The Hunter Read Online Free PDF Page B

here in Johannesburg. There were no pictures of children or grandchildren, so I imagined they were childless. I forced myself to stop thinking about them, and what the impact of what I was doing would be on someone recently widowed.
    I heard a toilet flush, and then the sound of Lungile and Patience chatting.
    Next to the master bedroom was a study with a charger cord snaking across the glass-topped desk, but no laptop. I opened the top drawer of the desk and found the new model MacBook, which joined the other loot in my bag.
    ‘ Tatenda ,’ Lungile said to Patience, thanking her as I joined them in the lounge room.
    ‘I think I’ve seen enough,’ I said. Lungile nodded and thanked Patience again, as did I. I said goodbye to the dog, ruffling him under his chin. ‘Look after your mom tonight,’ I whispered to him.
    ‘I will open the gate from in here,’ Patience said.
    Lungile and I walked out, keeping our pace measured but brisk as we went to the Merc and climbed in. I started the car, and as we drove towards the gate it began to roll open. Lungile fished into my shoulder bag and grabbed a handful of treasure. The diamond stud earrings, gold necklaces and other clearly valuable bits and pieces from the jewellery box glittered in her hands.
    ‘Check,’ she said, holding it up.
    I eased my foot off the accelerator as she let all of the jewellery slither back into the bag, save for one gorgeous piece set with the biggest rocks I had seen in a long time. ‘Wedding ring,’ I said. I felt nauseous, the shame bubbling up inside me and fighting to come out. I swallowed.
    Lungile nodded.
    ‘Shit. She probably leaves it at home when she goes out shopping because of bloody crime.’
    ‘Ironic.’ Lungile laughed, but I hadn’t meant it as a joke. I was almost at the gate when it stopped moving, halfway, then changed direction and began closing. Lungile looked back over her shoulder. ‘She must be onto us!’
    ‘Fuck!’ I accelerated.
    Lungile was looking out the back window. ‘We’re not going to make it. The maid’s probably calling the armed response guys now!’
    The panic rose up inside me, but I could not stop the car. We would be trapped. I had a pistol in the bottom of my bag, a puny little .32. It was for self-defence, ironically, against carjackers and other criminals. I had never, and repeatedly promised Lungile and myself that I would never, use a gun in the commission of one of our crimes. I hated myself enough for what I was doing, and I would rather be arrested than harm one of my targets or a policeman.
    ‘Give me the gun,’ Lungile said.
    ‘No.’ I snatched the bag from between us and put it under my legs.
    I braced myself for the coming impact. The nose of the Mercedes made it through, but the gate closed on my side of the car. Metal on metal made a maddening screech as the whole right side of the sports car fought against the closing barrier. I revved the accelerator hard, fighting for our escape, and we squealed through, suddenly released like a champagne cork. I slammed on the brakes.
    Lungile was wide-eyed. ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘Give me the wedding ring.’
    She closed her fist around it and glared at me. But either she softened or she realised we were not leaving until she gave it to me, because she opened her fingers and I plucked it from her palm.
    I could see through the mangled gate Patience was now running down the front steps of the mansion to check on our progress, mobile phone clamped to her ear as she yelled into it. There was a mailbox slot in the wall next to the intercom. I walked to it and popped the wedding ring through the slot then turned and ran back to the car.
    I put my seatbelt on and stood on the accelerator, sliding the rear of the car out into a right-hand turn. I zoomed up the quiet, leafy street, the engine howling as the automatic gearbox screamed and propelled us up to one hundred and thirty. When I took the next right I eased off a bit. I didn’t want