'You have no idea who he called?'

'No. But he wasn't the sort of guy who would leave the table to phone. He would just sit with you and talk, never mind who it was. When I heard this morning he had been shot, once I was over the worst shock, I started to wonder.'

She stood with one foot in the hot foam bath and considered surrendering herself to the luxury, longing to wash her hair and scrub her body, then just lying back and letting the pain and the fatigue melt away.

She couldn't. She had to phone her father; they would be insane with worry. But she wanted to bath quickly first. In the kitchen just now, she had seen a way out for the first time since last night, a prospect of safety. If she phoned her father, he could get someone to fetch her, someone from the embassy, maybe, and they could question her and she would tell them everything. It would be a long process, long discussions over everything that had happened. That meant it would be hours before she could wash off the blood and sweat and dust. She must take the opportunity to clean herself quickly now.

She got into the bath and sat down. The hot water stung the scratches and cuts, but the satisfaction was immense. She slowly lay back until her breasts slipped under the foam.

Hurry.

She sat up fast, with great self-discipline, stood up, picked up the soap and washcloth and began to scrub her youthful body.

12:57-14:01

Chapter 31

A waitress, two waiters and a barman remembered Erin Russel and Rachel Anderson. Griessel had them sit at a separate table with Vusi. He took a seat with his back to the bar so he couldn't see the bloody bottles, but there was nothing he could do about the smell.

'The rest can go home,' Galina Federova ordered.

'No, I still need them.' The Carlucci's man still had to see if he recognised any of them.

'For what?'

She was starting to get on Griessel's nerves. He wanted to tell her it was none of her fucking business, he didn't like her attitude, but his urgency to gain any available information made him hold back. 'Let them wait ten minutes,' he said, curtly, so she'd get the message, stop messing them around.

She said something in Russian, shook her head and walked out. Griessel watched her leave. Then he slowly turned back, trying to clear his head as he asked the young people around the table. 'Who would like to start?'

'They were sitting right here,' said one of the waiters, pointing at a table close by and fiddling self-consciously with a necklace of wooden beads around his neck. And then all the waiters suddenly looked up at the door behind Griessel. He turned as well. Mat Joubert stood there, a bag of takeaways in each hand.

'Carry on,' said Joubert, 'I'm with Captain Griessel.' He approached the table, put down the bags, took out boxes and pushed them towards Vusi and Benny. The aroma of chips made Griessel's belly stir.

'Thanks, Mat.'

'Thanks, Sup,' said Ndabeni.

Joubert just nodded in acknowledgement, pulled up a chair and joined them at the table.

'This is Senior Superintendent Mat Joubert of the Provincial Task Force,' Griessel told the waiters, as he saw they were intimidated by the size of his colleague. 'He's not a patient man,' he lied, for good measure. He looked at the waiter who had spoken first. 'Where were we?'

The waiter looked at Griessel and then respectfully at Joubert, his voice suddenly sincere. 'Those two in the photo were sitting alone at first. I served them. They were drinking Brutal Fruit. This one, the blondie, she was partying hard. The other one only had four or five, the whole evening. A bit strange.'

'Why?' asked Griessel. He tore open the sachet of Steers salt and sprinkled it over his chips.

'The backpackers ... usually they booze it up.'

Griessel suppressed the impulse to look at the rows of bottles behind the bar. 'How did you know they were backpackers?' he asked, using the plastic fork to spear a few chips and pop them into his salivating mouth.

The waiter's face gained a sincere frown. 'I have been working here for two years now ...'

With his mouth full of potato, Griessel could only nod, motioning with his fork for the young man to elaborate.

'You get to know them. The tan, the clothes, the accents ... and they don't tip much.'

'When did they arrive?'

'Um, let's see ... before my first smoke break, about nine, say.'

Griessel speared more chips. 'And they were sitting on their own at first?'

'For a while. Then the place filled up. I do eight tables - I can't say precisely. They were dancing; lots of guys asked them. At one time there were five at the table - friends, it seemed.'

'Boys or girls?'

'Ah ... both ... Listen, you have to understand ...' He looked specifically at Mat Joubert,'... it's chaos here when the place is full. I remember the girls, because they were pretty, but that's about all.'

'So you don't remember the men who sat with them?'

'No.'

'Would you recognise them if you saw them again?'

'Maybe.'

Griessel popped open the tab on the can of cold drink. 'And you?' he addressed the rest.

'I just saw them dancing,' said the waitress. 'My tables are over there. They were dancing together a lot, which isn't that strange, but they looked as though they were arguing, you know, they were standing there arguing and dancing. But that's all I can tell you.'

With a mouth full of Dagwood burger, Griessel nodded in the direction of the barman. 'This one ...' he said, identifying Erin Russel with a finger tapping on the photo, 'she ... My post is the top end of the bar. Two guys were standing there drinking, and she came up there at one stage and talked to them. I remember her because I thought that's the ten ass of the evening, she talked to these two ...'

'The ten what?'

'It's a game we barmen have. We give points for the best legs and ass and ... so on. Out of ten. And ...'

'You're sick,' said the waitress.

'What about you girls? The other day when that guy from

Idols..'

Mat Joubert leaned his arms slowly on the table, making his broad shoulders appear even broader. The barman bit off his words and looked guiltily at Joubert. 'In any case, she had a ten ass. The rest wasn't bad either. Definitely nine legs and I reckon an eight...'

'Tell me about the men,' Griessel said impatiently.

'The one ... I sort of remember his face, he's been here before ... the other one, I don't know ... Two friends, I think, they were drinking together, not dancing, just standing at the bar and chatting.'

'And then?' 'I told the other barmen we had a ten butt at the bend. There, where the bar counter turns to the wall. But when I looked back, she was gone. And the men left suddenly too.'

'Wait, wait, wait. She stood and talked with them? What about? Could you hear?'

'No, I wasn't... paying attention.'

'You were looking at her bum,' said the waitress crossly.

The barman ignored her.

'And then she left?'

'I didn't actually see her leave.'

'How long was she with them?'

He thought about that. 'Look, I didn't see her arrive, we're always on the go, there are never enough barmen here. All I know is that I saw her standing there. I had a quick look, and then I went to get more drinks, and when I had a chance to have a decent look, I noticed her butt. I went to tell Andy and them, but when I wanted to show them, she was gone. She might have been there for five minutes. Or ten ...'

'When they left, were they in a hurry?'

'Absolutely.'

'What time was that?'

'Round about... Well, it was late, I can't say exactly, sometime after one o'clock?'

Griessel and Vusi looked at each other. This was getting interesting. 'You have seen one of them here before?'