away. I will be back soon."

Off he went.

In less than twenty minutes he returned in a previous model silver BMW 320 and a large can of Doom in his hand. He emptied the can in the house and closed the doors.

"While the poison is working you can build your deck," he said, throwing the empty can into the rubbish bin. "Have fun."

He left again.

The deck was quite sturdy and completed on the thirtieth day of the old year! While Lana was admiring her own handiwork, the silver BMW stopped in front of her house. Henk Maritz got out and whistled in surprise and admiration.

"I would not have been able to do that," he admitted. "Even if I ... wanted to."

"Yes, I understand building is not exactly your forte, even if you have many other talents," she teased. "Would you like to have a cup of coffee and a rusk?"

"Tea, if you don't mind." He inspected the deck. "Did you hammer in the nails by yourself?"

"Yes. I think they may have been a little too long. I had to force them in. I think my arm is going to be sore again tomorrow. Sit down, while I make the tea."

"Right ..." He looked apprehensively at the only folding chair next to the folding table on the new deck before following her to the kitchen.

"Don't worry, I will bring another chair." She picked up her building book. "While you are here, can I show you what I am going to build next week?"

"Yes, of course ..." he smiled.

"I am going to build a swimming pool, right next to the deck, a splash pool."

"Never. That would be too specialized."

"Look who's talking. You or me? And who was blessed with nimble and agile fingers?" She did not wait for an answer, but continued: "A braai area with paving. In addition, a pole fence around my bakkie. Do you perhaps know of a reliable welder?"

"I do. His name is Piet. I will business card you his cell number."

"Stunning. And now mister Maritz, do you have any questions?"

"Yes, of course I have a question." He looked like a naughty boy. "When will the tea be ready?"

"Oh, gosh! Immediately. I suppose you want to go back to your shop."

"No, not really. I am just thirsty." He was standing next to her in the open plan kitchen and looked around. "Are you thinking of settling here permanently?"

"I am considering it. My ex ... left the country. He is somewhere in Europe. My kids are grown up and on their own. I am earning my money through the internet, so I can stay anywhere in the world."

"I see." He looked at her searchingly, probably waiting for the tears to fall, as often happened in the case of a woman who had lost the love of her life. However, she had shed her last tear in Pretoria and had decided that life goes on.

"The kettle is boiling!" she declared cheerful.

Back on the deck he lifted his cup. "A toast to your new deck. Thanks for the tea. I don't drink coffee during the day."

"I realized you guys are not very fond of coffee," she chuckled. "You prefer beer."

"You are referring to the day we brought your wood?" He grinned. "Chris likes his beer. I cannot compete with him. Half a dozen only lasts him a morning. I drink one, and then I have to see if I can stand on both feet, never mind one. And don't tell me you did not notice that."

"My lips are sealed."

"Gmf!" He dunked the rusk and started chewing. "Nice, thank you. By the way, what are you doing on New Year's Eve?"

"Nothing, I am staying at home. I am not going to wait for midnight. And you?"

"There is a church service. I am expecting the family in the afternoon. We will have a braai and afterwards go to the midnight service."

"Then I suppose Mrs. Maritz is busy cooking up a storm?"

"There is no Mrs. Maritz any more. May I invite you to come over tomorrow evening?"

"No thank you. I am not in the mood for company now. Maybe another time." She remembered the expression on his face when Chris invited her to the braai and referred to him as the main comedian of the campfire concert. She was convinced that he was feeling sorry for her because she would be spending New Year's Eve on her own.

"Sure. I have to go." He stood up after making sure she had finished her tea. "I enjoyed that, thank you."

Chapter 3

On New Year's Eve Lana parked her chair and table next to the sliding door. She was still careful after sunset, because her house was close to the Kruger Park. On that side of the fence nature had taken its course for many years, and would continue to do so, as she had come to realize over the last five days. Lions roared. A hyena scratched in her garbage can. A leopard came strolling down the road this very morning, paying no attention to the city slicker running for the safety of the double cab! In addition, just before sunset she watched a herd of elephant bathing and playing in the Crocodile River right in front of her house.

At nine o'clock she poured herself a glass of wine and decided to turn in as soon as it was finished. After the first sip she could hear a vehicle first turning into Crocodile road and shortly after that into her driveway.

A small, silver BMW stopped in front of her porch.

Henk Maritz was the last person she expected to see now. He approached with a bottle of sparkling wine in his hand and smile on his face, as if they had made this appointment a month ago already.

"There I was, sitting with my family," he started gesticulating from afar. "Children running around, loud music, everybody talking together while eating and drinking, and suddenly I thought of a pretty lady enjoying the silence of this night on her own. I so much envied you that I decided to join you, but only for a short while. I cannot leave my family for too long."

"No, you cannot. You are going to church. Please don't feel obliged to entertain me. I can hear enough game park sounds to compile an orchestra."

"H'm ..." He walked past her to bring out the other folding chair, and then he walked back to the kitchen to return with two champagne glasses. The cork shot out with a bang and two startled zebras barked strangely while running away. "Yes, and a very happy New Year to you, too," he called after them.

"Now, Lana Steenekamp." He lifted his glass. "May the new year bring you happiness and joy. May your dreams come true, and may you become the most successful owner –builder south of the Kruger!"

"Thank you," she answered his toast. "And may you become filthy rich in the process!"

"What?" He looked surprised. "How would I become filthy rich in the process?"

"I am going to buy all the materials at the local hardware store. Your shop!"

"Lana." He sighed heavily. "It is not my hardware store. It belongs to Sarel. The man is on holiday in Mozambique as well, with André and Chris. I just had to do one or two things in the shop."

"Oh, so you are the local handyman who has to organize things because you have bananas for fingers and you cannot, or will not do it yourself?"

"Something to that effect, yes," he shook his head after thinking about it for a while.

"I am not going to stay awake until twelve o'clock." Lana looked at her watch when the conversation started dwindling. She was concerned about Henk's guests who were probably watching the road to see when the silver BMW would return.

"Are you tired?" He looked at his watch. "What time would you like to go to sleep?"

"Ten thirty."

He got up reluctantly. That would be half past ten ...

"What are you doing tomorrow? My family will be preparing a brunch and there is usually way too much to eat."

"I am meeting one of the editors I work for at a lodge near the Crocodile Bridge gate. They are there for the weekend and we have to discuss the New Year's schedule before she returns to Johannesburg."

"It is New Year's Day!" he protested. "What kind of a boss do you have?"

"More than one, actually." She smiled at the shocked expression on his face. "And every one of them is convinced that I am working for him or her alone."

"You cannot tell me anything about that."

On New Year's Day Lana returned later than she had planned. She approached the park from Komatipoort's side and decided to turn off earlier, to reach her house by a different route. She had heard the lions roaring in the early morning hours, and one of the inhabitants claimed to have seen them entering the park underneath a broken fence.

Lana was driving slowly and kept shining a light into the bushes, using a strong flashlight she had received as a gift from her two sons.

When she reached a corner she noticed that the name board was missing, but she decided to drive in the general direction of her house. There was no sign of the lions. She reached a T-junction and that name board was missing as well. By this time, she was convinced that she was lost. She tried to open the Marloth Park map in the bakkie, but it was too small. After shining the flashlight into the dark to make sure there were no predators around, she climbed out and opened the map on the bonnet, securing it with a couple of tins.

Lana could hear the sound of an approaching vehicle and decided to ask for directions if she could not navigate using the map, but the next moment a bright light was shining into her face.

"Did your vehicle break down?" someone asked.

"No, I am lost." Totally blinded by the hash light, she held her hands in front of her face.

"Are you aware of the fact that you are encroaching on the Park's rules?" the voice enquired sternly.

"Yes I am, but what was I supposed to do? I could not look at the map inside the bakkie, and I don't know where I am."

"Wait Sergeant Modise, this is Mrs. Steenekamp. She is new around here. Perhaps she is not aware of the regulations." Henk Maritz came forward, taking the flashlight out of the other man's hands. Lana could see that they were both dressed in the blue uniforms of the local police.

"Ignorance is not an excuse. Mrs. Steenekamp, I am stating to you: You are not allowed to get out of your vehicle after dark. You are not allowed to shine your flashlight in a manner that could be disturbing to animals or humans. Two people phoned to complain." The other man took a pad out and started writing.

"What is he doing?" Lana asked Henk.

"He is the enforcer of the law. I suppose he is busy issuing you with a ticket."

"Get back into your vehicle and pay this fine at the municipal offices in Crocodile Street," the sergeant said formally. Lana read it in the light of her bakkie.

"Driving on a no entry road. Trespassing. Use of alcohol on public road while driving? This is not a public road," Lana protested. "You just stated that it is a no entry road."

"That is correct. It is a private road, it leads to private homes."

"I think you should scrap that one, sergeant," Henk suggested. "I think the sign boards at the end of the road are missing."

"They are definitely missing. I got lost because of all the boards that were missing. What gives you the idea that I was using alcohol while I was driving? I would never do that.

"This." The man pointed at the two tins of Castle Light she used to secure the map.

"The tins are still sealed. I used them for paperweights to prevent the map from blowing away." She felt so frustrated; if she were a man she would have used her fists.

"Oh!" Sergeant Modise took the ticket and cancelled it before handing it back to her again.

"What am I supposed to pay now? I cannot make out head or tails on this ticket."

"Nothing, I cancelled it. Extenuating circumstances," he answered and cancelled the one on his pad as well.

"Thank you very much. What am I supposed to do with the ticket? Can I throw it away and forget about it?"

"Yes, you can ... or use it to wipe the smile from my reservist's face." The sergeant shrugged.

"Is he laughing?" Lana turned to Henk. And sure enough, he was laughing as if he was part of a campfire concert again. "Why are you dressed in a blue suit, as if you belong to the Gestapo?"

"Schedule D police reservist, Captain Maritz at your service!" He kicked his heels together and saluted, looking so sexy that she had to look away, before her look turned into a stare. "Sergeant Modise is in the force permanently. I report to him. Sergeant, shall we go? We still have a lot to do and time is running out."

A captain who was reporting to a sergeant? It did not make sense, according to her knowledge about the way police ranks work, but then it dawned on her that few things around here worked in the way she would expect them to.

"Wait, you cannot leave me here alone!" Lana cried out as they turned around to get into the police vehicle. "Please help me. I am lost. I cannot find my house."

"I suppose we will have to show her the way to her house," the sergeant declared and climbed in behind the steering wheel. "Can we spare the time, Colleague?"

"We are in the service of the community, we just have to spare the time," Henk answered.

When they reached Lana's home, they waited for her to park her vehicle. She walked to the police vehicle.

"Would you like to come in for a beer?"

"Certainly not! Can you not see that we are on duty?" they both exclaimed in a shocked tone of voice.

"But we wouldn't say no to coffee," the sergeant added.

Slowly but surely everything was starting to return to normal. The festive season was over, and Lana decided to start another improvement project to her house before the magazines started putting pressure on her for her articles.

During the first week in January she arranged for the carport frame to be welded.

On Saturday morning Lana went to buy the poles to enclose the carport with, as well as a pair of pliers and a roll of wire. After doing that she did her grocery shopping at the other side of the centre.

While carrying her parcels to the bakkie, she noticed a packed game drive vehicle approaching with 'Crocodile Safaris' sign written on the side, and Henk Maritz behind the wheel.

"He waved at her excitedly and jumped out of the vehicle. Sitting next to him was Chris from the geyser.

"Am I glad to see you. We are on our way to Kruger Park. Please join us." Henk placed two bills in a child's hands. "Buy ice cream for all the money. Lana, park your bakkie behind the building. It will be safe there."

"No thank you, perhaps another time. I have to work on a new article on holiday accommodation around here, and it is going to keep me busy all day, but I would like to go with you another time, thanks." She laughed at the two children coming out of the shop, quarreling about the big bag full of ice creams, already starting to melt in the heat.

"Oh goodness, how much did you spend on the ice creams?"

"All the money, Granddad, as you told us to."

"Okay. Have an ice cream, Lana," Henk offered.

"Thank you." She chose one.

"Please have another one."

"No thank you. One will be enough."

"After every one has had, I will return the rest of them. See you later." He started walking away, but stopped in his tracks. "Oh yes, Chris and I are coming to you at about eight o'clock tonight, to replace the geyser's element."

"At eight o'clock on a Saturday evening?"

"Yes, they are going home tomorrow. Tonight is their last night here."

"Shall I keep some beers on ice? What do I owe you for the labor and the element? I want to draw money while I am at the centre."

"Beer is a good method of payment. Make it a dozen," Chris responded, walking out of the bottle store, carrying a case of beer.

Chapter 4

On Sunday evening Henk returned to inspect the geyser.

"I tried it out this morning. The water was hot and I had a lovely bath." Before Lana could stop him he was in the bathroom, opening the hot water tap. "What do I owe you for the element?"

"One beer will do," he replied and walked out on the patio, where he noticed her new table and four chairs. "Pretty."

"I am glad you like it. I bought it in Malelane this morning. Can I fetch you the beer now?"

"Yes please. I don't like spending Sunday evenings on my own. My family has left and my son, who is still living with me, will be in Maputo until Tuesday. So instead of taking a sleeping tablet, I am having that beer now."

"How many children do you have?" Lana placed two beers on the table. "Please open mine, as well."

"Three. Two sons and a daughter. The eldest son is married and lives on his wife's family farm close by. It was his little one who went to buy the ice creams yesterday." He grinned and continued: "My daughter is the youngest and she and my sister own the Home Industry in the centre."

"Is that so? I bought some rusks from them yesterday and decided that they are going to see me quite regularly in the future!" She lifted her beer in a toast." Cheers!"

"Cheers." He sipped at his beer. "By the way, I see you have bought the poles for the carport. Is that your latest project?"

"Yes, it is. I am planning to complete one new improvement project every week."

"And did you complete your article about accommodation south of the Kruger?"

"Yes, including photos. Now the computer's memory is full again. I am deleting most of my ex's files after storing it on CD's. I don't think he will ever need it again, but I am keeping it for him, anyway. It feels too awkward to destroy something somebody had worked on."

At that moment her cell phone lying on the table beeped. She read the short message, shook her head and put the phone down again. "That is very strange. I cannot make out what the person is trying to say."

"May I have a look?" He picked up the phone and read "Pity about old Wynand, but now that he is no longer with us, you are our only link. Can we meet somewhere to solve the problem?" He turned to her and asked, "Who is the late Wynand? Do you know the man?"

"No, not the late Wynand. He is my ex. As far as I know he is alive and healthy and living in Europe." She looked at Henk. "At least, that was the last news I had about him. ... No, as far as I know he is okay."

"Not according to the SMS." Henk looked at her before replacing the phone. He cleared his throat and enquired, "Let us assume that he is 'no longer with us,' according to the SMS. Will you be very upset to find out that he is no longer in Europe, either?"

"Yes of course. We were together for the best part of fifteen years."

"Did you have any children with him?"

"No, he did not want any more children. It was his second marriage as well, and he wanted to enjoy life without any limitations. I have two children from my first marriage."

"Limitations? My three limitations bring me the most joy."

"And you are so fortunate to have your children so close by. Mine are in Pretoria and I really miss them," Lana answered as her phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen. "It is my ex-sister-in-law. She lives in Pretoria as well. Perhaps she knows what is going on."

It was bad news indeed.

"Lana! Wynand died early this morning in Prague from a heart attack. His fiancé phoned me about an hour ago," the woman cried hysterically. So then it was true.

"I am so sorry to hear that." Lana could not think of anything else to say. How could one console someone who had just lost the last remaining member of her family? Wynand's sister never got married. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, I just wanted to phone and tell you the bad news. There won't even be a funeral. His body will be cremated. I was planning to visit them in April. I still cannot believe it." The woman was obviously still in shock. Then she remembered something. "Where are you? A strange man phoned and asked me for your cell number. According to him you are using Wynand's laptop and he needs some information on it to wind down the estate."

"I suppose you gave him my number?" An unnecessary question, as she had already received an SMS from the stranger.

"I had to," she confirmed Lana's suspicions. "He went to your duet home in Faerie Glen, but apparently you had moved out and only your sons are living there now."

"I ... err.. Something is rather strange. Don't you think the executors are a bit quick, considering that Wynand only died this morning?" She wondered why the hairs in her neck were suddenly standing up. "Especially considering the fact that he worked alone most of the time."

"Jamima helped him over the last few months. She was the one who told me ... that he had died." She started crying again.

"I will be thinking of you. Call me anytime and please let me know if there is anything I can do."

Lana replaced the phone and sat down on the far end her new deck. She pulled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees, as she usually did when she had something to think about.

"So he is dead." Henk sat down next to her and his arm around her shoulders consoled her a little bit. "I am sorry."

"Thank you." Tears were running down her cheeks. She was really sad. "A heart attack. It is difficult to believe. He used to be so fit and healthy, but I suppose it happened because his work was very stressful, although he did not often talk about it."

"What did he do for a living?"

"Stock Exchange. Investments."

It was quiet for a long time, and then Henk asked, "Do you still love him? Excuse me for asking, but perhaps you still hoped to be reconciled? Some people do that, to keep on hoping ... even after a divorce."

"No, our last parting was final and by then the new woman was in his life already. He followed her to Prague." She looked at him apologetically. "I don't want to sound rude, but I am not good company anymore tonight. I would like to go to sleep now."

"I am not trying to be pushy, he replied and removed his arm from her shoulder, "but I think I will stay for a while longer, seeing that I haven't finished my beer yet."

"Thank you." She wondered if he had decided to stay a while longer because she was looking so forlorn and sad. He was probably convinced that his presence would cheer her up.

Actually, it was true ... he did cheer her up.

Lana turned around to look at the table, as two SMS's followed shortly after one another.

"Would you like to see?" Henk asked her and passed the phone.

"Where are you? Can we meet?" the first message read. "It is about Wynand's laptop."

"No, thank you. Who are you and what do you want with the laptop?" she replied.

The second message read, "A large amount of money will be yours. Bring me the laptop and you will be a very wealthy woman." This message came from a different number.

Lana could feel chills running down her spine, in spite of the summer heat. She took a sip from the beer glass.

"Something does not seem right," she mumbled, more to herself than to the man with her on the patio.

"Why don't you phone and find out?" Henk asked as she put the phone down next to her on the deck.

"No, I still have to process the information that Wynand has actually died, and then I will try to find out what is going on here. What bothers me the most is that Wynand usually worked alone. I have been using his laptop for six months, but he did not show the slightest interest in getting it back. Why would strangers be interested in it and claim that it is in connection with the estate?"

"If he was working with numbers, I assume all his documents and his will was in order," Henk agreed with her. "And that would not be on a laptop that has not been with him for the last six months."

"I work on the laptop every day and all his files are password protected, anyway, so nobody else will be able to access it." She got up. "I am going to make some tea. Would you like some?"

"Yes, thank you."

He stood close to her while they waited for the kettle to boil.

"I enjoy being here with you and it is beautiful, but now I want my own bed and my own pillow," he declared after his second cup of tea. "When can I see you again?"

"I don't know. I suppose that depends on you."

"In that case I will come around some time during the week. But remember, if you want to talk about anything, if you need anything, or if you are feeling lonely, here is my number." He wrote his cell number on a piece of paper.

On Monday afternoon Henk stopped in front of her house and his face was serious as he jumped out of the car.

"What is going on? Why don't you answer your cell phone? I suppose you haven't switched on your phone yet. And I suppose you haven't entered my number either."

"Oh goodness, I forgot to switch it on after last night's SMS's."

"Exactly. Bring me that phone. I will type in my own number."

She walked into the house and switched on the phone. It beeped a few times.

"You will see, three of those messages are from me," Henk said after typing in his number.

She found out that people were looking for her from everywhere when she started listening to her voicemails and reading her messages. Henk's messages were there, as well as a message from her eldest son, who found out that his stepfather had died. There was a message from her friend, Jeanne and one from the editor of a magazine.

Funny enough a voicemail from her sister-in-law sounded unbelievably threatening and impatient.

"Where is Wynand's laptop? That man says he is going to make trouble. Please let me know where it is, so that he can fetch it. He is threatening to go to the police."

"How can he go to the police? I did not steal the bloody thing. Wynand gave it to me to use."

She read the four SMS's aloud: "Number one SMS me immediately and tell me where we can meet. Bring the notebook with you!"

"Second SMS: We will swop you with a new computer and transfer all your stuff. Where are you living now?"

"Three: Don't think that we will not find your hiding place. Ignore one more message and your time to set matters right, is busy running out."

"And last but not least: The computer is a time activated bomb. It can mean the end of you and your loved ones."

After reading is as well, Henk had a look of total surprise on his face. "Am I stupid, or are these all threats?""That is how I understand them, too." She typed: "WHAT is your PROBLEM?" and sent it.

"You are my PROBLEM! Where are you?" she received the return message.

"That is enough!" She dialed the number, feeling very brave and aggressive, but nobody answered the phone. She looked at the phone and then at Henk.

"Give me the number. I will phone him from my phone." Henk looked upset, too. He dialed, waiting for somebody to answer.

"Perhaps somebody was trying to make a fool out of me," Lana said hopefully.

"I don't think so," Henk confirmed her apprehensions. "Nobody has friends who would think this is funny. I can feel the chills running down my spine."

"Me too," she admitted and fiddled with the phone between her fingers. Then she asked, "If a phone is switched off, does it transmit that unique signal by which the owner can be located?"

"No, I think the phone should be switched on." Henk shrugged. "I am not sure, but I will find out. However, it isn't as if anybody can just walk into the service provider's shop and demand to know where a person can be found. There has to be a valid reason."

"Like murder, for instance?"

"Yes, I suppose that is about the only motivation. Even then the information will only be available to the police. I don't think it was the police who was threatening you."

"Wynand's sister says one guy threatened to go to the police to make a case of theft. But Wynand gave the laptop to me to use. How will they be able to prove that it was theft if the owner had died?"

"It wasn't theft. Anyway, I cannot see the police getting involved in a case of a dead man's laptop. My guess is that it was one of Wynand's clients, standing to lose a few bucks if some of the information disappeared." Henk was standing around, looking unsure of himself and then he walked to the carport. "Your car-cage is coming on nicely. I see you are halfway already."

"I told you I was serious to get things done," she declared proudly.

"I can see that. How are your hands holding out? This is hard manual work."

"Hard work is therapeutic. It makes me sleep well at night. Would you like some coffee?"

"Tea please, but I am in a bit of a hurry. I actually came around to invite you over for tonight. We have an interdenominational cell group, and we meet every Monday evening. Tonight is our first meeting for the year."

"If you don't mind, I am going to get into bed quite early tonight. Perhaps next week, but thanks for the invitation."

"Okay." He looked disappointed. After he had finished his tea, he greeted her and walked to the silver BMW. "You are welcome to come if you change your mind, even if it is late."

"Thank you."

"And keep your phone switched on."

"For my enemies to find me?" she teased.

"No, man" he exclaimed. "So that I can contact you and not have to worry about a woman alone in the bush. You know, the reason I am a police reservist is because I care about people in my community."

That evening Lana lay in the bath for a while. Her fingers were sore and the skin was broken from working with the wires to tie the poles to the iron framework. She was feeling disturbed about the strange attention the laptop was getting, and on top of that she was feeling lonely and sorry for herself.

If she weren't feeling so exhausted, she would have joined Henk and his cell group tonight.

Then she started thinking again. She could not allow herself to become dependent on somebody else for her own happiness here in the bush. As it was, she was already too excited about the possibility of seeing him again.

Henk was only reaching out a hand of friendship, her common sense reminded her. One could not ignore a hand of friendship, but anything more than friendship would be out of the question.

She knew from her experiences that a man's presence was only temporary. As soon as one got used to having him around, he was usually on his way again.

There was Wynand, who promised to bring her the moon, the stars and a red rose every day, if she would marry him. However, as soon as his ring was on her finger, he had the next victim lined up.

She climbed out of the bath, feeling angry. Wynand was dead, and she did not want to think of any man in terms of a marriage partner. Henk Maritz was not even a prospect, anyway.

She preferred to spend time alone. That was why she bought this little house in the bush. Henk did not have to sacrifice his evenings to spend time with her because he was feeling sorry for her. She was going to be okay.

Chapter 5

The next morning Lana found it difficult to get into the swing of things, but by late afternoon she had almost completed her task. She was in a hurry to finish it. She would have to spend the next day working on her articles. Month-ends came along far too frequently, as she had come to realize now that she was working on a freelance basis. There were bond payments, water and lights accounts, car payments, internet and cell phone contracts to be paid. That did not even take into account what she spent on groceries and pocket money for the kids.

However, this was the life she had chosen for herself and she was determined to make a success of it.

An accident could happen so quickly, especially when one was in a hurry to finish a task. She wasn't sure if she had lost concentration, but by dusk the wire suddenly came undone from the roll and hit her on the forehead. Suddenly she could see stars in front of her eyes and grabbed her forehead. When she took her hand away, everything was full of blood.

"Oh, gosh," she groaned and stumbled to the bakkie to look at herself in the side mirror. It did not look good. What now? Stitches and a doctor? Oh no! Where would she find a doctor at seven o'clock on a Tuesday evening?

In the centre, next to the pharmacy? According to the sign boards there was a doctor, a dentist and a vet. Perhaps one of them would be able to help her. She grabbed her handbag and a towel to press against her forehead. She placed the cell phone on the seat next to her in case she passed out. Not that she could think of anybody she could phone in an emergency such as this. Perhaps there was somebody ... somebody like Henk Maritz?

She pushed the idea to the back of her mind, even though he had sounded so sincere when he offered to help whenever she needed him. She would get through this crisis alone, even if it were the last thing she did on this earth.

Lana drove slowly and it felt as if she was going to pass out by the time she reached the centre. She parked in front of the pharmacy, got out of the bakkie and hammered at the door of the doctor's consulting rooms. The door opened and she stumbled in. If only somebody was able to help her. Fortunately, there was somebody. From beneath the towel she could see the figure of a man standing up from the chair behind a desk.

"What the ... heck?" he cried out in shock.

"I ... had a little accident ... I think I need stitches. I am so glad you are still here. Can you please help me?" she asked from underneath the towel.

"Yes, of course."

She could feel his arms supporting her and she sat down on a chair. He carefully removed the towel while she sat there with her eyes closed. The man gasped and uttered a swear word before pressing the towel against the wound again.

"I think you need a doctor," he stated in a rather familiar voice.

"That is exactly what I thought, and that is why I came here," she groaned, holding on to the towel with both hands. Then she looked up. "Henk Maritz!"

"Yes, it is me. Wait here." He disappeared into the adjacent room and slammed the door. She could hear him talking, probably over a phone, but she could not distinguish the words. On the desk she noticed a board: H L Maritz, General Practitioner. "My gosh, this man is everywhere! Was there any enterprise in the area where he did not have a finger or a banana in the pie?"

HL Maritz stopped in the door, his cell phone against his ear. He walked up to her, slowly and cautiously.

"Okay, let me see." His fingers seemed to stretch longer and longer as he carefully removed the towel from her face. "What happened to you? You could have lost your eye! No, Hendrik, I am not talking to you; I am talking to ... the patient. She has got a nasty cut on her forehead."

"The wire came loose from the roll ... and then it hit me," Lana explained to Henk, and for the benefit of the other person he was busy talking to, Hendrik or WHO ever.

"Gosh, I think you need a doctor," Henk declared.

"Well, that is exactly why I am here, you moron," she grumbled. The man did not only have ten bananas instead of fingers, he also had ornaments instead of ears!

"Even though I have no idea what to do, I am not a complete idiot and I will definitely not allow you to perish, if I can help it." At least he was not as deaf as he pretended to be. "Please come through to the consulting room."

"I am sorry." She followed him to the other room sat and down where he indicated. "Sometimes I say things, without giving it a second thought."

"Don't worry about it. I know you are in shock." Just as well that he was not offended enough to chase her away. He continued talking to the person over the cell phone. "Hendrik, how far are you from home?"

The answer he received was obviously not what he wanted to hear, for he uttered another swear word.

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" He started walking up and down in front of the shelves, with the cell phone stuck against his ear, while unpacking things. "Okay, I think I will be able to manage. Please hurry up, but drive carefully in my car."

Henk switched off his phone, threw it on the table and walked to the basin. There he squirted soap on his hands and started scrubbing, as if he was going to perform a brain operation, Lana thought to herself. He dried his hands, inhaled a few deep breaths and walked up to her with a determined look in his eyes.

"Okay, let me see. Ouch!" He stood back.

"Are you going to faint? Don't even try! That would be my privilege. You are the doctor, and you have to fix my head."

"If there was something wrong with your head, I would not have been able to fix it, sweetheart. But maybe I can do something about the cut on your head. Just sit still and remain calm."

"Don't you need gloves?"

"Yes, gloves." He turned towards the shelves. He grabbed his cell phone and phoned again. "Where are the bloody rubber gloves? Oh!" He opened a cupboard. "Okay, I found them."

Lana shook her head in disbelief. She suddenly felt thankful that she wasn't in the privileged position to be the assistant or receptionist to this confused doctor. She decided that for any medical emergencies in the future she would rather drive the hundred kilometers to Nelspruit before she would submit herself to the incompetent doctor HL Maritz again.

Henk pulled three pairs of gloves out of the box at once, and struggled to put one on.

"They don't fit." He grumbled.

"At this rate your patient will perish before you have even touched her," Lana sighed.

"Do you want to perish? Don't die," he answered unsympathetically and drew a chair closer. He sat down. "Now I am going to do what I have to do."

"Stitches?" she enquired apprehensively.

"No, fortunately I have another trick up my sleeve. Hendrik just told me about it. Let's hope it will work."

"Am I one of your experiments?"

"In your dreams. No, sweetheart, with this wound you are my nightmare! Keep still, I have to clean the wound." He poured some fluid on to a piece of gauze and started wiping the wound. "Shout if it hurts."

"It does not hurt and I am not a baby. Do the job thoroughly and stop looking so scared!"

"Scared? That is a euphemism. I am petrified. Okay let us do the trick. Relax, apparently it has been proved." Henk cut off a piece of transparent plaster, and turning his head away as if he was scared to look at it, he pressed the sides of the wound together. Then he stuck the plaster on the wound. He stood back and admired his handiwork. "Not bad at all." He cut another two pieces and completed the task.

"That's it. It came out beautifully. Did I hurt you at all?" he asked boastfully.

"No, you did not. Is that it?"

"I suppose so, but I need to give you a tetanus injection. Take these two tablets tonight, and here are another two for tomorrow morning." He started reading his notes on the notepad again. "Fifty milligrams of Brrr ... whatever. Yes, this is the stuff."

"Don't worry about the injection. I will take my chances on the wire. It was still new and not rusty at all." She stood up and picked up the blood-soaked towel. "What do I owe you?"

"For what?" he asked with a surprised look on his face."For this." She pointed at her forehead. "For the consultation, the procedure and the tablets."

"Oh, for that? Nothing. I am not allowed to charge you anything for that."

"How are you making a living, then?"

"I do an honest day's work!" he exclaimed.

"Dad!" They could hear a man's voice from the reception area. "I am here. Did you manage?"

"Yes, I did." Henk answered proudly and stood back. "It was easy."

"Is that so? Let me see if you did it properly." A young man walked in and stopped in front of Lana. He looked at the wound from all sides and patted Henk on the shoulder. "Not bad at all. Great stuff, Doc."

"Thank you, I know. Where is my car?"

"In front of the door. Thanks for the use of it."

"You are welcome. Did you drive it properly?"

"Yes, Dad. We did not take any chances, and we did not even use the four –wheel-drive function. We only drove fast for the last stretch after you phoned in such a panic. Did you enjoy driving my little Beamer?"

"H'm, but it doesn't come close to my Touareg. In other words, you are not borrowing my car to go gallivanting in Maputo again." Henk answered. Then he pointed at Lana. "The patient still needs a tetanus injection."

"So you did not complete the task! That is a very painful injection. You are leaving it up to me." By this time Lana had deducted that this was Henk's eldest son. "Oh no, Colleague, that is not the way to play the game."

"Mrs. Lana Steenekamp has stated that she does not want to be injected," Henk answered formally, as if she was the object of discussion, but not able to participate in the discussion.

"I don't believe you. Admit it. You were too scared to stick the needle into the patient. Pretend you are playing darts. Did you not listen to me when I told you how to do it?"

"I did, but that part of your crash course was not very effective. I don't play darts at short distances with patients' upper arms."

"Listen, if you don't tell me immediately what I owe you, I am leaving without paying you." Lana walked towards the door. "And forget about the injection, thank you."

"You cannot leave before I have introduced you to my son, and before I made you a cup of coffee. This is Hendrik L Maritz, my son. These are his consulting rooms, he is the doctor.

"He is the doctor? And you?"

"I am the doctor's father."

"In other words, you are ... fortunately not ..." she laughed in relief.

"Never. I cannot stand blood pouring from a human being," he answered solemnly. "That was why I could not take payment from you. They would take me off the medical roll."

"You were not even on yet, and already taken off. Goodness, what a relief. At one stage I decided that you were the most incompetent quack I have ever encountered in my entire life. It reminded me of Chris and his story about your banana fingers ..."

"Yes, I know that story. Nevertheless, for a lay doctor I did a good job. Hendrik, you should have seen how that wound was gaping when she arrived." He removed the gloves and threw them in the waste bin. "I was convinced that I should have earned a Honorus Crux for bravery because I was still standing on my feet."

"You were sitting down! On that chair," Lana said. "You were not on your feet at all."

"But he was brave. A head wound does bleed a lot. You definitely have potential, Dad, a lot of potential." His son started clearing up the room. "This place looks as if a battle had taken place here. I think you should develop your talent by spending more time here. You can start tonight by putting everything away that you have pulled out."

"In your dreams, my son. Lana, we will park your bakkie behind the centre. I am taking you home. Good bye Hendrik, don't forget to lock up. You will have to prepare your own dinner tonight, I am coming home late."

"H'm". Hendrik looked at the chaos. "I will come in early tomorrow morning to clear up this mess. It is going to take a while." He followed them and locked the door.

"My bakkie! Goodness. Look, I left the door open when I jumped out. My cell phone was on the seat." Lana ran up to her bakkie and started looking for her cell phone. "Okay, the cell phone was on the seat. I suppose it disappeared."

"Somebody found a nice present," Hendrik teased her, pointing at the people sitting on the bottle store's veranda. The people just stared back at them with no expression on their faces. Nobody saw anything; nobody heard anything and nobody done anything wrong.

"Has anything else been stolen?" Henk asked concernedly.

"No, fortunately I removed the keys and I took my handbag with me." She showed him the handbag still hanging over her shoulder.

"Did you lock your house?"

"Good question. I am not sure."

"Let's go and see. Hendrik, please park Lana's bakkie in one of the garages behind the centre and lock it. I am taking Lana home to make sure everything is okay there."

"Yes, Senior, will do," he teased and jumped to attention. "You will have to fill up your wagon. There was no time to put diesel in."

"No time?"

"No. I had to respond to the anxious call for help over my cell phone, and so I came straight here to come and save the day."

Chapter 6

Even though the house stood open, Lana could not see anything different from when she left here two hours previously. Henk removed a revolver from under the seat anyway, and fastened it around his waist. They walked through the house, inspecting it thoroughly. She shook her head.

"Nobody has been here and nothing has disappeared. Thank you, Henk. Would you like to have some tea?"

"No, thank you, but I am hungry. I would like to eat something. I am going to take you out for a meal at Phumula Lodge. After your ordeal you are probably hungry, as well."

"Yes, I am. Would you mind if I have a quick bath and get dressed in something else? My clothes are in a state." She went into the bathroom, opened the taps and climbed into a relaxing foam bath.

"Are you asleep in there?" Henk asked after a while. "I am starting to get worried that those pain tablets have made you drowsy."

"I haven't taken the tablets yet. I will be with you soon."

"Is it going to take long?" He asked despondently. "I am starving."

"Help yourself to a beer in the fridge. That should help to stave off the hunger pangs. Don't rush a woman enjoying her bath." She climbed out of the bath after a while, and found Henk fast asleep on one of the sleeping couches. The half-full beer bottle was standing on the table next to him. She nudged him, trying to wake him up, but he just turned around to lie on his stomach.

"Henk, shall we go?"

"H'm."

"Do you want to sleep here on the couch?"

"No, we have to go and get some food," he mumbled.

"Shall I take your shirt off?"

"No, wait. Leave me be, I will be ready now, then we can go out to dinner."

He turned his head and allowed her to remove his shoes. She took the revolver from the holster and placed it underneath the couch. It was obvious that Henk would not wake up again tonight.

Lana closed the doors and gates, switched off the lights, swallowed the two tablets Henk had given her and climbed into bed.

The dinner date would have to be postponed to breakfast.

"Goodness, can you see what beer does to me on an empty stomach?" Henk sat up and wiped his hair as Lana placed the cup of coffee on the table next to him.

"I can see ..." She smiled as he pulled her closer to look at the wound on her forehead.

"H'm, the wound is looking good. I think I was a good doctor, even if I have to say so myself. But you have to consult Hendrik on the day after tomorrow in order for him to see that everything is fine." He pulled his shoes towards him and started putting them on. "It was his idea to stick the wound together. Apparently stitches leave bigger scars than the original wound. What are your plans for today?"

"I have to fetch my bakkie from the centre and go to Malelane or Komati to buy a new cell phone."

"Was it a contract phone?"

"No, pay as you go. I suppose I would have to advise some of my friends and family members of my new number."

"At least the man who was sending the SMS's does not have your new number. Do you have your family and friends' numbers? Nobody keeps little black books anymore."

"I have most numbers on my notebook." She pointed at the laptop standing on the dining room table. "Or rather, on my ex's notebook I am using. The one everybody is so keen on getting their hands on."

"Yes, it is quite sought after. Have you actually figured out why they want it?"

"No, and I am not interested to know, either. My own computer was stolen while ago and nowadays I use this one to do my work on. It contains all my own uncompleted articles. I cannot let go of it."

"Understandable. Do the editors prescribe what you write about, or do you choose your subjects?"

"I usually choose what I want to write about. I know more or less what the readers of the different newspapers and magazines want to read about. The accommodation article was for a supplement to the local newspaper."

"I can see you are enjoying your work."

"It pays my bond and puts bread on the table," she answered modestly. She never thought much about her work or herself.

"That is what we all want," he agreed and walked to the door. "Shall we go? You will have to wait for me at my house while I shower and get dressed."

Henk's massive double-story house stood behind the centre where she bumped into him in his various aliases so often. The décor was stylish, and while he showered, she looked at the photos and paintings on the study walls. She could see many photos of the children in their various stages of development. On some of the photos she could see a beautiful blonde woman, with laughing eyes, who could only be the mother of his children. Judging by the photos they were a happy and close family, and they were probably devastated by the death of the key figure.

What else could have happened to her?

Sad and touched by what she saw in the photos, Lana turned around and walked to the lounge. In the one corner she immediately noticed an old piano, and she opened it. She could not remember when last she had played, but suddenly she wanted to hear what this piano would sound like. She started testing the chords, and before long she was very absorbed in her own music. How long did she play? She had no idea, but when she replaced the cloth and closed the piano, she found Henk sitting in a chair behind her. She jumped up guiltily.

"I am sorry. I should have asked. It was very pompous of me."

"You can come and play any time. Nobody has touched the notes for the last two years." He rubbed his face and smiled.

"I assume your wife was the one who played. Oh Henk, I am sorry if my playing has opened wounds again." She stroked the piano. "I just could not resist and I could not keep my hands off."

"Please bring your hands as often as you would like to. This house was always filled with music. My wife used to teach all the children from the area."

"How long ago did she die?"

"What makes you think that she died? Our paths separated and she got married again."

"The photos. Most people keep photos of deceased spouses on display, but not of divorced ones."

"What about the children? It is still their home. Anyway, I still believe she will come to her senses and come back to me. She is married, but I heard it is not going that well with them." Henk stood up and pointed at the door. "Let us go and have breakfast at the Home Industry, then I can introduce you to my daughter and sister, depending on who is there today."

So that was why Henk did not have a girlfriend. He was still waiting for his ex-wife to return. From her own experience Lana knew that he was in for a long wait.

Henk's sister and daughter were both in the shop and the four of them sat down for breakfast. They had such a good time that breakfast turned into a feast, carrying on until twelve o'clock.

"Now you will have to stay for lunch, Daddy," his daughter said.

"No, we still have business to attend to. Lana's cell phone was stolen yesterday. She has to buy a new one and I have a meeting to attend in Malelane." He took out his wallet to pay the bill, under protest from his sister and daughter.

"No, it was on the house!"

"Come. Lana, let's go. This house will not make any money if everybody can eat on the house," he teased as he left the money on the table.

After they got into the car each of them was lost in their own thoughts for a while. Then Henk broke the silence.

"I thought ..."

"Was that out of the ordinary? "She asked snappily.

"Ha ha. No, actually I think quite often. Is there anybody anywhere on earth that you can trust wholeheartedly? Somebody who other people would contact to find out where you are if they could not get hold of you?"

"Yes, my sons."

"And where are they?" he asked.

"In my duet house in Faerie Glen. But what are you getting at?"

"It is very simple. Don't tell anybody except your two sons that your cell phone has been stolen, and don't tell anybody where you are at the moment."

"They know already."

"Who else knows, besides them?" He glanced at her before concentrating on the road again.

"Only them and my two best friends."

"Your magazine editors?"

"The one who was here on New Year's Day. With the others I communicate via e-mail."

"Good. Don't give this new number to anybody else, besides these four people. Only for a while, until the dust has settled over the computer. Then we can observe what is going to happen."

"Yes Mister Detective."

"Detective? Is that what a detective would have done? Mister Detective, my new title?" He frowned and thought for a while. Then he nodded in agreement. "Yes, I prefer it to hardware man, estate agent, safari-man, pest controller and doctor. It sounds more exciting. I have always wanted to be a detective. Just call me PI."

"Yes, PI, but what do you think you will achieve in that way?"

"We will find out if the person is so desperate that he would try to find out where your old cell phone and its new owner are traveling. Then he will realize that your phone was stolen and try to find out what your new number is. That will be the only way we can determine how much effort the person is prepared to put in to find you and the computer."

"You sound exactly like a PI."

"That is one of my many talents."

"And what are the others?"

"I am hiding them safely under a bushel," he teased and glanced at her with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Be careful, you might come back to look for them and find them stolen as well," she warned.

"Like opportunities that pass you by because your focus is somewhere else." Henk parked in front of the cell phone shop and looked at her searchingly before opening the door.

She wondered what the reason was for the sudden seriousness. She hoped he did not notice how the expression on his face touched her, as she felt the warmth spreading over her whole body and into her face.

Chapter 7

"It may have been your bright idea, doctor Hendrik," Henk declared as he looked at the wound on her forehead, "But nobody may ever accuse me of having ten thumbs and twenty bananas on my hands again. The patient flourished under my hands."

"H'm, under your hands, mister Maritz? Hendrik asked, highly amused. "What did those hands of yours do to the patient to make her flourish? Tell me about it."

"Don't be witty, doctor. Admit it; one would have to use a magnifying glass to be able to see the scar."

Lana was not convinced. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror and all she could see was a red, swollen scar on her forehead.

"Oh well, what does it matter, anyway." She never considered herself a beauty queen. "And now, lord Frankenstein, may your monster invite you and the doctor for lunch at the Home Industry as a token of my appreciation? While we are here, I want to phone my ex sister-in-law from the call box, seeing that I cannot phone her from my own phone."

"Seeing that I forbid you to use your phone, I would like to offer you the use of my own phone." Henk placed his phone on the table in front of her and started looking through the menu. "I would rather eat food than cake. Would it be okay if I ordered a sandwich?"

"Whatever you want," Lana answered as she started dialing.

"A pie with gravy and chips," Hendrik decided.

"Me too." Henk closed the menu.

"Me too. Please order for us." At that moment Wynand's sister picked up the phone on the other side and Lana immediately apologized. "I am sorry for only returning your call now."

"Why did you not tell anybody that you are in Johannesburg?" her ex sister in law interrupted her.

"In Johannesburg. No I am ..." Lana prepared to explain, but when Henk gestured she asked: "Why do you think that?"

"They traced you via your cell phone signal."

"How and why?" She sounded like an idiot to herself. Henk had mentioned the possibility of this to her, and now it has happened. "And who are they?"

"Lana I have to warn you. I don't know what you are trying to do, but the people looking for you are the police. You cannot hide forever. Turn yourself in, Lana."

"Why should I do that? I haven't done anything wrong." She placed the phone in front of her on the table and switched on the loudspeaker. She wanted Henk to follow both sides of this bizarre conversation with her.

"There was a detective who asked a lot of questions," Wynand's sister continued. "He is convinced that Wynand did not die of a heart attack, but nobody can prove anything, as the body had been cremated more than a week ago."

"What happened to his ashes?"

"Jamima had scattered his ashes in the Charles River."

"She did not wait very long."

"No, she did not." His sister's voice sounded sad.

"Do you know what the so called police want from me?"

"The detective desperately wants to get hold of Wynand's computer. I tried to divert him by saying that it was probably stolen during the last burglary at your house ... but then he told me that you are using Wynand's computer to send your articles via satellite connection through the internet to the various magazines you work for."

"What? Listen, I ... I have ... to go." Lana whispered distraughtly and severed the connection. For a long while she sat there looking at Henk.

"The case, whatever it may be, seems to be serious enough for the police to get involved." Henk rubbed his head and continued: "Assuming Wynand was murdered in Europe that would mean that he had enemies. Do you know of anybody who could have been offended by him?"

"Yes, many people. He was always on the defense and utterly self-righteous. That was the kind of man he was. He was very full of himself and conceited. In short, he was always right and everybody else always wrong, if you know what I mean."

"I understand. It could also be one of Wynand's enemies, pretending to be a policeman. Suppose there is some incriminating evidence on the computer, which could harm somebody. Did you take a look at the things he had stored on the computer?"

"Yes, here and there, but most of the files are password protected. I deleted some of them after storing them on CD's, to gain some memory."

"Would you mind if I looked at them?"

"Are you au fait with computers?"

"My dad is computer fundi!" Hendrik picked up his knife and fork as his aunt placed the food in front of them. "Are we going to eat, or are you going to solve the case first?"

"We will eat while we are busy solving the case." Henk took their hands and said a quick table prayer.

"Were you serious when you said your dad was computer fundi?" Lana asked Hendrik. "Is that another one of his hidden talents?"

"Oh yes, but what can I say. If the man has got it, he has got it," the young doctor replied and started eating the juicy pie, gravy, chips and salad.

"Then I think he should see if he can sniff something out," she dared them.

"He will sniff something out," Hendrik assured her.

When they arrived at her house later Henk was eager to get to the computer. He did not wait for Lana to invite him in, but pushed past her and went straight to the laptop lying on the table. "I assume that it is this computer."

"No, it is the one underneath my bed," she said with a twinkle in her eyes and started laughing when he swung around. "I am joking. Your instinct has directed you on the right road, my friend."

"Shame on you for making fun of a serious matter." He sat down and started pressing keys on the notebook.

"Something cold to drink? A beer, perhaps."

"You must be joking," he rebuked her without looking up from the screen. "How early do you want me to fall asleep tonight? You should know by now what that stuff does to me. Do you have juice or a soda in the house?"

"Yes, what would you prefer?"

"Yes thanks," he answered absentmindedly.

"Which one?"

"Thanks." Lana shook her head, because she could see that he was a man on a mission. After a while he looked up and asked, "Can we start eliminating? Under what file names do you store your work?"

"Under 'Lana's file', 'General workspace' and 'Magazine Articles'. Wynand's files are 'Private', New Folder' and 'For Web'."

"My, but you are organized,' he praised her. "However, just for the sake of thoroughness I will look in the other departments as well. You say the man worked with the stock exchange and figures?"

"Yes, Dude," she sighed and placed the cold drink on the table.

"Private," Henk said to himself and Lana could see that he was fascinated with the file. "What were his children's names?"

Lana mentioned the names and he wrote them down. Then he started patiently trying out different combinations of the names.

"His full names and nicknames?" the PI demanded half an hour later after having had no success. "Swear words he may have used. His ID number. His mother and father's names."

"He never used any swear words." Lana stood up to prepare supper.

"What did he call you?" Henk asked after a while, despondently resting his head on his one hand.

"Laankers and Laantjie ..."

"Laantjie. That is cute. Wow. And that's it." He jumped up and the chair he was sitting on fell over. "It works. You were the man's password, in everything. Everything, my goodness!"

"Oh, am I supposed to be glad or sad?" She was busy frying onions and added beef mince. "What do you see?"

"Figures, my dear." He picked up the chair and sat down again.

"And what can you make out in the figures, computer fundi?"

"Enough, I thrive on figures."

"Mister Henk Maritz, bean counter."

"Bingo."

"Huh?"

"I was a chartered accountant and forensic auditor for most of my life, Lana. The most boring form of life on earth, especially to ignorant people. However, to me it makes sense. Balance sheets tell stories," he mused and his beautiful green eyes turned into slits as he peered at the screen.

"Is that why you stick your nose into everybody's business at the centre?"

"Yes, after I resigned from my previous rather stressful job, I keep myself busy by doing their accounting and VAT returns, and sometimes I look after my friend's business concerns when they go on holiday."

"Shame ..."

"Oh oh, who are Paul Hollander, James Freeman and Keeps van Banneker?" He obviously did not hear her sarcastic comment, or he chose to ignore it, because he was absolutely intrigued by what he could see on the screen.

"I have never heard of them," she answered after thinking for a while. "Can you tell me?"

"Not yet, but I am working on it." He stared at the screen and clicked on the mouse for a long while. Then he sniffed in the air. "Are you making food? Can you believe it? I am hungry again."

"You should be hungry. It has been eight hours since we have eaten. I am not the best chef in the world ..."

"Stop putting yourself down." He got up from his chair and embraced her." You are an excellent journalist. I have read and enjoyed all the articles you have written that I could find on the internet. Look at how you are upgrading your house. The food you made smells so divine, my mouth is watering already. But hey ..."

He let go of her, standing back and looking at her.

"But hey, what?" She added some whole tomatoes from a tin and stirred it into the bolognaise mixture.

"Lana, we will have to go to the police, to Interpol, to be precise. Wynand was busy with bigger things than what you and I can handle on a PI-level."

"Together with those guys whose names you mentioned?" she asked in shock.

"Perhaps. They could have been his contacts in different countries. They may also be the people looking for Wynand's computer. If Wynand was murdered, the guilty person won't hesitate to kill again."

"That serious?"

"Yes Lana, what I have seen on this computer is fraud, unless there is an explanation for all of it. But up to now I have not been able to determine any legal explanation for what he was doing."

"And if he did have an explanation, it has gone to the grave with him." She pulled up another chair and sat down slowly. It felt as if she was in pain, but she could not determine in what part of her body.

"You are probably right. His last transaction had taken place on the third of January, on the day of his death. He was laundering large amounts of money, other people's money." He shrugged. "Without their permission, because they did not realize that he was using their money."

"How?"

"A little bit here and a little bit there to make it look like bank charges and expenses. And that made Wynand into a very wealthy man."

"What will happen to the money?"

"It is a difficult situation. The ombudsman will have to decide."

"Would you like to have some wine with the food?"

"Do you have wine?" Henk opened the fridge door before she could answer. "Yes thank you. I see you have a box of Swartland Stein. Wine does not make me so drowsy."

"If you pass out tonight, there will be trouble," she warned. "I don't think I will ever be able to sleep in my life again. Who did Wynand steal the money from?"

"Besides others, from you, my dear Lana. How often did you inspect your bank statements?" The look in his eyes was sympathetic.

"Not very often," she admitted, biting her lower lip.

"You inherited money from your aunt about three years ago. Into what account was the interest paid?"

"Into my account, I assume."

"No, sweetheart, it is here ..." He tapped on the laptop. "Wynand used your money. Sometimes he replaced it when he made a profit on some of his transactions. You were one of his victims, as he hacked into your account."

"One of his victims? Were there many?"

"Yes Lana, unfortunately." Henk poured the wine and placed one glass in front of her. "Do you have some empty CD's? I would like to transfer these files and take them with me.

"There." He opened the drawer where she pointed and took out a new CD. "We will have to treat this case with the utmost care. There are probably people who knew what Wynand was busy with and who would like to have a piece of the pie. It may even have been one of them who killed him. What can you tell me about his sister?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. She is quite harmless," Lana defended her. "She would not have harmed a hair on Wynand's head."

"What about his fiancé, or wife or whatever ," Henk asked. "The next possible culprit in the case, your honour, is Mrs. ... Mrs. ... What is her name again?"

"Jamima, or something to that effect," Lana told him. "What are we going to do?"

"I will go to a friend of mine who is working at the forensic auditing department in Pretoria. He will be able to advise us. And then the police will have to take it from there..."

By ten o'clock Henk was getting ready to leave.

"Thanks for the meal. It was delicious. I enjoyed your company, but I have to go to sleep now, as I am planning to be past Nelspruit by five o'clock tomorrow morning." He embraced her and kissed her on her forehead, then on her nose and at last on her lips, resting his mouth on hers for a long while.

"You have to go ..." She pushed him away. His presence so close to her made her heart beat faster. She had to come up for fresh air.

"I know, Lana," he sighed and when he kissed her again, more passionately this time, she had to employ all her self-control to stop herself from melting into his arms.

"Henk, you really have to leave now."

"Good night, little woman." He let go of her, walked out of the door to his car, and shouted to her while he opened the car door: "Lock your doors and look after yourself."

"I will. Drive safely, Henk!" Lana waved at him and watched as his car lights disappeared into the night.

Then she took a long leisurely bath and climbed into bed.

Strangely enough the thoughts occupying her brain and keeping her awake were not about Wynand's fraud against her and his clients, but about the feelings that were slowly awakening by the kisses of the attractive bean counter from the bush. She could still feel the sensation of his arms as he embraced her and his strong body against hers, and she felt excited about the next day and any other day in the future in which he would feature.

She knew now that she was right in feeling from the moment she had met him that Henk Maritz would be responsible for more than hardware and building materials in her life. She adored him. She wondered if he was disappointed that she had pushed him away. Deep in her heart she knew that sometime or another she would allow him to get closer to her, much closer...

When his SMS came through a few minutes later – "I am at home. Stay safe, beautiful woman. Good night," she knew that he was also aware of software developing between them.

"You too, handsome and talented detective," she replied, tongue in cheek. "Drive safely tomorrow. Let me know when you arrive there, and keep me updated on what happens."

Chapter 8

"The case is extremely sensitive," Henk told her when he phoned the next afternoon. "The late Wynand had the undivided attention of a few enterprises focused on him with everything he was busy with. They reckon that the man had a brilliant mind. However, interestingly enough, the watch dogs of the Reserve Bank had their eye on him even before he left for Europe with his new wife. That was probably the reason why he left South Africa. How are things there in the bush? Are you missing me while I am not there?"

"The bush is beautiful, as usual." She ignored the last question. Sometimes one had to apply the brakes when things were going too fast. Henk was a very attractive man, with a string of women inviting him out regularly for gourmet dinners and cozy cocktail parties. However, not one of the women could keep his attention for long, because he was still waiting for his ex-wife to realize her mistake and return to him, as he admitted to her. Before he was prepared to let go of the past and move into the future, she would not be available to help him shorten the long wait!

"What are you doing now?" Henk asked. He did not want to say good bye yet.

"At the moment I am sitting on the patio, looking at the opposite river bank. The lions have been around all day. It seems as if they are getting ready to attack a buffalo bull. The lionesses are quite active in stalking him, while the male lion is lying on his back, obviously waiting for the call to come and have dinner. There, I can see the one lioness attacking! Oh no, I cannot look now. I think the buffalo has had it."

"A lion catch, right in front of your house! I want to be there with you," he groaned. "That is something that should be shared."

"I don't think the lions would be prepared to share their catch with you," she teased him and turned her binoculars to look at the area around her. Then she noticed something at the house down the road. To her surprise she could see a man through the binoculars. He was busy watching the same scene with the lions and the buffalo through a telescope. She said, more to herself than to Henk: "I wonder when they arrived?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Guests in the house next door. People looking at the lion catch. No wait, he is turning the telescope this way. Gosh, he nearly caught me out spying at them with my binoculars. This is embarrassing."

"People in the house next door? Left or right?" he asked anxiously.

"The one you tried to sell to Chris. Was that left or right? You can decide." she answered and concentrated on the scene at the river."

"That is impossible."

"Okay, the house on the south side. Does that sound more possible?"

"There cannot be any people in that house."

"Well, then I must be dreaming, but I am not going to look through my binoculars at them again.

"No, you'd better not. Lana, listen to me. You have to remain calm."

"Impossible," she teased him. "The moment is too big. The male lion has also arrived on the scene."

"Lana, shut up!" The angry tone of his voice caught her undivided attention.

"Stand up and walk into the house. Don't quarrel with me now. Your life could depend on this."

"The lions are on the other side of the fence. How can my life be in danger?"

"Woman!" His voice sounded like a bolt of thunder. "Do what I tell you."

"Okay, I am getting up and I am walking in."

"Take the computer and your car keys and climb in your Nissan and drive to my house. Now, immediately, Lana."

"You must be joking." She flopped on to one of the dining room chairs. "I am busy looking at a lion catch. That is the reason I moved to the bush. I only want to find lions on this side of the fence and then all my bush dreams have come true."

"Lana, I am going to get a heart attack if you don't listen to me. I am not joking. I have never in my life been so desperate and serious to try and open somebody's ears."

"Henk, why are you doing this to me?" She switched the computer off, folded it up and placed it in its special bag. Then she walked out of the kitchen door to where her bakkie was parked underneath the carport, and got in. As if Henk could see her, he phoned again.

"Are you on your way, Lana?"

"No, but I am sitting in my bakkie. Now I am turning the key. The engine is starting and I am waiting for the bang, but no, I am putting the bakkie into reverse and I am driving out from under the carport. The car bomb underneath the bakkie did not explode. Should I close the gate behind me?"

"No, do not close the gate behind you. And stop making fun of this," he barked impatiently. He did not find her jokes funny at all. "Just continue driving. And don't switch off the phone."

"What is going on, Henk? You owe me an explanation," she asked after a while.

"How far are you?" he demanded to know.

"On the tar road. I am going to turn left now towards your house and the centre."

Is there anybody behind you? Are you being followed?" She could hear the anxiety in his voice. "Please make one hundred percent sure."

"No, nobody." She watched the road in the rear view mirror. "Definitely not."

"Blame it on the lions," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Drive to my house. You can switch off your phone now. I will phone you again a little later." The next moment the cell phone was dead, but Henk had impressed the seriousness of the situation upon her and she knew she would be stupid to turn around, even though she had no idea why he was acting so strangely.

Henk's son Hendrik was waiting for her in front of the house. He opened his father's garage and gestured at her to drive in. Then he ran up to her and opened the door for her.

"Lana, are you okay?" His green eyes were large with concern. She could see the resemblance between him and his father and her heart started beating faster.

"I think so. Why? What is going on with the Maritz's today?"

"I don't know yet, but my father told me to inject you with a sleeping draught and lock you up in the guest bedroom if you made a move to leave here. He said that somebody is trying to harm you, but that you think it is a joke."

"I think your father is paranoid and he is watching too many horror movies. It cannot be nearly as bad as he is making it out to be."

"Perhaps it isn't as bad, but I have never heard my father in such a state. He never watches horror movies and he has never been paranoid before." Somewhere in the house a phone started ringing and Hendrik turned around. "That is my dad on the land line. My aunt will answer, but he wants to talk to you."

"Lana, hurry up. It is for you," Henk's sister called from the front door.

"Henk Maritz, you owe me an explanation," she confronted him without greeting him after she picked up the phone.

"I know ... and I will. Are you sure there were people in the house three plots from you?"

"That is a positive, General. There was a man on the patio. I saw him for the last time when I sneaked to the bakkie. He was still as fascinated by the lions, as I was before you urged me away from there."

"Well, then he is an intruder. You see, Lana, that house in the bush next door to you belongs to me."

"Oh Henk," she knew she sounded sarcastic. "What a co-incidence!"

"I am serious. My wife and I bought a few houses in Martloth Park as investments when the prices were low. That house was the last one she had chosen. Because she was so in love with the place I bought it and decided to keep it for when she would return." He sighed. "In any case, there wasn't supposed to be anybody inside. My other houses are rented out from time to time, but not that one."

"So you have a squatter you did not know about. I wonder how long he has been there."

"Yes, I wonder, too, and I believe the telescope was not there to watch the lions with, but to watch the neighbour with, and that was why he turned the lens towards you."

"Now that I have left there they will have ample time to search my house."

"That is correct, but what they are searching for is with you, I suppose?"

"Yes, the computer is in my bakkie."

"Good. Before you even think of jumping into your bakkie to be a heroine and try to catch the thugs single-handedly, stop. I phoned the police already and asked them to investigate."

"I would not dare. And it seems as if I am a prisoner, myself," Lana grumbled as she noticed Hendrik and Henk's sister in the study with her. Both of them looked quite determined and capable of preventing her from leaving. She took a white tissue out of her handbag and waved it in the air. "White flag. May I please fetch the computer from my car?"

"Is she allowed to do that?" Henk's sister asked cautiously.

"What did my father say?" Hendrik also got a watchful expression on his face.

"He said we should tie her up and lock her into the bathroom."

"Is that so?" Hendrik asked and then nodded. "Then so be it."

They burst out laughing at the same time and Henk's sister gestured. "Fetch the thing, Lana. My brother does not want to keep you a prisoner; he only wants to make sure that you are safe."

"Wow, thanks."

At some time during the night Lana became aware of somebody leaning over her. She could feel the presence, rather than see the person, but her throat closed up from tension. The bed made an indent as someone sat down beside her and she anticipated the hands closing in around her neck. However, nothing happened and she wondered if the intruder could hear her heavy heartbeat. She felt for the switch of her bed lamp on the other side, but could not find it in its usual position. She shouted and jumped out of bed and walked into the wall where her bedroom door was supposed to be.

"Lana?" Henk switched on the light and noticed how she was holding her head. "Oh no. Hendrik, come and help here, please!"

"No, don't worry, I am okay. I just forgot where I was." Lana rubbed her forehead next to the scar, and then she rubbed her shoulder. The next moment he embraced her and held her tightly, as if he had to hold her upright.

A very confused and sleepy young doctor came stumbling out of his room. "What is going on? When did you arrive, Dad?"

"Five minutes ago," Henk answered. "There are people in the lounge. We have work to do. I just came to say hello and report to Lana, but when I saw how deep she was sleeping I couldn't get it over my heart to wake her up. Then she woke up by herself ..."

"I see." Hendrik wiped his face. "It seems as if you have the matter under control again, or what, Dad?"

"Yes, my son. You can go back to sleep again."

"Good night, Dad. Good night, Lana." He turned away and probably fell asleep again long before his head hit the pillow. They could almost immediately hear his regular breathing again.

"Well, at least he doesn't have a concern in the world," Lana smiled and turned to Henk. "Now that I am awake you will have to tell me what you found out today, and what our plan of action is going to be."

"It is very simple. The people are waiting in the study with another computer. We are going to link the two computers and transfer everything to the new one. Then we are going to set the old one up to be stolen."

"Stolen, how?"

"From your bakkie or house tomorrow morning. We are going to arrive at your house as if nothing happened."

"It sounds feasible to me. Let me get dressed. I am not used to wearing pajamas anymore. Your sister is a real lady."

When she walked into the study a little while later, she encountered three men with big frowns on their faces. She greeted them, but could see that they were whispering to one another and concentrating on the task.

"New developments," Henk explained to her. "There has been a lot of activity on Wynand's bank account since we had written the CD."

"Does that mean that someone has access to his accounts and programs via the internet?" Lana asked.

"Yes, but it seems that, whoever it is, cannot get to everything. I suspect that the person attending to Wynand's matters after his death does not have all the passwords and numbers that Henk came across. That is why they need the laptop. It is all on there," The man explained as he was sitting behind the computer.

Chapter 9

"I am not used to getting so little sleep," Lana complained as she drove home with Henk the next morning. He was driving and she was leaning back against the seat, listening to music with her eyes closed.

At home they climbed out, carrying the computer and walked to the front door. They could see vultures circling over the river. "Aah, we can still see the rest of the lion catch!" Henk exclaimed.

"I thought you said the police was here last night to catch the squatter," Lana whispered when they could see nothing out of the ordinary at her house. She did not know exactly what to expect, but at least there were no broken windows.

"They are here ... somewhere. If the guy does not trespass, they cannot arrest him," Henk answered and unlocked the kitchen door.

"But he is trespassing. He is squatting in your house without your permission. That is trespassing. And he is spying on me," She exclaimed disconcertedly.

"For that alone he should get the death penalty," Henk teased her and switched on the kettle. He went about as if nothing was the matter and Lana felt very frustrated at his peaceful disposition.

"What are we supposed to do now?" she asked him.

"Now we are going to sit on the patio and watch the lions eat the buffalo carcass, and we are not even going to glance in the direction of that house."

"I am going to look. I want to sit in such a way that I can peep over your shoulder."

"You are not going to," he answered and pointed at the laptop. "Bring it with."

"Okay, but I am bringing my binoculars as well and this time I am not only going to look at the lions."

"Peeping Tom," he mocked her as he carried the tea mugs to the patio. "I have to admit, I would sacrifice my toothbrush for a look at the house."

They sat down for a few moments while Lana glanced over his shoulder every now and then. Suddenly she inhaled sharply.

"What?" he exclaimed and grabbed the binoculars. Lana burst out laughing.

"I was only pulling your leg. There is absolutely nothing ... anybody."

"Naughty girl." He relaxed again and stretched his legs out in front of him, holding the binoculars in front of his face. He pretended to look at the lions, but kept on turning his eyes in the direction of the house. Then he replaced the binoculars and grabbed his mug of tea. "I have a plan. The police reservists should be at their posts by now. Seeing that it is not our duty to catch the thug, we can go for a stroll. Finish your tea."

"That sounds like a brilliant plan! We can walk past the house."

"No, first we walk away from the house. Then we will turn around and come back."

She quickly swallowed her tea and put the mug down on the table with a bang.

"Okay, I am ready. Let's go."

"Lana, wait, I am still busy drinking."

"Hurry up!"

He finished his tea at his own leisure and stood up. He took her hand in his own, and they started walking like two people in love going for a stroll. They walked away from her house, and away from the computer lying on the table on the patio.

Every now and then they stopped to look at the 'lions' in the riverbed, and once or twice Lana turned the binoculars slightly farther than what was necessary. Henk grabbed it from her and pulled her closer in an embrace.

"You are naughty. You are not doing what the police requested from us and you should be punished," he whispered in her ear.

"How?" she teased him.

"Like this." He kissed her. It was a kiss to make the world come to a standstill. Her heart started beating nineteen to the dozen, and she felt as if she was experiencing an eclipse in her otherwise bright mind. She could not think of one single reason to stop kissing him. It was only when her arms reached up to cling to him, that she came to the realization that she was starting to lose control.

"Henk, wait!" She was completely out of breath as she pushed him away. "Since when does one do this kind of thing in public, for everybody to look at?"

"This is not in public, it is in nature." She could see that he was reluctant to let go of her, as his arms were still holding her as if in a vice grip. "And we do have something to celebrate. It is the six week anniversary of our meeting. We met six weeks ago, or to be precise, six weeks three days and two hours ago."

"Only six weeks? That is much too soon for such a sticky embrace," she taunted him. It felt as if she had known him for much longer. "Besides that, are you not still waiting for the mother of your children to return to your arms?"

"Even if she does return, I don't want her anymore. My goodness, Lana, she is married. Surely that is proof enough that she has made her choice and it wasn't me. Don't you think it is high time that I moved on with my life?"

"I know very well that you should move on, but it is high time that you realize it, as well." She stroked his cheek, wishing he would kiss her as he did before. Suddenly she remembered what they were doing there and stood back. "Let us turn around."

"Yes, let's do that."

"Now I may look at the house." She stopped and lifted the binoculars in the direction of the lions and then she turned it towards her house. "Oh gosh!"

"Is that a false alarm again?" he asked apprehensively.

"No Henk, this is serious. The cheese has been taken." She passed the binoculars to him, and he turned it towards her house, to the patio where they had left the notebook.

"The computer."

"Yes, the cheese."

"Lana, it was bait." Instead of running to see what could be done, he folded over in laughter. "The bait is gone. It was probably the forensic guys who remembered they still had something to research on the computer."

"No! Look there." She pointed down the road, to where the men from last night were coming towards them with a stranger between them.

"Here he is, Mr. Maritz. Your squatter. Would you like to make a case of trespassing? And Mrs. Steenekamp, was it your computer he took from the table while your attention was concentrated on a place elevated from this earth?"

"Oh goodness," Henk groaned, wiped his hair and held his hands over his face. "We were actually in the public eye. I forgot about this lot."

"Don't worry about it. The beginning of true love is always something beautiful to look at," the police officer mocked him. Then he asked in a serious tone of voice: Mrs. Steenekamp, does this computer belong to you?"

"Yes, that computer belonged to my ex-husband and it has been in my possession for a while," she answered, still feeling embarrassed. It had felt as if the two of them were alone in the universe, never mind alone on earth. Earth was too small for all the feelings awoken inside of her, to feel so cherished in another person's arms. However, she pulled herself together and looked at the thief. "Why did you steal my computer?"

"I can explain." The young man's face showed the pain from being held so tightly by the police officer. "I work for the Reserve Bank. Money has been laundered," He groaned through tight lips." I have to take the computer with me."

"No, I am sorry, but you will have to fall in at the end of the queue. There are quite a few men who have gone to a lot of effort to see what is on there." Lana enjoyed bursting his bubble.

"That was the end of life as we had known it up to now," Lana gestured dramatically while she attempted to light the fire in her new braai. Henk was sitting on the patio wall. He wasn't supposed to lift a finger to help, because she had invited him to the braai and he was the guest.

"H'm, really. How come?" He stared at the fillet on the plate nearby and Lana could see that he was wondering if the marinade had made it soft enough for him to try to eat it in its raw state. He looked up at the clouds hanging over the earth, threatening to shower them with a welcome thunderstorm. Her new braai area was not under the thatched roof, but just outside in the open. She bent over the fire and tried to blow the only red coal to life.

"The main character in the story is ... dead. The police have all the evidence to return the victims' money with interest. In addition, you are thinking of renovating that house over there. That means that you will be my new neighbour." Lana tried to keep a light conversation going before she attempted blowing into the fire again, but suddenly the smoke turned towards her and it blew in her eyes. She jumped up. "Oops!"

"Yip." Henk was shifting about and the frown between his beautiful green eyes increased by the second, but he had difficulty hiding his smile. "Please let me help you."

"No! I am in control. Rather tell me what you are planning to do to improve your house. Up to where do your plot go? I hope you are not going to build a mansion like the one you have behind the centre. Whatever you do, try not obstructing my beautiful view."

"I cannot do that, even if I wanted to, which I don't want."

"That is a strange way of saying it, even if I wanted to, which I don't want," she echoed him and started blowing into the fire again. This time she was more careful.

"There are two plots between yours and mine, and then there is a piece of parkland in between as well. Have you never looked at the map?" He stood up. "Come on, Lana, admit it. You are not able to get the fire going. Let me help you. Or would you rather cook that piece of meat on the stove for us?"

"If I don't manage, you won't either. Then the wood must be wet."

"The wood is not wet," he answered firmly. "Sit down on that chair and watch an expert making fire."

Before long he had a cozy fire going.

"Are you waiting for the standing ovation?" she grumbled.

"No, I know that making a fire is more a man-thing. I could make a fire since I was this tall." He held his hand about twenty centimeters from the ground.

"That is impossible. When I was that big, I hadn't even been born yet."

"Well, what can I say? I am a genius!" He answered smugly. "I just hope we can braai the meat before the rain soaks everything."

"Henk, what part of tonight's program don't you understand? I invited you, and I am braaiing the meat," Lana exclaimed.

"Okay." He stood up and walked to his car. He returned with a brown paper bag full of dried worse, which he placed on the table after picking a nice long piece to chew on. When he saw the angry look in her eyes he stopped chewing. "What does that expression mean? It is only a starter!"

"I suppose you mean that a man does not go to war without a gun." She stood in front of him. "You are worried that I am not going to feed you. You think that I am a pathetic housewife!"

"Never!"

"What is the meaning of this, then?" She pointed at the brown paper bag.

"I felt like having some dried wors and I brought it for both of us. Are you upset with me?" he asked worriedly.

"No, I am going to fetch the salad. Just beware if you do not finish all of this meat. You are busy spoiling your appetite and I have gone to a lot of effort to prepare our meal ..."

Before she could turn around again in the kitchen he was with her and he enfolded her in a tight embrace.

"You will see, I am a Boerseun. Nothing can spoil my appetite." The next moment his lips were resting on her own. A while later he lifted his head and whispered, "I adore you. I love the food you have prepared for us. I love everything, as long as I can do it with you. Thank you for everything you have done today." Then he kissed her again.

"Don't stop saying thank you and don't stop kissing me," she whispered, clasping him around his neck. The next moment he uttered a swear word and ran out onto the patio, with Lana in close pursuit.

"What is going on?" she asked and felt her heart beating faster from fright. Her legs threatened to collapse under her and she realized it was not only from the fright.

"Hyena! Look, there he is still waiting. We were just in time to stop him from grabbing the fillet from the table. Go away, you scavenger. This food is for gourmets."

After that close encounter Henk ignored everything; nature, scavengers and a hard-headed woman. He cooked the meat. Lana knew she had lost the battle and gave up. Perhaps there were a few things a man could do better than a woman.

Just as Henk removed the meat from the braai, the heavens opened and the rain poured down in buckets full.

"We are going to say thanks for the rain and the good food." At the little dining room table Henk enclosed both her hands in his own. His expression became serious as he said grace.

They sat down close together and Lana could feel his knee against her own. After a while he pushed his foot in underneath hers. In the meantime he was holding on to her hand. She was enjoying the cozy intimacy between the two of them, and she wished that the evening would never end.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal, my darling." Henk kissed her on her mouth before she stood up to take the plates away.

"In the end you cooked it, my angel." She uttered the words, and she meant it. This man had entered into her life like an angel. "Dessert?"

"It feels as if you are spoiling me and I am overeating," he declared as she placed the plates of lemon meringue on the table, but he started eating immediately.

"Another piece of lemon meringue or coffee?" she asked. She gave up after the third bite and stood up to take the dishes to the sink.

"No, thank you. If I eat another bite, I am going to burst. And if I don't get up now, I am going to melt into this chair." Henk stood up, stretched his muscles and looked out the sliding door. "I am glad I decided to sleep here tonight. It is always a sight to see the Crocodile in flood after such a rain storm."

"Sleep here?" Lana exclaimed in surprise. She nearly dropped the dessert plates. "Do you think ... that is a good idea?"

"An excellent idea. I am expecting a builder tomorrow morning at eight, and then I am here already. I packed a few pieces of clothes."

"Would you like to have some hot chocolate before we turn in?" Lana did not wait to hear his answer. She switched the kettle on. In the meantime her mind was racing. How would she get the message across to Henk that he couldn't just assume that he could sleep over? The night he fell asleep on the couch was an exception.

She made the hot chocolate and sat down opposite him.

"Thanks. He looked around. "Don't you have a TV?"

"Yes, in that cupboard. Is there anything specific you would like to watch?"

"Usually only the weather report. I am always interested to see what percentage chance we have of rain, and to see if it happens." When he finished his hot chocolate Lana realized that for the first time since she had known him, she was feeling uncomfortable. She did not like the idea of the man taking her for granted.

"Well, it seems as if it will be raining all night." Henk stood up as she put her mug down. "Shall we turn in? Tomorrow we have to get up early."

"H'm, Henk ..." she started to say.

"Looks like the rain has stopped for a while." He gave her a peck on the lips and walked to the door. "See you tomorrow. I suppose my car will be okay next to the Nissan in their cage."

He switched on a pocket flashlight and started running to the house next door. Halfway there he stopped and turned around to blow her another kiss. He was oblivious to the turmoil he had caused in her tonight.

Sleep here! It had slipped her mind that he had his own home 'here', and she was grateful that he did not know what was going through her head for those few moments, because she was ready to give up her principles. She had often wondered what it would feel like to fall asleep in his arms, but she knew that the time was not ripe yet. It was still too soon.

Chapter 10

"I had you confused for a while last night," Henk taunted her the next morning as he fetched her for the meeting with the builder. "You were convinced that I was planning to sleep here with you."

"Nonsense, what gave you that idea?" She blushed.

"You were so uncomfortable, and you did not know how to get rid of me." He took her hand and laughed. "Don't worry; I am not of the hit-and-run variety. I take bed matters seriously. That belongs in a committed relationship leading to marriage."

"Good ... Is the river full?" Lana took his hand and they walked to the fence. She hoped he would not notice her embarrassment. She hoped he would never know that if he wanted to stay over last night, she would not have been able to resist him.

She had fallen for him long ago, even though she was waiting for him to pursue her.

Luckily for her the subject was closed, because the builder stopped in front of the house at that moment. He climbed out, greeted them and walked up the stairs with them.

"I've been telling you for a while you should renovate this house. You will make a killing if you sell it, and it seems as if Chris is interested." The builder knocked on the walls and touched the places where the paint was chipping. Then he started making notes on his cigarette box, while Henk explained.

It was the first time Lana could see the inside of the house and she liked it. There was a kitchen, large dining room / lounge area and an en-suite bedroom on the ground floor. There were two more bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. Both bedrooms faced on to a large balcony overlooking the Crocodile River. It was from here that the 'spy' was watching her before grabbing the notebook.

"How much do you want to sell the house for?" Lana asked Henk.

"Perhaps I should set matters right. I am not renovating the house to sell it again. I want to live here," Henk protested. "What is the use of living next to the Kruger if I cannot listen to the lions roaring?"

"My feelings exactly," the builder agreed enthusiastically. "If it is for you personally, I will do it at a special rate. Tell me exactly what you want done."

"I want gates in front of the carport, and walls all round, to turn it into a proper garage. I have had the plans drawn up and made you a copy." Henk was obviously not impressed with notes on a cigarette box.

"Yes, I agree. You cannot let your smart car sleep outside in the bundu. The hyenas will chew the tyres." The builder took the plans, and made more notes. Then he pointed at the kitchen. "Do you want any changes here?"

"Don't ask me. Talk to her. That is her department." Henk pointed at Lana. "A woman knows what she wants in her kitchen. A man makes a fire and braais his meat over the coals. Talk to me about my entertainment area. I want a nice cozy patio where ten people can sit comfortably, because the cell group will have to move here if they still want me to lead the meetings."

"Of course we want you to. If Mohammed doesn't live on his mountain anymore, the mountain would have to come here to Mohammed. Where you lead, we will follow." The builder made some more notes and explained to Lana: "Henk is the leader of our cell group. He is a self-confessed Christian and a role model to all of us. Have you heard him pray?"

"Yes, and I have come to the conclusion that he is quite eloquent."

"Don't mock me," Henk protested and she could see more thunder in his eyes at that moment than in the grey clouds behind him. He was ready to defend his Christianity.

"I am not mocking you. I mean it."

She enjoyed watching the progress at the house next door. On the day they completed the garage, Henk arrived with two bicycles.

"This one is mine." He pointed at the black mountain bike. "You may borrow the lilac one from my daughter. She has come to the decision that her cycling days are over. A part-owner of a Home Industry cannot behave like a tomboy and gallivant around on a mountain bike anymore."

"Yet you expect me to do that? Do you think I am a tomboy? You know, in Pretoria I would not even have considered getting on to a bicycle." She saw his face cloud up and added "But here in Marloth I would love to go cycling. Shall we go?"

She got onto the saddle and made sure that her trousers would not be caught up in the chain. Then she waited while Henk locked the garage and fall in next to her.

"Now you will have to keep your eyes wide open," he warned. "There have been lions who considered a bicycle a delicacy."

"I am not afraid. There are worse predators in the streets of Pretoria. Your bicycle can be stolen from underneath your seat." They stopped next to the Crocodile River to look at hippos on the other side of the fence and she asked him as well. "Is it true that they found lions inside Marloth Park in December?"

"They crawl in under the fence from time to time. Yes, it is true. A friend of mine was sitting on a bench not far from here on the twentieth of December, watching the sunset. The next moment he noticed a male lion and two lionesses approaching on the other side of the fence. He warned his wife and two friends to keep still, thinking that the lions would pass." Henk giggled.

"And then?" Lana encouraged him to go on.

"Two meters from where they sat, there was an opening underneath the fence caused by water damage. Without so much as a glance at them, mister Lion slipped in under the fence.

"Into Marloth Park?"

"Up to here where we are standing now," he confirmed. "With the lionesses immediately behind him."

"What did your friend do?" Lana could feel the excited shivers in her neck, as if she was experiencing the adventure with them.

"My friend assumed the members of his party were all sitting quietly with him, waiting for the lions to pass. But when he looked around, he was alone. The rest of the party had decided by then to watch the proceedings from the inside of a bakkie."

"Here, where we are standing now?"

'Let me show you exactly where they came in."

"Great." She put her bicycle down next to his and walked to the fence. Right in front of her she could still see the damaged fence, big enough for a grown man to walk through.

"You see."

"I do. And the fence was not repaired in the meantime." She liked that.

"You like it too much." Henk looked at her sharply, as if he could read her mind, before they picked up the bicycles to ride farther towards the look-out point.

"Let us wait here until the sun goes down." Lana leaned against the sunbaked wall of the building.

"No, you never ride around on a bicycle around here after dark. You don't go around on foot, either. There are lions, Lana. Did I waste my breath when I told you what happened in December?"

"No." "It was obvious that he was not going to get the answer he wanted to hear out of her mouth.

"As lazy and lethargic as they seem to be during the day, at night they turn into competent hunters treating any moving object as a prey. Do you understand?" he scolded her.

"Yes, I understand. Don't get so agitated. What is the matter with you?"

"I have come across people who do not understand the dangers of the bush. If ever an accident happens, the lions will be killed. This is the lion's territory, not yours or mine. Besides, a lion's attack is fatal in ninety percent of instances. The victim will be dead!" He stood in front of her with his finger in the air. "Lana, do you understand what I am trying to tell you? If anything happens to you, they can put me inside your grave as well."

"Okay, okay, I understand! Could we please turn around, because you are scaring me when you carry on like that? It looks as if you are going to hit me." She looked at him with twinkling eyes and held her hands in front of her face.

"I would never do that ...' he mumbled with a hopeless tone of voice. Then he climbed on to his bicycle and waited for her.

She knew he would never do that, because Henk was a real man, with steely self-control, Lana realized in the time he became her neighbour. They spent a lot of time together. She started attending the cell group meetings every Monday evening, seeing that it took place on her doorstep. Her respect for Henk grew every day. Even if his kisses stopped just before becoming passionate, he never overstepped the line, and he only used his arms to cuddle her lovingly.

She contemplated taking the first step to entice him to her bedroom, but decided against it. He was such a decent kind of person. She could see that he would not give up his Christian principles, or allow his feelings to run away with him.

There were definitely feelings from his side; she had no doubt about that. She could feel his masculine response whenever he held her close and it was driving her up the wall.

"My children are planning to come for a visit over the Easter weekend." Lana walked over to Henk where he was busy overseeing the paving being laid around his swimming pool. He was standing there in his shorts and flip flops and as usual he was a prime example of masculinity. She had to force herself to keep her eyes focused on his face only.

"Fantastic. It is high time I meet the men in your life. They can sleep in my guest room, and then we can keep ourselves busy with manly occupations." Henk decided and embraced her. "It is important for your family to get to know mine. When should I invite my children? Friday or Saturday evening?"

"You can decide ... " Why was she so short of breath?

"Good, Friday and Saturday evening, then. You can cook on Friday and I will make us a braai on Saturday."

"Okay," she agreed meekly. She had actually been looking forward to spending quality time with her sons, but she could not ... no, would not tell Henk that his family would be in the way, because she wanted to be alone with her boys.

Henk went out of his way to make her sons feel welcome. The Crocodile-safari's vehicle was parked in front of his door since Friday afternoon. This weekend there would be little sleep and a lot of talking.

Henk's family came on Friday and stayed until Sunday. Lana had to admit that her children enjoyed the weekend a lot more than what they would have if it had only been the three of them.

Both houses were in a chaotic state, because all surfaces that were big and flat enough were used as beds. Henk's sister and daughter slept on Lana's sleeping couches.

On Sunday evening Henk was in charge of the braai, as usual. He liked preparing food. Halfway through the meal Lana's youngest son asked a question that changed the whole atmosphere into one as cold as a Siberian winter.

"Mom, do you still have uncle Wynand's notebook?"

"Yes ... Why?" she asked after wondering for a moment if she had heard him correctly.

"Are you using it? One of his friends phoned me and asked about it. He wanted to know when we were going to see you again. I told him we would be coming to see you over Easter in Marloth Park."

"What did he say?" Henk asked after he and Lana looked at each other in shock.

"Thank you; give her my regards and good bye. I still wanted to ask him regards from whom, but the phone was dead already. I suppose he will contact me again after the weekend."

However, it was the other son's words that made Henk feel claustrophobic.

"Hey. Mom, speaking of uncle Wynand. I nearly got a fright the other day. If I did not know that he had died in Prague, I would've sworn that it was him sitting in a car in front of the house in Faerie Glen, especially when the man rushed off as I arrived."

"How can you be sure that it wasn't him?"

"Mom, we know that uncle Wynand is dead. Unless it was his ghost." The young man got up and dished up another piece of meat from the braai. "I am actually not hungry anymore, but the meat is divine. Henk, you are an excellent braai chef."

"The chef's specialty!" Henk answered in jest. Moments later his face clouded up again and he pushed his plate away. "Please excuse me."

Lana watched him as he picked up her keys, looked around to see if anybody had noticed it, and then he walked to her house. He jerked when she spoke behind him, just as he was busy opening the door.

"What now, Henk Maritz? What are you up to?"

"There is something I want to look up on the computer. I have a premonition." He pressed his fingers against his forehead. "I was concentrating on the figures to such an extent that I never noticed the other details. The names of beneficiaries sharing in his abundance."

"Is that going to make the zebra mare foul tonight?" she enquired sharply. "It is our last evening together. You know yourself; once you get stuck behind a computer we will not see you again for the rest of the evening."

"No, Lana, I suppose it can wait until later," he answered reluctantly.

"Well, then you are definitely not going to spoil our evening by disappearing into the network. Come on, tomorrow everybody will be gone, and then you can spend the rest of the week with the computer." She closed the computer and locked it in a cupboard.

"Why are you doing that? I wanted to take it with me tonight," Henk exclaimed excitedly.

"Then you won't sleep at all. And we still have to spend some time with the family tomorrow."

"I won't be able to sleep, anyway, with or without the computer," he persisted.

"Drink a sleeping pill," she suggested dryly.

She looked and felt like a wreck, Lana decided as she looked at herself in the mirror the next morning. Perhaps she should have taken the sleeping tablet that she had offered to Henk. Not that she ever kept any pharmaceutical products in her house. When she saw Henk later she could see that he had spent a sleepless night as well.

As they had planned the previous evening, they went to have breakfast at The Water Hole. By the time the children were ready to leave, Henk was very impatient to get to the computer.

"Come, I want to go and work! Somewhere there is a person who is desperate to get his hands on that computer and now he knows that you are living in Marloth Park."

They knew that somebody would attempt the theft, but to realize that it had actually happened, came as a shock. While they were spending time with the family at The Watering Hole, somebody had been to Lana's house. The sliding door was broken and all her books had been thrown out of the shelves. Both of them rushed to the cupboard, but in vain. The door was broken and the computer was missing.

"How could it have happened so quickly?" Lana whispered, distressed, while Henk phoned the police.

"I suppose he followed your sons and waited until we had all left," Henk speculated. "But at least now they have what they were looking for, and hopefully they will leave you alone, now. However, what about your own work that was on the computer? You see, I should have taken it home last night."

"Well, it is too late now. I have been saving all my own work on to CD's and memory sticks lately, because everybody tried to get hold of the notebook." She opened a toffee tin to show him. I have a CD for every magazine, and this one: "Back-up file LS" and "Back-up file TS." She burst out laughing. "I started deleting things from the computer so long ago, I wonder if what they are looking for is still on there."

"I assume LS is short for Lana Steenekamp, But what does TS mean?"

"I don't know, that was Wynand's stuff."

"Never!" He took the CD from her. "Let us have a look!"

"There is another one somewhere, with the title 'Wynand Europe'. I assumed that it contained his personal photos, but I cannot remember where I put that CD."

"Perhaps the thief had found it and taken it with him."

"Can you see anything, Henk?" Lana asked sleepily. She had fallen asleep on the couch in his lounge while he was busy looking at the CD's on his computer.

"Why are you sleeping?" He grumbled with his face close to the screen. "You were supposed to look out when my friends from the forensic department would arrive."

"I am sure they will knock on the door. It is not my fault that your friends are so impressed with Marloth Park that they are coming here for the whole week for their team building event." She stood up and felt his arm going around her to pull her closer to him, without removing his eyes from the screen in front of him. He was fascinated by what he could see there.

She was surprised at the effect his touch was having on her.

"There will be no team building event if I am reading this correctly, because it would mean that they would be working," he mused.

"What can you see?" She placed her hand on his neck and wondered if it was her imagination to see the movement of his chest skip a beat as he looked up fleetingly. Then he pointed at something on the screen.

"Wynand Steenekamp was a genius!" he admitted. "I cannot open these last five folders. I am so frustrated I feel as if I could break the computer. Help me. You knew the man. How did he operate? What did he do what I haven't done yet? What else is there that I should know?"

"Henk, accept it that we are not going to find out what is hidden there. Wynand was very thorough. Leave it be." Lana was surprised to see the pile of papers on which Henk had written down different combinations of the names he had tried out. "Shame, you are totally bonkers."

"I hope that is only your personal opinion. Are you not interested to know what he had been up to?"

"Yes, of course, but I know when I have been beaten."

"I am not ready to admit to being beaten." He stood up and walked to the door. "They are here. Would you please make us some tea?"

"Yes, I will. Which cups should I use?"

"Goodness, my love, you are the woman. See what is in the cupboard and choose a set you like."

My love! That sounded like music to her ears. She felt vulnerable and contented at the same time. Then it dawned on her.

"Henk ... I just remembered. That is the biggest difference between Wynand and you. He always wanted to be in control. He was always in charge, a real control freak. He would have told me exactly which tea set to use and how many tea bags to put in the tea pot. He used to boast of the fact that he was a total perfectionist, and that he never made mistakes."

"Perfectionist?" Henk walked to the computer and typed in the word perfectionist.

"Wow that was brilliant!" Lana stood stunned for a moment as two of the five files started opening on the screen, just as the forensic detectives walked in.

"You should join the police, Henk!" The people were just as excited as he was, with no thought to the team building. "What are those numbers?"

"Business bank account numbers, including, believe it if you can, secret codes and passwords to do transactions over the internet." Henk typed and mumbled. "The perfectionist was convinced that nobody would ever look in this folder. However, there is something bothering me. I have just been on the internet, thanks to his passwords, and I could see clearly that many transactions had taken place after his death. Look, this one was done last Thursday."

"He transferred funds to the accounts of Paul Hollander, James Freeman and Kees van Beneke in Europe. And ... look here, Wynand's sister!" One of the detectives became so eager that he nearly sat down on Henk's lap as he was trying to see what was going on, on the screen. "But who was Jamima Fernitos? She received a large chunk of the pie."

"The late Wynand's fiancé, or wife or whatever." Henk gave up and moved aside. A man on his lap was making him nervous. He stood up. The other computer enthusiast could take over. "What I don't understand, is that if he can continue his work without the notebook, why bother to come back for it?"

"To wipe his tracks!" The other fundi was enjoying himself at the keyboard, as if he was busy making beautiful music.

"Well, please see if you can open the last two folders. Lana is busy making tea. After that we are going out for a stroll, or to cycle. We ate so much over the weekend, as if we were expecting a famine in Mpumalanga, and I can feel it on my clothes." Henk gestured at his belt.

"Yes, we want to go cycling." Lana placed the tray containing tea, koeksisters and a milk tart down on the table, and the men turned into vultures at the sight of it.

"Wow, who baked these goodies?"

"Henk ..." replied Lana.

"Shucks," one man groaned, looking admiringly at the koeksister in his hand, and then at Henk, drinking his tea in a standing position, ready to go out cycling. "A forensic auditor who knows how to bake?"

"No, not to bake. He has connections with the closest Home Industry," Lana explained smoothly. "He has the talent to select the best goodies on the shop's shelves."

Chapter 11

Lana and Henk cycled to the look-out point and there he took out two bottles of flavored water from his saddle bag.

"Goodness, I was looking forward to spending a few minutes alone with you." He pulled her down next to him and placed his arm around her neck. "I love my children, but sometimes one has to come up for fresh air."

"I suppose it will be a while before I see my two again. But they seem to be getting along quite well on their own." She took a sip of water, moved closer to him and started laughing. "Except for the fact that the neighbours keep complaining that their parties carry on too late."

"Young people are like that." Henk withdrew his arm to take out his binoculars, looking through them at the game park. "We have seen lions in this area before. There is a territorial pride on the other side of the Crocodile."

"Wrong side of the fence. I want to see them on this side." Lana gestured behind her back. "I came to live in a park to see live lions, and all I have seen and heard are lions on the other side of the fence. If I don't find lions inside the park soon, I am moving back to Pretoria."

"If you encounter them in the veld, you will pray for a fence to separate you from them. One of our cyclists came upon a male lion one day. When he realized it would not help to stand still, he threw the bicycle at the bearded monster and climbed into a tree."

"And so the bearded monster got onto the bicycle and cycled off?"

"No, sweetie, the bearded monster destroyed the bicycle. There was nothing left of it. I suppose he had bad experiences with people on bicycles throwing bottles and tins at him," Henk warned her.

"Did they shoot the lion?" she asked worriedly.

"No, they sedated him and deported him, back to Kruger."

"So one shouldn't stand still when one encounters a lion? What should one do?"

"Obey the regulations. The rules of the park have been written for a reason. Don't move around on foot or on a bicycle before dawn or after dusk. Lions and leopards are nocturnal predators."

"I know what the regulations should be, but have the lions read them as well?" she asked in a defiant tone of voice. "What happened to your sense of adventure? I wanted to come and find the lions that evening when I got lost. ..."

"When you were bending all the rules," he chuckled as he completed her sentence for her. "You were looking for trouble."

"Don't look at me as if I had thrown a stone through one of the stained glass window of the St Peters cathedral in Rome. However, I suppose the holier than thou, Henk would never violate a rule. You never step out of line. You are more sanctimonious than Wynand." Her last words wiped the smile from his face.

"What made you say that? I really do not appreciate that comparison," he grumbled.

"From now on I am going out every night on a secret expedition, on foot, to find the lions. I want to see proof that they are in Marloth Park and not in the Kruger," she taunted him, before grabbing her bicycle.

"What was this all about?" He asked, shocked at her outburst.

"Leave me alone. I am going. I liked you a whole lot more on that second day when you arrived barefoot, with a funny-looking hat on your head at my door, in the company of Chris." As soon as she had uttered the words, she knew that they were not true. He was the one who was always the same, exactly himself, without airs and graces.

"I am sorry to hear that you feel that way, because I love you more and more every day." He had a hurt expression on his face as he picked up his bicycle to get on.

Lana new she should be feeling like a dog. He did not deserve to be treated in that way, but she was tired and irritable after the weekend. She was tired of all the commotion around Wynand's notebook.

She would have preferred to be alone with him. Not only alone, but also in his arms, safely in his embrace, with his lips on hers, and everything else connected with that ...

They returned home in silence and there they found one police man still in front of the computer. He pointed at a cell phone lying on the table.

"Whose phone is this? A message came through."

"It is mine. You could've looked." Lana picked it up and started reading aloud: "Tell the police they can close the case, because they will never catch me. By the time you receive this message, I will be on my way to Europe."

"Who could've sent that?"

"How should I know?" She replaced the phone on the table and the men grabbed it one after another to read it, as if each one wanted to make sure that she had read the message correctly. "Anyway, I warned Henk that nobody would be able to open that top secret file of Wynand's."

"Top secret. Damn it, it is obvious! It is so simple, yet we all overlooked it!" Henk typed the words top secret in over the other man's shoulder and the next moment the file opened, and Wynand's top secret information appeared on the screen in front of them.

"Scanned passports and Identity documents? These are the three men Steenekamp had been sending money to. Paul Hollander in London, James Freeman in the USA and Kees van Beneke in Belgium." The police officer turned to Lana. "Did you ever meet one of these men while you were married?"

"No, never." Lana shook her head. The one man was blond, the other one dark, with a mole on his chin and a big moustache like an army officer. The third one was almost bald.

"Perhaps it is one of these three that is on his way to Europe. I think it is time we asked Wynand's sister a few questions," the police officer said. "Do you have a number where we can get hold of her?"

"She doesn't like flying. If she is flying to Europe today, I will put Tobasco Sauce on Henk's daughter's purple bicycle and eat it," Lana answered after she had given him the number. He dialed the number and started talking.

A moment later he exclaimed, "She is dead ..." He looked at the phone with an expression of horror on his face. "The woman is dead!"

"Who? Wynand's sister?" Lana enquired distraughtly. She had known the woman for many years and if something happened to her, it would be bad news.

"No, not her," he answered. "Jamima Fernitos! Wynand's fiancé. And you wouldn't believe how and where she died." He kept quiet and looked at them, as if to draw out the tension, to see what effect it would have on them.

"Out with it," his senior grumbled.

"A car accident last night, between Nelspruit and Machadodorp. The borrowed car, belonging to Wynand's sister, had gone off the road and caught fire. Therefore, lady and gentlemen, the computer she removed from Lana's house has perished in the fire."

"Lana, bring the purple bicycle and the Tobasco sauce," the senior man teased. "If Jamima was using Wynand's sister's car, she was part of the conspiracy."

"You have made up your minds that she is guilty! I think she would have a heart attack from shock to know what her brother was busy with and what you are suspecting her of. The woman has been a librarian for thirty years. Doesn't that tell you something about her?"

"Yes, that she had a lot of time on her hands to devise evil plans with her brother. It is high time somebody investigates her and sees what pops out. Will it be Batman, Spiderman, Cat woman or doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde?" the detective asked glibly. "Look, the work I am doing has shattered my illusions. People sit in church on a Sunday, singing hymns, and on Monday they do worse things than stealing pencils from their offices."

"Well, I have to go to Nelspruit now to buy a computer; otherwise I will have to steal a pencil to write my next article with." Lana felt as if she had to get away from everything. "Good bye and enjoy your research and team building."

"Would you like me to go with you, to make sure they don't bamboozle you?" Henk offered as he walked with her to her house.

"No, thank you, I can do this on my own." She looked at him smugly. "Or do you think you are clever because you are computer fundi?"

"No certainly not, but we have got an appointment," he tried once more to keep her there. "With the builder who is going to build the houses on these two empty plots between your house and mine. You have such wonderful ideas."

"Ideas?" She removed the book containing building projects from the shelf and put it in his hands. "Take this. I get all my ideas out of here. Now, please leave me alone."

"Thank you." He turned away miserably when she closed the front door in his face.

Lana had a quick bath and got dressed. When she drove off ten minutes later, she could see Henk running up to her with her book in one hand and a CD in the other, but she decided to ignore him. She drove off without looking at him again.

Her phone started ringing and when she saw it was him, she switched off the phone.

She was looking forward to spending the day on her own.

It was very pleasant to do shopping in a bigger town for a change. She bought a new computer and took out a cell phone and internet contract, and browsed through one of the centres. At two o'clock she decided to go to a movie, something she hadn't done since she had been in Pretoria. When she came out of there, her mood had lifted and she was feeling better.

When the sun started setting, she started missing Henk, crazily!

Close to Malelane she remembered that the phone was still switched off. She switched it on and keyed in the PIN code, while driving. As usual, it started beeping. She realized that there were quite a number of messages and voicemails to attend to and decided to stop for coffee in Malelane. Perhaps Henk or someone needed something and she was close to the shops.

The first message was sent soon after she had left home. Henk had found a CD in her building projects book, and it was the one marked 'Wynand Europe'. Then she remembered that she had used it as a bookmark while she had been reading through the book.

The coffee came and while she stirred in the sugar she absentmindedly looked in the direction of where the bakkie was parked. She saw a man carrying an overnight bag and an executive case, standing next to the bakkie and looking in at the window. Luckily she had stowed her purchases behind the back seat, in case he would get it into his head to break the window and run off with her things. However, he just turned around and walked away.

Her phone started ringing before she could listen to all the voicemails. It was Henk, scolding her.

"There are urgent matters you should know about. Why did you not return my calls?" His voice sounded anxious.

"I only started listening to my voicemails now. I went to the movies. Have the forensic guys left to go to their team building yet?"

"No, they are still here."

"Oh, no. When will they be finished?"

"They have made a breakthrough. Are you busy driving?" Judging by his tone of voice she could hear that he was more upset than what she had though at first, but it was not because of their tiff this morning.

"No, I stopped in Malelane. I am having coffee."

"Wynand's CD. It contains photos of Jamima ..."

"I thought so. It doesn't bother me. Why should it bother you?"

"Jamima with different men. The three men on the passports, with her, at different places in Europe." He was breathing fast and talked even faster. It sounded as if he wasn't sure of what to start with. He had a lot to say. Words just tumbled to her from his side of the cell phone. "It is all one man wearing different hair styles, and sometimes growing a moustache. Or a false moustache or whatever!"

He stopped, probably to orden his thoughts, before firing away again.

"The forensic people compared finger prints in Pretoria today. A person can disguise his face, but cannot change his finger prints. Lana, you would have to be very careful ..."

There was a moment's silence.

In the meantime she noticed the man who had looked at the bakkie walking into the coffee shop, still carrying his bag and case. He looked somewhat familiar, but the thick spectacles and moustache confused her.

"Lana, are you there?" Henk asked anxiously.

"Yes." She looked up at surprise at the stranger as he pulled out the chair opposite her to sit down.

"The finger prints matched the ones found in your house. Somebody tried to wipe them off, but a finger and thumb print stayed behind . That is the problem. It was Wynand's ...," Henk continued.

"Wynand, we all thought you were dead. What are you doing here?" Lana recognized him at last, in spite of the disguise. Her hand opened in shock and she dropped the cell phone on the table, from where it dropped on to the floor. Wynand picked it up, switched it off and put it in his own pocket.

"No, not Wynand. My new name is Tony MacMillan. Doctor Tony MacMillan." He removed a false passport from his pocket and showed her his photo. "You can be glad that I am not Wynand anymore, because Wynand would have been very upset with you. You are costing him a lot of money. How did you find out? You were never interested in numbers or money."

"I wasn't interested in the beginning," she protested, anxiously waiting to see what his reaction would be. "You know that I was using your notebook for my own articles after mine was stolen, but the memory was full, and I started taking your folders off to gain memory.

"Which folders?"

"Besides others the one that was marked 'Wynand Europe'. I think it contained photos of your and Jamima's travels, but I did not even look at them. I knew it would upset me." It felt as if her heart was beating at a thousand beats per minute. Her ears were ringing from shock.

"The little green monster coming out?" he asked maliciously. He was obviously enjoying her terror.

"No Wynand, upset and hurt. You humiliated me." To her disgrace she could feel the tears burning behind her eyes."So you deleted that folder? Did you empty the recycle bin afterwards?"

"Yes, of course I did. It used up so much memory that I couldn't do my work." That was the truth. It was not a lie. She only refrained from mentioning that she had saved it on a CD before deleting the folder. The same CD that had Henk and the forensic detectives so excited. "After your so-called death everybody tried to get hold of the computer, even SARS and the reserve bank. I am sorry I deleted your photos."

"Sorry! If I still loved you, I would've kissed you now, I am so grateful. You see, I don't want anybody to know that I am still alive. Even you did not know that I was still alive."

"No, I did not," she answered honestly. That was the truth. She still felt as if she was going to pass out from the shock.

"You are not really excited to see me. I return from the dead and you are not even happy!"

"I am sorry." She shrugged.

"With Jamima out of the way, the dust should settle soon. I know my name has been drawn through the mud, and I feel sorry for my sister, because the newspapers are watching her like vultures to see if there is a story." He stood up. "Shall we go?"

"Whereto?"

"You are going to take me to the border and see that I arrive safely in Maputo. Our borrowed car's wheel came off with Jamima inside. What a pity."

"There is a bus. You can get on the bus tomorrow. The border post closes at night."

"That is why we are going to sleep over in Marloth Park tonight. He opened his jacket and showed her his revolver. "Carry my case and don't tempt me."

"How did you find out where I was?" She picked up the heavy overnight bag.

"I followed your sons, but when Jamima and I saw all your visitors, we booked into one of the rondavels for the long weekend. It was a well-earned holiday. On Monday morning, as we were having breakfast at The Water Hole, guess who walked in? Lana and sons, again with an entourage. You walked past me without recognizing me. Then we decided to collect the computer, because I could see that you were going to be busy for a long time."

"You spend the weekend with a woman, and then you cause her accidental death. You are as cold and ruthless as a rock." She waited while he paid the bill. "Why are you drawing me into this? You don't need me."

"Should I let you go?" His voice sounded incredulous. "So that you can stand on top of the walls and declare to everybody that I am on my way to Mozambique? Ha ha. You can drive, but don't take any chances. The revolver is loaded and the distance between us is short. Don't even try running away. You will not get very far."

Lana opened the bakkie, placed the bag on the rear seat and got in. She waited for Wynand to climb in next to her before driving off. A thousand and one thoughts raced through her mind. She knew Henk would have realized that something was wrong when the phone went dead so suddenly. If he believed that she was in trouble, he would have informed the police immediately.

Between Hectorspruit and Marloth Park they encountered a road block. From the corner of her eye Lana could see Wynand tense up before taking out his revolver and pointing it at her side.

"Lana, one wrong word. One wrong move ..."

"One wrong move and you will be sitting for a long time, because you will not get very far." She did not know where she found the courage to sound so brave, but she had to keep him calm. "I think it is one of the routine road blocks, held almost weekly."

"Remember, if they catch me I will still be alive and be released one day. For you it will be the end of the road."

"Is it not the end of the road, anyway?" she asked and stopped. A man in uniform leaned in at the window.

"Your license please, Lady ..." Henk Maritz! She could feel her heart bouncing in her throat. What would happen if Wynand recognized him as the man who had breakfast with her and her family?

"Sure ..." Her hands shook as she tried to find her license in her handbag, and then she placed it in his hand.

"Where are you going?"

"Komatipoort," Wynand answered in English. "I am Doctor MacMillan. I am on my way to lecture there."

"I see. Would you please step out, Mrs. Steenekamp?" Henk tried to open the door, but Lana could hear Wynand cocking the revolver besides her and she sat still, biting her lower lip. On her right hand side she could see Henk tense up. Was there a small chance that he had heard the revolver being cocked?

"Captain, please let us go through." Her hands clung to the steering wheel as Henk hesitated.

"Wait." Henk walked away with her license in his hand. In front and next to the bakkie she could see uniformed men with guns in their hands. They would have no chance of outrunning them.

"You had better hope he lets us go. Your life is worth less than that of a mosquito at this moment. They can shoot me, but you are going first," Wynand threatened her, watching Henk intently, where he was busy talking to another officer. Henk walked back to them and handed her license to her.

"Thank you. You may go. Have a safe journey."

The armed men stood aside and they drove off.

"Turn off here," Wynand commanded at the Marloth Park sign.

"Where to?" It was dark already, with only a glimmer of moonlight between the trees.

"We will stay over at the green municipal huts," Wynand indicated and looked behind him.

She had to give him some credit, Lana admitted to herself when they reached their destination. There were no other people in the camp and the bakkie would not be visible from the road. Nobody would think of looking here for them.

While pointing the revolver at her, Wynand removed the keys from the ignition and placed them in his trouser pocket. He opened the door to the rondavel and Lana realized that her chances of escaping were getting slimmer. Once she was inside, he would lock the door and she would be helpless.

"Bring my bag," he gestured with the revolver.

Obediently she took the bag out and carried it to the door. Then they heard a helicopter approaching over the trees and Lana could see a spotlight searching the terrain. Wynand jerked up in shock, but when the chopper came closer, he looked at Lana.

"Do you think they are looking for you? Even if it is the case, don't get your hopes up. They will never see the bakkie underneath the trees."

"No, Wynand, they are definitely not looking for me. They are looking for you and I am going to help them find you!" With one movement she swung the bag and hit Wynand in his face. The revolver fell out of his hand, but she did not wait to see where it had landed. She started running away from him on the dirt road.

"You scoundrel!" Wynand shouted and started following her.

She new that she had never been able to run fast. Dear Lord, help me!

On the road in front of her she could see a herd of animals that looked like zebras, but when she came closer she saw that one of them had a different silhouette than a zebra. His head was too big in proportion to his body. When the animal sat down on his haunches like a dog, turning his head inquisitively in her direction, she knew – they were lions!

She was busy running straight at Marloth Park's territorial pride of lions.

At that moment there was absolutely no doubt in her mind at all. The lions were going to kill her. There was just no way she could escape her fate.

And that was her own fault, she thought for a fleeting moment, because she kept on taunting Henk with her obsession to see lions on this side of the fence. She had even insisted on seeing them at night, when they would be less lethargic and more aggressive!

The lions were busy watching her with more than a passing interest. She stopped in her tracks and could feel the panic rising in her throat.

If she turned her back on the lions it would be over instantly.

"Lord, please," she started praying aloud. "I know this is what I wanted, but now I am in trouble and I need more than my usual portion of mercy. I need a miracle, if I am not going to be lion fodder tonight."

She looked around her. There were houses everywhere. Perhaps someone would hear if she shouted.

"Somebody, please help me! I am standing on the dirt road, with a pride of lions in front of me and a man with a revolver behind me." The sound carried well in the silence and she could see lights going on at a house close by. The lions started getting restless. They did not like the sound of human voices. It made them nervous. She could see that and shouted again. "Help me! Lions!"

Behind her Lana could hear Wynand stop. He was swearing. She knew he had heard her and that he had also seen the lions. She stood still, as Henk had told her to, but heard Wynand turning around and running away.

"Don't run!" she tried to warn him.

She could see that the attention of one of the lionesses was focused on him. The big cat crawled forward, before she started running. For one frightening second she looked into Lana's eyes before she shot past her.

"Wynand, don't run!You can't out run a lion." Lana was stunned from shock. She saw a path on her left hand side and tore her eyes away from the lions to see if there was a house. Less than ten meters from her she could see a half-completed house, with a ladder going up to the roof.

Perhaps it was an adrenaline rush, but Lana could not remember how she got there, and when the lions stopped below the ladder looking up at her, she was already climbing through the window opening on the third level of the house. The next moment she fell on the ground so hard that the wind was knocked from her. She tried to get her breath back and crawled to another window to look out.

The lioness was probably not serious about Wynand, because she could have had him. By miracle he got away. Now the lioness returned and stood below the ladder, where all the lions were looking up to where Lana had disappeared into the house. Lana looked down at them, and withdrew her head, convinced that they would be able to jump up if they set their minds to it.

Wynand approached in the bakkie, from the rondavel's side. Another vehicle came from the other side and stopped in the middle of the road.

"Did you hear that?" they asked Wynand. "I don't know who the poor woman is, but I think the lions got her. One should never walk around after dark in lion territory."

"I did not hear anything and I am in a hurry. Could you please take your car out of the way, so that I can pass?" Wynand asked nervously.

"No, Sir, could you please also turn your bakkie so that we can see if we can still help the woman? You cannot drive off from a scene if you know there is someone in trouble." The strange voice sounded impatient. "I have already phoned the police and the security, but perhaps we can see if there is anything we can do for her in the meantime."

"My goodness, get out of my way, or I will drive you out of my way." Wynand was starting to panic as the chopper approached again. "I am warning you. My bakkie is stronger than your car."

Then he did it. He climbed into Lana's bakkie and bumped the luxurious car out of the way. He drove off, but did not get very far, as he was confronted with two sets of blue lights. He could not even consider turning around, as two vehicles approached from the other side as well, of which one was a Touareg.

"If anything happens to Lana tonight, you will have to pray that they would lock you up, because I am going to kill you." The next moment Henk pulled him out of the bakkie and threw him on the ground. The man with the damaged car was ready to swing a fist as well. He was highly agitated at the damage to his Mercedes.

"Henk, hey, you two. Leave him. We have the matter under control," the sergeant protested and pulled Wynand up from the ground. He still tried to talk himself out of it, but his hands were already fastened behind his back.

"Lana!" It seemed as if Henk wanted to run into the bushes, but the man with the damaged car prevented him.

"There were lions. The woman walked right into their midst. Do you also want to die tonight?"

"What? No!" Henk's legs gave way underneath him. "Where did it happen?"

"The last time I saw the lions they were over there." He pointed his flashlight in the direction of the house. It shone on the male lion and one lioness, still standing below the ladder. The light and noise was too much for the lions and they walked away, into the bushes.

Lana got her breath back at last and tried to call Henk, but her voice disappeared in the pandemonium as Henk tried to break away. In the moonlight she could see the horror and grief on his face. If there had been any doubt in her mind that he loved her, she could see now that he was heartbroken at the thought of losing her.

"Wait, Henk, don't make too many new tracks. We will bring in the dogs tomorrow," the sergeant tried to reason with him.

"We have to find her now. Lana! She cannot be dead," Henk insisted in a broken voice.

"Henk, I am here." She waved with her hands through the window opening on the second story.

The man carrying the flashlight noticed her. "There she is! She got away. Can you believe it? Some way or another she made it."

"Father, thank you. Here I come!" Henk struggled to free himself and ran through the door opening and up the half-completed staircase on the inside of the house. He grabbed her and held her so tightly that her breath was nearly knocked out of her again. He whispered repeatedly, "Lana, I love you. I am so grateful that you are alive. Thank you, Father, thank you!"

As Chris, the master of ceremonies said at the wedding a few months later:

"If there wasn't a door opening before Henk Maritz started running, he would have made ons on impact that night to get to his Lana." He lifted his glass in a toast. "That is only one of his many talents, to knock bricks out of a wall if he has to get to the love of his life to save her life. May they have a long and happy life together in their own piece of paradise – here in beautiful peaceful Marloth Park."

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