Die Again (Rizzoli & Isles, #11)(73)

Gabriel laughed. “Jane’s not just any woman.”

As they shook hands, she could feel Henk taking her measure and she wondered if he’d expected Dean the Machine to have landed someone prettier, someone who didn’t walk off the plane looking like a wrung-out rag. “I’ve heard about you, too,” she said. “Something about a boozy night in the Hague twelve years ago.”

Henk glanced at Gabriel. “I hope you told her the redacted version.”

“You mean there’s more to the story than two men walk into a bar?”

Henk laughed. “That’s all you need to know.” He reached for her suitcase. “Let me show you to my car.”

As they left the terminal, Jane lagged a few paces behind the men, letting them catch up on the latest news in each other’s lives. Gabriel had slept almost all the way from London, and he walked with the energetic spring of someone eager to tackle the day. She knew that Henk was a good ten years older than Gabriel, that he was thrice divorced, originally from Brussels, and had worked with South Africa’s Interpol branch for the past decade. She also knew of his reputation as a heavy drinker and a ladies’ man, and she wondered what sort of trouble he’d dragged Gabriel into on that notorious night in the Hague. Surely Henk was the one who’d done the dragging, because she couldn’t imagine her straitlaced husband as a hell-raiser. Just looking at them from behind, she knew which man had discipline in his favor. Gabriel had the lean build of a runner, and he walked with direction and purpose, while Henk’s bloated waistline was the mark of uncontrollable appetites. Yet they clearly got on well together, a friendship forged in the heat of murder investigations in Kosovo.

Henk led them to a silver BMW, the favored automotive mascot of every man on the prowl, and he waved at the front seat. “Jane, would you like to ride shotgun?”

“No, I’ll let Gabriel have the honors. You two have a lot of mischief to catch up on.”

“Not as good a view back there,” said Henk as they all buckled their seat belts. “But I guarantee you’ll love the view where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Table Mountain. You’re here for such a short time, and it’s the one place you really don’t want to miss. Your hotel room probably isn’t ready yet anyway, so why don’t we head straight for the mountain?”

Gabriel turned to her. “You feel up for it, Jane?”

What she really longed for was a shower and a bed. Her head ached from the blinding sunlight and the inside of her mouth felt like a tar pit, but if Gabriel could launch straight into a day of sightseeing, she’d damn well do her best to keep up with the boys. “Let’s do it,” she said.

An hour and a half later, they pulled into the parking lot of Table Mountain’s lower cableway station. Stepping out of the car, Jane stared up at aerial lines that soared up the side of the mountain. She was not particularly afraid of heights, but the idea of swooping up to that dizzying mountaintop made her stomach drop. Suddenly she was no longer exhausted; all she could think about was cables snapping apart and a two-thousand-foot plunge to death.

“And up there is the view I promised you,” said Henk.

“Jesus. There are people hanging off the side of that cliff!” said Jane.

“Table Mountain’s a favorite place for rock climbers.”

“Are they out of their frigging minds?”

“Oh, we lose a few climbers every year. After you fall from that height, it’s not a rescue. It’s a body recovery.”

“And that’s where we’re going? Up there?”

“Are you afraid of heights?” Those pale wolf eyes turned to her in amusement.

“Trust me, Henk,” Gabriel said with a laugh. “Even if she were, she’d never admit it.”

And one of these days, pride is going to be the death of me, she thought as they crowded into the cable car with dozens of other tourists. She wondered when the system had last been inspected. Stared hard at the Cableway workers, searching for anyone who was drunk or high or psycho. She counted heads, to be sure they weren’t over the posted passenger limit, and hoped they’d made generous weight allowances for men as big as Henk.

Then the cable car swooped into the sky, and all she could focus on was the view.

“Your first look at Africa,” said Henk, leaning in to murmur in her ear. “Does it surprise you?”

She swallowed. “It’s not what I imagined.”

“What did you imagine? Lions and zebras running around everywhere?”

“Well, yeah.”

“That’s the way most Americans picture Africa. They watch too many nature shows on TV, and when they walk off the plane wearing bush jackets and khaki, they’re surprised to find a modern city like Cape Town. Not a zebra in sight, except at the zoo.”

“I was kind of hoping to see a zebra.”

“Then you should take a few extra days and fly out to the bush.”

“I wish we could,” she said with a sigh. “But our agencies are keeping us on a tight leash. No time for fun.”

The cable car glided to a stop and the doors opened.

“Then let’s get some work done, shall we?” said Henk. “There’s no reason we can’t enjoy the view at the same time.”