Camps Bay, Cape Town
Jordan held the spoon with the vile concoction out towards Natalie. “Come on, Nats, this Jell-O shot has your name on it.”
Natalie Bryden smiled at her twenty friends in front of her. The sun shone brightly on a glorious Cape Town afternoon. She was celebrating her twenty-second birthday, and her boyfriend, Jordan Harris, had arranged a pool party at his parents’ luxurious villa in Camps Bay, Cape Town. Reggae music blared from outdoor speakers and people splashed around in the pool, tossing a Frisbee and having fun. The crowd had become raucous as an alcoholic buzz fueled the frenzy.
Her friends stood in a semi-circle around her, chanting her name.
Natalie folded her arms. “You know I can't handle the heavy stuff. Couldn't I down a cider or something?"
“You have to celebrate, girl,” Jordan said, wiggling a spoonful of Jell-O in front of her nose.
She groaned and grabbed the spoon. The chanting became louder and Natalie swallowed a mouthful of the Jell-O.
“Hip hip hooray! One more, just one,” Jordan shouted.
“Ugh. Thanks, but no; the stuff is horrible,” Natalie said, pulling her face in disgust. “Gimme a cider.”
Her friends laughed and directed some friendly jibes her way. Jordan handed her a light beer, which she gratefully accepted, taking a large slug to get rid of the taste. She pulled him closer and gave him a hug. “Thanks for the party.”
“Speech, speech!” someone shouted, and the partygoers clapped their hands rhythmically.
"OK, enough already.” Natalie brushed her jet-black hair back with her hand. "Guys, thank you all for coming to my party, and a special thanks to Jordan for persuading his parents to allow this bad girl and her friends into their lovely home.” She giggled. “Oh, and please leave everything as you found it."
"Not going to happen,” someone chimed from the crowd and everyone laughed.
"There's meat in the fridge and salads and rolls on the table. Could some of you handsome gentleman start the barbecues? I'm starving.” She winked at the men in the crowd. “A kiss to the best cook.”
Fires were lit, and a friendly squabble broke out between the men and Jordan over who would win the competition. Natalie ambled to the kitchen to help with the preparations when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She dug it out of her jeans pocket and read the message.
“Happy Birthday, baby. You're a grownup now and you need to know you're in grave danger. Perreira and Callahan have been located. Phone conversation intercepted, 11:37 AM GMT+3. Map data at https://mos.isly.com. Love you, Becky. ZC.”
Natalie reread the message. She clicked the link and was directed to a Google map with a drop pin labeled “Perreira.” It zoomed into a location somewhere in Mozambique. The world tilted on its axis, forcing her to sit down on a wooden deck chair. She pulled her knees to her chin, and hugged her legs. Memories flooded back. She was overwhelmed, nauseous, and scared. “How is this even possible?”
She dialed a number on her phone, but it went straight to voice mail. “Dad, when you hear this message, please phone me. I've received a text from Zachary.” She hesitated. “You said he was dead.” She blinked and swallowed hard. “Why would you lie to me?" she asked softly. She disconnected the call, closed her eyes, and rested her brow on the palm of her hand. Her heart thumped in her chest, and she felt the bile rise in her throat.
Jordan ambled towards her, a concerned look on his face.
Natalie took a few deep breaths and rocked on her heels. Her phone vibrated in her hand, and she read the new text message from Bruce.
“We need to talk.”
Jordan sat down by her side. “Are you OK, Nats?” he asked, concern etched on his face. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder.
Natalie pursed her lips and shook her head. “No, I’m not,” she said biting her lip. “Something strange is going on.”