The Disappeared (46 page)

‘I think he
gets it, dude,’ Duggan said. They stepped outside the bathroom. And closed the
door. For a few moments they stood outside totally perplexed. ‘Holy shit. Did
you see his face?’ Joshua nodded. ‘Weird. Just like that, out of the blue.’ The
two looked at each other, both reflecting the confusion and concern in the
other’s face. Uncertain, they remained standing there in silence. Then. ‘Do you
think we should wait here?’ Duggan asked.

Joshua put his
ear to the door. ‘Collie, you okay in there?’ They heard a low moan. Joshua sighed.
He looked at Duggan. ‘Whatever it is, he looks like he’s just seen a ghost.’

‘Yeah. Maybe
even worse.’

There was silence
as they stood awkwardly. ‘Listen, it’s getting late. Let’s find that blueprint.
We can come and check up on him just now again. As soon as we’ve found
something.’

‘Yeah, you’re
right. No point in hanging around here. It’s not like we’re helping him or
anything.’

‘Yeah.’ Joshua
leaned towards the door. ‘Collie. Listen man, we’re going to the room. We’ll be
back as soon as we got the blueprint. Hang in there, dude.’ Joshua looked at
Duggan shrugging. They walked towards the room casting a last look over their
shoulder at the mute bathroom door. Although they wouldn’t admit it to each
other, they were both shaken by Collie’s sudden meltdown. Joshua sat down on
the swivel chair. He felt his legs shaking slightly and was glad to sit down.

Duggan headed
for the closet again. He began rummaging again. ‘What do you think is wrong
with him?’ He asked.

‘No idea, man,’
Joshua said contemplating the strange sight of Collie lurching about with a
face as white as a ghost. ‘Food poisoning? Hangover? Shit, I don’t know.
Whatever it was, it hit him hard.’

‘No shit, dude,’
Duggan said his voice muffled by the closet. ‘The only time I ever saw anyone look
like that was ole’ Peter Sharpe.’ Duggan poked his head out of the closet. ‘A
friend of mine. We once organised this seriously satanic Swazi Gold.’ He looked
at Joshua enquiringly. ‘Swazi, you know?
Spliff
.’ Duggan made the
universal sign for marijuana. An invisible joint between thumb and index
finger.

‘Yeah,’ Joshua
said, ‘I know it, dude.’

‘Shit man,
that stuff was nuclear. Hectic shit.’ Duggan continued digging. ‘Any case, one
night, we have his sister and their friends over. So Peter,
windgat
that
he is, is trying to impress the chicks. So he’s smoking this triple-blader,
dude. I mean like sucking that mother dry. Next thing, he just freezes, like a
statue. And then he falls back against the couch, dude. In an instant his face
is like chalk white. Just like Collie. His eyes ...’ Duggan chuckled. ‘His eyes
are like two strawberries. I mean, it was seriously like Wimbledon, you know. Strawberries
and cream.’ Duggan laughed. ‘Shit man, he was like hearing organ music, saw
bats flying around the room, totally thought he was going to die. Super
zonked
.
I tell you, dude, the way he looked, I thought he was about to croak too.
Scared the shit out of me. Hell, what a night.’ Duggan shook his head smiling. ‘Well,
I mean, my point is, that’s the only other time I saw somebody go
that
white. So quickly.’ Duggan stopped as he reminisced. ‘Shit, that was almost six
years ago.’ He looked at Joshua over his shoulder. ‘Neither of us touched the
stuff again after that, I’m telling you.’ He resumed his frenetic rummaging
tossing papers books and all sorts of rubbish all over the place.

Joshua shifted
uncomfortably on the swivel chair. The episode with Collie had made him uneasy
and he wanted to get done. To get out of here. He also wanted to get the police
reservist back to the restaurant. Maybe someone there would know what was wrong
with him. ‘Duggan, how far are you? It’s getting seriously late.’

‘Dude, just a
little while ...’ Duggan said contemplatively. ‘It’s gotta be here somewhere.’
Papers and other junk rustled and clunked as he dug deeper. ‘Wait a minute ...’

Joshua sat up.
Expectant.

‘Shit, no.’ A
sheaf of papers came tumbling out of the closet. Rustle clunk. Rustle clunk.
Nothing. And then. ‘Hell yeah!’ Duggan jumped from within the closet. He held
up a thick stack of papers folded over several times. ‘I got it!’ He looked at
Joshua triumphantly. ‘I told you, didn’t I?’

Joshua smiled
with relief. ‘Cool!’ He got to his feet. ‘I thought a blueprint’s supposed to
be blue.’

‘It is,’
Duggan said. ‘These are photostats. The originals are in the Bishop town
archives.’

‘Okay, well,
let’s have a look. Before we show the others.’

Duggan
carefully unfolded the thick wad and spread it on his dishevelled bed. Joshua
leaned over the bed and studied the confusing series of diagrams showing the
various levels of the Obsidian complex. He frowned as he tried to take in the
heavily annotated diagrams. Duggan pointed to one of the figures. ‘Okay, you
see this one ...’ He then pointed to an adjacent drawing. ‘And this one? These
are the two important diagrams. The first one is the ground floor ... and the
second one is the basement, the parking level basically. That’s where the cars
will be parked. You got that?’

‘Okay, yeah, I
think so ... the basement.’

‘Yeah. Okay
now look, you’ll be coming from this side.’ Duggan pointed to an area outside
the boundaries of the blueprint. ‘Bishop is here. So, you’ll be coming up the
mountain and you’ll hit the fence around here.’ He looked at Joshua. ‘Don’t
worry. I’ve got a serious pair of wire cutters in my garage down below.’ Joshua
nodded. ‘Plus,’ he said twirling around and scanning the room, ‘you’ll need
this.’ He walked over to his desk and picked up a small black flashlight. He
handed it to Joshua who looked at it with some scepticism. ‘Don’t be fooled by
how small it is. I’m telling you, it’s super powerful. It’s LED.’ Duggan took
the flashlight from Joshua and switched it on, shining it into the darkened
closet space. The sharp white light starkly illuminated the closet’s interior.
Joshua’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘What’d I tell you, hey?’

‘Yeah,
impressive.’

‘It’s also
adjustable.’ Duggan turned the back end of the flashlight. The beam now
tightened into a bright ball of light.

‘Cool. Nice
little gadget.’

‘It is, hey?’
Duggan smiled impressed with himself. ‘Okay.’ He gave the flashlight to Joshua
and turned back to the map. ‘Once you’ve cut your way through the fence –’ He
stopped, looking serious. ‘Oh yeah, before I forget. Before you do anything ...
make sure, and I mean dead sure, that the fence isn’t electrified.’

Joshua’s eyes
widened in alarm. ‘Damn, I didn’t think of that.’

‘Don’t worry.
The wire cutters have rubber-coated handles. But still, if that thing is
electrified, you’re gonna have to be super careful, dude.’

‘Sure. I got
you.’

‘Okay,’ Duggan
said returning to the blueprint spread out on his bed. ‘Let’s see.’ He traced
his finger around the outline of the ground floor diagram. ‘Once you’re in,
head for the main entrance ... over here.’ He looked at Joshua. ‘Now, there’s a
good chance the main doors are going to be locked, so –’

‘Throw a brick
through the window, right?’

Duggan
chuckled. ‘I like your way of thinking, son. Yep, the entrance is basically one
huge plate of glass. Watch out for bouncing bricks though. It’s tempered glass.’

Joshua smiled.
‘Bouncing bricks. I hear you.’

‘Cool. Now
once you’ve side-stepped the bouncing bricks, and you’re inside the foyer, you
can head down towards the basement parking via one of these two stairwells,’
Duggan said pointing to two areas on the blueprint. ‘You got that?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘The office
manager’s ... erm, office is over here, right on the other side of the parking
garage. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing the keys to the company’s
fleet of cars are probably inside there. If not, you’re gonna have to spend
some time looking for them. All we really need is just one mini bus or
something, right?’

Joshua nodded.
‘I guess so.’ He rose and looked at Duggan earnestly. ‘Tell me something. When
... or how will I know that it’s safe? What I mean is, when will I know that
there isn’t any more –’

‘Chemical
agents?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Dude, I’m not
sure. All I can tell you is ... the moment, and I mean the very first second,
you start feeling sick or anything like that ... you get the hell out of there.
You got that? This stuff is hardcore dangerous ... and quick acting. So don’t
mess around.’ Joshua nodded gravely. ‘But you should probably smell something,
I’m guessing. But whatever you do, just be careful.’

‘Roger that.’

‘Look, if we
had any more time, I would have suggested we look for something like an
industrial gas mask or something. There’s a panel beaters downtown. Maybe they
have some masks for spray painting or something.’

‘I don’t think
we’ve got time,’ Joshua said looking at the dusky light outside. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Duggan looked
at Joshua, frowning as the gravity of their situation sank in. ‘Yes, it’s
getting late.’ He looked down and slowly began folding the blueprint.

And then.

There was a
sudden loud howl of pure terror. Followed by a gunshot. And the instantaneous
sound of glass shattering. Duggan jumped almost a metre into the air. He
grabbed Joshua’s arm. ‘What the hell was that?’

The two looked
at each other and spoke as one. ‘Collie!’

They ran out
the door, heading for the bathroom. Just before they reached it there was
another loud shriek and then: ‘Oh God no ... please no. NOOO!’

And then.
Silence.

Joshua and
Duggan stood in front of the door. Frozen. Duggan was shaking like a leaf. This
was terror. Naked and pure. Joshua slowly reached for the door knob.

‘Wait!’ Duggan
grabbed Joshua’s arm. ‘He’s got a gun. What if he shoots us.’

Joshua gently
pulled himself from Duggan’s terrified grip. He held an index finger up to his
lips. And then pushed Duggan away from the door. Out of the line of fire. ‘Collie?’
Joshua spoke in a gentle soothing tone. ‘Eugene? What’s going on, dude?’

Silence.

‘Careful,
Joshua.’ Duggan whispered fiercely.

‘Listen,
Eugene, we’re coming in, okay?’

‘No, no, dude.’
Duggan took a step back. He held his hands up in front of him. ‘Don’t.’

Joshua shook
his head, indicating for Duggan to relax. ‘Eugene, I’m coming in. I’m coming to
help you. You hear me, Eugene?’

Silence.

‘Eugene, I’m
going to come in now. Alright? I want you to relax.’ Duggan shook his head
fiercely. He backed away. He was now at least half a dozen steps away from
Joshua. ‘I’m gonna open the door ... and I’m coming to help you. You got that
man?’ Joshua gingerly twisted the doorknob. And slowly pushed open the door.
The focused concentration on his face gradually gave way to disbelief. And then
outright shock.

Duggan
carefully stepped forward. And peered around the doorway.

On the
bathroom floor lay Collie’s revolver. Above it the bathroom cabinet had been
shattered with a single bullet. Its mirror lay in a thousand shards scattered
across the bathroom. Duggan craned his neck to get a better perspective. ‘Oh
shit.’ He looked at Joshua. He now understood where his shocked expression came
from.

The bathroom
was empty. And Collie was gone.

Lt. Colonel
George Meyer sat alone in the office.

Here it was
quiet. And peaceful.

It was a tranquillity
that he relished. A tranquillity that the events of the last twenty-four hours
refused to grant him.

Outside the
ornate oak doors there was only chaos. And tension. And the inevitable machinations
that follow an incident like the one that had occurred in the little Free State
town of Bishop. But right now ... he was not there, outside. He was in here.
And in here, there was only peace. The oak doors were not only a physical
barrier between him and the madness outside. It was also a barricade in time.
In here Lt. Col George Meyer was a young man again. Fired by idealism and a
burning desire to serve his country. In here, the Lieutenant Colonel was a
young man who had just recently met the woman of his dreams. About to embark on
an exciting journey that most men his age could only dream about. He was going
to be a hero. He was going to protect the people of his beloved South Africa
from their myriad – and determined – enemies. And of course ... to fight a
determined enemy ... you had to become a determined warrior. Because George
Meyer was a warrior after all. He respected the creed of the warrior – ancient
as the mountains themselves. He prized the courage and self-sacrifice of the
warrior – ancient as the wind itself.

In the
glass-topped surface of his desk he now saw the reflection of the warrior. The so-called
warrior who had killed an entire town of innocent women and children.

He turned
away from his reflection. And forced down the tears. He wanted to cry. He
should allow himself to cry. But warriors don’t cry. No. Warriors confront
their blunders. Warriors confront their culpability. And rectify that which
they have wrought asunder.

In front of
him stood the old antique Remington typewriter. It was an heirloom. And had
belonged to his father. Himself a military man. Himself a warrior. From its
ancient interior he gently pulled the sheet of paper. And lay it before him. He
signed it. A missive of this importance needed his signature.

As he lay
down the Mont Blanc pen he thought of the visuals from the footage. The ugly
contorted faces. The bodily fluid that stained clothing, sheets and carpets.
The ugly fluid that forever stained his legacy.

He took the
sheet of paper, folded it with military precision and inserted it into a manila
envelope. There were two other similar envelopes lying on his table – already
sealed. Each of the envelopes had the name and address of a different South
African daily newspapers written across it.

He thought
of the men that had approached him on that lovely summer’s day with their
nefarious offer. More than five years ago. He had known then it wasn’t right.
He had known then he should not have become involved. Meyer had been in virtual
retirement – working only as a consultant – in the years preceding that fateful
day. He should have kicked the suave, suited men from his house the moment they
opened their mouths. He should have locked his door and immediately erased the
episode from his memory. But he didn’t. And now, as he stared at the neatly
written address on the manila envelope, he was ashamed to admit that it was
money that had finally swayed him. The only noble thing about it was that he
had done it for his family. For his children. Forty pieces of silver from the
warrior father.

Together
with the Americans he – and his own government – had contravened the strict
stipulations of the Chemical Weapons Treaty. And innocent people had paid. But
he would right the wrong. The world
would
know. He would make sure of
it. Before the day was out, everyone would know that they had been doing the
devil’s work.

Meyer
realised the implications for himself. He would be tried. In an international
court. For crimes against humanity. But at least the truth would be out. In
more than two decades of clandestine activity ... he would for the first time
do something noble. No matter the cost to himself. He wished only that his
family would forgive him.

Lt. Col
George Meyer thought of his beloved Magda. And the words she would soon read.
He thought of his two sons. Gideon and Paul. And the shame they would soon
experience. He hoped only that they all would understand. He was – after all –
doing this for them.

And now.
For the first time. The tears did come.

There was a
knock at the door. The Lt. Colonel quickly composed himself. He grabbed the
manila envelopes and slipped them into a top drawer in his desk. ‘Enter.’

The large
oak doors opened and one of the Americans entered. Shawcross. Or something like
that. Meyer couldn’t exactly remember. He was a senior officer in the covert
unit that had been sent into the doomed little Free State town. Alpha Team 9.
As the officer approached his desk, Meyer wondered who named these units.
Captain Shawcross stood to attention in front of his desk and crisply saluted
his superior officer. ‘Yes?’

‘Sir, we
need your signature on this document,’ he said, handing Meyer a folder. The
Lieutenant Colonel took the folder and opened it, reading. The American soldier
walked around the desk and stood next to the South African. Meyer looked up
briefly – annoyed at the American’s close proximity to him – but said nothing.
The sooner he could have privacy again the better. Meyer began reading. He
stopped frowning. And looked up at the American. ‘I don’t understand –’ he
began, never finishing his sentence. Captain Shawcross had a pistol in his hand
aimed at the Meyer’s head. He pushed the gun against Meyer’s temple and fired. The
bullet smashed his skull and lodged deep inside his brain, leaving a neat
gunpowder burn on the South African’s temple. Just as Shawcross had planned.
The bulky Lieutenant Colonel slumped forward in his chair. From his trouser
pocket, Captain Shawcross pulled a cloth and wiped down the gun removing his
own fingerprints. He lifted Meyer’s arm and wrapped his hand around the gun
ensuring his index finger was hooked around the trigger guard. Then he slowly
extended Meyer’s arm ensuring the gun was dangling from his hand.

A quick
search revealed the manila envelopes.

With the
large envelopes under his arm, Captain Shawcross saluted the Lieutenant Colonel
Meyer. And exited through the beautiful ornate oak doors.

The world
would not know ... after all.