been deported. The police believed he was a double agent.”
For a moment, Alice thought the phone had gone dead. When Hendrik spoke again, his voice was raspy. “I’ve known Isaac since he was a young boy. He’s never been anything but exemplary. This couldn’t be worse. God help him … What did you say your name was?”
“Alice Mendelssohn.”
“Alice, what are your circumstances?”
“I’m an American. I work for the Botswana government.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Are you strong?”
The question took her by surprise. “Physically?”
“No, I mean strong.”
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
“I must ask my wife … no, there’s nothing to be done. The shipment is already on its way. I can’t give you the details. My phone may be compromised. All I can tell you is that this is extremely problematic. Isaac’s mother has worked for us for years. She and my wife and I deliberated about what was the right thing to do. We had no idea he wouldn’t be there. Can you meet the train?”
“Yes, but what do I look for?”
“I think it will be apparent once the train has unloaded and the platform has emptied. And please call.” The conversation felt wooly, dreamlike.
“When?”
“As soon as possible. Whatever happens.”
“Yes, I’ll be there. I’ll let you know.” She rang off.
After dinner, she walked over to Will and Greta’s house, carrying a flashlight, needing to be surrounded by the chaos of a prospering family. It was Friday night and the kids were still up, the littlest one in tears over a broken arrow. “Never mind,” Will said. “I’ll make you a new one.”
“But it won’t be the same. There won’t ever be one like this one.” His son cradled the broken bits in his arms.
“You’re right, there will never be one just the same. But listen Bronco-roo, it’s past your bedtime, and your mother and I want to talk to Alice.”
“Why can’t I talk to her?”
“You wouldn’t be talking. You’d be shouting. Now get your pajamas on. Now. I mean it.”
He went off.
Greta poured a glass of Stellenbosch for each of them and sat down and put her feet up on a stool. Then the little one was back, staggering with fatigue. “Come on, tiger,” Greta said. “Bedtime.”
He began to cry. “I’m not tired, not a bit tired.”
Greta laughed. “I’ve never seen such a tired boy. C’mon now, I’ll read to you about the mouse dentist who tricked the fox who had the sore tooth.”
“And he was going to eat the mouse after the mouse fixed his tooth.” He stumbled after her.
The two bigger boys were still outside, up a tree. Will called them in. They stood in the middle of the living room like wild animals, cornered, having to be polite. Soon, they disappeared into their room.
“Just watching you makes me tired,” Alice said.
“You find your groove. They’re good kids. The problem is they have ten times the energy we do. Did you never want kids of your own?”
“It never happened. Probably a good thing considering how things have turned out.”
“The only good thing about no kids is that you’re not stuck having to be nice to Lawrence the rest of your life.” She thought of what a child of Ian’s and hers would have been like. Fierce, curious, lively. Don’t go there, she told herself. She took a gulp of wine. “So. Something’s happened. A letter came for Isaac.”
Greta came back into the room. “He’s conked. We didn’t get three pages into the story.” Will handed over her glass of wine and she sank into a chair.
“A letter came for Isaac,” Will said.
“I had Petronella translate it. It was in Afrikaans.”
“Who?”
“Pet. I think you’d know her, at least by sight. That tidy, uptight South African woman? She was very unhappy with the contents. I just spoke to the man from Pretoria who sent the letter. A shipment is coming tomorrow by train, but he couldn’t tell me what was in it. He thought his phone might be tapped.”
“It sounds like arms.”
“I don’t know. I’m meeting the train tomorrow.”
“Is that wise?”
“I promised.”
“Do you want me to come?” Will asked.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to get you into trouble. I’ll leave it on the platform and call the police if it looks dangerous.”
“You won’t do anything foolish,” said Greta.
Alice laughed. “Spoken like a true mother.”
“And you’ll let us know?”
“Of course.”
“How are you?” Greta asked.
She had another swallow of wine and set down her glass, unable to speak for a moment. “I’m managing. When I think about him, sometimes I almost can’t breathe. Like trying