The Seventh Secret

Chapter 5 — Eavesdropping Faux Pas

Cheryl's captors were apparently men who could stay awake for days on end. After she had disclosed her knowledge of the secret store room at the Port Elizabeth University, they naturally left to investigate her claim in the early morning light, and just as naturally they had forced her to accompany them. Now that they had found her and ascertained that she did not have any means to settle her debt with them, they were not going to take her word on anything.

“The place is closed and guarded at night,” she tried to reason.

“All the better,” Zain said. “Let’s come back tonight then. Let’s see if you are as deceitful as I think, or if you will survive this after all.”

They returned to Cheryl’s flat. They spent most of the day watching bad old VHS movies since she had no cable TV, waiting for the evening when she was to escort them inside for a so-called evening class under the esteemed lecturer she knew so well.

Sibu stuffed his mouth with any food he could find in Cheryl’s tiny fridge — some leftover KFC and a half empty Castle Lager that had gone flat. But he was not picky. Since he could not get his hands on Cheryl yet to exploit her in every evil way he could come up with, he would settle for raiding her limited food supply.

“Not long until sunset," Zain muttered, checking his watch. It was almost 7 pm. In a robotic fashion, focused on the task at hand, he stood up, collected Cheryl from the other seat and flung the frail girl around the place by her arm to rush her along.

“Listen, we will get caught if we go now!” she insisted. “Can’t we just go tonight just after the late classes?”

His massive hand pinched her face hard between his thumb and fingers as he slammed the back of her head against the wall. Zain’s breath filled her nostrils as he sneered, “We go now! And you will make sure security doesn’t stop us.”

Of course, his demand was not particularly fair, but she had to choose between cajoling her way through security or die a horrible death at the tail end of whatever torment the despicable Sibu would expose her to.

"Let me just get my old access card," she told them. "I doubt they would be fooled by it, but it is the only chance we have of getting in without ending up in jail." Cheryl attempted, using her tone, to convey to the two thugs how dangerous the plan was, but they paid no attention to her pleas.

“Go and get the card. I’ll come with you. Sibu, guard the exit,” Zain ordered. He grabbed Cheryl roughly and pushed her through the door.

It was already dark in her bedroom, but she knew her way around. Zain stood leaning against the wall with his gun in his hand, his arms folded in front of his chest as he watched her fumbling through her drawers. Her large double bed was unmade, and her hand-washed lingerie was draped over her lamp, her cupboard door knobs and her dresser. Zain’s dark eyes scrutinized the setting and imagined all the depravities that must have taken place under this lightless ceiling. He looked at the beautiful young woman frantically searching the cluttered contents of old chocolate boxes where she kept her trinkets of fake jewelry and loose buttons, pieces of ribbon and small change.

"Do you like doing this for a living?" he asked suddenly, scrutinizing a bottle of baby oil on her bedside table. After his frown had subsided, he picked up one of her perfume bottles and gave it a sniff.

“No, I hate it. But I had no choice if I wanted to survive,” she snapped at him, ceasing her search for the moment. “Put that down. Please.”

“There are other jobs you could have taken," he remarked, but soon he realized that the common hooker he perceived her as had more self-respect than he thought. She gave him a glare he had never seen in any woman other than his stern mother. Cheryl threw the clump of clothing she still held in her hand to the floor and confronted him fearlessly.

“Like what? Huh? Like what? There is no respectable employer on earth, perhaps except maybe yours, who would stoop to employ a depressed ex-academic who is addicted to drugs! Don’t talk about things you know nothing about, pal! Just stick to toting guns and beating up women!” she shouted.

Despite the fact that Zain was impressed by her retort and found her point remarkably valid, he could never allow her to know that. He briskly walked toward her, grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face into the drawer.

“Do not mouth off to me, bitch. Ever! Get the fucking card and stop stalling!” he sneered. “Or should I get my associate to come and test your professional abilities as a backstreet whore?”

"No," she muttered from the bundle of underwear and stockings in the drawer. He released her and returned to his spot at the door.

"Make it snappy," he said calmly. "If we are too late to make it to the university we will have to take you to our hideout instead. And sweetheart, you don't even want to know how many Sibus there are back at our pad." She gave him a quick glance in her mirror and saw that he was smiling at the thought. It made her sick with worry. If she could not find the card, she was as good as dead. There was no other option for her anymore.

In the drawer below the one she had rummaged through, she found the dark blue access card with her photo, name and staff number next to the emblem of the university. Cheryl took care not to let him know that she had found it before searching the drawer a bit more for something else she vividly recalled having hidden there.

“Your time is running out, Cheryl,” he said impatiently. His voice started her, but just then her index finger and thumb found the edges of the antique push dagger, ironically enough Dr. Malgas had given her for her birthday. Cheryl smiled. It was compact enough to hide in places most men were not accustomed to venture without permission, but she hid it in her cleavage, tucking its holster clip over the bottom of her bra where her breasts met. Zain did not notice that she swiftly placed it there. Her street training in sleight of hand, which she resorted to when she had to steal to eat, now profited her well.

“Let’s go,” she said, far more composed than before. “I have the access card. I just hope they’ll remember me at the gate.”

“Good! Get dressed,” Zain smiled disdainfully. “I’ll stand right here. You’re not shy, are you?”

“No,” she said despondently, getting dressed with her back turned toward him, not because she felt objectified, but because she needed to hide the blade. When she was done, her dark hair was back in a tight ponytail, her makeup impeccable, and her slender body adorned in professional attire. To round off the subterfuge, she placed a pair of fashionable spectacles on her eyes. Zain watched in fascination, as Cheryl slipped her feet into a pair of relatively new black shoes with medium heels. The heels lifted her feet just enough to highlight her well-formed calf muscles and made her look taller, enhancing her posture.

“I just want to put on the table that this is a very bad idea,” she mumbled as she fixed her thin black belt to hug her waist.

“You just have to make sure they let us in. What will you tell them?” Zain asked.

“Cheryl Tobias, Archeology Department assisting Dr. Billy Malgas,” she told the security guard when the three of them arrived at Gate B. “This is Dr. Benning and Dr. Thlabati from Ghana, coming to visit our humble halls," she introduced her captors cordially. They nodded to the other security guard who rounded the car to inspect. Gate B was not busy tonight, and they had the time to check thoroughly, much to Cheryl’s dismay.

The other entrances were locked for the night, and Gate B would serve as the main entrance, however unfortunate that was for Cheryl, who only knew the lads at Gate E, where she used to enter the grounds. The guard had a look at her card, but in the sharp light of the office, he was bound to discover the expiry of her faculty membership. In the rearview mirror, she saw Sibu staring at her with malice. His eyes were bloodshot from the joint he had smoked two hours before they left.

He reminded Cheryl of mercenaries from Uganda, Angola and the Congo, merciless animals who would stop at nothing to rape and slay villagers just to pass the time. She had to get them in, or she would become his chew toy.

"Hey! I was wondering if you gents could have a look at this for me," she suddenly said, quickly leaving the car. Immediately the guards were taken by her stunning form and seductive movements, as she led their eyes to the right front tire of Zain's car. She explained that she heard a flapping noise but could find no trace of a problem. Falling over each other to assist the gorgeous woman, the security guards checked the wheels for her. While they were bickering over what the problem could be, she finally gracefully claimed her access card from the guard with a charming smile, “Ugh! Don’t worry, gentlemen. We are going to be late for the meeting with Dr. Malgas. We’ll see if the problem persists when we are done.”

They smiled and agreed that she had better get a move on before they lifted the boom barrier for her.

“Thank you!” she smiled and winked. “We won’t be long.”

“Could you have taken any longer?” Zain complained from the passenger seat.

"I got us through, didn't I?" she replied seriously, clutching the steering wheel and looking straight ahead to find her way in the maze of narrow offshoots to the various department buildings. "And I hope you have a spare."

“Spare what?” Sibu asked.

“A spare tire,” she sighed laboriously. “If I slash one of your tires we will have a reason to stay here for longer without arousing suspicion. It will also make our presence here more credible.”

Zain shifted in his seat, looking impressed.

“Jesus! You are a sneaky little bitch, aren’t you?” he grinned. “I will have to keep my eye firmly on you!”

Cheryl just shrugged with a smile, playing along as not to alert him to her racing mind that was desperately formulating an escape plan. After they had parked the car in front of the building where she used to work, they entered the corridors feigning familiarity until they reached the lecture hall where Billy Malgas was packing up his material after another dreary class. They snuck into the auditorium, stealing low along the back rows where Cheryl’s blonde replacement had just brought two paper cups of coffee.

Cheryl overheard their conversation, with Zain and Sibu crawling by her side. She hushed them when her ear caught the words of the new assistant, confirming what Cheryl knew Billy had been hunting for throughout his career.

‘And once they hear of the secrets you have uncovered in your study of Nazi artifacts of post-World War II, they will be flocking to your lecture hall to hang on every word, every fact, every morsel of information they can.

“Oh my God!” she whispered. “They found it!”

“What?” Zain asked almost inaudibly.

Having no idea that the discussion concerned a mere hoax, Cheryl gasped, “Malgas found the Admiral Graf Spee!”