Read Online Random Violence by Jassy Mackenzie - Free Book Online
Authors: Jassy Mackenzie
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shopping bags, still talking at the tops of their voices.
She watched them go, wondering how far they had to plod up the road with their heavy bags while drivers whizzed uncaringly past them. She felt sorry for Jo’burg’s poor, who had to walk vast distances to reach crammed and dangerous taxis. Nameless, faceless, they were ignored by the rich people speeding past in the air-conditioned cocoons of their fast and expensive cars.
Turning away from the women, she noticed an open doorway at the side of the building. A staircase led up to the first floor. The steps looked ancient, dips worn into the middle of each tread.
Jade walked up and reached a landing with an open window that looked out over the back of the building. She leaned out and saw another dilapidated parking lot. An old Toyota occu-pied one of the spaces. It was parked at an angle in the shade and its windows and windshield were still covered by a thin layer of ice.
The Toyota looked like a typical police unmarked. Like the kind of vehicle that a cut-rate private detective might drive.
Jade’s fingers brushed against the shape of the gun under her jacket. She trusted her gut, just as her father had always told her to do, and it was telling her that something was wrong. The car clearly hadn’t been driven anywhere since the frost came down, which would have been well before sunrise.
She reached the top of the second flight of stairs and started down the corridor. Her shoes clacked on the linoleum. The walls were dirty. They needed a scrub and a fresh coat of paint. She shivered. The corridor was like a wind tunnel, channeling cold air along its length.
The first office door was protected by a security gate locked with a rusty padlock. The metal was also dusty. It had been a while since anybody worked in this room.
The next door had a sign on it, handwritten on a piece of cardboard that curled at the edges. “Alliance Finance.” It, too, was locked from the outside. Jade wouldn’t have trusted a finance company operating from premises like these, or with a sign like that. Presumably the clients had felt the same.
The door of the third office was closed. But the security gate was ajar.
D. GROBBELAAR INVESTIGATION was printed on a laminated piece of cardboard and attached to the door with four brass drawing pins. Compared to the signage on the previous door, Dean had chosen the luxury option.
Jade knocked on the door. There was no answer.
She lifted her elbow—she didn’t want to leave fingerprints— and pushed the door handle down. Hinges squeaking, it swung open.
She stepped inside and almost tripped over a pair of shoes. They were placed side-by-side, facing the door, as if somebody had decided, on a whim, to leave their footwear behind when they’d left the office.
The shoes were big and heavy, with battered leather uppers and thick tough soles. She thought they probably had steel toecaps. A gray woolen sock with a hole in the heel lay next to one of the shoes.
At the back of the office was a large wooden desk. Behind it was a leather-covered office chair. Two other chairs stood opposite, set squarely in place. Jade could see a blotter, a fax machine and printer, and a telephone on top of the desk. A fluorescent strip light on the ceiling flickered occasionally.
A wooden filing cabinet with three drawers stood in the corner nearest the desk. Its top drawer was open a few inches.
Jade stepped closer. Something else, in the corner of her vision? She looked down. A black cable and adaptor for a laptop computer lay like a coiled snake on the floor.
She walked over to Grobbelaar’s desk. When his phone rang, where did he write his notes? Could she find any clues to his current whereabouts?
Not on the blotter. That seemed to be reserved for detailed and explicit drawings of naked women. Jade frowned down at them. Presumably he met with his female clients in a more savory location.
She opened the top drawer. Inside were some loose pens, a
She watched them go, wondering how far they had to plod up the road with their heavy bags while drivers whizzed uncaringly past them. She felt sorry for Jo’burg’s poor, who had to walk vast distances to reach crammed and dangerous taxis. Nameless, faceless, they were ignored by the rich people speeding past in the air-conditioned cocoons of their fast and expensive cars.
Turning away from the women, she noticed an open doorway at the side of the building. A staircase led up to the first floor. The steps looked ancient, dips worn into the middle of each tread.
Jade walked up and reached a landing with an open window that looked out over the back of the building. She leaned out and saw another dilapidated parking lot. An old Toyota occu-pied one of the spaces. It was parked at an angle in the shade and its windows and windshield were still covered by a thin layer of ice.
The Toyota looked like a typical police unmarked. Like the kind of vehicle that a cut-rate private detective might drive.
Jade’s fingers brushed against the shape of the gun under her jacket. She trusted her gut, just as her father had always told her to do, and it was telling her that something was wrong. The car clearly hadn’t been driven anywhere since the frost came down, which would have been well before sunrise.
She reached the top of the second flight of stairs and started down the corridor. Her shoes clacked on the linoleum. The walls were dirty. They needed a scrub and a fresh coat of paint. She shivered. The corridor was like a wind tunnel, channeling cold air along its length.
The first office door was protected by a security gate locked with a rusty padlock. The metal was also dusty. It had been a while since anybody worked in this room.
The next door had a sign on it, handwritten on a piece of cardboard that curled at the edges. “Alliance Finance.” It, too, was locked from the outside. Jade wouldn’t have trusted a finance company operating from premises like these, or with a sign like that. Presumably the clients had felt the same.
The door of the third office was closed. But the security gate was ajar.
D. GROBBELAAR INVESTIGATION was printed on a laminated piece of cardboard and attached to the door with four brass drawing pins. Compared to the signage on the previous door, Dean had chosen the luxury option.
Jade knocked on the door. There was no answer.
She lifted her elbow—she didn’t want to leave fingerprints— and pushed the door handle down. Hinges squeaking, it swung open.
She stepped inside and almost tripped over a pair of shoes. They were placed side-by-side, facing the door, as if somebody had decided, on a whim, to leave their footwear behind when they’d left the office.
The shoes were big and heavy, with battered leather uppers and thick tough soles. She thought they probably had steel toecaps. A gray woolen sock with a hole in the heel lay next to one of the shoes.
At the back of the office was a large wooden desk. Behind it was a leather-covered office chair. Two other chairs stood opposite, set squarely in place. Jade could see a blotter, a fax machine and printer, and a telephone on top of the desk. A fluorescent strip light on the ceiling flickered occasionally.
A wooden filing cabinet with three drawers stood in the corner nearest the desk. Its top drawer was open a few inches.
Jade stepped closer. Something else, in the corner of her vision? She looked down. A black cable and adaptor for a laptop computer lay like a coiled snake on the floor.
She walked over to Grobbelaar’s desk. When his phone rang, where did he write his notes? Could she find any clues to his current whereabouts?
Not on the blotter. That seemed to be reserved for detailed and explicit drawings of naked women. Jade frowned down at them. Presumably he met with his female clients in a more savory location.
She opened the top drawer. Inside were some loose pens, a
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