The Alex King Series, A BATEMAN [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

on the floor, out of view behind her leg. Waited.

The door eased inwards. There was no light on the landing. She could see a figure, not The Beast, slightly built.

“It’s me… Michael,” he said. “Come with me, I am getting you out…”

Caroline gripped the table leg. She hesitated, her mind spinning, her adrenalin subsiding. “Really?” she asked.

Michael stepped inside, eased the door closed behind him. “We don’t have long,” he said, and threw a pair of shoes on the bed. Caroline could just about see enough through the gloom to make out a pair of ankle boots with a small heel. “They should fit,” he added.

Caroline put down the table leg. She picked up the boots, slipped one on. A little on the big side, but they would do just fine. She slipped the other one on, pulled up the zip.

“Why?” she asked.

“It’s wrong,” he said, his accent thick and the whisper made it even more difficult to hear him clearly. “I needed job, money. The job was okay at first…” He shrugged. She couldn’t see his face, but hoped he had shame written on it. “Just girls for sex,” he said. “Not great, but not my problem. It goes on. But the babies…” he paused. “And they make us do things…” he hesitated. “To the women. You know, I am young man. Should be dream come true… but…”

“You raped them?” Caroline asked, trying her best to keep the shock out of her voice.

“Yes, I suppose. The other men here do, too. But it does not feel like rape… the women, they do not struggle any more… but it is wrong, and I want to leave this place now… there are more women coming next week. I do not want to do it all again…”

Caroline grimaced as she nodded. The man was her lifeline. She needed him, but she would not protect him if she got clear of this hell-on-earth. She looked at him closely, saw through the gloom that his eyes were dark and swollen.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“It is nothing.”

“Well, it certainly looks like something.”

“Jurgen,” he said quietly. “He found out that Helena was not looking for him. Taught me a lesson…” he trailed off.

“She wasn’t looking for him?” Caroline could tell that the instruction mentioned Helena’s name, but she figured he had been needed elsewhere. Jurgen clearly outranked Michael, and she thought it strange that the young man had called him so forcefully. “Why did you do that?”

“I saw him taking you back. You were unconscious, it was obvious what he was going to do…”

“But why?” she pressed.

“It’s wrong. All of this is so very wrong.”

“Well, thank you,” she said sincerely. “So, what is your plan?”

Michael shrugged. “Everyone should be either asleep or relaxing. The girls have been fed,” he paused, and Caroline grimaced at the thought. It made the women sound like animals. He continued, “A few men are drinking, they will pass-out later.”

“How do we get clear of this place?”

“I have left a car at the village,” he said. “It’s a pile of junk, but it starts. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” she queried, the worry clearly detectable in her tone.

He shrugged. “It will be okay. But we can’t start car here, too much noise. Helena has fast car, a big Audi. Jurgen also has a fast car, an expensive SUV.”

Caroline figured that he would. The man would barely fit inside anything else. She picked up the table leg. “Okay,” she said decisively. “Let’s go.”

49

 

Cape Town, South Africa

“Admit it. You’re warming to me.”

“I can tolerate you.”

“Brilliant,” Rashid said. “From loathing to tolerating in three days.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Marnie said, sipping from her chilled glass of Pinot Grigio. “It won’t get any higher than tolerating.”

Rashid smiled. “Shame. I was hoping for day six,” he said. “Mind you, personally I wouldn’t choose to have dinner with anybody I merely tolerated.”

“I hate eating alone,” she said. “In restaurants, at least.”

“I don’t eat out much.”

“I can tell.”

“Really?”

“For a moment, I was sure you would drink the finger bowl.”

“Shit, was that what it was?” he chided. “I just didn’t want to fill up before my steak.”

She smiled. Moved over as the waiter swept in and cleared her plate. He stepped around the table, took Rashid’s plate of empty prawn shells, reached for the finger bowl. Rashid looked up at the waiter.

“Send the chef out please.”

“Sir?”

Rashid glanced at Marnie, who looked pensive. He looked back at the waiter. “That soup was bloody tasteless,” he paused. “I couldn’t eat any of it.”

The waiter hesitated, then smiled. Rashid thought the man had heard it all before. He bustled away and Marnie visibly relaxed.

“Idiot,” she said, but there was humour in her eyes.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Well, that’s agreed,” she said. “We both think you’re an idiot.”

“See, you’re lightening up,” he said. “No need to thank me for getting you out of the office and away to South Africa. Sweden next.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

“No, I’m questioning your logic, not thanking you.”

“You don’t like to travel?”

“It’s nothing to do with traveling. It’s my fiancé.”

“He doesn’t like you to travel?”

“Will you forget about the travel!” she snapped tersely. She looked up as the waiter appeared with her snapper. She remained silent, an awkwardness to it that was not helped by the waiter, who now seemed to take his time delivering Rashid’s seared Springbok steak.

“Will there be anything else?” the waiter asked, apparently relishing the awkwardness, maybe because it redressed Rashid’s joke earlier, but more likely it was because it was what waiters seemed to do.

“Ketchup, please,” said Rashid.

“Sir?”

“Yes, you heard. Tomato ketchup. And don’t stick it in a poncey dish you’d bring mustard out in. It’s ketchup, you need