The Outlander by Jim Woods

Author:Jim Woods
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: assassin, murder, crime fiction, hitman, south africa, gypsy shadow, duplicity, subterfuge, jim woods, skullduggery
Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC

Chapter Thirteen

Early in the morning while Marjie still slept, David showered and dressed, and was glad he too had bought some new clothes at the department store in Pretoria. He barely avoided some known business associates at several of the bank branches yesterday while he waited for Marjie to conduct her business. He did not want to see them while wearing the rough safari outfit. With the new dressy slacks and some golf shirts, he was smart-casual enough to satisfy the dress code the evening before at the Coachman, which, like all the better restaurants and hotels, frowned on jeans and khakis. More importantly, if he did encounter a client today, he was dressed the part of PCI’s local manager, and would draw no special attention.

“Wake up and roll out, Luv. This is a work day.”

“Go to hell!”

“Roll out or I’ll toss you out,” he said, making a grab for the edge of the sheet.

“All right, all right. I’m up!”

“Get dressed. Breakfast is on its way.”

As they ate koeksisters, those deep-fried and greasy sugar dumplings vaguely resembling glazed donuts, along with the barely sweetened, hard, crumbly, crunchy rusks, and sipped Five Roses tea, she remarked, “You know this will be impossible, David. The city is totally hopeless to drive through just going place to place, let alone to make all the stops we would have to carry out your scheme.”

“It was your scheme that got us into this. Don’t forget that. If you had been square with me, we wouldn’t have to be here now.”

“I’m sorry, David. Truly I am.”

Softened by her penitence, he affected a conciliatory tone. “I know what you mean about the congestion. We can’t work a grid as we did in Pretoria. This city is just too sprawling and random with all the suburbs and commercial areas. One thing that will work for us though, is to park once and get to several banks on foot in each center. We’ll just have to do what we can. We’ll hit Sanlam Centre first.”

While Marjie was in the queue at the Nedbank in Sanlam, David waited impatiently just inside the front door, appearing to study the rand international conversion board when, “Mister Stone? Ah! I thought that was you. Did my secretary neglect to inform me that you were coming today? I don’t seem to remember an appointment.”

Flustered at the recognition, but recovering quickly, David extended his hand to the president of the bank. “Mister Feldman,” he acknowledged. Mr. Feldman did not realize that the hand that clasped his, and the other on his shoulder, were firmly directing him away from the line where Marjie waited to change her rand notes. “No, I have no appointment. I’m just spreading some advance information on our newest Dekalinium processor. I’d like to talk with your programmers and operators and show them how much it can do for them.”

“Make your appointment then, and talk to them by all means. Do you have time for some tea? But you’ll have to sell our controller on a new system so soon after the last one we converted to just a year ago.

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