Thirteen Hours Read Online Free PDF Page A

did not like to be the one singled out, but he
turned and went off through the crowd. From his left-hand side an ambulance
approached with some difficulty through the crowd.
    'This is our pavement,' said the heavily ranked Metro
policeman stubbornly.
    'Are you the chief in charge here?' Benny asked him.
    'Yes.'
    'What is your name?'
    'Jeremy Oerson.'
    'And the pavements are under your jurisdiction?'
    'Yes.'
    'Perfect,' said Griessel. 'Make sure that the ambulance parks
here. Right here. And then I want you to inspect every pavement and alley
within six blocks of here, livery dustbin, every nook and cranny, got that?'
    The man gave him a long look. Probably weighing up the
implications should he refuse. Then he nodded, sourly, and began barking orders
at his men.
    Griessel turned back to Vusi.
    'You need to look at this,' the pathologist called from where
she was crouched by the body.
    They went over to her. With a pair of tweezers, she held up a
clothing label, the one from the back of the girl's T-shirt.
    'Broad Ripple Vintage, Indianapolis,' she said and gave them
a meaningful look.
    'What does that mean?' asked Vusi Ndabeni.
    'I think she's American,' she said.
    'Oh fuck,' said Benny Griessel. 'Are you sure?'
    Tiffany October's eyes widened somewhat at his language and
her tone of voice confirmed it: 'Pretty sure.'
    'Trouble,' said Ndabeni. 'Big trouble.'

07:02-08:13

Chapter 4
     
    In the library of the big house in Brownlow Street,
Tamboerskloof, the shrill, terrified screams of the maid shocked Alexandra Barnard
from her sleep.
    It was a surreal moment. She had no idea where she was, her
limbs felt peculiar, stiff and unwieldy, and her thoughts were as sluggish as
molasses. She lifted her head and tried to focus. She saw the plump woman at
the door, mouth twisted in what she at first recognised as revulsion. Then the
noise penetrated to the marrow.
    Alexandra realised she was lying on her back on the Persian
rug and wondered how she had come to be there. As she became aware of the
horrible taste in her mouth and the fact that she had spent the night on the
floor in a drunken stupor, she followed the gaze of Sylvia Buys: someone was
lying beside the large brown leather armchair opposite her. She pushed herself
up on her arms, wishing Sylvia would stop screaming. She couldn't recall anyone
drinking with her last night. Who could it be? She sat upright, and with better
perspective, recognised the figure. Adam. Her husband. He was wearing only one
shoe, the other foot wore a drooping sock, as if he had been in the process of
taking it off. Black trousers, and a white shirt smeared with black on the
chest.
    Then, as if someone had eventually focused the camera's lens,
she realised that Adam was wounded. The black on the shirt was blood, the shirt
itself was torn. She pressed her hands on the carpet to get up. She was
confused, stunned. She saw the bottle and glass on the wooden table beside her.
Her fingers touched something and she looked down and saw the firearm lying
next to her. She recognised it, Adam's pistol. What was it doing here?
    She got to her feet.
    'Sylvia,' she said.
    The coloured woman kept screaming.
    'Sylvia!'
    The sudden silence was a huge relief. Sylvia stood at the
door with her hands over her mouth, and her eyes glued to the pistol.
    Alexandra took a cautious step forward and stopped again.
Adam was dead. She knew it now, from the sum of all the wounds and the way he
was lying, but she couldn't understand it. Was it a dream?
    'Why?' said Sylvia, approaching hysteria.
    Alexandra looked at her.
    'Why did you kill him?'
     
    The pathologist and the two ambulance men manoeuvred the
corpse carefully into a black zip-up bag. Griessel sat on the stone border of a
palm tree bed. Vusi Ndabeni was on his cell phone talking to the station
commander. 'I need at least four, Sup, for leg work ... I understand, but it's
an American tourist ... Yes, we're pretty sure ... I know ... I know. No,
nothing yet.. .Thanks,