‘ Wat doen jy? ’ Tom, lying on his back under the Land Rover, turned his head at the sound of the voice and saw a pair of small bare feet and skinny golden-brown legs.
Tom’s hand was drenched with hot black oil as he unscrewed the plug in the engine sump and let it flow into the tin bowl. His own legs, in shorts, were already starting to turn pink, he noticed as he used his elbows and feet to slide himself fully into the open. He recognised the young voice and the boy standing there, but had no idea what he was saying.
He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun’s bright glare. ‘Hello, Christo. Remember me? I’m Tom.’ The boy’s face was haloed by the afternoon sun. Tom wiped his brow with the back of his clean arm. The heat was a shock all over again after London.
The boy nodded. ‘What you doing?’ he asked again, in English.
Tom sat up, grabbed a rag he’d found in the garage, and wiped his hand as best as he could. The sump hadn’t been drained since the boy’s father’s death, and who knew how long before that. It stained his hand black. ‘I’m changing the oil. Have a look underneath. You can see it draining out.’
Christo shook his head. ‘This is my dad’s bakkie.’
Tom saw the boy’s frown and his little brow furrow in concentration as he tried to work out what was going on. Good luck, matey, Tom thought. ‘I know. Your mum’s letting me borrow it for a little while.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘On a bit of a holiday.’
The boy nodded. ‘Mom’s taking us to the Kruger Park for the weekend. Ouma’s coming as well.’
‘That’s nice.’ Tom guessed Ouma was Sannie’s mother, Elise, who had collected them from the airport, shortly after she had dropped Christo and his little sister, Ilana, at school. Elise had smiled when Sannie introduced Tom to her, but he detected no warmth in her eyes. It would take time — if he had it. He didn’t tell Christo that he was planning on accompanying them to the national park and setting off on the rest of his journey from there. He’d let Sannie break the news.
‘Are you coming to live with us after your holiday?’
How the hell should I know? Tom thought. ‘I don’t know, Christo. Hey, I’ve got something for you.’
The youngster’s eyes lit up. Tom left the sump draining and walked into the comparative cool of the converted granny flat in which he was staying. He’d left the airconditioner running, but it seemed to be struggling in the heat. As a last-minute thought he’d stopped in a souvenir shop at Heathrow and bought a football with Manchester United’s logo emblazoned on it.
‘Cool!’ Christo bounced it straightaway and kicked it, hard enough to reach the brick security wall. It bounced back at him and he dived across the grass to catch it, like a goalie.
Tom laughed as he pulled on a T-shirt. ‘Good work.’ He saw Elise watching them through the kitchen windows. A black maid was standing next to her, and Sannie’s mother was saying something to the woman but keeping her eyes on Tom. He smiled at her but she did not return the gesture. He mentally shrugged it off.
‘Mom will be home soon and then we can use the swimming pool, but not before,’ Christo informed him. ‘Ouma can’t swim,’ he whispered. Tom nodded, sharing the confidence.
Elise came to the back door. ‘Christo! Come in here and have some milk. I have baked some treats as well.’ She held a plate of biscuits, which Tom could smell from the other side of the swimming pool.
‘Yay!’ Christo forgot his questioning and his soccer ball and scampered for the house. Elise ruffled his hair as she steered him towards the house. She disappeared inside the kitchen again, but returned with a bottle of Castle Lager.
‘Here, Tom. It looks like you could use a beer after your work,’ she said. The corners of her mouth were curling upwards slightly. She walked towards him. ‘Come, let us sit in the shade.’
‘I’m not finished yet, not by half, but a beer would be lovely, thanks.’ He hoped this signalled a defrosting, but he wasn’t banking on it. Elise led him to a wrought-iron outdoor table and chairs, underneath a shady tree with red flowers.
‘Sannie’s husband loved that truck.’
Tom opened the beer and took a long, grateful sip. ‘It’s kind of Sannie to lend it to me. I’ll bring it back in one piece.’
‘It’s not the Land Rover I’m worried about getting broken, Tom.’
Well, he thought, at least she didn’t waste time coming to the point. ‘I’m not here to hurt anyone.’
She waved her hand, possibly shooing a fly away, but it also had the effect of brushing his words aside. ‘My daughter was just coming right after the death of her husband. I know what she did with you — for you — in Mozambique. I can’t forgive her for that, but it’s in the past. She knows she shouldn’t have taken such risks, with her life and her job, but she did it because of you.’
It was as much an accusation as a statement of fact, he thought. There was no way he could argue with the woman, though.
‘Don’t lead this family into more danger, Tom.’
He took another drink. ‘I won’t. Where I’m going, what I’m doing… I’ll be on my own.’
Elise nodded. ‘Good. That’s her car now.’
Sannie had gone into the office midmorning to report in to Wessels on the inquiry and her trip. She told Tom she had no plans to mention the Englishman staying in her flat, and he had agreed that was a good idea. She’d been released from work early, though, to spend some more time with her kids. Christo came running from the house, a biscuit in his hands. Ilana, who had avoided Tom so far, stuck her head out the back door and peered down the driveway. The electric gate rolled open and Sannie drove in.
She scooped up both the kids in her arms and plastered them with kisses, before setting them down and waving to Tom. Elise stood, nodded to Tom to ensure her warning had been received and understood, then waved to Sannie and retreated indoors.
‘Put your cozzie on and join us in the pool,’ Sannie called to Tom as she walked towards the house, a child clinging to each of her legs.
‘Let me finish with the truck first.’
Sannie waved and disappeared inside, while Tom crawled back under the Land Rover and replaced the sump plug. As he lifted the spanner to tighten it he realised the last person to have touched the tool before him was dead. It was odd, being among another man’s possessions. With his family. He couldn’t blame Elise for her suspicion or for her silent resentment of him.
He refilled the engine with oil from an unopened container he’d found in the garage. He’d do the filters, too, before dinner as Christo had laid in a good store of spares and consumables.
The Land Rover was fully kitted out for camping in the African bush and Tom could tell that Sannie’s late husband had been passionate about his vehicle. It was immaculate, inside and out, save for a layer of dust which had settled since it had last been driven. To Tom’s surprise it had started, albeit slowly, and he had left the engine idling for half an hour to warm the old oil and restore some more life to the twin-battery system he’d discovered under the bonnet.
On top was an aluminium roof-rack with customised fittings for two gas bottles, which Tom found under a tarpaulin with some other camping gear, and a pair of jerry cans. There was also a big rectangular thing on the roof, which he thought at first was a storage box, covered with a waterproof canvas cover. However, when he undid it, he discovered it was a fold-out rooftop tent. Inside, in the back, was a compressor-driven fridge-freezer which ran off the dual battery system. The fridge lid had been chocked open with a piece of wood to stop mould from forming, and when he worked out how to turn it on while the engine was running, it hummed to life and soon started getting cold. In the garage were plastic boxes filled with neatly packed camping essentials, including cutlery, plates, cups and pots in one box; non-perishable cooking basics in another; and a third crammed with portable lights, an air compressor and various electrical adapters. He’d expected that he would have to fit out the vehicle himself, but Sannie had already told him he was welcome to whatever he could find in Christo’s well-ordered trove of gear, tools and equipment.
Tom replaced the oil filler cap, lowered the bonnet and looked up as the back door opened again. Little Christo and Ilana, in their swimsuits, charged for the in-ground swimming pool and Sannie walked behind them, smiling and laughing. She carried a green-coloured rum cooler drink in a bottle and another beer, which she held up to him. She looked good enough to drink herself. She had changed out of her suit into a yellow bikini top and a pair of short-cut blue board shorts with an Australian surf brand running down the side. He’d seen her naked, and in her bra and pants, but now, if it were possible, she looked even sexier. She was a promise of long, carefree summer holidays and endless sunshine. A world without murder and terrorism and politics. She threw back her head and laughed at something her mother had said from the kitchen, and swayed her hips as she swung the bottles by her side and walked towards him. This was a Sannie he hadn’t seen before. At home with her children, safe from the outside world and free to be a kid again herself. She looked like a flirty teenager as she came to him and leaned a hip against the warm aluminium fender of the truck.
‘ Jissus, but I missed the sun.’ She upended the cooler and used the serrations of its cap to lever off the top of the beer bottle, then unscrewed the twist top on her drink. Tom drained the dregs of the one Elise had brought him. The leftovers had already been warmed by the afternoon sun, but the lager Sannie handed him was cold and dewy. He wanted her, right then, and allowed himself the brief fantasy of life forever after by the beach with this sun-kissed girl. ‘You’re filthy, man,’ she said, looking at his hands. ‘Did the truck start okay?’
‘First time.’
She sipped her drink, then, in reply to a demand from Christo, called out that she’d be in the pool soon. ‘Come join us for a swim,’ she said to Tom.
‘I’m nearly finished here.’ He gestured to the truck. ‘Go play with your kids. I’ll watch you from here.’
Sannie pouted. ‘Was my mom horrid to you?’
He smiled. ‘Not in so many words, but you could say that the riot act has been read and understood. She’s only trying to look after you.’
Sannie nodded, then looked over her shoulder. Her mother was watching them from the kitchen. ‘Mom! Get in the pool!’ Ilana yelled.
‘Duty calls,’ she said, setting her drink down on the Land Rover’s fender. Tom watched as she turned and ran, full pelt, to the edge of the pool and executed a running dive that barely raised a splash. She surfaced and lunged at the two children. ‘Here comes the krokodil!’ The children squealed with delight.
Elise had cooked a roast chicken dinner, though she barely acknowledged Tom’s compliments on it.
Christo had lost his initial reservations about the near stranger in the house, and pestered Tom with questions about English football teams and the country’s rugby side. Despite Sannie telling the boy to be quiet and eat his greens, Tom was happy to chat to him. Little Ilana was still quiet and shy, though a couple of times she smiled at him, then giggled, before hiding her face behind her hand. They were lovely kids, he thought. A credit to their mum and their prickly ouma. He could understand the older woman’s protectiveness.
Sannie had showered and changed into a simple slip-on sundress with a bright sunflower print. It showed off her tan and barely came halfway down her slim, athletic thighs. Like her kids she was barefoot at the dinner table, and Tom was perspiring freely, despite the fan that blew across them from a kitchen benchtop.
‘Is David Beckham the best football player in the world?’ Christo asked.
‘Carrots, Christo,’ Sannie said, in between chewing on a wing.
‘He gets his photo in the newspapers more than any other player,’ Tom said. Christo nodded as if this settled the argument and Tom felt toes running up his shin.
He glanced across at Sannie sitting opposite — her mother was at the head of the table — but she ignored him. She asked her mother to pass the salt, running her foot higher and higher until it rested in Tom’s crotch. He coughed, and Sannie asked him if he wanted more water, or another beer. ‘Oh, I’m fine just as I am,’ he said. She smiled and he thought he caught the hint of a wink. She wriggled her toes and he felt himself starting to harden. Tom concentrated on his chicken.
After the meal Elise boiled the kettle for coffee, telling Tom to stay seated. He was extremely grateful. Sannie grinned behind her mother’s back.
‘What’s funny, Mom?’ Christo asked.
‘Nothing, my boy. Just something funny Mommy heard at work today. You and Ilana can go and watch TV for an hour, if you want.’
‘Yay!’ The children left the room.
‘I’m going to turn in early,’ Elise said. ‘I’ve got my book to read. Goodnight.’
Tom wished her a goodnight, then breathed an audible sigh of relief when it was just the two of them left in the kitchen-dining room. ‘Is it safe for you to stand?’ she giggled.
‘Barely. You’re incorrigible. What were you thinking, with your mother right there?’ He smiled.
‘It’s like being fifteen again. It adds a delicious element of risk, don’t you think?’
Tom shook his head.
‘Let’s take our coffee outside.’
They sat beside each other in a swinging chair by the pool, and Tom loved the feeling of her bare leg pressed close against his. They chatted for a while, avoiding talking about the case or Tom’s imminent trip. Sannie explained, though he didn’t need her to, that her mother had loved Christo and was concerned that Sannie would never find a man as good as him to be a father to her kids. ‘Not that I’m laying that on you, of course.’
‘I never thought I’d have a family,’ he said. ‘Your kids are great, though.’
She blew on her coffee and sipped it. ‘They can be monsters at times, believe me. But I do want the best for them.’
‘Does that exclude me?’
She looked at him. ‘Of course not. Is that what you want, though?’
‘I don’t know what I want, and that’s the truth. But I love being here, in this house, with you, and your kids…’
‘And my mom?’
‘Well, let’s not push it.’ They both laughed.
Later, after she had put the children to bed and made sure her mother was safely ensconced in her room, Sannie came back outside with two open bottles of beer. ‘You never got in the pool this afternoon. Can’t you swim?’
‘Of course I can,’ he said, accepting the beer and taking a large swallow.
‘Then come in now, with me,’ Sannie said, sitting her untouched drink down on the grass. She stood and held out a hand.
‘I don’t have my swimming trunks on,’ he said.
She looked over her shoulder, back at the darkened house, then grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it over her head. ‘Neither do I, lover.’ The white skin where her pants and bikini top had been shone invitingly. She turned and walked away from him, not looking back, and slid silently into the water.
Tom kicked off his docksiders, shrugged out of his T-shirt and unbuttoned his shorts as he followed her. At the edge, he stripped off his underpants and lowered himself into the water. Sannie swam underwater from the other side, and emerged in his arms. She kissed him, long and deep, her tongue darting inside his mouth. He started to say something, but she put a finger to his lips. The pool water was salty, as was she. It was like kissing a mermaid.
She led him, half wading, half swimming, to one side of the pool where a bougainvillea tree in the yard blocked the view from the kitchen, just in case anyone came to the window for a peek. When she stood on the bottom, the water reached halfway up her breasts, her nipples just breaking the surface. He placed one hand under her bottom, his other arm around her, and drew her to him, lifting her easily in the water. She encircled him with her legs and moved her hand between them. She parted herself for him and he lowered her.
He’d never made love in the water before, but the moment she slid to the base of his shaft he remembered that instant on the hotel bed, when time had stood still, as he had rested, briefly, as deep inside another being as it was possible to be.
‘Mmm, I could stay here all night,’ he said.
‘Forever,’ she whispered in his ear.
With their bodies held by water, however, there was scope for long strokes, deep and satisfying. Using her thighs as a pivot she rode him high, taking him right out to the thick end of him and holding him tight there until his grip on her waist forced her back down to the base. He snaked an arm between them and rubbed her clitoris with his thumb. Her pace quickened and she worked him harder with her muscles. Her grip as she rode up sealed them tightly together, then she relaxed to be merely firm on the way down.
With his thumb rolling over her clit, she peaked hard — an orgasm that detonated through her body and sent a blast of heat over his cock and into the water around them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he freed his hand to smooth the wet blonde strands of hair from her face so he could look into her liquid blue eyes.
She moaned as he started to move inside her again, and it almost felt like she was flying. As he drove up into her with renewed urgency he lifted her breasts clear of the water, taking first one, then the other of her nipples in his mouth, trapping them between his teeth and tongue, sucking greedily.
When he felt the now familiar sensations of her mounting second orgasm, he looked up at her. ‘Leave your pretty blue eyes open this time. I want to see them when you come.’ As he felt her again, he joined her, filling her completely.
Afterwards, they showered together in the flat at the rear of the garage and she slept with him, pressed close in the single bed. They left the sheet off, and let the ceiling fan cool them and blow the mosquitos away. Sannie slept, her head pillowed on his chest hair, but Tom lay awake for most of the night, one hand crooked under his head.
She woke in the pre-dawn and stretched like a contented cat. He smiled at and kissed her. Her hand moved, seemingly by its own accord, to his rising erection.
‘Do you really have to go off on this trip by yourself?’
‘Yes, baby.’
Elise’s attitude towards him softened slowly over the following three days. Perhaps, Tom thought as he stacked the camping fridge-freezer in the back of the Land Rover with frozen steak, boerewors and a six-pack of Castle, it was because Sannie’s mother knew he would soon be out of their lives.
Still, she’d been helpful, taking him to the local supermarket and butcher, and pointing out an auto spares shop where he’d bought extra oil, filters, a fan belt and radiator hoses. He got the gas bottles filled, and made the bed in the rooftop tent with clean linen and a blanket. He sorted his clothes, leaving some behind at Sannie’s, and bought an extra pair of shorts and a khaki bush shirt for the road. It was Friday afternoon and he was ready to go. When Elise returned home after picking up Christo and Ilana from school, Tom started packing her ageing Toyota Condor people-mover for the weekend trip to Kruger.
‘I can help,’ Christo said, standing beside him in his school shirt and shorts, minus shoes.
‘Good man.’ Tom could have packed the wagon more quickly by himself, but he sorted small boxes and cooler bags for the boy to carry and let him pack things where he wanted to in the boot. He would have to learn some day, Tom thought. They chatted about soccer and television shows as they worked, and Tom, to his surprise, found himself laughing at a couple of jokes the boy made and generally enjoying his company.
‘Are you coming back here after your holiday, Tom?’ Christo asked as he hefted his own small backpack full of clothes into the Condor.
‘Yes, I have to bring your dad’s truck back.’
‘No, are you coming to stay with us?’ At that moment Elise appeared from the back door, a picnic basket in one hand. She stopped to listen.
Tom sighed. What to say? He pushed the cold box to the back of the cargo area and wiped his hands on his shorts. He looked down at the boy. ‘Would you like me to come and stay?’
It was Christo’s turn to ponder his answer for a moment. He nodded his head.
‘I forgot something,’ Elise said, and turned back to the kitchen.
Before Tom could speak to Elise, Sannie arrived, honking the horn of her Mercedes as the electric gate rolled open. ‘Hey, man! I thought you guys would be packed already,’ she chided. She kissed Christo and smiled at Tom, then ran inside, pausing only to kick off her high heels. ‘I’ll be changed in ten minutes, and you’d better be ready!’
Sannie had finished work early, at one o’clock, but even so they had to drive hard to get to the park before the entrance gates closed at six. The Land Rover blew blue smoke for the first half-hour, but eventually the long-dormant engine warmed up and Tom found he could coax it up to a hundred and ten. Sannie had suggested that Elise could drive the children in the Condor and that she would ride with Tom, in case he needed directions. ‘The kids have hardly seen you for a week, Sannie,’ Elise reminded her.
Tom thought her mother had made a good call. Besides, he needed to get used to navigating himself around Africa. Sannie soon outstripped him on the motorway, easily sitting on a hundred and twenty. Via her cell phone, she told him that they would go on ahead and start setting up at Pretoriuskop camp. Tom assured her that he could read a map well enough to find her.
It was the same road he and Sannie had driven together from Johannesburg to Tinga Legends, on the recce trip before Greeves’s abduction. It seemed like a lifetime ago and, in a sense, it was. Tom’s old life was over. No job, no future — at least not in England. He considered this. No, he told himself, it wasn’t quite over yet.
When he passed the hijacking hotspot warning signs near Witbank he felt a pang of concern for Sannie and her family. However, Sannie had her Z88 service pistol with her, and she had given Tom her private firearm, a nine-millimetre South African-made RAP 401, a compact semiautomatic. Its short barrel made it easy to conceal, but the eight-round magazine was less than half the capacity of the Glock he would have been carrying if he was still on the job. Tom had hoped that she would offer him a firearm. One of the reasons he wanted to drive to Malawi, rather than fly, was so he could carry a weapon. He hadn’t told Sannie of his ulterior motive.
He broke his first law of the trip when he arrived at the Numbi Gate entrance. He should have declared the pistol, but did not. He had it stashed in the tool-box under a mountain of gear in the back of the Land Rover. Over the next two days he would find a better hiding spot for it for when he had to start crossing borders. Sannie had gone through the motions of asking him why he thought he needed to take a gun with him out of South Africa, but had given up in the face of his silence. She’d given him two spare magazines and a box of bullets as well.
On the short drive to Pretoriuskop camp from the gate he slowed and stopped to watch a white rhino grazing by the side of the road. It ignored him, contentedly munching away on the short green grass that had sprung up in a burnt patch of bush with the first rains of the season. On its back was a tiny bird with a red bill. An oxpecker. The animal’s askari, as Sannie had called it. Tom had no one to guard any more, and the feeling was liberating in a way. He was here for himself and no one else. Ironically, his very next thought was of Sannie and her kids. He checked the time on his watch and made it in through the wooden gates of the rest camp with only minutes to spare before the curfew kicked in.
The rest camp consisted of a camping area and rows of bungalows, ranging from small rondavels, as Sannie called them, to larger, self-contained houses which would sleep a family of six. There were plenty of mature trees and the lawns were green and well kept, with some help, no doubt, from the trio of warthog that darted across the road in front of Tom’s Land Rover, their tails pointing straight up like antennae.
He found Sannie, Elise and the children at the top end of the camping ground, which occupied a series of terraces down one side of the complex. An electric fence, reinforced with thick metal cables to keep elephant at bay, surrounded the encampment.
‘Did you see the rhino?’ Ilana asked him.
He bent over and assured her that he had. The little girl had been warming to him over the past couple of days and he felt bad that he would soon disappear, as had the last man in her life. Sannie finished hammering in a tent peg, and stood and wiped her brow. She had made short work of setting up the nylon dome tent in which she, Elise and the kids would all sleep. She wore camouflage shorts, and a stretchy orange tank top that revealed her flat belly when she stretched and yawned.
With some direction from Sannie and the kids, Tom soon had his fold-out rooftop tent erected for the first time. It looked cosy, and he thought it would be even cosier if during the night Sannie climbed up the ladder to join him.
Tom engaged Elise while Sannie took the kids to shower, asking her to instruct him on the finer points of barbecuing — or braaiing, as the South Africans called it. He’d made a few attempts in his tiny back yard in London and on holidays in Spain, but none that could be classed as overwhelmingly successful, he told her. Elise laughed and talked him through the basics of lighting the fire, waiting for it to die down to glowing coals and then adjusting the circular grid which moved up and down on a metal pole attached to the wok-like fire tray. It seemed simple enough.
He cooked, with gentle encouragement and advice from Sannie and Christo, and the steaks weren’t nearly as burned as they might have been. It had been a long day for all of them, especially Sannie, and they were all in their tents by nine.
Tom lay in his rooftop bed and listened to the noises of the bush — the squeak of bats, the screech of an owl, the comfortingly familiar croak of frogs in the nearby dam. Far off, he heard the low groans of a lion calling to his pride. Sleep came slowly.
Sannie woke him at four, and chivvied him out of bed and into the Condor. At this time of year the camp gates opened at four-thirty. Elise was staying in camp, but Sannie and the kids were determined to go out and try to find the lion who had been calling again in the pre-dawn dark, closer to camp. They found him, no more than a kilometre away, lying on the bitumen road, still calling. He lowered his head and thrust out his snout, as if to squeeze every last little note out of his huge lungs. It felt to Tom like the metal panels on the Toyota’s sides were vibrating.
They drove to Skukuza, where Sannie had introduced him to Isaac Tshabalala. It brought back bad memories for Tom, but galvanised him for the long journey ahead. Sannie bought the kids burgers and ice cream for lunch and they all swam in a pool in a picnic site, located down the road from the camp on the banks of the Sabie River. It was, Tom noted, the same river that Tinga Lodge overlooked. As much as he enjoyed pretending he was part of Sannie’s happy family life, he found that he was itching to get on his way.
‘You’re distant,’ she said to him as they sat alone by the evening campfire. On Saturday night there was a wildlife documentary video screening at Pretoriuskop camp’s open-air cinema, and Elise had taken the kids so Sannie could have some private time with Tom. Hyenas whooped and cackled in the distance, but the noise was on the big screen.
He nodded.
‘Are you going to tell me or not?’
He looked at her. Every new angle, every nuance of the day’s lighting, seemed to reveal more of her beauty to him. Bathed in the orange glow of the fire it seemed as if the warmth he felt radiated from within her rather than from the smouldering coals. Part of him wanted just to hold her and let his body dissolve into hers.
She persisted through his silence, her exasperation rising. ‘Look, think of me. I’m still on the fringes of the investigation. If you’ve got a new lead, then tell me! I’ll give you a head start on this wild-goose chase you’re on, but if you find them you’ll need back-up. I can’t get a team of recce commandos to you with fifteen minutes’ notice, you know. What do you know about these terrorists that we don’t, Tom, that the British government doesn’t?’
‘If I find out anything new, I’ll call you,’ was all he said. He didn’t want her with him. He didn’t want to get her excited. He didn’t want her actions, no matter how well intentioned, to tip off his prey. For all those reasons, and for her protection and the future of her kids, he couldn’t tell her anything.
‘There’s no point risking your life on a private vendetta, Tom. The man you were sent to protect is buried in some unmarked grave in Mozambique. Even if you find the killers, it won’t bring Greeves back, or even resurrect your career. You must know that! Get it through your head, Tom — the man is dead!’
Tom’s face betrayed nothing — certainly not the one thing he was completely and utterly sure of.
Robert Greeves was still alive.