Private Gold

Chapter 32

Isobel was too shocked to scream as she saw the dark barrel of the suppressor swing to aim at her. Her cell phone thudded down onto the carpet, dropping from fingers that were suddenly cold and nerveless.

There was a large laundry basket behind the tall man and she saw it was lined with thick, heavy-duty black plastic. He meant for her to go in there. That was how she was going to leave this place — bundled up in a tarp.

She felt as though she was moving in slow motion as she began to turn away, to run into the suite, to flee from him, even though she knew her efforts would be useless because his weapon was aimed at point-blank range.

And then she saw Dave, running to the door.

“Dave! Help!”

His hands were outstretched. He was going to fight Steyn off. Everything would be all right.

But Dave’s left hand clapped hard over her mouth, cutting off her scream.

“Hold still,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Grab her, Steyn.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Dave’s right hand was holding a syringe filled with clear liquid.

Only then did Isobel realize the full extent of her betrayal.

Her husband was involved in this. Of course he was... how could he not have been? She only wished she’d realized this earlier. She had been too innocent, too trusting.

Now, there were two of them against her alone, but they meant to tranquilize her first, not shoot her. Perhaps that gave her a chance. She fought as wildly as she could, sinking her teeth into Dave’s fingers so that he snatched his hand away with an angry shout. Before she could scream, Steyn’s wiry hand clapped over her mouth in its place, crushing her lips. She tried to kick out at him but her ankle twisted in the ridiculous high heels and she stumbled back into her husband’s grasp. Steyn’s fingers moved to her throat, probing and pressing as his joker’s smile widened. Black lights flashed in front of her eyes and she heard a weird, choking noise that she soon realized she was making.

Behind her, Dave was spluttering out words that made little sense to her, telling her that she was an interfering idiot woman, that they’d had everything sewn up so nicely until she’d come along and ripped it all apart, that this was her fault, she’d destroyed it all and she had only herself to blame for what happened next.

The syringe’s silvery needle filled her vision. She felt the prick as it pierced her muscle. This was it... the end... the desperate violence of her struggles had not been enough. Two against one, it was never going to be.

Then, suddenly, it wasn’t two against one anymore, because someone else had arrived.

Steyn was knocked off balance from behind, shoving Dave so that the needle ripped a bloody gouge on its way out of her skin. A shot rang out. Even with the suppressor it was surprisingly loud, and plaster rained from the ceiling. Dave let go of her arm and stumbled to his knees, and Isobel fell, sprawling onto the floor.

She looked up to see Joey, engaged in a silent, vicious fight with Steyn for ownership of his weapon.

Dave was up now, joining the melee so that it was two against one again. Well, there was something she could do about that. The syringe was still almost full, and it was lying within easy reach of her outstretched hand.

Isobel picked it up and stabbed it into her husband’s right buttock before depressing the plunger as hard and fast as she could.

Dave turned, bellowing rage, and Isobel found herself fending off a windmill attack of blows that swiftly became weaker and less coordinated. She felt a surge of triumph... this was what he’d intended for her, and now he was suffering the effects. He slumped to the ground and she grabbed his hair and bashed his head down, grinding his face on the carpet, jamming a knee in his back as her silver skirt ripped to the thigh.

“It’s OK,” a voice panted from above her. “It’s OK, Isobel. He’s out for the count. Are you all right?”

Breathing hard, she stared up at Joey’s concerned face. Was she all right? She hadn’t been shot. Her throat was sore, her lips were tender, but she was still alive. Steyn lay unconscious on the ground, and Joey had fastened his hands tightly behind his back with a cable tie.

“How did you know?” Her head was whirling as Joey knelt down beside her. “How did you know about Dave?”

“My partner Khosi was investigating him before he died. Or before he was murdered, I should say. I spoke to the pathologist, who told me he was injected with a powerful tranquilizer normally used to sedate horses. I guess it was the same one they would have used on you. Then he was shot, to make it look like a suicide.”

Isobel shivered as Joey continued.

“Before he died, Khosi saved everything on a USB device. They initially offered him a bribe to stop the investigation into Egoli East gold mine, and remove the security Private had placed there. He turned it down, and then decided to find out who was behind it. It was corruption at the highest level, Isobel. It went all the way to the government minister, Mr. Mashabela.”

“How?” she asked, aware that her mouth was hanging open. Hastily, she closed it.

“Mr. Mashabela changed the laws to allow the illegal mining to operate and was getting kickbacks from Dave and Brogan. You thought Dave was losing money... in fact, he was making twenty times what he did with the transport business, and all tax free. They used the trucks to transport the illegal workers down from Zambia, and once those men were underground, they were basically prisoners, working until they were too weak to be productive. Then they’d be shuttled back and another team would be sourced from another village.”

“Human trafficking. My husband is a human trafficker.” Isobel’s voice shook. His involvement in illegal gold mining had been shocking enough, but this crime was more horrific than anything she could have imagined.

“Not anymore,” Joey told her in a firm voice, but she had no idea whether he meant Dave wouldn’t be trafficking anymore, or would no longer be her husband. Both appealed. Joey stood up and held out a hand.

Isobel kicked off her ridiculous shoes before taking his hand. She still felt dizzy, and she didn’t know if she should start laughing, or throw up, or kiss him. Probably only one of the three was advisable, and as he helped her to her feet and she wrapped her arms around him, Isobel started to get a pretty good idea which one it was going to be.