Thirteen Hours

Chapter 21

The hissing gas lamp that stood on the mixer bench threw an absurd shadow of Melinda Geyser onto the opposite wall. She stood with her face only centimetres from the glass, the recording booths behind her shaded in gloom. Dekker leaned forward in a leather chair on wheels, his elbows on his knees, because the leather back creaked loudly when he leaned back. He was perspiring. Without air conditioning it was getting hotter.

'Sorry about the misunderstanding,' she said, folding her arms under her breasts. Her figure was not without its attractions - the green blouse, jeans with white leather belt and big silver buckle, white pumps with wedge cork heels. But it bothered him, it wasn't what he expected from a gospel artist, the clothes were just that little bit too tight. They made him think of the kind of women who were most blatantly interested in him - late thirties, early forties, looks just starting to fade, and wanting to make the most of the last years of their sensual prime.

Maybe that was just how musicians were. 'Maybe I overreacted,' he said, and the sincerity in his voice was a surprise to him.

'Do you know what the difference is between life and making a CD?' she asked. She kept staring at the glass. He wondered if she was watching her own reflection.

'No,' said Dekker.

'The difference is that in life there is only one take.'

Was she about to lecture him?

'Adam had never asked me to come on my own before .Yesterday morning he phoned to say he had to see me. Those were his words, as though he had no choice. As though I was in trouble. "I have to see you. Just you." Like a headmaster sending for a naughty child.'

Then she moved, unfolding her arms, and turning to face Dekker. She took two steps and sat down on a two-seater leather couch opposite him, with her right arm on the armrest and the left on the cushions. She looked him in the eye and said: 'If you have done things in your life that might catch up with you, then you don't argue. You lie to your beloved husband, Mr Dekker, and you go to Adam Barnard's office and ask him what is going on.'

Mister. Now I'm a Mister.

The usually jovial Adam Barnard was serious, she said. Melinda sat dead still while she talked, not moving her hands or body, as if she was on thin ice, over deep waters. There was a determination in her voice.

Barnard had pushed a slim DVD case across his desk to her, the rewritable kind with the manufacturer's logo visible through the transparent plastic. She had looked at him, questioning. He had said nothing. She'd opened it. Inside someone had written on the white surface of the DVD in permanent ink, Melinda 1987. She had known right away what it was.

She took a deep breath, looked to the right at the glass, as if to see herself one last time.

'You need to know about my background, Mr Dekker. We live in a strange world, in a society that has to label things to accommodate them.' Her use of language surprised him, more sophisticated than he had expected.

'But the process is neither logical nor fair. If you are a person who by nature struggles to conform, you're called a rebel when you're young. Later you're called other things. I was a so-called rebel. At school I was ... disobedient. I wanted to do everything my way. I was inquisitive. About everything. I had a craving for excitement, for the things a good little Afrikaans girl was not supposed to do. For many years I picked men who represented a certain amount of risk. It was instinctive, not conscious. Sometimes I wonder if it would have turned out differently if that had been my only weakness. But it isn't. From an early age I had a need for recognition. An affirmation that I am not ordinary. I wanted to stand out from the crowd. It's not necessarily a search for fame, just a need for attention, I think. In the end it is this combination that makes me who I am.'

She was not stupid, he thought. She was a woman who could easily deceive people. 'I was never terribly pretty. Not that I'm ugly, I'm grateful for that. If I use what I have I can attract attention, but I don't take men's breath away. I knew I was smart enough to study, but there is no degree in what I wanted to do. All I had left to me was my voice. And a stage personality, but that I only discovered later. Then I crossed paths with Danny Vlok. He can play anything from a violin to a trumpet. He had a music shop in the city, in Bloemfontein, and a four-piece band for weddings and parties. I saw his ad for a singer in the Volksblad's Classifieds. Danny dreamed of being a rock star. He tried to look like one. I thought it was cool then, and he was ten years older than me. Worldly wise. He tried to live like a rocker too. Drink and dagga. The problem was that Danny could only sing other people's music. His own was ... not good. I went for an audition with his band and afterwards we went to his flat in Park Road and had a zol and then sex. Two months later we got married in the magistrate's court. Four years later we were divorced.'

She was using the story to punish herself, thought Dekker. It was her penance, this exposure. But she stopped and looked around. 'There's usually some water here. It's hot...'

'I'll ask Natasha,' he said and got to his feet. When he went out of the door he saw Josh down the passage, looking restless and worried.

'Are you finished?'

'Not yet, Mr Geyser.'

The big man nodded and went back into the conference room.

Rachel Anderson heard the voices further off, but not the words. They went on for so long that she grew increasingly convinced that there were no tracks leading to her. The tension dissipated slowly from her body; her heartbeat steadied.

Until she heard the click-clack of a woman's shoes, right up close to her, just two or three steps away.

'OK. Thank you,' said the same black woman as earlier.

'I hope you find her,' said the man's voice.

'She can't be far. We will go and search the park.'

'Good luck.'

'OK.' She heard the woman walk away. Moments later the door closed and then she knew she would be safe.

Melinda Geyser gulped down half a glass of water and kept it in the hand that was resting on the arm of the couch.

'We went to play for a wedding in Bethlehem in the Eastern Free State. After the reception we stayed over in the chalets at Lake Athlone. The place was empty. We made a fire outside and sat in the dark, drinking and chatting. Danny said he was going to sleep, he was tired and drunk and doped. By then we had been married for three years and things weren't going so well. But we stayed outside, the other three and myself. They were young, in their twenties, like me. The bass guitarist had a video camera, he'd got it the previous week. He was filming us. At first it was innocent fun, we were playing the fool, pretending we were famous and were being interviewed by the SABC. We kept on drinking. Too much. I think it happened because of the dynamics of our group - Danny was the leader, we were the four employees, the underlings. We started saying things to the video camera about Danny. We mimicked and mocked him. We knew if he got to see the video it would make him furious - he had a terrible temper, especially the morning after a night of drinking. But it was precisely that risk that made it such fun; he was right there, asleep, while we were taunting him on video, there was .. . proof of what we were doing, kind of forever, on video.'

'The guitarist kissed me first. He said he knew what would make Danny totally crazy. He came over and kissed me on the mouth. It wasn't a big leap from there. Not in the state we were in. I don't have to give you the detail. The video shows how they undressed me, with my help, how they each licked a nipple. It shows how two of them had sex with me, one from the front and the other behind. It shows how I enjoyed it. There is a close-up of my face and you can clearly see ... You can hear me too ...' She looked at Dekker, there was an energy in her. She said: 'I will always wonder how much the presence of the camera contributed to the experience.' She was quiet for a while and then her eyes dropped. 'I never regretted it. Until yesterday. Until I realised my sins could catch up with Josh. It would hurt him so much to know all that. He needs another kind of me.'

When she fell silent, Dekker asked: 'Was that on the DVD?'

She nodded.

'Barnard wanted to blackmail you.' He spoke with certainty.

'No. He was the one being blackmailed. When I passed the DVD back to him and said I knew what it was, he said he had to pay sixty thousand for it. He said it arrived a week ago by registered post, with a note saying: Watch this when you are alone. Or Melinda's career is over. The call came three days later, from a man wanting fifty thousand or he would put it on the Internet. I asked Adam why he had paid sixty then. He told me the other ten thousand was to make sure it was the only copy.'

'How did he manage that?'

'I asked him that too. He said this wasn't the first time he had had to protect one of his artist's interests. He had people who help with that, an agency. They followed the trail of the money transfers, until they found the man.'

'Was it the bass guitarist?'

'No. Danny Vlok.'

'Your ex?'

'You have to admit there is some kind of justice in it.'

'How did they make sure it was the only copy?'

'I don't know. I tried to phone Danny when I left here. Someone at his shop said he was in hospital. He was assaulted in his flat on Sunday night.'

Dekker digested this information. This thing was getting big. And complex. 'But why did Barnard tell you this, if it was sorted out?'

'I think the video aroused Adam.'

'So he blackmailed you?'

'No, he simply spotted an opportunity.'

'Oh?'

'He told me there was nothing to worry about. I was grateful. Then he smiled and put the DVD in the player. I could have walked out. But I wanted to see it again. One last time. We watched it together. When it was over he asked if he could kiss me. I said yes.'

She saw Dekker's expression and she said: 'I was very grateful to Adam. He was discreet. He went to a lot of trouble and expense. Seeing that video again ... yourself. Young ... so ... randy ...'

Dekker continued to frown.

'You must be wondering how a born-again woman could do something like that. You see, Mr Dekker, I don't believe in a condemning God. I think it was Bishop Tutu who said "God has a soft spot for sinners. His standards are quite low." He's not sitting up there with clenched fists ready to punish us. I believe he's a God of love. He knows we are what we are, just as he made us, with our weaknesses and all. He understands. He knows it brings us ultimately closer to him, knowing how weak we are. He just wants us to confess.'

Dekker was speechless. They sat there in silence, listening to the hiss of the gas lamp. For the first time she clasped her hands on her lap. 'You want to know why I told Josh. That's the thing I can't really explain. I walked out of here with the DVD in my handbag. I knew they knew, Willie, Wouter ...'

'Wouter?'

'The financial director. Wouter Steenkamp. His office is next to Adam's. I knew they would have heard me because I'm loud when it comes to sex. Adam had his ... talents. The sound of Natasha's voice when I passed her ... Maybe she was in the corridor when it was going on. She suspected something. But I was out of there and went and sat in my car. I had the DVD and I wanted to break it. I never knew how hard that is. It bends, but it doesn't easily break, just like the human spirit. I took a pair of tweezers out of my handbag and scratched it with that. That was the best I could do. I scratched it until I was sure it would never work again. I phoned Danny at his shop then drove home and threw the DVD in the rubbish bin. When I went into the house there on the couch was dear, sweet Josh who loves me so unconditionally. He put his arms around me like he always does, but all I could think of was that he would smell the sex on me. Josh must have felt the tension, he's a sensitive man, always wondering if he's good enough for me. It was his caring that caught me, that absolute, honest caring. At that moment I was faced with the difference between his image of me and who I really was. It was devastating, if you will excuse the theatrical language. I believed he had the right to know the truth, but the words wouldn't come out. Old habits, we protect ourselves to the bitter end. I would prefer to believe that I wanted to protect him, because as hard as it is to live with myself, Josh would find it impossible to recover from the whole truth.'