Revenge

By Kay Taylor

Newly qualified Dr. Beverley Walker working in Casualty at Groote Schuur Hospital wakes up in her bed at home and discovers she has been raped. She has absolutely no recollection of the rape or how she ingested the sleep inducing drugs, let alone how she got home.
She reports the rape to the police and then becomes dissatisfied when she discovers the wheels of law and order grind too slowly. She takes matters into her own hands only for her to discover that there is a serial rapist stalking the streets of Cape Town. The modus operandi is to drug the victim, in a public place, take them to their homes and rape them. The police warn Dr. Bev Walker that if she continues with her investigation they would be happy to jail her for interfering in police business. They further discover that young Dr. Walker is revered by the hospital staff and realise jailing Dr. Walker would backfire enormously. She ultimately becomes a member of the investigative team.
Bev is assisted by two medical colleagues. Dr. Charlie Hatton who tries his best to keep things in perspective and at the same time offer a shoulder to lean on and Dr. Herman Gleeson, a chronically ill pathologist who uncovers clues not noticed by the police and their forensic teams.
Bev decides to leave the apprehension of the rapist to the police and concentrate on the sourcing of the mind altering drugs. With the help of certain medical technologists she uncovers a massive illegal drug cartel in the Western Cape. Bev is horrified to discover that the cartel is controlled and operated by certain members of the medical community in conjunction with the police.
Life for Bev becomes even more difficult but with the able assistance of certain members of the local motorcycle gang Bev is able assist the police in the capture of the rapist and the dissolution of the drug cartel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kay Taylor
• Release date: Aug 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9780620890151

Kay Taylor

Kay Taylor is a 46 year old married mother of two living in Zurich, Switzerland. She was born and educated in South Africa but travels on a British passport. Kay spent a number of years working in the corporate environment before deciding to opt out and start writing full time. She has written several novels but has only now, 2018, elected to publish.Travels with her husband has taken Kay all over the world and as a consequence her books are written with either an Australian or South African background. Her latest book, Deception, a romantic thriller, will be published on e-books in the second half of 2018, and the story line for this particular novel, takes place in the US of A.Kay is a very private person and for several years she wrote solely for personal pleasure. It took considerable persuasion from her family before she allowed her books to be published. Kay has emphatically refused to divulge her personal e-mail address and as a consequence, all correspondence can be channelled through her mother and secretary in South Africa. The address is as follows: [e-mail]

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

It was just after dawn when Bev awoke and even before she opened her eyes she sensed something to be out of place. ‘No,’ she thought, ‘something was wrong. Maybe not horribly wrong, but wrong nonetheless and this was not the right time of the day to face problems.’ Her bed was warm and comfortable and she tried to block out a sense of impending doom. Listening to the incessant chatter of the sparrows outside her window reminded her she hadn’t left any bird seed out overnight. ‘Give me five more minutes,’ she thought as she slowly closed her eyes. It was of no use, the sparrows continued with their chatter and Bev realised, early as it was, it was time to get up. With a sigh of resignation she rolled onto an elbow. Through half-closed eyes she peered around her bedroom and satisfied herself there was nothing out of place. On the other hand, why should anything be out of place? The dressing table was still there and her handbag as usual was still hanging over the back of a small chair. Her mobile was lying on the dressing table. Nothing appeared to be out of order but there was something wrong, something she couldn’t deduce. As she pushed herself erect and swung her feet out of the bed she immediately knew what caused her discomfort. She had been sleeping in her blouse and skirt. Something she had never before done in her life.

Bewildered at her findings Bev realised that nature was calling so she wandered through to her en suite bathroom and wearily slumped down on the toilet. In seconds she was wide awake. Barbs of pain streaked up through her lower abdomen and as she glanced down she noticed traces of dried blood on her inner thighs. Even worse, the blood was surrounded by teeth marks. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the sight of her legs. ‘It must be a dream,’ she thought and opened her eyes again. ‘Teeth marks!’

Bev knew the signs only too well and what made matters worse was that she had seen similar marks before. Being a doctor at Casualty she had seen life in all its forms. From the hypochondriacs that arrived complaining of diseases that ranged from rabies to old age ailments to women about to give birth. In her case it wasn’t the mundane, it was the exceptional. Bev had been savagely raped. The realisation then dawned on her and that was even more distressing, Doctor Beverley Walker had absolutely no recollection of the rape.

The professional side of her brain kicked into gear and she knew exactly what to do. Without touching the bite marks on her thighs she made her way to her bedroom and packed an overnight bag. While packing her bag she felt a pain on her chest. She knew what to expect but she had to see for herself. She stood in front of her dressing table mirror and slowly pulled up her blouse. The swine had bitten her nipples and she could distinctly see teeth marks on her breasts. The sight of her breasts brought tears to eyes. ‘How could he do this? ‘No,’ she thought, ‘I am not going to end up as a slobbering wreck lying on the bathroom floor,’ as a grim determination took over her soul. Crying was for later, she had a job to do and she was not going to stop until the job was over. She was going to find that bastard and castrate him. She liked the thought of castrating him and then a better thought crossed her mind. Smash him to pieces first, so he can enjoy the pain, then a few deft swipes with a scalpel.

She removed her clothes and rolled them up in her bed sheets and pillow cases. She searched her bedroom and could not find any of her underwear. ‘The bastard must have taken them,’ she thought ‘he probably uses them as trophies!’

Fifteen minutes later Bev walked into Casualty at the famous Groote Schuur hospital on the slopes of Devils Peak. As a newly qualified doctor, she was excited to be working at Groote Schuur hospital. The hospital made famous by Dr. Christian Barnard. The very same hospital where the world’s first heart transplant was performed. To think that she, little Bev Walker from Paarl, and now a Shift Head of Casualty at the famous Groote Schuur Hospital, actually tramped the very same corridors as Dr. Chris Barnard.

Dr. Charlie Hatton was running Casualty and at eight on this particular Friday morning, Casualty was quiet. The odd stabbing, gunshot wounds and a host of minor injuries had been stitched up, patched, swathed in bandages, hospitalized or alternatively, sent home. Friday and Saturday nights were the action nights. Fridays and Saturdays also included the over dosed druggies and at least ten rapes. Bev knew the figures only too bloody well. In South Africa every hour of everyday 13 woman are raped. Of those 312 woman that are raped every day, 120 are little girls and the last and worst part about the bloody statistics is that it has been estimated that only 25 - 30% of the rapes were actually reported.

Morning Bev, said Charlie as he leant across the desk and scrutinised a rather be-draggled looking doctor standing on the other side of the counter. Charlie had only once in his life been turned down by a woman and that woman was, Bev Walker. Dr. Beverley Walker was dedicated to medicine.

Hullo Charlie, I’ll be in C6, bring a nurse and the rape kit, I’ve got problems. Bev was angry and Charlie could more than sense it, he could see it. The way she instructed him what to do foretold of worse things to come. He didn’t want to guess, he could barely think of anything worse than a colleague being raped. Unfortunately he knew he was right. His heart went out to the poor woman and all he really wanted to do, was hug little Beverley.

Before he could say anything in sympathy Bev disappeared round the corner and headed towards Cubicle 6 located furthermost from the entrance to Casualty. She knew it would take an hour just for the examination, the photographs and the collection of evidence including swabs for any DNA samples. She had done it so many times before and now she was part of that great rape statistic.

Charlie and the nurse were quick, efficient and very professional. At last it was over and now she could get on with the second part of her ordeal. Reporting the attack to an indifferent policeman, but first a shower.

Several patients and staff saw Charlie Hatton walk out of Casualty and stand in the middle of the car park. While his white doctors’ coat flapped about his knees Charlie Hatton thrust his hands into his pockets and stared up at Devils Peak. Nobody knew what Dr. Charles Hatton was thinking and if they saw a tear glinting in his eye they would have assumed it was brought on by the cold wind pumping up from the South East. Nobody heard Charlie swear out loud nor did they hear the promise he made himself. Charlie Hatton more than admired Bev Walker. He practically worshiped the ground she walked on. He could never tell her his feelings. All he ever did was make sure that whenever he was in her company, she got home safely. Some bastard had done the unthinkable and to top it all, Bev actually looked like a small 16 year old girl in pigtails.

The sterile white tiled walls of the Ladies change rooms glinted in the morning light that poured through the frosted glass windows. The light offered no feelings or sympathy, it merely gave warmth and light to the room. It was in the shower when realisation of what had happened, dawned on her. Tears did not race down her cheeks as Bev thought of the humiliation, the shame, the self-loathing and embarrassment of what had just happened. And of course, the inevitable questions from friends and family. No, crying was not for now, crying was for latter. ‘I have just been raped,’ she thought, ‘now what happens to my life? Is revenge the answer or do I just push it out my mind and get on with it?’ There were numerous questions that suddenly flooded through her soul. What did she do to get raped? How could he rape her without her knowing about it? He must have administered some sort of drug. But how? The thought of having to endure the antiretroviral regimens of injections and then all those tests to ensure that she had not contracted HIV was all too much for her and she slumped back against the wall of the shower, bent over double and vomited. She expunged all the fear and loathing of her rape examination down onto the tiled floor of the shower. Slowly the warm water flushed the drama of the past 12 hours into the drains and then the sewers. At last it was over and she slumped down to the tiled floor of the shower and let the warm water cascade down over her. Doc Bev,’ exclaimed a woman. Bev looked up, it was Mavis one of the cleaning ladies. Without a moment’s hesitation Mavis stepped into the shower and sat down next to Bev. With the water cascading down she cradled Bev’s face in her hands and offered love and sympathy.

I heard about it, cry my child, I am here for you, whispered Mavis in Afrikaans. I’ve been through it, and most of us live to tell the tale. Bev did not sob, she shuddered and hugged the large overweight cleaning lady.

Eventually the shaking stopped and the two woman with arms about each other’s shoulders raised their heads and looked at each other, almost in surprise. They were both sitting on the floor of the shower, one fully clothed and the other, stark naked.

Doc Bev, said Mavis as she hugged the naked Doctor, the police will catch that pig like they caught the bastard that raped me. Bev said nothing as she reached up and closed the taps. He got twenty years, continued Mavis, and when they let him out my brothers beat him half to death and then he started selling his body for money. He died three months later from a drug overdose.

In the confined space of the shower cubicle Mavis had difficulty getting to her feet and had to crawl out on her hands and knees. Eventually she succeeded and with considerable difficulty Bev heaved the woman to her feet.

Mavis, have you got dry clothes? asked Bev as she started to towel herself dry.

Ja what, no problem, the hospital has clean clothes for me, she replied as the overweight cleaning lady squelched towards the door and as she did so she turned and said Doc Bev, all of us hospital people want to help, just ask us.

Thank you Mavis, said Bev, I’m going to the police station now.

You want company because they like to push you around?

I’m fine thanks Mavis, last night was the first and last time anybody pushed me around. Bev could feel her temper beginning to rise as she pursed her lips and spat out her promise. I’m going to catch that bastard and cut his balls off.

Mavis burst out laughing as she shoved her way through the change room door. Doc Bev, she said before disappearing down the passage, you catch him and I’ll hold him down for you.

Bev was surprised at the anger that still flowed through her being. She was in no mood to step back. Somebody had more than invaded her body, he had drugged her and then abused her and she was totally helpless and unconscious during the entire time. Well, she mused Bev Walker was going to fight back and heaven help the bastard when she caught him. Yes, she was going to keep it legal but if the police weren’t up to it, Beverley Walker would kick arse and take over. She liked the way her new aggressive side was trying to take control. Keep it in check, she thought, and then destroy him when you have him.

CHAPTER 2

All the photographs had been recorded on a memory stick and with the evidence box swinging at her side Bev walked into Rondebosch Police station. A cold dreary place with a peculiar odour. A wooden counter stretched from one end of the room to the other and several policemen and women sitting at desks behind the counter seemed to be terribly engrossed in filling in forms and writing in black note books. It was the first time in her life Bev had ever entered a police station and not even the picture of the State President and the Minister of Police on the wall offered any comfort. Mavis was right, the policeman was indifferent and displayed little or no interest in what he was actually doing. It was just another form to be filled in, and filed away. Sympathy was not part of his makeup. At last they got to the part where policeman asks the victim where the attack took place.

I’ve no idea, replied Bev, I was drugged.

Immediately the policeman sat bolt upright in his chair. Drugged? he asked.

Bev stared at his corpulent face and nodded her head. Her interrogator shoved his note pad to one side and lumbered to his feet. Please wait here, I’m going to call Lieutenant Baxter. In seconds the rotund policeman left and Bev was left alone leaning on the bare wooden counter while the police continued to scribble in books, fill in forms and mumble quietly on the telephone. Bev sighed and casually glanced at her watch. Subconsciously she calculated how much time before her shift began and wondered whether she would actually make her statement before her shift began. Calling in sick wouldn’t help. Everybody else in the team would have to work overtime while she sat on a couch in some physiatrist’s office and tried relive a nightmare of which she had no recollection.

Dr. Walker? enquired a voice from behind her. Bev turned, nodded her head and then watched as a slim man, a shade under six foot, in a wrinkled brown suit tried to read the notes made by his predecessor. I bloody give up, he muttered as he picked up the notes the corpulent policeman had made and said to Bev. There’s at least two spelling mistakes on every line and somehow or other he changed your gender to male. Bev looked at the man in plain clothes in almost hopeless amazement. My name is Lt. Baxter, he said. Would you please follow me to my office and we’ll complete your statement there.

Bev had no option but to follow. She could hardly believe it, she had to almost trot to keep up. Here was a policeman that had never heard of Mr. Plod. He led the way through the building and onto a verandah. At the end of the verandah was a closed wooden door. ‘Lieutenant G Baxter’ read the sign and no sooner had Bev read the sign when the Lt. punched a code into the door lock and the door swung open.

Please be seated, he said as he pulled a chair away from his desk and indicated where she could sit. Second surprise in two minutes. Are you comfortable? he asked as he helped her push her chair closer the desk and then before returning to his side of the desk he closed his office door. Bev was about to say something when he asked another question. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? I have both.

Bev was astounded by the man. He was polite, courteous and well mannered. A cup of tea would be wonderful, thank you very much Lt. Baxter.

Good, he replied as he turned to the small table shoved up against one wall. Milk, sugar, Rooibos or Ceylon?

Bev had to smile, she loved the Rooibos tea from Clanwilliam near the Cedarberg Mountains and here was a policeman who had it in his office. What about Ceylon, didn’t they change their name to Shri Lanka?

Rooibos please. Neat and without the trimmings if you don’t mind, said Bev as she tried to make herself comfortable on the hard wooden chair while short barbs of pain reminded her why she was there. Police stations do not believe in luxurious office furniture and soft comfortable chairs for rape victims.

Good choice, he replied as he picked up the whistling kettle.

In seconds Bev had a mug of steaming brew in her hands and before she took a sip she closed her eyes and inhaled the fragrant brew. The aroma was intoxicating and she relaxed. She then leant back in her chair and with her eyes still closed she allowed the scent of the Cedarberg Mountains to wash over her.

You like Rooibos I see. It was more of a statement than a question and the whole demeanor of the man put her at rest. He did not fidget nor pull at his collar. He sat perfectly still while a small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Yes, thank you very much, said Bev as she clasped both hands around her mug and blew across the surface of the tea trying to cool it down slightly.

You drink your tea, said the policeman, while I read the notes made by the duty Sergeant and then we can discuss your ordeal. Without waiting for a reply the Lieutenant picked up the notes and with his mug of tea in one hand he slowly read the duty sergeant’s notes.

Through half closed eyes and from behind her mug of tea Bev studied the man across the desk. His suit was wrinkled but his shirt looked clean and his tie was knotted in the same way her father did his. The Lieutenant looked to be about 35 years old and in need of a haircut. The nails of the left hand clasping the notes were clean and as for his office, although cramped, everything looked neat and orderly. ‘One piece of paper out of place and this office could look untidy,’ thought Bev. Eventually the Lieutenant looked up and said, Dr. Walker I’m extremely sorry to read about your ordeal and I’m going to do everything in my power to bring the perpetrator to book.

Thank you Lt., said Bev as she hoisted her evidence box onto the policeman’s desk. This is the evidence box from the hospital and I’ve included a blood sample for you to determine the drug used to incapacitate me.

Thank you Dr. Walker, we’ll definetely need that, he said as he reached across the desk and retrieved the cardboard box. It carried everything that Bev had worn excluding her underwear. She had folded her two sheets and pillow case and had included them in the box. Dr. Walker, said the policeman between sips of tea, we might be working together for a few weeks, so please call me Gabe which is short for Gabriel.

Thank you Gabe, you may call me Bev. Which is short for Beverley.

I appreciate that, now let’s get on with your ordeal. What exactly have you got in this box?

Bev thought for a moment before replying thinking that she might have left something either at home or possibly at hospital. From my bed, the duvet, sheets, pillow cases, my clothes I was wearing when I woke up, the face cloth from my bathroom and the roll of toilet paper that was out of place.

What do you mean out of place? asked Gabe surprised that this young woman who had just been raped was still able to think.

I’m a doctor, I’ve attended enough rape victims to last me a lifetime. I walked around my home several times before going to hospital for my examination. Gabe said nothing and continued to stare across his desk. I was looking for anything that might seem out of place. Out of place things means they might have fingerprints on them. The only thing out of place was the roll of toilet paper. I even checked in the toilet bowls of the other two toilets in my home. Nothing, they were in all probability flushed clean by my assailant.

Gabe sat back in his chair and thought quietly. This woman knew what she was talking about. She probably attended one rape victim a week He sensed trouble looming ahead and he had to do something to avoid the confrontation.

How many rape victims have you helped? asked Gabe. An innocent question in itself and he was shocked at the reply.

I assist a minimum of one woman per shift, replied the doctor, and sometimes, up to three per shift on the weekends and probably one little girl or boy every second day.

Gabe could not believe the answer. He was appalled at the reply. Firstly, he did not realise the magnitude of assault on women and children and the fact that there was not a national outcry. The woman’s bright blue eyes stared unflinchingly across his desk. They bored into his brain and he felt grossly uncomfortable. The gauntlet had been thrown down and he had to take up the challenge.

Photographs? asked Gabe. Did you include any photographs in the box? He knew the answer would be in the affirmative but he had to check. Nothing could be left to chance.

I have included a flash drive in a large white envelope. You can’t miss it. The photographs are of me, and the bite marks on my thighs and my breasts. Bev paused for a moment, was there anything she had left out? I meant to tell you, said Bev, my attacker also took my underwear. By that I mean, my panties and bra.

Gabe looked down and closed his eyes for a moment. He knew from the detail of what the doctor had told him she was more than just another victim. Dr. Walker was going to be number 14. Why was this case dumped on his desk? He didn’t ask for it. The Commissioner had made some excuse that the case was beyond Det. Conradie in Parow where the first rapes took place. Now they were being dumped on him and to crown it all, he had a real feisty victim here. Beverley Walker was not the weeping kind. She was tough, she looked determined and he knew that she would hound him day and night until the bastard was rotting in some cell.

Gabe nodded his head in appreciation of the thoroughness undertaken by the young doctor but he still had a million questions to ask. He was meticulous in his questioning and he never missed a beat. It took Bev all of ten minutes to relate exactly what she could remember.

How did you get home from the Barge and Pole? asked Gabe.

I have absolutely no idea.

How did the rapist know where you lived?

I don’t know, replied Bev as she realised that she had hardly any recollection from the night before.

Bev, said Gabe, you might not like this question but I am forced to ask it. She nodded her head and continued to stare at the policeman across the minute desk. The first fact is that more than seventy percent of rape victims know their attackers.

That part I know, replied Bev, that’s why the statistics state that only thirty percent of all rapes are actually reported.

Regretfully, I am aware of that sad fact, acknowledged Gabe, so my next question is, how many people have a duplicate key for your front door.

Only Mr. de Villiers, the caretaker of the apartments, replied Bev as she mentally tried to imagine Mr. de Villiers as a rapist.

Would you consider Mr. de Villiers to be your rapist? asked Gabe hoping he might be able to solve the crime very quickly.

Never, she replied, Mr. and Mrs de Villiers are retired and live in a rent free home. Any impropriety on their parts and they would have to find a new home.

Right, said Gabe, let me recap. Bev nodded her head and patiently waited for the policeman to recite her ordeal. Nurse Sarah van der Merwe gave you a lift to a bar in Woodstock. The bar is called the The Barge and Pole. You were to meet two friends at 20h00. The only person who spoke to you was a woman who sat at your table opposite you and with her back to you. You were watching a cricket match on the TV above the bar counter and sipping your wine. You actually watched the barman pour your drink from a box of wine on the shelf behind the bar. You personally wanted to make sure that you got what you asked for, Sauvignon Blanc. The last thing you remember was looking at your wrist watch and noting the time to be 19h45.

Bev nodded her head in agreement and bewilderment. She had absolutely no idea how any drug was introduced into her wine let alone how she managed to get home and into her bed and in the process, not only lose her underwear, but get raped as well.

My last question for the moment, said the policeman. How were you anticipating on getting home after meeting your friends at the Barge and Pole?

I was going to catch a taxi because the police sit round the corner waiting for intoxicated patrons of the Barge and Pole.

So I’ve heard, replied Gabe as he nodded his head. Lastly, he continued, please allow me give you some advice. Go back to Paarl, tell your parents what happened, visit a psychiatrist, and take a few days rest. I believe a change of scenery will do you a world of good.

Gabe thanks for the advice, but no! I’m going to find the bastard that did this to me and beat the hell out of him before I hand him over to you people.

Bev, said Gabe in desperation, please don’t take the law into your own hands. I can promise you even if you do catch him, no good will come of it. Harm one hair on his head and the next thing you’ll know, he’ll be walking free down the street. Let the police do their job and I can assure you we will catch the swine.

When do you think you’ll catch him? asked Bev still itching to lay her hands on the bastard or better still take a scalpel to his nether regions. She was not interested in a long prison term, she wanted to beat him to pulp. A pick axe handle would do a fine job she thought, not forgetting the scalpel.

It will take us about a week to analyze your evidence box and your blood samples, said Gabe. It will then take us a few days to check our data base to see if we have his DNA on record and while all this is going on we’ll visit the crime scene to see if there are any security camera recordings and or surveillance tapes for us to subpoena and study.

Thanks Gabe, said Bev as she rose to leave, but I have one more question, what made you become a policeman?

I’m not, he replied laughing, I’m a criminal lawyer by profession and I’m studying policing procedures and this is my twentieth case.

So they give me a student to handle a rape case, remarked Bev a little confused by the actions of the local constabulary.

Don’t worry yourself, said Gabe, I’ve got nineteen convictions under my belt and the lightest sentence was twenty years. The rest were life. Bev’s eyes widened at the information as Gabe continued, our rapist will get life, he planned your attack.

How many of your cases remain unsolved? asked Bev anxious that the policeman handling her case might be an ignoramus and or, a lucky novice.

Only one, said Gabe as he rose to his feet signaling the interview to be over, yours. Once again the swift stride down the corridor and within seconds the doctor found herself standing on the pavement outside Rondebosch police station.

She felt a little better about reporting the rape as she climbed back into her car and with her mind completely elsewhere drove the short distance home. The police were handling her case and she had been issued with a case number. Everything was so informal and as far as the police were concerned she, Dr. Bev Walker, was just another rape case. She wasn’t a person she was a number, a statistic, to be recorded and filed for future generations to sit and ponder what ultimately happened to Dr. Beverley Walker?

Lt. Gabriel Baxter punched the code on his door, slammed it shut behind him and then slumped down at his desk and buried his head in his hands. If anybody had been standing at his door they would have heard a list of profanities that would have made the saltiest of sailors proud. Wearily he climbed to his feet and opened the cupboard door next to his window. With the details of Dr. Bev Walker’s ordeal in his hands he marked up the chart on the inside of the cupboard door. This was his private information and progress board. He had lied to little Bev Walker. He did not have only one case on his hands. He now, with the additional name of Beverley Walker, had fourteen cases to solve. The modus operandi was exactly the same in each and every rape. Solve one and you solve them all. The case was as baffling to him as it was to the Commissioner of Police. The rapist appeared out of nowhere and vanished equally as quickly. He sighed as he looked at the names and then almost reverently closed the door. He had been handed the case two weeks ago and now he had a list of fourteen names and the details were all exactly the same. Date, time, day of the week, where the victim was picked up, and the drug used. The horrific mystery continued, and that bloody Detective Conradie in Parow had been on the case of the serial rapist for more than 12 months. And after 12 months of continuous investigation, Det. Conradie had absolutely no clues whatsoever. Nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing. That idiot must have been sitting in his office collecting a new name every month and then going back to sleep. Now the case was now dumped on Gabe’s desk and to compound his problems, the latest victim looked like more than just a fighter. She looked like a mover and shaker.

CHAPTER 3

Bev loved living in Rondebosch, one of the many leafy suburbs of Cape Town. The Mediterranean climate of the south western tip of South Africa offers warm summer days and cool evenings, except in winter. That’s when things are different. Very, very different. Apart from the incessant cold wintery rain and the blustery north-west winds, the days are cool and the evenings decidedly chilly. On the other hand summer in Cape Town is a wonderful time of the year. The days are long and warm and free of humidity.

No sooner had Bev reached home and parked her car in her reserved underground parking when her mobile rang. She glanced at the blue screen. Unknown caller Reluctantly she swiped her finger across the screen accepting the call and then pressed the volume control button.

Yes, she said rather abruptly, fearful it could be the rapist on her mobile trying to taunt her or something worse, somebody trying to sell her insurance. Is that Dr. Beverly Walker? enquired a female voice. Bev immediately detected the slight Afrikaans accent as she held the mobile phone edgeways up to her mouth.

Who wants to know? replied Bev, knowing full well that answering a question with a question, is sometimes more than infuriating. But then she was in no mood for niceties. The last twelve hours had seen to that. She was both upset and angry and what she really wanted to do was beat somebody’s brains out. The rapist’s in particular.

Good morning Dr. Walker, continued the woman, unfazed by Bev’s abrupt manner. My name is Doctor Enid Koch. I am a qualified psychiatrist from the trauma unit, seconded to Rondebosch Police Station. I am calling to find out whether we can offer you any counselling?

No, said Bev rather vehemently thank you very much, I’m too angry to forgive. The only trauma I’ve had today was waking up and discovering I had been raped. Then having to go through the ordeal of an examination, collection of any DNA samples and lastly having to report my experience to a police, man. It should have been a police, woman. Frankly speaking, all I want to do is take a pick axe handle to his head.

Dr. Walker, interrupted the woman from the trauma unit, violence is not the solution and we can help you get back on an even keel.

I am on even keel, replied Bev forcefully, thanks for calling, I’ve got a rapist to catch. With that she swiped her mobile off and dropped the instrument back into her bag. As she retrieved her keys she had a sudden change of plan.

No, she out loud, I’m not yet ready to go home. I want to be alone. I want to think about what happened and I don’t need company. A large steak and salad is what I want and then a little bit of shopping. She glanced at her wrist watch and sighed. ‘My shift at the hospital starts at six, I’ve got six hours.’

It was then that it struck her. She was in fact, all alone. Mom, Dad and her two brothers were in Paarl. Should she go home and tell them what had happened or should she just bite her lip and get on with it? Bev was in no mood to go home. It would mean having to try and relive her ordeal all over again. The trouble was, she had absolutely no memory of the actual rape! What she needed to do was think. Shopping and steak can wait. ‘Where can I go to think,’ she mused.

‘A church pew, no the minister will want to know everything. Beach, too noisy. Tokai forest, no view. View, of course, Rhodes Memorial.’ Within five minutes Bev was on her way to Rhodes Memorial. The driver’s door window was down and the warm summer air mixed with the smells of Rondebosch on a Friday morning flushed the interior of her car. She was already beginning to feel better. It was a bright clear day and the view would be fantastic.

She was right, the view is always fantastic. As the restaurant parking lot was practically full Bev elected to drive around the massive monument and park near the base. Unfortunately there was one other vehicle there, a young couple sitting in a car both peering through pairs of binoculars. Bev distinctly heard the woman suddenly exclaim in a strong English accent there look, a shrike. His accent was equally strong, it’s a fiscal shrike, luv.

‘Bird watchers,’ thought Bev, ‘we call those birds Jackie Hangmen or Butcher birds. She glanced around, ‘no thorn trees where they normally impale their meals.’ She eased herself out of her car and found a bench that proffered a view of the greater suburbs of Cape Town. No sooner had she sat down when the bird watchers car started up and in seconds they had departed and a peaceful stillness descended over the lower reaches of the Devils Peak. The only sounds she could hear were the plaintive calls of distant dove and the faint hum of traffic from the freeway far below.

It was while sitting at Rhodes Memorial on the slopes of Devils peak, Dr. Beverley Walker made a decision. A decision that was almost insignificant in the greater scheme of life but a decision that changed the lives and careers of dozens of people in the greater Cape Town area. ‘Medicine can wait,’ she thought, ‘I’m going to catch the bastard that raped me. I’ve no idea how but Lt. Gabriel Baxter is going to be motivated and it’s going to be my foot that motivates him. Bev started to feel better. ‘If I have to turn the entire police force on its head, so be it. The rape was so easy, one minute I’m sitting in the Barge and Pole and the next thing I wake up in bed, raped. He’s done it before and not got caught. The signs are there, he’s going to do it, again. He was so good, so experienced. He got me out of the B and P where I know half the clientele and nobody stopped him. The question is, why did he pick on me? I was alone at the table, clearly waiting for somebody, but he didn’t care. He came in, drugged me somehow and then abducted me. How did he know where I lived? He must have stalked me. Followed me for several days and then, while everybody and his dog are watching TV, he abducts me from the B and P.’

Bev thought about the science of a rapists